Quaff The Raven

As I dust off my old rusty keyboard and begin composing my first article in well over a year and a half, I am sure that my reappearance will cause all sorts of uproar in bars, parlors, and lounges across the world. “Where did the Raven go for so long?” “I heard he joined that expedition to Antarctica to reclaim Shackleton’s whisky.” “I thought he was lost in the jungle during the search for the mysterious Amazonian Martini Flower.” And so on – the speculation continued, until I was but a memory, my correspondences tucked away in some digital file, while my fellow cocktalians continued to bring stories from around the world.

Alas, my story is considerably less interesting than that. For the last year and a half I have been completing my MBA, which I am happy to say is now earned (though not yet earning, if you get my drift), and I have finally the time and energy to begin writing again. I can’t guarantee you’ll see me monthly, but as I come across subjects of interest, I’ll pass them along to Dan and the folks at Bar None Drinks. (Hopefully he’ll still publish me!)

To mark my triumphant return to cocktail writing, I am bringing to you a new product (new in the same sense that Columbus discovered the “New World”) which came to me from the good folks at Phenix Brands out of Kansas City, MO. I think sometime during my absence it became proper or required to disclose when the product I’m reviewing was provided free of charge by the producer, which this bottle did. (I do have to wonder how many reviewers regularly buy the products they’re reviewing, or how many readers assume that there is some bias ascribed to a company that gives samples to reviewers. I mean, really? But I digress…three paragraphs into my review, and you don’t even know what the product is yet.)

Samogon is a clear liquor that tops out at a hefty 90 proof. The initial nose is a combination of vodka and tequila, though there is a distinct undertone of a heady red wine. I think it notable that the liquor actually smells warm, which is not an easy experience to explain; I’ve left the bottle out all night in my chilly apartment, the glass is cool to the touch, but the Samogon smells warm. As a clear spirit coming from an old Soviet Bloc country, you could be forgiven for expecting it to taste like vodka (read: nothing) but Samogon does have a slightly sweet flavor profile. The initial harshness of the alcohol, unavoidable in a 90 proof liquor, is quickly mellowed into what can only be described as a fruity dragon that fills the entire mouth. Even a small sip leaves me with the feeling that I could breathe fire, but it would be a very pleasant smelling flame. Samogon has the same earthy aftertaste that I find when drinking tequila (which is, unfortunately, one of the reasons I don’t drink tequila. I know other people do, so I try to relate the facts when I come across that flavor), though it is only at the very end of the quaff, and isn’t so pronounced.

Samogon is marketed as an entirely new base spirit (in the United States), though most enthusiasts will quickly recognize its similarity to grappa (the bottle does in fact identify it as Russian Grappa). It is produced by distilling the remnants of wine making – seeds, skins, and stems generally – which is what gives the spirit its distinctive flavor. Traditionally consumed as a room-temperature shot, the folks over at Phenix have worked with American mixologists to develop new cocktail applications. I’ve tried to whip up a few with mixed results (If you’ll pardon the pun). I would recommend trying them yourself before passing judgment.

As long-time readers know, I’m generally a brown spirits kind of guy (new readers take note). Samogon certainly has its charms, and I would choose it over virtually any vodka, and most gins; high praise indeed coming from a whiskey/rum drinker. A not insignificant part of me wants to put this bottle on oak for a few years and see what develops. (Hannah, are you listening?) I’ll be keeping this bottle to share with my wine and tequila drinking friends, as I sense it may be a bridge between them. Whether or not this will make it into my personal rotation is yet to be seen. Of course, there is the little issue of distribution: Samogon is currently available in only three states, and none of them are mine.

I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed reading this, and I hope you’ll drop by the blog and leave a comment.

Until next time,
The Raven.

After a month’s break from writing articles, I am back, albeit with a shorter post.   I do apologize in advance for the brevity, but life is surprisingly good at getting in the way of my drinking.

So, porters.  To my underdeveloped tongue, porter isn’t much different than stout.  Indeed, there is a lot of evidence that stout is, in some cases, just an outgrowth of porter.  For the uninitiated, porter is a dark, malty beer.  It tends to be lighter than stout, though; few people would consider porters to be ‘chewy’, a term which I often use to describe my favorite stouts.

As I did my research (the real kind, not the drinking kind), I discovered that a good lot of the history of the drink is considered controversial. Most of the popular history is derived from a single writing, the sources of which have come into doubt.  A common story, which may or may not be true, is that porter was derived as a blend of new and aged ales (the aging gives the color).  Other stories indicate other origins.  What does seem likely is that porter may actually be a kind of reversed evolution, with many different recipes converging into what we know today.

Next month: Mead!

My friends, an apology is due.  Two weeks ago, in the course of my 9-to-5 duties, The Raven injured his back.  As a responsible adult, I heeded my doctor’s orders not to mix the prescription medication with alcohol, and thus was unable to do the <ahem> research I wanted to.  For that reason, the May article, which was supposed to be on porter, will be pushed back to the June newsletter.

I am all healed up and better, but time just wasn’t on my side.  See you next month!

Describing pilsner to an American is like describing pizza to a Chicagoan…or so I was going to start this article. That was until I started my research and realized a few things. First, what we poor American souls know as pilsner really isn’t, and second, I’m not a huge fan of what I’ll call ‘classic pilsner’. I won’t spend long hashing out what makes a beer a pilsner, as I covered most of it in ‘Or lagers…’.

At its heart, a pilsner is a lager beer that has its origins in the city of Pilsen, in what was originally Bohemia. The residents of Pilsen, having learned of the lagering process from travelers, decided to try the bottom-fermenting methods on their local brews. Classic pilsners (those not mass-produced in the states) have a strong hop flavor (hence my distaste for them). When beer making came to America, many brewers took to calling their stuff pilsner, even though they got rid of most of the hop flavor. Needless to say, the two pilsners are now step-children of the same process, but hardly siblings.

With the beer out of the way, I thought I’d mention a couple of articles I’ve seen around. It’s been a while since I did a news round-up! There was a study that came out recently that suggested that children who see R-rated movies are more likely do engage in under-aged drinking. So Freddy really is going to kill you, especially if you’re a kid with lenient parents. Of course, I must mention that the study isn’t suggesting that the movies are causing the drinking, not entirely anyway. The authors went on to imply that most of the effects were from lax parenting, but also cited exposure to adult themes (like drinking and drug use) as causes for becoming familiar with lady drink at a young age.

Now, it’s no secret that I stand with the group of people who advocate a drinking age of 18. The arguments of joining the armed forces, voting, entering into contracts, and the like indicate to me an illogical double standard in keeping adults from imbibing. There’s also the notion that parents are relying more and more on the government to raise their children, which bugs me too. I did read about a law in Georgia (I think) which explicitly says that parents can serve alcohol to their underage kids at home. Odd to feel hope coming out of Georgia.

I suppose I’ve probably done enough social commentary for now, and probably insulted a few Georgians in the process. No insult intended, really, I have friends out there (or at least I *used* to).

Caw!

I should be studying for my business law final, but I’ve been struck with the desire to write.  As many who know me will attest to, I’m a bit of a political firebrand when it comes to issues I’m passionate about. I’ve attempted to mask these tendencies in my cocktail writing, with some success, but today I’m going to go all out on what may end up being a controversial point.  As you’ll see, the point of the post is in fact my right to be controversial, so take it as you will. I have chosen to make this  point now because I have made a connection between this special day and and feeling I’ve had for some time. I also should point out that this post is (mostly) only relevant to Americans, but my international friends are welcome to peruse and respond.

Today is Repeal Day, an as of yet unofficial holiday in the United States, and that unofficial-ness is what has me steamed.  On December 5, 1933, the 21st amendment was ratified, which ended Prohibition.  For a few years now, Portland, Oregon bartender Jeffrey Morgenthaler has been promoting the idea of turning Repeal Day into a real holiday.  I won’t go through his reasons, as he does a really good job of explaining himself on RepealDay.org. What I am going to do though, is expand somewhat on his base.

A question: what do we celebrate on our holidays?  Let’s first dispense with non-secular holidays, as in the United States, they cannot be officially recognized (though we, unfortunately, have ignored or evaded that part of the Constitution).  Beyond religious holidays, we have national, or patriotic holidays.  Most countries have these, commemorating independence, or great battles, or birthdays of great countrymen (or those of self-important dictators).  In the U.S., we celebrate our independence, a relationship with exploited native peoples, the birthdays of great presidents and a civil rights martyr, the memory of the back breaking work it took to build the country, and, on two separate days, the lives of the men and women who died in military service to the nation.  These are all good reasons to celebrate, but something is left out.

Now, I have to admit that I do not view military service as  something that is inherently patriotic.  I think we’re naive as a nation to believe that every person serving in the military is a true-blue American Hero. *Note, I held these beliefs before the tragedy at Ft. Hood and I do not mean to use that horrid event as evidence to my point.* Rather, people join the military for diverse reasons, whether it be money, boredom, despair, education, blood lust (yeah, it happens), and yes, certainly for patriotism.  As a college student, I contemplated momentarily going into OCS in the days after September 11th.  Then I got to thinking about what it really meant to be patriotic.

Part of my frustrations with Americans, and conservative Americans in particular, is the irony with which they live their lives.  They are quick to call someone out when they perceive an unpatriotic thought, such as saying that military worship is wrong, but they work just as hard to prevent people from exercising the rights that the military is supposedly trying to protect.   Why do we celebrate the people who died for our rights, but we ignore, or rather, denigrate, the people who live for them? What good is  the freedom of speech if there is no one willing to speak?

I contend that the greatest patriots are not those who raise a weapon to defend their rights, but instead make the greatest effort to exercise their rights.  I’d hate to think that all of the soldiers who’ve died over the years expired so that our rights could be curtailed by people espousing a certain political or religious philosophy.  This is what happened on the day the 18th Amendment was passed.  A right was stripped away from Americans.  Sure, I wasn’t alive, and that right was restored long before my grandparents were old enough to drink, but the issue of abridged rights comes up again and again in our history.  Sometimes we fix it through legislation, sometimes through amendment, sometimes through judicial interpretation, but not before an immense amount of pain and sacrifice on some hero’s part. Someone fought hard to give voting rights to women, but we don’t celebrate that person.  Someone fought hard to give interracial couples the right to marry, but we don’t celebrate that person.  Free speech is something we all want, until someone starts saying something we don’t like (and I’m not talking about incendiary hate speech here, I’m talking about artistic expression; the hate-mongers on a certain network are one wacko away from hate crime charges), but that person is doing right by all the people who died to give him the right to say that thing.

Repeal Day does just that.  It recognizes that patriotism doesn’t just mean taking up arms for Uncle Sam.  It lets us celebrate the actions of people who work to protect our rights from internal threats like the temperance lobby, and racism, bigotry, and other places that seem to creep up from time to time.  It stands as a monument to people like Eminem who ‘…stand up for the right to say something you might not like…’ and to the women who fought for the right to vote as citizens, and to people who fight to keep the government out of our bedrooms. Perhaps it will one day stand as a monument for the day that equal protection was extended to marriage laws too.

I say, express your appreciation for the American Heroes who fight with their lives as much as you do for those heroes who gave them up too early.  Celebrate Repeal Day (responsibly, please) as a way of saying thank you for the people who not only gave you back the right to drink, but for those who understand that true patriotism means actually exercising our  rights.  I’m an American, and I show that by doing those things that I have the right to do because I’m an American.

Caw!