PISCO, or: The South American Way, Pt. 1
In this two-part series, Christine Sismondo makes the case that pisco and cachaça aren't just one-hit wonders
Exciting news: I’ve been given a new job title here at Moose Milk. I’m now officially the White Spirits Correspondent.
It’s kind of a natural fit, since I’ve developed an aversion to vanilla over the years and, as such, have been moving away from whisky. I’m not quite sure why, but the most likely explanation is probably that I was bitten by one of those weaponized ticks engineered by the U.S. military that gives people weird food allergies. Anyhow, assigning blame isn’t the important thing—finding a path forward is.
Now don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy a good dram here and there, it’s just that, if I want a nightcap, I’m more likely to reach for a crisp blanco than a rich bourbon. This dovetails with my love of all flavours that originate south of the Rio Grande, where a lot of spirits are unaged or gently-aged, including pisco and cachaça, the two spirits I’m going to address in this two-part series about South American spirits.
Map not exactly to scale. Circa 1596, Jan Huygen van Linschoten
Other than geography, these two aren’t exactly a natural pairing, since cachaça is a sugar cane spirit and pisco is made from grapes. They share another common factor though, in that most people think they’re one-trick ponies, associated with two specific cocktails—the pisco sour and the caipirinha. Truth is, though, that both are incredibly cocktail-friendly and budget-friendly spirits, that are only perfect for summer cocktails and punches. There’s a perfectly serviceable Chilean pisco (Miguel Torres) on sale at the LCBO right now ($33.20) that works brilliantly in a Pisco Punch, which is the solution to all home entertaining queries.
Pisco Punch
1 bottle of pisco
8 oz fresh lemon juice
8 oz water
8 oz pineapple gomme syrup (buy this at BYOB Cocktail Emporium)
Ice
Method: Mix together in a punch bowl. If you’re feeling ambitious, garnish with fresh pineapple slices—or something else like mint leaves, berries or citrus wheels. Serve.
Schuler at Pisco Portòn, arguably the oldest distillery in the Americas. Credit: Pisco Portòn
For smaller servings, here’s a little trick Johnny Schuler (a.k.a. Johnny Pisco) taught me on a white-knuckle drive around the dusty Ica pisco trail: “You can substitute pisco for any clear liquor in a cocktail and make a better version with pisco,” says Mr. Pisco, Master Distiller of Pisco Portòn’s La Caravedo and, quite possibly, the world’s foremost authority on the spirit. He would extend it to brown liquor cocktails, too, and I think he’s got a point.
It’s hard to track down Johnny’s pisco in Canada at the moment, which is a shame, since it would illustrate another point, namely, that his single-varietal piscos are actually delicious for straight-up sipping. I’m drinking the Torontel right now, which is made from an aromatic grape called…well, the Torontel, and it’s full-bodied, distinctly grapey, with a hint of exotic fruit.
Pisco grapes look a lot like other grapes. Credit: Pisco Portòn
How does he get that out of the grape? Because that’s all pisco is—grape. It’s distilled wine, but it’s produced according to very strict, minimalist standards, including that it must be distilled to proof (no water) and can’t touch wood—rules that Lars von Trier may have had a hand in making.
It can be aged in neutral vessels, such as amphorae, which don’t impart flavours.
What can you buy if you can’t find La Caravedo? It’s different from province to province and there are several really good options but, in Ontario, we’re very much looking forward to the forthcoming arrival of two Piscologia expressions at the LCBO—that could be at a store near you within one or two weeks. It comes in two expressions, a blend and a “Puro,” the latter made with estate-grown Quebranta grapes by Nati Gordillo at a craft distillery owned and run by women in Azpitia—a smaller pisco region south of Lima and north of Ica.
Important note: This is not punch-fodder. And the last single varietal pisco that came through Ontario didn’t last long, so you might want to seize the day.
Next up in the South American Way series: Cachaça.