Category Archives: Liqueurs

The makers of Root — which has found a bit of a foothold in bars around the country, based on my observation — have seen fit to extend their product lines. Now we have Snap, another sweet, artisinal liqueur inspired by the kitchen delights of our collective youth.

Snap is born from a 1600s recipe for ginger snap cookies (“lebkuchen,” as they were known in Pennsylvania Dutch country), taking its ingredients and turning them not into sweet treats but into booze. Nutmeg, clove, cinnamon, ginger, brown sugar, vanilla, blackstrap molasses, and Rooibos tea comprise the recipe here.

Intrigued? AitA’s boozy root beer was a credible replica of the real deal, but Snap has a bit more trouble with the transition. For starters, it comes across as a bit too alcoholic, though time in the air opens it up a bit. At that point, molasses becomes the scene-stealer. That’s not a surprise — they don’t call ‘em “blackstrap” for nothing — but it makes Snap end up tasting more like rum than a complex liqueur. Ginger takes a back seat even to cinnamon and vanilla in the mix, giving the spirit more of West Indies feel than anything your suburban mom might have given you.

Snap grew on me over time, particularly as air let some of Snap’s heavy alcohol out of the glass. But in the end, I wished I’d rather been sipping a nice aged rum, many of which are startlingly similar, but surprisingly (since they have fewer ingredients) more complex and, yes, a little cheaper, too.

80 proof.

B / $40 / artintheage.com [BUY IT NOW FROM CASKERS]

Bitter spirits week (month? there’s no end in sight, really…) continues here at Drinkhacker with an obscurity: Riga Black Balsam, a Latvian liqueur made by Latvijas Balzams.

“Black” is an understatement. Black Balsam pours with the opacity and color of dark coffee, and it isn’t out of line to suggest there are similarities in the taste department, too.

Flavored with 24 ingredients, including various herbs and fruits and aged in oak barrels, this is a complicated spirit with few good analogues. Intensely bitter, it is woody and sharp, offering flavors of stout beer, coal, smoky peat, and root beer. The bitterness is huge — though not quite at Cynar level — and combined with the heavy amount of alcohol (at 90 proof it’s much more powerful than most bitter spirits), its power is remarkable.

That said, Black Balsam lacks a certain finesse that should ultimately make a spirit like this refreshing. It’s got so much power, and probably too much booze, too, that it doesn’t exactly complete a meal, it eradicates it.

Note: This bottle was purchased in Latvia. Bottles may differ by region.

B  / $21 / balzams.lv

Admittedly, we don’t review a lot of schnapps here, but when Hiram Walker asked us to look at Original Cinn Cinnamon Schnapps, I figured it couldn’t hurt. The company’s triple sec is an amazing product at a ridiculously cheap price. And who doesn’t like cinnamon?

Well, grated atop your eggnog cinnamon it’s one thing, but flavoring a 90 proof liqueur it’s something else entirely.

Original Cinn is naturally-flavored (and caramel-colored), and the nose is surprisingly not just cinnamon: It’s got a lot of apple in there too, giving the schnapps more of a mulled cider character than straight cinnamon. Don’t get me wrong — Original Cinn kicks like nobody’s business when that cinnamon does get into gear, leaving you feeling like you just took a whiff out of something on your spice rack. The alcohol adds serious heat, too, giving this a real one-two punch. But the body is smoother and more lush than you’d think, and the finish isn’t as rough as you’d expect, either. A generous helping of sugar in the mix helps to mellow things out in the finish, giving Original Cinn more nuance and drinkability than it really deserves to have.

Still, it’s certainly nothing I’d drink on any sort of regular basis, but if you need to add a touch of cinnamon to a cocktail, Original Cinn is indeed a credible way to do it.

B / $11 / hiramwalker.com

The latest entry into the Kahlua family is this limited edition flavor designed for the holidays: Peppermint Mocha.

The named characteristics are authentic: It’s quite minty, with a chocolate undertone. What’s missing is much sense of traditional coffee flavor. It’s mint, then chocolate, the coffee, in that order. In fact, the peppermint pretty handily overpowers everything, relegating the chocolate to the finish and the coffee to, well, to the coffee that you’ll probably be pouring this into when you drink it. Interesting, but once January 1 gets here, don’t expect to get much use from this one.

40 proof.

B / $16 / kahlua.com

The folks at Southern Comfort were convinced that, though I didn’t care for SoCo Lime, something a little more refined would be to my taste. So they sent this: Southern Comfort 100 (100 as in proof), a higher-alcohol version of the classic Bourbon-peach liqueur.

For starters, it’s darker in color and with none of the green overtones that standard SoCo (which is 80 proof) has, and it’s still full with peach, simple whiskey, and wood characteristics. Yes, that classic cherry/medicinal character that’s Southern Comfort is so well-known for comes in for the kill during the finish, but it’s not half as harsh as standard SoCo.

Southern Comfort — like Jagermeister, Rumple Minze, and a few other notorious liqueuers — is a bit of an acquired taste, but SoCo 100 at least has more taste and takes less acquiring to be enjoyable. Compare to $14 for a regular bottle of SoCo and it’s definitely worth the upgrade.

B / $19 / southerncomfort.com