Distilled Discovery: The Liberty Distillery

 

 

It was late morning when I walked out into a perfect Spring day – rainless, sunny and cool enough to wander aimlessly for hours. I took the Aquabus ferry across from dowtown Vancouver BC to Granville Island, with its sensory-overload foodie paradise markets, art galleries and curiosity shops – one of my favorite places on earth. I usually go before the crowds arrive, so I could get to my treats fairly quickly.

 

 

After loading up on gourmet treats, I wandered beyond the markets. Beneath the bridge on Johnston Street, I saw the sign for The Liberty Distillery, creator and purveyor of fine liquid spirits – mainly vodka, gin and whiskey – since 2010. I opened the door for a peek, and was pulled inside by a loud, friendly Scottish accent and a good-looking barkeep.

 

 

Not being Happy Hour yet, there were a few people inside. I chatted up the bartender about Scottish and Irish history for a bit,

From the bar’s seating area, I could see the handmade copper stills and other equipment where their liquor is distilled and fermented onsite. According to their website:

The Liberty Distillery chose CARL, Germany’s oldest distillery fabricator to custom design our stills because of their rich 140-year family tradition and uncompromising dedication to aesthetics, design, innovation, and patented ‘aroma plates’ in the rectification columns.

 

 

Eventually, I decided to taste two of their gins: Endeavour Gin and Endeavour Old Tom.

Their Endeavour  Gin was created in the London Dry style, boldly fragranced and flavored by a blend of 10 botanicals, including juniper and citrus. Instead of a smooth finish, this gin had a bite. Definitely a gin to have as a martini, with vermouth to tame its spicy personality.

 

 

The bartender told me about a gin’s Navy strength, a term that came from the days when hard liquor was transported by Navy ships. In case any of the liquor leaked or spilled out of the barrels during transport, the warship’s gunpowder had to be able to still ignite even after being soaked in it.

But being stored in barrels has a price, due to its porousness. Some evaporation occurs during the aging process, about 2%. All that wonderful liquor rising up to the heavens has been called the “angel’s share”.

 

 

The Endeavour Old Tom was a different story. This gin was stored in French Oak barrels for several months, during which it gained both its deepened flavors and interesting mahogany color. I held the shot glass up to my nose; fragrant and heady. The flavors that came with each sip were complex and many – more fruit-ish than fruity, like a pastry would be, but balanced and smooth. On top of that, the oak added that extra level of sublime and deep character.

Waves of blissful joy. As a whiskey and bourbon lover, this was my kind of gin!

 

There were bottles on the showcase shelf that looked like they held something liquid in a very pretty shade of pink. They were the Endeavour Pink Gin. Yes, PINK gin! Of course, I had to have a shot!

 

 

The Endeavour Pink was a “limited release” gin, due to its seasonal main ingredient – wild rosehips. The berries, combined with the juniper base, resulted in a fresh, flowery fragrance enjoyed by my palate and nose.

Like a booze-y kiss from a rose.

And the pale, beautiful pink hue added to the whole experience. Sadly, at $45.99/bottle, plus sin tax, this was destined to become a recurring memory instead of a repeat experience. Ouch!

 

I’m looking forward to coming back for these creative, expertly crafted gins on my next trip to Granville Island. But next time, when I’m not tipsy from gin shots, I’ll definitely give their cocktails a try.

 

Pics of Endeavour Gin bottles courtesy of the Liberty Distillery website.
All other photos by Alexandria Julaton.

 

Stripper Nachos and the Margarita Lesson

 

What could possibly make quittin’ time even better? Happy hour!

My girlfriend Renee was meeting me after work. I worked through lunch so that I could leave early and snag us a table at the bar. Downtown bars filled up fast during happy hour with people trying to score cheap eats, house drinks, and someplace to go to wait out the horrible traffic.

Renee was my newest gal pal, so I wanted to pick out a nice bar for our first meetup, one with extensive happy hour offerings. She liked Mexican food, so I figured a nice, upscale Mexican bistro with a death fetish and flaming coffees would make for a great impression. I think she mentioned she was vegetarian, so I ordered non-meat nachos from the happy hour menu as our starter snack. And of course, a good, solid margarita (this place uses fresh lime juice, not sweet and sour mix) to celebrate the end of the day, and the beginning of a new friendship!

 

 

I chatted with the bartender a bit, told her I noticed they made margaritas with just tequila silver, a blanco, as opposed to a reposado or anejo. She explained that because the anejo and reposado were smoother and sweeter than the blanco, they would make the margarita too sweet and the tequila too difficult to detect. Plus the anejo and reposado, being aged and smoother, were more expensive than the blanco. Mixing them into margaritas would be wasteful, and should instead be enjoyed neat.

 

 

A few minutes into my margarita, I texted Renee to see if she was still coming. When I looked up, there she was with her sparkly hazel eyes and grinning red lips. Even after a full day’s work, she looked wide awake and unstoppable! I offered her the nachos while she was reaching for the cocktail menu. “Oh, I can’t.” Renee said apologetically. “I’m vegan, gluten-free and dairy-free.”

We scoured the menus for animal-free/gluten-free items and came up empty. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll just order a side of carrots.” This place was a fail and utterly unacceptable. I was open to suggestions.

 

 

Renee was familiar with the dietary restrictions food scene, and suggested a place I’d never heard of that was just a few minutes away. The entrance was in a narrow, seedy alleyway. Fortunately, it wasn’t completely dark yet. But at this time of year, 4:30 pm was sundown.

 

 

Looking at it from outside, I thought, “Wow, what a hole. Renee comes HERE?”. Walking in, I noted that the place was small but clean, and did have a respectable bar with a good liquor selection. The prayer candles were an interesting detail, too. There were lots of them, for whatever reason. I decided to trust and roll with it.

 

 

It was still happy hour, so we could get deep discounts on food, well drinks and cocktails. Renee ordered vegan nachos and I got tacos. In my experience, happy hour margaritas were mostly fruit-flavored sugar water with almost no tequila, and the one I had there lived up to all my expectations. Still, the food was really tasty.

 

 

Halfway through my drink, I needed the restroom, and was told to go through this strange door to get there. The signage confused me. No minors allowed in the restaurant, or no minors permitted to use the restrooms?

 

 

As I opened the door, the first things I noticed were darkness, and loud throbbing music. Not the clubby, dance-y kind you’d bounce to while sipping your appletini; more like the slow, grinding raw kind you listened to while sullenly throwing back shots. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a silent crowd drinking, watching young pretty girls on stage writhing, swaying, and whipping their hair around.

On the dimly lit path to the bathroom, I had stumbled into a labyrinth of sin and nubile flesh that left nothing to the imagination. I watched as men walked up to the stage and shoved their dollar bills into unmentionable places on ladies bending, kneeling, waiting to receive their treat.

Where the hell was I??
Oh. Right. I’m at a Mexican restaurant that shares bathrooms with a strip club, of course.

 

 

I took no pictures of all this because the bouncer seated by the door was looking at me like that would be a really bad idea. Seeing the ladies prance and dance with money tucked into their naughty parts really made me think about the dollar bills in my wallet. Oh, the places that paper money may have been. I think I’ll be transacting on a credit card-only basis from now on.

From that day forward, to Renee and me, that restaurant was code name: Stripper Nachos.

You never forget your first time: A hard cider tale

One sultry Saturday evening, my besty and his partner invited me to join them on a neighborhood crawl. It was impossible to resist: summer, Saturday night, and a trendy ‘hood filled with quirky stuff/people – a winning trifecta I just couldn’t turn down.

 

I met D and G at their charming little downtown studio, conveniently located just a couple of blocks from hipster central. We were all hugs and chatter about shops and bars to check out that night. There were a couple of places on our radar, but the rest of the evening was wide open.

 

 

We bounced around like pinball triplets – an antiques store here, until we dashed over there to the chocolates specialty store, pondered a visit to the palm reader, went around the corner for adult costumes, which was near an exotic tea shop, next door to a place with soaps that looked and smelled good enough to eat, etc.

 

 

It was about 8 or 9 pm when we stopped at a pub for some refreshment before we continued exploring. The pub aspired to be unpretentious (which you can’t really be with such a strong hipster vibe), with lots of wood and brick, family-style dining tables, speakers playing random music genres, and a really friendly, young, tattooed/pierced wait staff. We went straight to the drinks menu, to get the really important choices out of the way, before considering any after-thoughts, like food.

 

 

By the way, this was years ago, before I was fully immersed and versed in the craft cocktail scene, and definitely long before I knew my limitations. D ordered a pint of their hard cider, and G decided on a crisp lager to cool off with on this humid summer night. Being new to the art of imbibing in boozey beverages, I played it safe and ordered a glass of dry white wine. When our order arrived, I kept eyeballing the others’ drinks. Such beautiful amber colors! G let me try his lager, which was refreshing and light, with a tiny bit of hopsey bite. D let me try his hard cider, and I couldn’t give it back.

 

 

I have never had hard cider before. D tried to explain the cider-making process, but I was too distracted to really listen. He may have also mentioned that it was pretty potent. But all my brain could hear was “MMMM it’s like…apple juice! But better! How can a process, with a few steps more or less here and there, end up producing either apple cider, apple cider vinegar or hard cider? Genius!” The hard cider was delicious, fresh, not too sweet, and lovely to look at. So golden. I just couldn’t put it down. It was like apple juice, but better, and with a kick! Realizing he wasn’t getting his hard cider back, D ordered another one.

 

 

Did I mention we forgot to order food? Hard cider on an empty stomach. Naturally, you know what comes next.

It’s funny how the booze gently flows into your bloodstream before sucker punching your brain. I recalled a quote from Jack Kerouac’s book “Dharma Bums”:

“The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy.” He was talking about sipping tea, but it sort of outlined my stages of hard cider discovery:

1 – What is this tasty, amazing drink? MMMM
2 – I’ve discovered a new thing and it’s wonderful!
3 – Ahhhh, yessss, so delicious…hard cider….
4 – What?? No! You’re not getting this back!
5 – …

 

This is where my brain goes fuzzy, then the room, and everyone in it, gets that weird but wonderful haze around it. Like the lotion-on-the-camera-lens effect in a Star Trek scene when Capt. James T. Kirk notices an attractive female on-board. Cue the flutey seduction music.

G paid the bill, and we walked outside. I felt wonderful and float-y, I decided to do a pirouette I just learned in ballet class, when I suddenly felt a couple of firm hands on both my arms yank me back. Apparently, I almost danced into oncoming traffic.

I was insufferably silly, and D and G were losing patience. They outvoted me and called an end to our evening adventure. Spending the night with two lovely men in their cute downtown studio sounded, well, crowded. D, my wonderful knight in shining armor, decided to drive me home to make sure I got there safely, even though my apartment was just a bus ride away. G stayed behind to, I don’t know, fluff pillows or something.

D decided to take a shortcut through the hills. Unfortunately for me, they were winding hills. I opened the window, thinking the night air would get rid of my nausea. I unbuckled my seat belt. With every turn, the cider splashed around in my stomach, becoming increasingly volatile. And ready to erupt.
Splash. Splash.
And then…OMG.

Suddenly, I grabbed D’s arm and gripped it. Hard. I didn’t even have to say a word; he took one look at my face, panicked, slowed to a stop immediately. But it was too late. I lunged onto the door and shoved my head out the window. In my weakened state, I didn’t have enough lung power to projectile vomit a polite few inches away from the car. So it all slid down the outside of D’s car door in waves, as it gushed out of me. Wow. I hoped the stomach bile/hard cider upchuck wouldn’t take the paint off his car.

 

 

The next morning, I couldn’t tell which was worse, my loudly pounding head or my gut-churning nausea. I have never been drunk or hung over before. I prayed for death, but it would not come.
Damn it.
I dragged myself over to Hot Lips Pizza across the street, and forced foccacia bread down my throat, in an attempt to soak up the excess stomach acid (my brother said I’d feel better). I got it all down, and spent several minutes breathing slowly, focusing steadily, using all of my willpower to keep it down. I took some painkillers for my throbbing head, and waited for the food and chemicals to save me.

 

Never ever again. Oh man, I really think that cider fermented in my stomach overnight and I woke up with a belly full of vinegar. I had plans with D and G later that day. I felt slightly better in a few hours and headed over. G greeted me at the door and couldn’t get the damn shit-eating grin off his face. He and D probably laughed their asses off as they hosed the vomit. I mean, I managed to hold it just long enough to puke on the OUTSIDE of his car, instead of ruining his upholstery! Where’s the gratitude? Come to think of it, where’s the sympathy?? Aren’t they supposed to be my FRIENDS??

D came out of the kitchen with a huge smile, carrying a pitcher and a large glass.
“Cider, anyone?”

 

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All pics taken by Alexandria Julaton, except for Star Trek screenshot

Distilled Discovery: Long Table Distillery

It was a crisp spring morning in downtown Vancouver BC, perfect for another day of exploring. The overcast sky was getting brighter as the day was slowly warming up. Even better – it wasn’t raining.

Google maps showed a marina just a 10-minute walk away. On the map’s aerial view, I saw a ferry that took people across from the pier to Granville Island – VBC’s version of Seattle’s Pike Place Market. Today’s adventure was a ferry ride to Granville Island, and whatever was waiting to be discovered along the way!

The Discovery

Several hours later, I had a bag full of gourmet, artisan yummies, and headed back through the upscale waterfront neighborhood and flowering cherry trees. Suddenly, across the street, the clouds parted, the sun exploded and sweet melodies started playing in my head as I realized what was right in front of me!

The Distillery

Vancouver BC’s first microdistillery was tucked away from the downtown core, looking politely inconspicuous on the outside. It was 3 pm, and customers were already celebrating handcrafted gins and other fine spirits in “a place where kindred spirits meet.” I sat at a corner table, which gave me a view of the whole room.

Bottom photo of distillery, courtesy of their website

The microdistillery equipment was in a large space, just to the other side of a glass wall, behind the bartender. I’m guessing the place was named after the long, beautifully-stained raw wood community table at the center of the room.

I waited for customers to leave so I could get this shot of the table

I noticed customers would occasionally walk back in from the fish and chips truck out front, bringing deep-fried delicious badness to enjoy with their craft cocktails. A Rubix Cube was placed in front of the order pick-up window, to distract you from the windchill while you wait.

The wall next to me was covered with framed articles and accolades about the new distillery. One article mentioned that it was a trip to Portland, Oregon, with its multiple distilleries within and just outside city limits, that inspired co-founder and master distiller, Charles Tremewen, to open Vancouver BC’s first microdistillery. He came over to say hello, and to chat with my server. That’s him in the picture, on the right.

The Gins

I had gotten there in time to order from their happy hour menu, and went straight to the Gimlet. One had the option to have the cocktail made with their Texada Vodka, instead of gin; I asked Colin, my gin experience guide and server, if “Texada” was a wordplay on Texas and Florida. Nope.

Their Texada Stoned Vodka was filtered and mineralized with Canada’s own Texada Island limestone, resulting in a “soft, almost oily, mouthfeel.” Lemongrass was added afterwards for a light touch of citrus. Interesting, but…nah! I’m sure they make a fine vodka, but I’m a GIN lover at a GIN distillery, here to try their premium-quality GINS.

The bourbon barrel-aged gin, listed under the Anathema Devise and Wallach IX cocktails, caught my eye. I knew that with a whiskey, about 60% of its flavor comes from the barrel it was aged in.

But gin aged in bourbon barrels? Bourbon on top of botanicals? Huh!

I ordered a shot. It was sublime, smooth, aromatic and deep. Completely wonderful! I could bliss out with this, listening to some downtempo and ambient house, while looking out at the VBC skyline.

Excited, I put down my shot glass and looked for my next cocktail – Musashi’s Blade, with cucumber-infused gin, sake, vermouth, etc. Colin said the sake smoothed out the gin’s “edges”. My inside voice said, “But isn’t that what the vermouth does already?” Confused, I decided to trust, and ordered it anyway.

I took a sip and frowned. Hm. Here’s the thing.

The Do-Over

Their Musashi’s Blade cocktail recipe called for Nigori Sake, milky white due to its rice sediment. While appropriate when enjoyed on its own, this sake’s creamy richness and sweetness more than smoothed out the cucumber gin’s edges – it overpowered the gin altogether.

I apologized to Colin for the change of heart, and asked if I could have the cucumber gin as a martini instead of in a cocktail, which I should have done in the first place. I wanted to really taste the gin itself, and the sake was interfering with that. He smiled and said I shouldn’t apologize; when a customer says they want to taste and enjoy more of the product itself, that’s a very good thing. The cucumber gin was quite enjoyable – light, fresh and elegant!

Where to Get Them

Now that I’ve whet your appetite for some new, amazing Canada gins, here’s the catch: Along with their other award-winning spirits, Long Table Distillery’s gins can only be purchased onsite, at select stores in Canada, or online in the UK.

When I’m back in town, this place will definitely be on my list of must-visits.

Cheers!

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Photos of ferry and Granville Island Market by JE Alexandria Julaton

Long Table Distillery room, courtesy of their website http://longtabledistillery.com/

Various quotes from the distillery’s website and articles

Cognac: A Warm Beautiful (Cocktail) Memory

It was a bright summer morning in Victoria. I was sipping coffee in the balcony, and watching planes skim over the water. A text from my brothers said we were meeting later today, after their afternoon of selfies and shopping.

Until then, I decided to go exploring on my own. A five-minute walk later, I was at the Inner Harbour, wandering in and out of alleys along Government Street. I briefly checked out some trendy bars and cheery pubs, making mental notes of which ones I’ll visit later.

 

After lunch at Trounce Alley, I ended up chatting with a sous chef from Montreal on his smoke break. He gave me his card and suggested, with his heavy French accent, that we have dinner at his place some evening. “I cook for you, we have some wine and…”, he let the sentence trail off with a nodding smile and a crook of his brow. I kept the card.

Just then. one of my brother s texted me that he was cocktailing at a bar in Chinatown. He invited me to join him if I was nearby, before meeting up and dining with family in a couple of hours. Past the fruit stands and tea house, I found Fan Tan Alley, which looked almost too narrow for two people to walk through, shoulder to shoulder. I took my time exploring the tiny shops, fragrant with burning incense. It was summer, warm and perfect. And I had no intention of rushing anywhere.

I found the bar just a block and a half away. My brother wasn’t seated at the counter, where I expected him to be. I saw through a glass partition that he was sitting at a table, staring at a huge oil painting taking up half the wall directly in front of him.

I wish I knew the name of the artist who did this painting

He was completely absorbed by that gorgeous painting of what appeared to be a sort of … costume party? He could barely look away, even as he spoke or took pictures of it with his phone. More interesting to me was the cocktail my brother was sipping. He called it the Warm Beautiful.

The Warm Beautiful

The Beautiful is a delicious, potent and citrusy cocktail made of cognac and Grand Marnier orange liqeur. He preferred it topped with a lemon zest. Having worked part-time as a bartender while in medical school, he knew that cognac’s flavor and aroma deepened when warmed. Cognac lovers would often just cradle the snifter in the palm of their hand, warming the cognac with their body’s heat.

However, my brother wanted something a bit more imaginative.

The cocktail was served in a snifter. He then asked for a “heater”, a small glass half-filled with hot water. He placed the snifter on top of the hot water. As he waited for the cognac cocktail to reach the proper temperature, he would rotate the snifter now and again, still gazing in awe at the absurd yet fascinating painting across from us.

Age of the cognacs

According to the Bureau National Interprofessionnel du Cognac (BNIC), there are three official classifications of cognac, depending on how long the cognac had been stored in casks:
VS (very special) – At least two years
VSOP (very superior old pale) – At least four years
XO (extra old) – At least ten years

Other classifications have also been used by producers when the cognac had been stored beyond official age scales, such as Extra and Hors d’age (beyond age), which can be as much as 100 years old.

“Rules” of enjoyment

Cognac connoisseurs have very strong feelings about cognacs being used in cocktails. One forbes.com article mentioned that, whereas it is acceptable to use a young VS or VSOP cognac as part of a cocktail mix, it is considered a tragedy to do so with an exceptional-tasting, wallet-busting XO or older cognac. Those can cost hundreds or thousands of dollars per bottle.

My brother’s Warm Beautiful cocktail was created using Hennessey VS, but a Courvoisier VSOP could have also been used. On the other hand, Remy Martin’s $3,000-a-bottle Louis XVIII, which is very popular in China (along with all the other premium cognacs), is an example of one that should be showcased as a solo act.

All drinking aside (for the moment), younger cognacs should also be used for flambe, marinades, sauces, chocolates and fruit preserves.

And if you’re in the mood to immerse yourself in all things cognac, the French town this liquid luxury was named after hosts the annual La Fete du Cognac , where you can party for three days with cognac cocktails, crowds, cuisine and concerts.

Cheers!

The Beautiful cocktail recipe

1 oz Hennessey or Courvoisier VS/VSOP cognac
1 oz Grand Marnier orange liqueur

Add both ingredients into a brandy snifter, mix and serve. Optional: Top off with a lemon zest, the way my brother and I like it.

Enjoy!

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All photos of Victoria BC, Canada by Alexandria Julaton
Remy Martin shop photo by Weng lei – Imaginechina/AP
Still shot of Cognac Festival, courtesy of La Fete du Cognac
Vieux Carre image from liquor.com

Cocktails: How to fail at picking up ladies, and the fabulous flavored cube

There are so many wrong ways to meet women.

On our way to a cocktail adventure downtown, my gal pal and I added a few more to that list. Here’s one: A dark-colored car with tinted windows pulling up alongside us. Then an unseen driver slowly lowering his driver-side window to reveal a hand, palm up, and fingers beckoning in a “Bitches, come here.” gesture.
Nope.

Here’s another: A guy stopping his car on the corner at a green light, angry drivers honking behind him, while he’s shouting lame come-ons at us with a huge, naughty grin on his face.
Really big nope!

Yeah, nope again. But kudos for originality!

Maybe?
I mean, what woman could resist a suave, fashion-forward icon like Austin Powers, am I right?

After that obstacle course of weirdness, we made it to the bar and grabbed seats in front of the bartender. We like to watch the magic happen.

The Single Knight cocktail at Luc Lac’s bar was a game-changing, Whoa!-inducing twist on the Old Fashioned cocktail that made our tastebuds do a double-take. First, a large cube made of deeply smokey Lapsang Souchong tea was placed in the glass. This was followed with their sigh-inducing blend of bourbon, pho syrup, and angostura orange bitters. But wait, there’s more! The finishing touch was a lemon twist, wrapped around a blowtorched bourbon cherry and cloves! Daaaamn!

When I order cocktails that arrive with a large, slow-melting cube, I usually leave it alone for a couple of minutes before I take a sip. This is so a little of the ice will melt into the mix and make it less syrupy. One sip of the Single Knight and MIND BLOWN! The smokiness from the melting tea cube adding to the bourbon, further flavored by zest with burnt cherry and cloves – I was caught up in a swirl of amazingness.

Citrus with burnt fruit and spice was all kinds of nice (especially in a bourbon), but that giant cube made of smokey Lapsang Souchong tea made me realize flavored ice cubes that bring out another flavor dimension in cocktails is a thing!

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Single Knight Cocktail at the Luc Lac bar

I wish I had the recipe for this cocktail. However, I do have the ingredients list:

Four Roses single barrel bourbon
Pho syrup
Angostura orange bitters
Lapsang Souchong tea ice cube
Bourbon cherry
Cloves
Lemon zest