Maraschino Liqueur--To Have or Have Not

The Hemingway Daiquiri, or as is it more simply known, the Daiquiri No. 3, was created by Constante Ribalaiga Vert at the infamous El Floridita in Havana in the early years of the twentieth century. If you haven't been acquainted--and if you haven't, rectify this as soon as possible--this concoction is very closely related to the more traditional daiquiri (rum, lime, and sugar) except a bit of grapefruit juice and maraschino liqueur are added to the mix. As with every other cocktail that has been around for multiple decades, the exact recipe will change depending on the drinker. The original recipe calls for but a teaspoon of both the grapefruit and maraschino, with the lime and simple syrup decreased accordingly. More contemporary recipes increase the portion of grapefruit to as much as a 1/2 ounce, while the maraschino, itself contributing intense, often overpowering flavors, is usually capped at around 1/4 ounce. An old school Hemingway is bright and nuanced; more contemporary variations burst with flavor.

Legend has this daiquiri was introduced to Hemingway on a chance encounter--he had ducked into the bar in search of a restroom and on his way out, the illustrious barman was lining the bar with frothy, refreshing house daiquiris. A curious man, Heminway opted to try one and the rest is well, assumption and interpretation. While the famed author and drinker opted to have his daiquiris made without sugar and with a double pour of rum--a variation known as the Papa Doble--most people are happy enough with the original version.

Hemingway Daiquiri (Randall house variation)

1 1/2 ounces white rum
1/4 ounce lime juice
1 ounce grapefruit juice
1/2 ounce maraschino liqueur

Shake ingredients in an ice-filled shaker. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass, or into a chilled rocks glass

Notes on Ingredients: I used Chairman's Reserve silver rum and Maraska maraschino liqueur. 

I have always loved this cocktail. A big part of it is the grapefruit juice--in the summer I am drawn to its floral, brightness. But I also love the interplay of th citrus with the unique floral, woody notes of the maraschino. Those flavors create the depth that signals that a drink has been well-crafted--that little bit of restrained flair that keeps you coming back. But then again, I have always enjoyed what maraschino liqueur brings to a cocktail. But not everyone appreciates what maraschino brings to the glass.

Maraschino liqueur's flavor is not the easiest to pin down. Originally created from the tiny sour cherries that grow along the Dalmation coast in Eastern Europe, the first maraschino liqueurs were supposedly created as a sort of "maraschino rosolio." Rosolios are often homemade rose-flavored liqueurs consumed as tonics, often sipped  after dinner. While simple rose-flavored liqueurs were made, more often other flavors were added to create complex liqueurs. In the same way that a mirepoix creates a base for many soups and sauces, the rosolio becomes a foundation for the more principal flavors. 

But the complexity of this liqueur only begins there. The pits and stems of the maraska cherries are separated, fermented and distilled, creating a sort of grappa. The cherries themselves are distilled as well, creating an eau de vie.  Then the two distillates are reblended and aged in ash barrels for two years. When the aging process is complete, the spirit is then diluted and sweetened, often with a blend of honey or cane sugar--the precise sweetener often varies depending on the house's style. The slightly almond-like notes that maraschino is known for comes from the inclusion of the cherry pits in the process. Those characteristic floral elements come mostly from the distilled fruit, though perhaps some of the original "rosolio" has made its way in as well. Naturally, most distilleries do not disclose all of their secrets.

Maraschino liqueur has long been a major element in mixed drinks. It's presence can be traced back to many of the early punches that were widely consumed in the nineteenth century. As the more efficient cocktail overtook the flowing bowl, maraschino played its role as an alternative sweetener that brought big flavor. It is not surprising to find that it had made its way into daiquiris.

For those who do not appreciate the flavors of maraschino liqueur, another cocktail exists that highlights the wonderful intersection of grapefruit and lime. Made with rum, lime, grapefruit juice, simple syrup and angostura bitters, the Nevada Cocktail is just as lovely as a Hemingway. The Nevada first appeared in print in Judge Jr.'s compilation Here's How, published in 1927. Instead of the funky yet floral notes of the Hemingway, the Nevada's recipe instead relies on the spicyness of aromatic bitters to flush out the fullness. Because the Nevada reverses the proportions of the citrus juices, any floral notes instead are contributed by the grapefruit.

Nevada Cocktail

1 1/2 ounces white rum
1/3 ounce lime juice
1/2 ounce grapefruit juice
1/4 ounce simple syrup (1:1)
1 dash angostura bitters

Shake ingredients in an ice-filled shaker. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Chairman's Reserve white rum and Angostura bitters. 

Balancing Citrus and Vinegar: Enter the Grapefruit Shrub

Every year with spring's arrival, my drinking patterns shift away from the barrel-aged bitter cocktails that highlight the dark winter months. I dust off my cocktail shakers and start shaking Daiquiris and Aviations, Sidecars and Pisco Sours. Then, it is just a matter of time before I am sitting on a patio whiling away the extended evening hours with a citrus-laden tipple. This year my horizons have expanded. Flavored syrups and citrus-based bitters have found their way into my at-home experiments, as well as vinegar, usually in the form of a shrub.

Fruit shrubs are perfect for spring, whether in a long drink, a cocktail, or even a nonalcoholic beverage. The vinegary bite adds unexpected depth to an otherwise ordinary beverage. Classic cocktails can be bumped up with a shrub's savory notes, and just introducing a splash of shrub to some soda water can create a truly refreshing drink that's perfect for summer. The best part is that they are incredibly easy to make, and nearly any fruit can be used. My first attempts were with blackberries, raspberries, and peaches. Last year, I tackled rhubarb. This year as I toured the produce department, I was overwhelmed by the choices. But when a friend threw down the ultimate challenge--citrus shrub--my sense of purpose was renewed.

Historically, there are two types of shrub and they are remarkably dissimilar. One is, at its simplest form, a sort of a bottled sour, usually consisting of some form of citrus, a spirit, and a sweetening agent. The other is a fruit syrup, usually consisting of either currants or berries, additionally flavored and preserved with vinegar. Before the days of refrigeration, people used fruit vinegars to cover the flavor of meat turning bad. But by adding sweetener to these vinegars, shrub was born. The widespread availability of ice signaled the end for shrubs, though many are preserved in many old cocktail guides. Current interest in different historical cooking techniques has vinegar-based shrubs primed for a comeback.

Part of this trend was inevitable as shrubs are just plain delicious. But because achieving balance in a berry shrub is relatively easy and can be accomplished with a very basic recipe, making shrub is simple. Vinegar-based citrus shrubs, though, are more challenging and rare because of the one additional ingredient, citric acid. The way the citric acid is manipulated in conjunction with vinegar's acetic acid can greatly impact the overall balance of the shrub. Too much of either and the result is undrinkable. But with a little care and attention, achieving a complex, tasty batch of citrus shrub is easily within reach.

Basic Recipe for Grapefruit Shrub*

2 good size grapefruits (mine were pink)
sugar [1 3/4 cup]
vinegar [1/2 cup sherry vinegar, 1/4 cup champagne vinegar]
pinch of salt

Procedure

Stage One: Oleo Saccharum

1. Peel the grapefruit avoiding white pith as much as possible.

2. Juice the grapefruit, measure it, and set it aside in the refrigerator. [1 3/4 cup]

3. Place an amount of sugar equal to the juice in a large bowl and add the peels. For 2 cups
of juice, use 2 cups of sugar.

4. Muddle the peels and sugar.

5. Set aside for at least 12 hours at room temperature. Note, I left mine for 2 days, and the flavor and aroma were incredible. The oleo saccharum will create a greater amount of depth than if you use just sugar and juice.

Stage Two: The Syrup

1. Combine the juice and the oleo saccharum.

2. Stir thoroughly until all of the sugar is dissolved.

3. Strain out the peels using a coarse strainer.

4. Add more sugar as needed to taste. This will depend heavily on the tartness of the grapefruit juice. Ideally, the syrup should still be tart but a bit sweeter than if it were completely balanced.

Stage Three: The Vinegar

Though this step really only comprises adding vinegar to your grapefruit syrup, it is the most crucial part. If you simply add all the vinegar at once, you could sacrifice all balance, leaving you with a syrup that is too vinegary.

1. Pick your vinegar. Think about what kind of flavors you want to highlight and what will pair well with your syrup. I used a blend of sherry vinegar and champagne vinegar, though it wasn't planned out ahead of time. Initially I chose sherry vinegar because grapefruit and sherry work well together in cocktails. Shortly after I started adding the vinegar, I noticed that the sherry overpowering the more delicate grapefruit syrup. Champagne vinegar is less strong and allowed the elements to come into balance.

2. Measure. Expect to use about half of your initial juice content. [approx. 3/4 cup vinegar]

3. Pour in a small amount of the vinegar, stir, and taste. This will give you an idea of where the flavors are heading. Starting with just a small amount before adding a bulk of vinegar will also help your palate adjust to what's going on in the shrub. Also, if the resulting flavor isn't what you were envisioning, you can still change vinegars.

4. Add more. Make this addition more substantial, at least half of what you measured [3/8 cup]. I added about half of my measured allotment before realizing it was getting too vinegary. Adding the champagne vinegar was more of a save than a plan. Sometimes this happens. Blend purposefully, take it slow, and pay attention to how each addition affects the overall balance.

5. Keep adding more vinegar until you are satisfied. Your palate will tell you when to stop. Trust it. 

6. Bottle and refrigerate overnight to let flavors marry.

*In order to make things a bit easier, I have added my own specific amounts in brackets to provide an example batch. Also note, by following these basic instructions, any citrus shrub is within reach. I myself made one with Meyer lemons.