I Hardly Know ‘Er :: Dish Weekly :: VUE Weekly

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Oct. 01, 2008 - Issue #676: Fall Style 2008

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I Hardly Know ‘Er

A strong, silent type

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Here’s one way to make a story. In 1605, give an already-ancient manuscript for an “elixir of long life” as a gift to an order of French monks. Make it so complex that it takes more than a lifetime to figure out. Have the monk’s apothecary hand down his knowledge at his death so the work can continue. After the manuscript is deciphered, have the monks create a “medicine” so strong it carries 70 per cent alcohol. Over the years, those monks will soften the liqueur a bit, make it green perhaps. Then kick the monks out of France after the French Revolution. After they come back to France, kick them out again, and this time, let a private company take over their distillery, guessing at and making a hash of the secret recipe. After the private company fails, have the monks, who’ve been continuing their production in Spain, come back and re-establish themselves. Make sure the recipe stays shrouded in secrecy—let only three monks at any one time into the secret, and let it be rumoured that each brother only knows one third of the 130 herbs that go into the liqueur. This liqueur is Chartreuse.

 

Buying a bottle of Chartreuse is a bit like buying a library. Crack open the bottle and take a whiff—it has a fusty smell, a little like old houses or overgrown gardens. The liqueur’s mix of herbs make it spicy and sweet, with an anise/mint hint. You can find two types of Chartreuse, yellow and green, in Edmonton stores. Yellow is used in more old-fashioned cocktails and it’s milder and less complex. Green is more of a kick in the mouth, and easier to find in the stores. Its high alcohol content (55 per cent!) forces you to savour it slowly.

 

Because Chartreuse is complex, it can be used in a huge range of cocktails. Different mixers will emphasize different flavour notes in the liqueur. For something more refreshing, try combining it with orange juice, like in the “Chartreuse Experience.” For a classic winter warmup, try “Chartreuse et Chocolat,” just a shot of the liqueur mixed into a cup of hot chocolate. Try lengthening Chartreuse with tonic if you want to emphasize its dry herbal notes. If you like it strong, attempt the “Webster F Street Layaway Plan,” which John Steinbeck described in his novel Sweet Thursday as a “drink ... made of rattlesnake venom and raw opium.” 

 

No matter the combination of flavours, Chartreuse always asserts itself. Chartreuse on ice is nice, and might be your way into the liqueur. Its powerful flavour goes a long way in cocktails, so get used to the taste that will lace itself through your mixed drinks like incense in a cathedral. Chartreuse tastes and feels ancient, and its presence in cocktails gives an old-fashioned flavour that not everyone is going to like. But you owe it to your own story to give it a shot. Make it interesting. V 

 

Recipe



 

Webster F Street Layaway Plan

 

John Steinbeck named this drink, essentially a martini with Chartreuse substituted for vermouth, for his friend Webster F Street. Here it is made with gin, which has herbal flavours that go well with Chartreuse. If you prefer to taste just Chartreuse’s 130 herbs and plants, substitute vodka for gin.

 

 

Combine Chartreuse and gin in a shaker with ice. Shake, then serve. You can make this drink your own personal layaway plan: mix up a jar and stash it in your freezer.

 

 

The Chartreuse Experience

 

This is tangy, herbal and sweet. Feel free to play with proportions, cutting lemon juice in half if it’s too sour, or cutting back on orange juice if it’s too sweet. The addition of vodka helps smooth the assertiveness of the Chartreuse.

 

 

Combine all ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake, then serve. V

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