Boozehound - Jason Wilson [53]
Most wineries, on the other hand, use a contract distiller who puts the winery’s label on a grappa, often with mixed results. Sometimes it’s even unclear whether the winery’s own pomace is used. Yet if you go to a liquor store today, grappas by wineries often crowd out the premium, artisan distillers.
In the glass, what separates a bad grappa from a good one? First, a bad grappa often has what could be described as a “pet shop” aroma. At a dinner on my trip, we tasted a very poor grappa, and my tablemate said, “I feel like I can hear puppies barking when I sip this.” That is often the telltale sign that moldy or stale pomace has been used.
To check quality, Nardini suggests a simple test: when a grappa is served, dip your finger in it and rub the back of your hand. When you smell your hand, the aroma should be instantly fresh and at least hint at grapes. Just as important, the grappa shouldn’t feel oily. There is always some oil in the pomace because of the crushed grape seeds, but good producers filter and distill in a way that minimizes it. Poorly made grappa contains a high percentage of oil. “The oil is what makes it hard to digest and gives you a headache,” Nardini says. “That’s the grappa that makes you say, ‘Ugh, I could feel that grappa going up and down my system for three days.’ ” Nardini avoids problems by filtering and triple distilling, and the result is cleaner, lighter, and smoother than you’d imagine a 100-proof spirit could be.
Nardini and Poli make excellent grappas, though each comes at the spirit from a different angle. Nardini has long been considered the gold standard in Italy, and its bianco is a great place to start if you’re looking for a traditional grappa. Poli, on the other hand, considers himself more of an artisan and innovator. He has begun producing grappas with fruit infusions, plus grappa made from single-grape pomace, such as Moscato or Merlot, and he experiments with different methods of barrel aging. When I visited, Poli was about to roll out grappas that had been aged in port and sherry barrels.
I’m glad I’ve revisited grappa, but I’ll stick to the distilleries that are committed to grappa as their main spirit and not as a sideline. The next time I’m in an Italian restaurant and the waiter comes around during coffee with little glasses of grappa, I’m checking to see. If it’s Poli or Nardini, or an artisan producer such as Nonino or Capovilla, I know what I’ll say to my dining companions: have no fear.
A Round of Drinks:
Improving the Negroni
As I entered one summer drinking season, that cynical line from Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants”—the one I mentioned earlier—was rattling around in my head: “I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it—look at things and try new drinks?” I was full of a similar sense of ennui. Through the colder months I’d tried so many new spirits, a never-ending line of product launches ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime. Likewise, I’d tried so many new cocktails, invented almost daily by the growing horde of “mixologists,” all trying to out-innovate, out-clever, or out-classic one another.
When it came time to choose a summer drink, I was so sated with The New that I decided to go back to an old standby: the Negroni. For a long time, I’d considered the Negroni to be just about the perfect cocktail. Equal parts gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari, the Negroni is so simple that even the worst bartender can’t mess it up too badly. It’s more forgiving than a martini and certainly sexier than, say, a gin and tonic. It was one of the first cocktails I’d taken to drinking as a young man, and I was very much looking forward to getting reacquainted with my old friend.
NEGRONI
Serves 1
1 ounce gin
1 ounce sweet vermouth
1 ounce Campari
Orange peel twist, for garnish
Fill a mixing glass halfway with ice. Add the gin, vermouth, and Campari. Stir vigorously for 30 seconds, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with the orange peel twist.