LITTLE ROCK — Holiday drinking is problematic for some people, and it’s not difficult to understand why.
First of all, the holidays can be miserable. This is the time when people feel they must face their relatives or feel lonely (or guilty) because they have no relatives to face. It is the time of year when everyone is supposed to be elated by some mysterious spirit - when we are supposed to be impressed by the inherent goodness of people and forgive the passive-aggressive ploys of family.
It is the time of year when we are supposed to gather together and celebrate traditions that presumably are more than the remnants of the fantasies of long-dead marketers. This is the time of year when we have occasion to eat and drink more than we might otherwise, and when reasonable caution might be mistaken for fuddyduddyism.
The pressure to be jolly and bright weighs heavy as a child’s coffin on a reluctant celebrant.
There is much anxiety that accompanies entertaining. There are people who will judge you by the wines you set out or by what whiskey you pour. (To paraphrase Joe Stalin: Decant. Decant. And once again, decant.) Some of your best friends are snobs who hold strong, if unsupportable, opinions about alcohol (although the only thing that may be worth worrying about is whether you’re consuming the ethyl or methyl kind).
None of my opinions are so strong as to cause me to turn down an offered cocktail; I’m not a huge fan of eggnog, but I will have some more of that delicious pumpkin liqueur.
The holidays also induce people who might not otherwise drink to do just that, as a form of social lubrication or in an effort to chase down the elusive dragon of holiday cheer. This inevitably leads to problems, not only for the poor drunken tyros but for those of us who traditionally receive New Year’s Eve as an amateur night. There’s nothing quite as boring as a newbie who finds her intoxication fascinating. Three martinis turned Dorothy Parker into a bore. What makes you think they’ll turn you into Dorothy Parker?
Anyway, so much for the obligatory public service announcement about the dangers of getting smashed, it’s on to the portion of the program where we talk about new products you can buy and try. This is Mr. Drinkie’s annual pococurante gift guide to wines and spirits, timed to coincide with some people’s annual trip to the liquor merchant.
First up are a couple of relatively local gems, Rock Town’s Hickory Smoked Whiskey ($24.95) and its Apple Pie Arkansas Lightning ($21.95). I’ll admit I was a bit surprised by both these offerings. While I very much like Rock Town’s Arkansas Young Bourbon, I tend to dismiss any liquor bottle that has the word “flavored” on its label as gimmicky. But HSW has a pleasant, smoky, hickory burr that’s a little reminiscent of peat and more subtle than you might expect. It’s a good sip (but probably a better marinade - we soaked a London broil in it the other night - yum) that sort of splits the difference between Bourbon and Scotch.
As for the Apple Pie, well, it’s different, with lots of spice in the nose and the body. At 80 proof, it’s mellower than Rock Town’s regular white dog product (Arkansas Lightning).
While the marketing spin is that it’s just like “granddaddy” used to make, I wonder if it wasn’t partly inspired by a recurring theme in the 2011 season of FX’s Justified, in which a character named Mags Bennett (wonderfully played by Margo Martindale), the matriarch of a backwoods crime family, served up a sometimes deadly bootleg concoction called Apple Pie.
In any case, this is about what you’d expect from the name. While I thought I might find it a little sweet, it’s not at all cloying. I’d rather mix it - half and half with brandy over ice is nice, but it’d do well with cola. I was surprised that some of my least tolerant whiskey buddies actually liked it neat. Rock Town suggests mixing it with ginger ale and I can see how that would work nicely.
Also just in time for the holidays comes Grand Marnier Natural Cherry Liqueur (about $35 per 750 ml. bottle), a limited-edition version of the orange brandy liqueur that includes a dash of semisweet cherry flavor in the finish.
I got a sample of the stuff a few months ago and when I posted the photo of it - it wasn’t in the finished packaging, just a plain clear glass bottle - on my Facebook page immediately after unboxing, someone asked what it tasted like. Without having tried it, I wrote: “Like the best cough medicine in the world.” Now that I have tried it, I can say that I stand by that opinion. There is a slight, but not unpleasant note of stringency in the formula. I was surprised to discover it’s actually slightly less sweet than regular Grand Marnier.
It’s also quite deep and complex, and makes an excellent mixer. I used up my small sample bottle in Manhattans, mixing it with the excellent Knob Creek rye I told you about last month.
While I’m a great fan of Grand Marnier, experience has taught me that in most drinks, triple sec makes an adequate substitute. (And there are cheaper orange liqueurs I like just as well.) But while I’m hardly an expert on cherry liqueurs, this one strikes me as possibly the best I’ve ever had. If I could have only one style of Grand Marnier in the house, I’d take the cherry flavor.
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Style, Pages 49 on 11/25/2012