by Amy Stewart
Fill a highball glass with ice; layer in 1 or 2 slices of jalapeño, a sprig of cilantro, and the slice of cucumber.
Strain the gin and pour over ice. Fill the glass with tonic water; garnish with cherry tomatoes on a pick.
WHY DOES QUININE GLOW UNDER ULTRAVIOLET LIGHT?
Shine a blacklight on a bottle of tonic water and it will glow a bright radioactive blue. The quinine alkaloid is “excited” by ultraviolet light, which means that the electrons absorb the light and take on extra energy, throwing them out of their regular orbit. In order to return to their natural position—their “relaxed” state—they release the energy, causing a bright glow.
CINNAMON
Cinnamomum verum
lauraceae (laurel family)
No one knows where cinnamon sticks come from. There is a bird called the cinnamon bird that gathers the fragrant twigs from some unknown location and builds its nest from them. To harvest the cinnamon, people attach weights to the tips of arrows and shoot the nests down.
That’s not actually true, but it was Aristotle’s best guess when he described cinnamon in his Historia Animalium in 350 BC. We have since located the source of cinnamon, relieving us of the necessity of shooting down the nests of mythical birds.
Cinnamon is, in fact, the bark of a tree native to what is now Sri Lanka. Arab spice traders had managed to keep the location a secret, but once Portuguese sailors found it, the news got out. They learned to wait until the rainy season to cut down young shoots, a practice called coppicing, which would stunt the growth of the tree and force it to put up one young trunk after another rather than grow into a fully mature tree. These pieces would be scraped to remove the gray outer bark, making it easier to cut long peels of the light inner bark. The peels would dry in the sun and roll into the curled pieces we buy today as cinnamon sticks.
Until the late 1700s, cinnamon was harvested from wild trees, but after that they were grown on plantations. Today the highest-quality cinnamon comes from Sri Lanka, but India and Brazil also supply the world market. It is generally labeled as true cinnamon or Ceylon cinnamon.
Another species of cinnamon tree native to India and China, Cinnamomum aromaticum, produces what is often called cassia cinnamon. It is widely sold in the United States and is easy to distinguish from true cinnamon: the sticks of cassia are thick and generally form a large double roll, whereas true cinnamon sticks look more like a tightly rolled bunch of thinner bark. The two are harder to tell apart after they’ve been ground into a spice powder, but there’s a reason to check labels: cassia cinnamon can contain high levels of coumarin, which could cause liver damage to people who are sensitive to it. This makes Ceylon or true cinnamon a safer choice for anyone who has liver problems and plans to eat large quantities of the spice. Still, there is no ban or restriction on cassia as there is for tonka bean, another spice that contains a comparable amount of coumarin.
Cinnamon leaves are high in eugenol, also found in cloves. In the bark, the main component is called cinnamaldehyde, although the ever-present linalool, a spicy floral compound, is also there. Cinnamon is ubiquitous in the cocktail world: it’s found in gin, vermouth, bitters, and spicy liqueurs. Perhaps the best-known cinnamon liqueur is Goldschläger, a clear cinnamon schnapps with bits of gold leaf floating in the bottle. The French distiller Paul Devoille makes a gingerbread liqueur called Liqueur de Pain d’Épices that is the perfect expression of cinnamon in a bottle.
DOUGLAS FIR
Pseudotsuga menziesii
pinaceae (pine family)
Inspired by the traditional pine liqueurs of Alsace, Portland distiller Stephen McCarthy wanted to make a spirit infused with his local conifer, the Douglas fir. This majestic evergreen grows to over two hundred feet along the Oregon coast, where it is the state tree. It is the host plant for a number of moths and butterflies, its sturdy wood is prized for timber, and it makes a fine Christmas tree.
To make his spirit, McCarthy went into the forest, handpicked buds from the tips of the branches, and tried, without success, to extract flavor from them. He was unable to create a drink to his liking, in part because the buds—young dark shoots that form the next year’s needles—would oxidize as they were picked and handled.
Finally, he brought drums of his own high-proof neutral grape spirit into the woods, where he poured it into buckets and carried it directly to the trees. “We dropped the buds straight into the buckets,” he said. “We were actually making the eau-de-vie out in the woods.” He took the infused spirit back to the distillery, let it sit for two weeks, then filtered and redistilled the mixture. “Eau-de-vie is very unforgiving,” he said. “It is not aged in oak, so any off flavors in the spirit or the ingredients will not be corrected in the barrel.”
At last he was satisfied with the flavor of the finished product—but not the color. “It comes from an evergreen,” he said. “It should be green. But the second distillation took all the color out.” There was only one way to get the color he wanted: he took the second distillation back into the woods, poured it back into buckets, and carried those buckets back to the trees. “We picked buds again and dropped them into the buckets, and let them sit just long enough to bring the color back.”
It took McCarthy years to figure out how to get the color, clarity, and flavor to come together, but his trials weren’t over. He had to get federal approval for the label. “I wanted to put the Latin name of the Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) on the label, because this product is all about the tree,” he said. “But the federal liquor agents didn’t believe that there was a tree called a Douglas fir, and they really didn’t know what to make of the Latin name.” Eventually the label, which also featured a drawing of the tree by his wife, the artist Lucinda Parker, won approval. McCarthy’s Clear Creek Distillery now produces 250 cases per year of the green spirit.
THE DOUGLAS EXPEDITION
Stephen McCarthy prefers his Douglas fir eau-de-vie in a neat, single-ounce serving after dinner. But it makes a lovely cocktail as well. This one is named after David Douglas, the Scottish botanist who went on a famous 1824 plant-hunting expedition to the Pacific Northwest. He introduced almost 250 new species to England, including his namesake, the Douglas fir. Douglas died at the age of thirty-five while climbing a volcano in Hawaii. This drink pays tribute to his early days at London’s Royal Horticultural Society, the group that sponsored his expeditions.
1 ounce London dry gin
1 ounce Douglas fir eau-de-vie
½ ounce St-Germain elderflower cordial
Juice of 1 lemon wedge
Shake all the ingredients with ice and serve in a cocktail glass.
EUCALYPTUS
Eucalyptus spp.
myrtaceae (myrtle family)
By 1868, the Tre Fontane Abbey near Rome was almost abandoned. The soil was depleted, the surrounding community deserted, and worst of all, malaria had reached an intolerable level. At that time people still believed that malaria was caused not by mosquitoes carrying a parasite but by something in the air; the word itself meant “bad air” in Latin. The monks hit upon an unusual solution to their problems: they planted stands of eucalyptus trees around the monastery. This fast-growing Australian tree, which, after all, smelled of medicine, would surely clear the air, rid the abbey of malaria, improve the soil, and give the monks some sort of crop with which to earn an income. They even made a tea from the leaves, which they believed would keep malaria away.
The American Medical Association ridiculed these efforts in an 1894 journal article titled “The Passing of the Eucalyptus.” It pointed out that malarial outbreaks had taken place since the trees were planted and scoffed at its “reputed medical virtues.” However, the monks were not entirely wrong: in 2011, an extract of Eucalyptus citriodora called oil of lemon eucalyptus won approval from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention as a recommended mosquito repellant.
Still, the monks were left to contend with thousands of eucalyptus trees that served no real purpose
. Like any good farmers, they found a way to bottle their crop. Today visitors to the abbey can pick up a bottle of sweet Eucalittino delle Tre Fontane, a liqueur made with macerated eucalyptus leaves. They also offer a bitter Estratto di Eucaliptus, made with no added sugar and recommended for cold winter nights.
Eucalyptus might seem like a flavor better suited to cough medicine than liquor, but the cool note of menthol or camphor can help amplify woodsy flavors like pine or juniper. It is used in bitters, vermouth, and gin. Fernet Branca in particular is known for its powerful eucalyptus flavor.
Eucalyptus has a long history as an intoxicating substance in its native Australia. The cider gum eucalyptus, E. gunnii, excretes a sweet, sticky sap that naturally ferments as it drips down the tree. As many as four gallons per day can flow from a single tree, and Aboriginal people made good use of it. In 1847, the British botanist John Lindley wrote that it “furnishes the inhabitants of Tasmannia with a copious supply of a cool, refreshing, slightly aperient liquid, which ferments and acquires the properties of beer.” Today the Tamborine Mountain Distillery is winning awards for its Eucalyptus Gum Leaf Vodka and Australian Herbal Liqueur, both flavored with the leaves.
Bartenders are beginning to experiment with eucalyptus syrups and infusions, but it’s important to note that only E. globulus, the so-called blue gum that is widely distributed in the western United States, is considered a safe food ingredient by the FDA—and it has only approved the use of the leaves, not the essential oil extract.
DRUNKEN LORIKEETS
Every year, Australian ornithologists field calls about the strange behavior of the musk lorikeet population in the southeastern part of the country. These brilliantly colored parrots sometimes find themselves unable to fly. They stumble around on the ground and generally act like drunken louts. They even appear hung over the next day. It happens when their normal food source, eucalyptus nectar, ferments on the tree. This appears to be one of the only true accounts of wildlife being intoxicated by wild liquor. Unfortunately, it makes the birds vulnerable to predators or injury, so bird rescue organizations routinely take in drunken lorikeets and help them sober up.
MASTIC
Pistacia lentiscus
anacardiaceae (cashew family)
A close relative to the pistachio, the mastic tree is native to the Mediterranean, where its resin has been harvested since ancient times for a surprising number of uses. Mastic gum oozes from the trunk when the bark is cut and dries to a hard, translucent yellow substance that softens to something like chewing gum when chewed. It is useful as a varnish; in fact, painters still use it on their canvases. As an adhesive, it’s used in dissolvable stitches, bandages, and topical ointments. The gum seems to control cavities, so it’s used in some toothpaste brands as well. And although the flavor is decidedly medicinal—imagine a cross between pine, bay laurel, and clove—it also flavors Greek spirits. Mastika is a high-proof anise-flavored spirit, usually with a brandy base, served as a digestif.
The tree itself is a small and highly fragrant scrubby plant with tiny red fruits that turn black with age. The Greek island of Chios is best known for its mastic gum production; in fact, mastic from Chios enjoys recognition from the European Union as a product with a protected designation of origin, much like Champagne or Calvados.
MAUBY
Colubrina elliptica
rhamnaceae (buckthorn family)
Visitors to the Caribbean, particularly around Trinidad and Barbados, may have encountered mauby, a strangely sweet and bitter syrup made from the bark of two trees, Colubrina arborescens and C. elliptica. The recipe varies, but it usually involves mixing the tree bark with sugar, water, and some combination of cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, vanilla, citrus peel, bay leaf, star anise, and fennel seed, giving it a spicy licorice kick. Poured into plain or soda water, mauby syrup has traditionally been considered a sort of cure-all. Islanders believe it treats diabetes and works as an appetite stimulant, but the only concrete proof of its health benefits comes from one small study in the West Indian Medical Journal that found that it could alleviate high blood pressure.
There are over thirty species of Colubrina around the world, all growing in warm-weather regions. C. elliptica, the species most widely used to make mauby, is actually native to Haiti and the Dominican Republic, but the bark circulates to nearby islands. C. arborescens is also used; it is native to Barbados. The wood is incredibly hard; in fact, the name ironwood has been applied to several species. The bark contains tannins and bitter saponins (called, in this case, mabioside) that probably protect the plant from predators. In Florida, C. arborescens is also called wild coffee, which suggests that the bark had an early history as a tea or coffee substitute.
In the early twentieth century, “mauby women” carried the homemade brew in tin containers perched on their heads and sold it informally on the streets. Now the syrup is manufactured on a larger scale and sold commercially, and bottled soft drinks like Mauby Fizz are also available. And mauby does, in fact, turn up in Caribbean cocktails, including those made by some of the best tiki bartenders in North America—although none of them will divulge their recipes.
MYRRH
Commiphora myrrha
burseraceae (torchwood family)
Myrrh is an ugly little tree: scrawny, covered in thorns, and nearly bereft of leaves. It grows in the poor, shallow soils of Somalia and Ethiopia, where it is a gloomy gray figure in a barren landscape. If it weren’t for the rich and fragrant resin that drips from the trunk, no one would give it a second look.
Tiny chunks of dried resin, about the size and shape of a raisin, were highly valued as perfume and incense among Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. Because tree resin was used to seal drinking vessels, it is easy to see how myrrh and wine came together. Romans offered a myrrh and wine blend during crucifixions; it was presented to Jesus, but he refused it.
Myrrh has a bitter and somewhat medicinal taste. Its essential oil contains compounds also found in pine, eucalyptus, cinnamon, citrus, and cumin. The French distiller Combier lists it as an ingredient in its premium orange liqueur Royal Combier, and it is a common ingredient in vermouth, aromatized wines, and bitters. The makers of Fernet Branca do not bother to hide the fact that it is among their secret ingredients; the powerful and ancient flavor of myrrh helps explain why Fernet packs such a punch.
PINE
Pinus spp.
pinaceae (pine family)
The residue of wine laced with tree resin has been found at archeological sites dating back to the Neolithic period. Perhaps it was used as a preservative or to add a woodsy flavor the way barrel-aging would. It might have also had medicinal uses: tree resin seemed to heal trees, so it stood to reason that drinking tree resin might heal internal ailments. Roman winemakers added a potpourri of strange ingredients to wine, including not only pine resin but also frankincense, myrrh, and an extract from the terebinth tree, from which turpentine was also made.
Even today, it is possible to find a pine-resin-infused wine called retsina in Greece. The Greek winery Gaia Estate makes a retsina called Ritinitis Nobilis that is flavored with an extract of the Aleppo pine Pinus halepensis. Fernet Branca is also rumored to contain a touch of pine resin.
But the most interesting pine-based spirit is surely the Alsatian pine liqueur called bourgeon de sapin. It might not be to everyone’s liking, but it is a rare and unusual historic liqueur that bartenders love to experiment with. (Imagine a boozy, sugary Christmas tree, enjoyed neat in a short glass.) An Austrian version called Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur gets its pale cinnamon hue and floral perfume from the arolla stone pine, Pinus cembra, which grows high in the Alps. According to the distiller, the cones are only harvested every five to seven years, and even then, less than a quarter of the cones are picked. The work is done by intrepid mountaineers who trek through the Alps in early July and climb the dense trees to reach the cones precisely when they are at their reddest and most pungent.
ROYAL TANNENBAUM
/> (Based on Lara Creasy’s recipe, Imbibe magazine, Nov./Dec. 2008)
1½ ounces London dry gin
½ ounce pine liqueur, such as Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur
1 sprig fresh rosemary
Shake the gin and pine liqueur over ice, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the rosemary sprig.
SENEGAL GUM TREE
Senegalia senegal (syn. Acacia senegal)
fabaceae (bean family)
A small, prickly tree that grows in the Sudanese desert has been responsible for such diverse duties as keeping newspaper ink on the page, preserving Egyptian mummies, and stabilizing the sugar and color in soft drinks. It is also the key ingredient in old-fashioned gomme syrup, where it adds a smooth, silky texture to cocktails and keeps the sugar from crystallizing.
There were, until recently, over a thousand species of trees classified as acacias, almost all of them coming from Australia. A few are native to warmer areas of Europe, Asia, Africa, and North and South America. But taxonomists recently split the acacias into several different genera, a decision that was so controversial that petitions were circulated, botanists were sniping at one another publicly, and accusations of greed and corruption were flung at scientists during the normally staid conference on botanical nomenclature. As a result of their reorganization of the acacia genus, Sudanese farmers no longer grow acacias; they now grow Senegalia senegal. Acacia gum, also called gum arabic, will presumably have to find another name as well.
The botanical debate is not the only controversy surrounding the tree. Because it grows in Sudan, it is at the center of a brutal war. Supplies of the raw gum—which is harvested by scraping the tree and hand-collecting the globs of gum that issue forth—have been threatened by fighting in the region. The U.S. State Department issued warnings in 1997 about the possibility that Osama bin Laden had invested heavily in the Gum Arabic Company, a government-controlled monopoly that exported the gum to Europe for processing. The company denied ties to the terrorist. After heavy lobbying from the soft drink industry, the economic sanctions imposed on Sudan were amended to grant an exemption for gum arabic.