Imbibist

It is with a sense of defeat that I deliver this update.  While I still believe in the spirit of experimentation, it is imperative I postpone this Bathtub Gin project.  Indefinitely.
 

Hey, don’t get me wrong.  Bathtub Gin No. 2 came out quite well, and is a major improvement over No. 1.  Leaving anise out of the mix eliminated the clouding that occurred when No. 1 was introduced to H₂O.  Hence, No. 2 looks less like filthy lake water and more like, well, whiskey.  The improved steeping method – an oversized “tea bag” made of coffee filters – reduced the volume of solid particles suspended in the liquid.  Harshness was a serious problem with No. 1, as legal white lightning, a/k/a Everclear, was used for the base.  No. 2 was built upon a midrange vodka, Smirnoff 100 proof, resulting in a much smoother finish.

Bathtub Gin No. 2

Yet, it still falls short of any decent commercial variety, as the flavor is undeveloped.  While No. 2’s flavor is unmistakably that of gin, it tastes almost exactly like the raw juniper berries smell.  If you’ve smelled raw juniper berries before, you know that while they emit an aroma very similar to gin, it is not an exact match.  And while I’m all for creating something new as opposed to copying an existing commercial brand, No. 2 leaves something to be desired.
 

“But wait!  You can’t expect to make a production quality gin on just your second try!”  True, but at the same time, I can’t expect to make a production quality gin utilizing the infusion method, either.  My gut tells me the flavor problem is rooted in the fact that I’m doing this at home – not in a distillery – and I don’ t have the time to investigate any further right now.  Especially since the Pumpkin Spiced Bourbon has worked out so well.
 

So here’s to you, No. 2.  Your advancements over your predecessor are noted and lauded.  May your days as the home’s top-ranked Bathtub Gin be long and august.

The murky, yellowish-brown bottle on my counter labeled “No. 1” has not discouraged me.  Bathtub Gin No. 2 is currently in production.  And by “production,” I mean I have 750ml of neutral grain spirits steeping as we speak.  No. 2 started with a better quality base spirit and an improved steeping method.  It should be ready in about five (5) days.
 

Additionally, I’ve begun another project which should come out a winner:  Pumpkin Spice Infused Bourbon.  I’m looking forward to tasting this, as it is quite fitting for the season.  Not to mention that, given it is an infusion, it will be hard to screw up.  Unlike my misguided Bathtub Gin experiments.

Thanks to a good friend who also happens to be a New Orleans local, I was able to get an introduction to Chris Hannah, bartender at Arnaud’s French 75 Bar in the French Quarter. Arnaud’s is a storied restaurant opened in 1918 by Count Arnaud Cazenave. Given Chris’s reputation as one of New Orleans’ top bartenders, it’s only fitting he run the bar of such an establishment.
 

My inclination was to order some classic New Orleans drinks – Sazerac, Ramos Gin Fizz, and the like – from a local maestro.  However, my buddy had a simple and better suggestion: let Chris do the driving. He is the master, after all. Not surprisingly, this proved to be the superior path.
 

The Last Word

My girlfriend and I arrived at French 75 on a Friday evening and took a seat at the bar. We chatted with Chris for a bit, and then told him we’d like him to drive us through three courses of drinks. After asking us of our mood and our plans for later – he didn’t want to get us trashed, as it was still early and our last night in town – he started us with his variation of The Last Word. The Last Word is a prohibition era cocktail, using equal parts of gin, Chartreuse, maraschino liqueur, and fresh lime juice. Hannah’s version, however, replaced the maraschino with Suze, a French liqueur flavored with gentian root. Not knowing what the hell Suze or gential root was, Chris gave us a short shot of the liqueur so we could taste it straight. We both found the smell metallic, but the flavor quite floral. The cocktail itself was fantastic, a perfect balance of botanicals, citrus, sweetness, and alcohol.
 

Suze Liqueur

Our second course was a mix of gin, dram, and Cynar. The name of this drink, well, I’m not so sure. Phonetically, the name of the drink is “Tamerus.” Chris explained that “Tamerus” (Tmolus, perhaps?) was a figure from Greek mythology who, due to some type of conflict, became quite bitter at his adversary. I’m not going to butcher the name of the drink or the ancient tale any further, but do understand the character’s bitterness is reflected through the use of Cynar in the cocktail. Clever.
 

Perhaps more interesting than the root of the cocktail’s name was the dram, made by Chris himself. Standard dram is made by steeping allspice berries in rum, and then mixing with simple syrup. An even easier “recipe” is to buy a bottle from the liquor store. Hannah’s dram involved steeping cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice in rum, which was later added to hibiscus syrup. Again, Chris gave us a short shot of the dram to taste alone. Light on alcohol, but rich in flavor, the dram countered well against the bitterness of the Cynar without overwhelming the gin.
 

Our final course brought us back to a citrus cocktail. This was part of Hannah’s plan to keep us from getting completely wasted, as the previous drink consisted of purely alcoholic ingredients. Chris called this drink The Movie Goer, and it was made of Orange Curacao, gin, Averna, and fresh lemon juice. While this drink certainly didn’t look light, it was actually quite refreshing after the previous round.
 

The Cocktail with the Unknown Greek Name

There were two things I took away from our trip to French 75. First, Chris Hannah operates on a different space/time continuum than your standard bartender. This is reflected in the ingredients selected and the patience he displays while mixing each drink. His dedication to precision is demonstrated by his use of a small measuring cup. Yes, he measures out each ingredient with incredible precision, so if you go, please don’t be in a hurry.
 

The second point I took away is a testament to the first point. You see, my girlfriend is an avid vodka Martini drinker, but she dislikes gin Martinis. In other words, she’s not afraid of the taste of alcohol, but doesn’t care for the taste of gin. As all three of our courses were gin based, she continued to shake her head in disbelief. She verbally attested to liking them all, and repeated more than once, “I can’t believe I actually like a(nother) gin drink.” Apparently the right mix of ingredients can win over even a skeptic.  Congrats, Chris Hannah, on helping convert my girlfriend to gin. Now it’s my duty to keep her along that path, until our inevitable return to New Orleans.

Not unlike starting your own business, making your own booze is completely illogical in this modern world. The job market is ripe with safe, well paying positions with decent benefits and little risk, even in this economic environment. Likewise, your local Liquor Store is flush with an incredible array of well formulated, refined, and time tested alcoholic products. It takes a unique and bizarre individual to want to make homemade booze, and I am one of those nuts.
 

Bathtub gin was a necessity during the Prohibition, not so much today. I chose to make gin for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I like gin. A lot. Second, gin production does not require distillation. Indeed, gin is essentially a specialty infused vodka, and while fine gins incorporate multiple distillations, it is possible to make a basic gin without a still. Given I do not have a federal license, or a still, or access to a federally licensed still, infusion is the process I chose.

Ingredients for the basic gin recipe: Juniper Berries, Coriander, Cinnamon, Cardamom, Lemon Peel, Aniseed, and Grain Alcohol. Store bought booze in the background.

Note that the goal here is to not create a world class gin on the first try. Given I chose the infusion method, this is patently impossible. The goal is to make something that can pass as gin. Baby steps.
 

Nearly every major gin producer on the planet buys neutral grain spirits as the base ingredient. That’s right: buys. Hence, you can cut me some slack for doing the same. I chose the hottest variety I could find here in California, Everclear 151 proof grain alcohol. Yeah, the same liquid fire you dreamed of acquiring when you were seventeen. This choice would prove questionable later.
 

Next I was tasked with procuring the basic herbal ingredients: lemon peel, angelica root, cardamom, cinnamon, coriander seed, and the predominant ingredient, juniper berries. I was able to find all of these except angelica root. This is not a huge loss for a first run, since angelica root is a minor ingredient. Aniseed was available, though. Since aniseed is used in some gin recipes and I’d like to make an anise flavored liqueur in the future, I picked some up and used it in lieu of the angelica. This, also, would prove questionable later.
 

The recipe I had for simple gin was written for an industrial production of 1000 liters, using 190 proof spirits as the base ingredient. As illustrated above, I was dealing with a 750ml bottle of production moonshine and a few handfuls of botanicals, so an Excel spreadsheet was necessary to scale it down to a nano-production level. After carefully measuring out the ingredients using a digital food (read: illicit drug) scale, I put all the ingredients and the spirits into my infusion vessel, a retired 1.75 liter Bombay Sapphire bottle. Then I parked it in the closet for a week. Here ended Day 1 of a 14 day process.
 

Over the next seven days, nothing exciting took place, save the daily agitation of the bottle. However, as each day passed, the liquor became darker, eventually reaching a brown tone similar to a light whiskey. Store bought gin has no color — not even the bottom shelf crap found in a destitute North Las Vegas packaged good store — so this could certainly turn off some folks.  The smell, however, was distinctly gin. Which is good.  Maybe my friends will sample this with me after all.
 

On Day 8, the time came to stop the infusion process and dilute the liquor to a drinkable strength.  Using cheesecloth, I strained the mixture into a pitcher, removing the botanicals from the liquid.  After multiple filtrations, the mixture was diluted to drinkable strength of 94 proof (No surprise: calculating the volume of water to add also required the Excel spreadsheet).  This is where things got weird.
 

I fully expected the dilution to lighten the color of the gin, which I welcomed.  The lighter the color, the more it would look legitimate.  However, I wasn’t expecting the liquor to cloud.  Yes, it clouded, turning it into a yellowish-brown slurry that could turn off even the hardest booze addict.  Here I realized I wouldn’t be selling this commercially, and was wondering whether anyone would even be willing to test it with me.  Perhaps it was the anise, which always clouds when water is added (think Absinthe Drip). Or perhaps the crude filtering method left plenty of micro-sized solid particles suspended in the liquor. I don’t know, except my bathtub gin now looked like ass juice. The taste, however, was surprisingly good.  It tasted like gin.  Harsh gin. Filthy, ugly, dirty lake-water gin. But gin nonetheless.

The final product. Unfiltered on left, filtered on right.

In order to allow the flavors to balance out, I parked the bottle in the closet for another week, gently agitating it once a day.  Day 14 finally came, time to taste the final product.  Originally, I planned to serve it straight from the bottle.  Given the harshness of the liquor, however, I decided to filter it first.  Using a standard Brita water pitcher, I ran the gin through the filter six times.  Somehow – and I have no idea how – the finished product came out darker than the non-filtered version. But the process worked, as the filtered gin was noticeably smoother than the unfiltered. OK, “smoother” may be a stretch. Perhaps “less harsh” is more accurate.
 

Despite the ugliness of the final product, I was able to find some volunteers to taste it with me. All the testers were pleasantly surprised. No one mistook it for anything other than gin, with regard to both smell and flavor. Everyone agreed it was harsh, but drinkable. One critic stated it is at least as good as the $12 house brand you get at the supermarket (too bad it cost more than $12 to produce). I agree on all levels. I also found it a bit heavy on the cinnamon, which isn’t a terrible thing, but something to consider in the future. Given the goal of this project was to make something that passes as gin, I have to call this project a Success. However, it leaves much to be desired. A higher quality base spirit would certainly improve the taste, and a better infusion method could help with the color. Bathtub Gin No. 2 will become a reality, but for now, I need to finish off this bottle of murky yellow No. 1.