Barrel-Aging Cocktails: The Caneflower

Though it is a sad fact, barrels don't last forever. Only a limited amount of flavor can be drawn out before the environment becomes effectively neutral. Of course, it still operates as a natural oxidation filtration system, with the wood still breathing with the changes in temperature. After all of the flavor is extracted, a barrel can still be useful, just not in the same ways. Oxidation and thus, mellowing can still occur long after the wood has stopped being an active participant. As I drained the last bits of the Claridge cocktail out of my barrel, I knew that I was going to have to choose very wisely. After aging two spirits and two cocktails, I was nearing the end of the barrel's life cycle. and there might not be many more opportunities for experimentation. The pressure only grew when I realized that not only would I need to choose an appropriate cocktail to follow the dry, fruity Claridge, but I would also need to determine the time frame for the next cocktail.

With each new batch, the amount of time necessary to age a cocktail grows. It makes sense--less of the barrel's flavors are present. Some friends who are very experienced at barrel-aging advised me to wait at least a year. This sounded extreme. The previous cocktail had only been aged for 3 months. In the end I decided to aim more for 6 to 9 months. As the oak was relatively slight in the Claridge I thought doubling might add more barrel flavor. Perhaps the extra time would correct for my barrel's age.

Choosing a recipe was easily solved when I discovered a 1.5-liter bottle of cachaca sitting in the back of my cabinet. I had received it two years ago as a gift and had never gotten around to using it. After a quick Internet search, I ran across a perfect choice--the Caneflower. This cocktail, created by Jeffrey Morgenthaler, is a variation of a Negroni variation, the Comte du Sureau, originally created by Gonçalo de Souza Monteiro. The Caneflower's elderflower and slightly bitter Aperol seemed a logical choice to follow the dry, apricot flavors of the Claridge. 

While cost and ease were the most important factors in why I chose the Caneflower, I was still exciting about the new adventure this drink represented. Before, I had only aged cocktails that included a wine-based product, such as vermouth, that would oxidize during the process. On top of that, most of the barrel-aged cocktails I had tried in bars also included vermouth or a quinquina. As the Caneflower has no vermouth or even a wine-based product, I could not guess the results. This prospect was very enticing. How would the ingredients react over time? Would the presence of the oxidized vermouths in the barrel affect the outcome? And then there was the question of time. Would the lack of vermouth change the speed of the process? But in the end none of these things really mattered. Life intervened and a careful tasting of the contents was not in the cards. More plainly said--I totally forgot about the barrel.

Caneflower

1 1/2 ounces cachaca
3/4 ounce Aperol
1/4 ounce elderflower liqueur

Combine ingredients in a ice-filled glass. Stir and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Pur Likor, elderflower liqueur.

Over one year later, I looked up and saw the barrel. I hesitantly tasted it and after determining that the contents hadn't been ruined, I emptied the barrel. Remarkably, what had gone in as 2 liters in volume came out at a mere 750 milliliters. The barrel was indeed hungry. Upon first taste, the Caneflower was intensely concentrated with flavors. However, oak wasn't one of them. It wasn't until I actually diluted the contents into a cocktail that I could find the oak notes at all. But boy did it need a lot of dilution. To find the balance, I had to stir it more than twice as long. Then, there was the oak. While this was not my best effort at barrel-aging, it did provide me with valuable information--don't fall asleep on the job.

Unexpected Nostalgia and the Kill Devil Cocktail

Some cocktails have the ability to take on a life outside the boundaries of the bar and become imbued with a time and place. It can happen at any time, and the cocktail becomes more of a signifier, a carrier of meaning. Perhaps it would seem more likely for a cocktail to represent a change in taste or an entrance into a new stage. The Vesper certainly always reminds me of my awakening to the lovely attributes of gin. The Pink Lady marked my first foray into the world of egg white drinks. And it was with the Improved Genever Cocktail that I first really understood and appreciated how absinthe can transform a cocktail. But when you spend as much time as I do thinking about cocktails, researching and reading, hell even imbibing cocktails, some of them stray into other territories.

I first ran into the Kill Devil Cocktail at Pegu Club in New York City three years ago. For summer, the city was unseasonably cool. The humidity was barely on my radar--a blessing since my years in the Pacific Northwest have lowered my tolerance. Five years had passed since I lived in Brooklyn, and I could feel how far I had moved away from that life. In the intervening years, I had changed coasts and moved three times before finally settling in Seattle. But some things never really go away. As I walked the streets on the edge of the East Village across to SoHo, I could feel the energy, could feel myself picking up the familiar pace as I wove through crowds and dodged traffic. I felt very much at home and yet not. So much had changed and yet so little. Of course, the pang of nostalgia was as present then as it is for me now while I write this. And while all of this self-awareness slipped away as I found myself staring at tiny blue flames that were flickering from a lime coin floating on the surface of my cocktail, I certainly knew at that moment that my taste buds were entering new territory.

The Kill Devil Cocktail is a strange concoction. It looks curious on paper--a drink that you aren't really sure will work in the glass, but that is too interesting to pass up. These cocktails are my weakness, and I have succumbed many times. The only surety is that the experience will be wholly new, regardless of whether you will ever want to relive it. This cocktail combines two ingredients not often seen together--rum agricole and green chartreuse. And while you may instantly think, there must be lime juice in there or something else to smooth out those big bold flavors, you would be wrong. This is not a Daiquiri or Last Word variation. While a bit of sweetener does help these two ingredients meld together better, it tends to stay out of the spotlight. When I first saw this cocktail on the menu, I was intrigued. When I tasted it, I was mesmerized. The flavors were intense and beyond anything I had ever tasted before. And as I sat there, taking in the complexity of each sip, it struck me how much I had changed. Even two years earlier I would have never been able to enjoy the Kill Devil. In fact, I probably never would have even considered ordering it.  

Kill Devil

2 ounces rhum agricole

3/4 ounce green chartreuse

1/4 ounce simple syrup

3 dashes Angostura bitters

Combine ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Stir and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. The original garnish was a "coin" of lime peel with a small amount of Stroh rum set alight. I have seen this drink garnished differently elsewhere, but I leave mine ungarnished.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Rhum J.M and a 1:1 simple syrup.

Earlier this spring, I found myself back in the Big Apple. It seems I can't visit my family without tacking on a trip back to New York. Very few things in my life are the same as they were on that trip so long ago. But those same pangs of nostalgia were there, though weaker. As soon as I arrived back in Seattle, I found myself craving a Kill Devil. This drink has come to symbolize that strange feeling of belonging in a place and yet not--the push and pull of how we change over time--a feeling I experience most keenly when I visit the East Coast. No longer does the Kill Devil seem novel and overpowering. I now understand its refined simplicity, how the disparate ingredients have been tamed. But regardless, the Kill Devil serves to remind me of how things change in spite of what we choose to hold onto. It makes me remember how the things that define us at one point in time, never really go away, but are just markers on the path.