On paper, Mascarade sounds pretty interesting, as fruity mixers go, I mean: Peaches and apricots from France, Armagnac, and vodka. Not sure about mixing Armagnac and vodka but, sure, maybe this is just the upscale alternative to Southern Comfort that the market needed.

I wish it was so. Mascarade just didn’t work for me.

On its own, Mascarade is distinctly cough syrupy. Seriously, I swear I’ve had cough syrup with this very flavor. Now maybe that’s a complement to cough syrup — I can drink that stuff all day when I’ve got a bad cold — but I can’t imagine that’s a flavor too many people are looking for in a spirit. Sure, peach and apricot are there, but they just don’t provide the real punch of fruit that I’d have liked.

Mascarade (just 32 proof) fares better in cocktails, but not by much. The
stuff overpowers anything it touches. I tried making the “Mascarade Martini” (1 oz. Mascarade, 1 oz. vodka, 2 oz. orange juice) and expected a more complex Screwdriver. What I got instead was the strong taste of Mascarade cut with a little orange. Mascarade might be fine in tiny quantities, but you probably wouldn’t even notice it was there… and then what would be the point? Considering it has to be refrigerated after opening, one bottle could last an eternity.

Just found this one… If you happen to have mangosteen fruit, mango juice, lime, and gin, the Penang Angel might be something tasty. Now where to get some mangosteen…

C- / $26 / web

With its sun-and-cloud logo and baby blue color scheme, what would you expect from the 80-proof Cirrus Vodka? Something light, summery, perhaps partly cloudy even.

Well you can’t judge a book by its cover nor a vodka by its bottle: Cirrus is serious stuff, heavy duty vodka that, if I didn’t know it was from Virginia, would swear was drawn from the teat of Mother Russia herself.

Crack open the bottle and get a whiff. No need to get up close, Cirrus fills the room with its aroma of medicine and rubbing alcohol promptly. Distilled from potatoes, old-school-like, Cirrus has an Old World structure from start to finish. It’s a little tough to drink straight. Lemon peel is there as is some herbaceousness, maybe flowers. But a moderate bitterness is a little rough on the finish, and the medicinal notes are heavy. It improves, surprisingly, as it warms up.

Fine in cocktails, I found it tough to enjoy straight. It’s also very hard to find, by the way, mainly in cities near Virginia.

B- / $22 / cirrusvodka.com

José Peñín’s pets probably know more about Spanish wine than I do: It’s a complicated region to get a grasp on, hindered by a difficult-to-understand collection of wine regions (68 of them are formally recognized, and there are dozens of lesser regions, too), a variety of grapes not widely grown elsewhere, and the fact that you will see very, very few Spanish wines on the U.S. market.

Peñín and his crew offers ratings on a whopping 8,100 Spanish wines with his latest book, the Peñín Guide to Spanish Wines 2008. I highly doubt you’ll find a better authority on the region anywhere, and over the course of nearly 1,000 pages you’ll not only find review after review, but also helpful information on understanding Spain and its wines, including maps, color photos of wine brand labels, and even phone numbers and email addresses for most of the wineries covered.

My only complaints: I couldn’t find a listing for the last Spanish wine I tried in the book, which was a disappointment but not a crushing one. A bigger concern is that Peñín’s ratings tend to fall in a pretty narrow range. (He uses the 100-point scale but virtually everything scores in the 80s. It’s a stretch to find ratings in the 90s and after a few days of flipping through the book I’ve yet to find a single review in “classic” territory, 95 and up.

At about $30, it’s probably not for the casual wine drinker, but anyone with even the slightest interest in Spanish wine will be well-served by owning a copy of the book.

Buy it here!

Another entry into the organic spirits universe, Rain (a product of Kentucky’s Buffalo Trace Distillery) is a widely available vodka that few will have trouble finding on store shelves.

Pull that eye-catching blue stopper from the raindrop-shaped bottle and a sweet, perfumy aroma fills the air. Rain’s odor gave me much promise, but the taste was a bit disappointing. The sweetness is in the flavor, surprisingly heavy with butterscotch, but it’s overpowered by grainy notes, surely a remnant of its basis in white corn, from which the spirit is distilled. The bite is hard: This tastes a lot tougher than 80 proof. But my real complaint is a strange chalkiness in the glass, literally a powdery texture to the vodka that had me wondering if there was something stuck to my tongue.

Works superbly in cocktails (and you can’t beat the price), but it’s not my favorite straight.

B / $16 / rainvodka.com

Cinco de Mayo is holiday time… oh, wait, we’ve covered that already. Let’s get right to the review, then.

Don Julio’s Añejo tequila is top shelf stuff. This aged spirit has an immediate kick of vanilla, butterscotch, and Christmas spices, with a good, mellowed agave flavor that seeps into all of it. The wood is there (as it should be: it’s aged 18 months in oak barrels, though that’s shorter than many premium añejos), but it’s not overdone, as you get with some tequilas. Who likes to feel like they’re drinking liquefied oak? There’s some initial bitterness if you drink this tequila straight out of the water, but like fine wine it tends to “open up” after a few minutes exposed to the air and the bitterness fades away. (If you take it on the rocks, this effect happens much more quickly, by the way.)

Don Julio is good served neat or on the rocks, and I especially enjoy it with a Sangrita chaser. (Making Sangrita from scratch, ugh, that’s a whole other post someday.) It’s pricey, but it’s just about worth it.

A- / $43 / donjulio.com

Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo. And Cinco de Mayo is holiday time. Holiday time in Mexico. While we celebrate Mexico’s victory against Napoleon’s invading force in 1862, we are encouraged to do so with quality tequila. Here’s the first of two reviews of premium tequilas, both of which are excellent choices for your May 5 consumption.

El Mayor (translation: “The Greatest”) is a relatively new entrant to the tequila space, an old brand that relaunched in 2005 during the tequila mini-boom. As with all premium tequilas, it’s 100% blue agave. El Mayor’s claim to fame is that its agave is grown in the Jalisco Highlands, which it says leads to a sweeter product.

The proof is in the sipping: El Mayor Blanco is noticeably sweeter than most other Blancos on the market, very smooth, creamy, and lightly spicy. Think nutmeg and allspice hints, and a touch of floral, too. The tequila bite is there, but it’s mild. El Mayor has the smoothness of a Reposado while maintaining its crisp, unaged character. That’s a tough act to follow, and it’s a spirit that I recommend highly, though it can be quite expensive. It works exceptionally well in cocktails, too, and the bottle is a nice conversation piece, too. I look forward to trying the Reposado and Anejo bottlings in the near future.

A / $40 / elmayor.com

How good can something cheap really be? When last I broached this topic I found there was some correlation between wine prices and quality, but that it was fairly weak. But that analysis doesn’t really apply to the rock-bottom pricing that rules the world of jug wines, box wines, and stuff like Oak Leaf, a new label of “Extreme Value Wines” (their words), which sell in California Wal-Marts for $1.97 a bottle ($2.97 everywhere else).

By now few are surprised by $2 wine. Two-Buck Chuck (aka Charles Shaw) has been a massive seller in these parts for years. I even know people that swear by it. (I can’t stand the reds but, if forced, I can stomach the whites.) It isn’t surprising that other labels would like to grab a little of Chuck’s market share.

Oak Leaf Vineyards is the latest challenger, and the company’s selling Chardonnay, a Pinot Grigio/Chardonnay blend, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, and White Zinfandel. I tried the Chardonnay and the Merlot (all the wines are non-vintage, with no year specified) just to answer the question: How good (or bad) could this stuff possibly be? (After all, the label has actually won at least four medals at various wine competitions!)

The answer: Surprising, but not in the way I expected. Though “cheap white” is usually a better bet than “cheap red,” the Chardonnay was a miss, lacking much structure at all and reminding me more of the kids’ apple juice that had sat out too long and fermented than of real wine. The punch of alcohol is strong, feeling almost like a fortified wine (or at least a doctored one). I give it a C- at best.

The surprise was the Merlot, which was immeasurably better than the Chard, though still nothing to write home about. An initially decent mouthful of light fruit is palatable, but it ultimately gives way to some bitterness and green, vegetal notes. Again, that punch of raw alcohol, though much slighter here than in the white. It’s passably drinkable in a way that the Chardonnay is not, but it’s hardly something to treasure and hang on to for when you’re grilling a filet mignon. Let’s call it a C+.

Would I go out of my way to pick up a bottle of Oak Leaf? No, but the sheer feat of getting wine into a bottle at retail for 197 cents is nothing short of impressive. I will add that extreme value wines like this do serve one important role in the beverage industry: They expose people who’d otherwise be drinking beer, soda, or something else to wine in a positive way, rather than the overwhelmingly negative one associated with, say, Thunderbird. Oak Leaf, I would hope, might give drinkers a taste for wine… and then encourage them to aim one shelf higher with their next purchase.

Ginger is one of the hottest flavors in cocktails right now, and it’s only fitting that someone has put the essence of ginger into a liqueur. Domaine de Canton is the real deal: Baby ginger steeped in cognac, bottled at 56 proof, and coming together as a spicy and flavorful monster of a liqueur that imparts the kick of ginger into anything it touches.

I’m not mad about it on its own, but in cocktails it shines. I used it in Canton’s own suggested recipes: A ginger mojito (Canton, white rum, lemon, mint) and a ginger martini (Canton, vodka, Grand Marnier), and both were knockout drinks. (Fair warning: Canton, as most spirit producers, errs on putting too much of its own product in any given recipe, and here you really know when you’ve overdone it.)

Domaine de Canton is one of those rare spirits that actually taste better than the raw ingredient used to make it. No one would argue that an orange-flavored vodka beats using fresh orange juice or orange peel in a cocktail, but fresh ginger is always way too overpowering in a drink for my taste. Canton’s cognac mellows the ginger perfectly while still keeping its essence. It’s irresistable.

The bottle is a thing of beauty, but be warned: Pouring from it results in a good amount of spillage due to the awkward shape of the neck. Use a jigger.

A / $32 / domainedecanton.com

Mexico’s answer to Amaretto (and no, I didn’t know there was a challenge that needed answering either) is Almendrado, a tequila-based liqueur flavored strongly with almonds and bottled at 60 proof.

If you’re the type of person who can handle Amaretto on the rocks after dinner, you’ll have no trouble with Reserve del Señor Almendrado. (As far as I can tell, Reserve del Señor is the only company in the Almendrado business.) The tequila base is almost completely masked by the sugary sweet almond flavor, creating a dessert-like experience in a glass that’s heady with candied nuts. I’m sure you will find more differences among Amaretto brands than you will between Almendrado and, say, DiSaronno.

All that said, Reserve del Señor Almendrado is perfectly palatable in small doses and can work well in cocktails, I think. Pairing it with Licor 43 and Kahlua feels like a natural for a south-of-the-border themed dessert drink.

B / $22 / almendrado.com

The lovely people at San Francisco’s Bong Su (upscale Vietnamese, South of Market) hosted a small gathering to show off their new cocktail menu, devised with the exotic Southeast Asian food menu in mind. We rolled through all five unique concoctions (each paired with an appetizer to match). All in all, very good libations, but some easy favorites emerged.

No question, the Mekong Martini (pictured, recipe at end of post) was my personal best (and also the first drink out of the gate). While not really “challenging,” the blend of lychee vodka and mango nectar, plus half a lime and 1/2 oz. of Pandan syrup (a house-made syrup from aromatic Pandan leaf) was a light and summery drink that wouldn’t be out of place on the beach in Hawaii. A mound of black tea tapioca balls in the base of the glass add to the cool factor of the drink, but fishing them out to eat is more chore than joy.

The Hibiscus Bud, a fiery red drink topped with an edible hibiscus flower,
was the most striking item on the menu, but it isn’t the Hurricane wannabe you’re probably expecting. A blend of Maker’s Mark, pear eau de vie, various flavored syrups, and bitters, this is a Manhattan for the beachcomber in you, though it was a little overdone for my purist Manhattan tastes.

I wasn’t a huge fan of the Cherimoya Sidecar, a typical cognac and lemon mixture with the addition of Creole Shrubb orange-flavored rum and a tablespoon of cherimoya puree (cherimoya is a green fruit that looks a bit like an artichoke with white flesh inside the skin). I can’t put my finger quite on what I didn’t love about the drink, but the orange of the Creole Shrubb was just too overpowering, even beating down the lemon in the drink.

The Saigon Sun is a nice cocktail with a little bit of a surprise. The mango on the rim cues you to the mango puree inside, and the mix of rum, peach liqueur, and lime all work perfectly well here. The surprise is the addition of coconut water, which gives the drink a nice coconutty aftertaste without overpowering the other elements. This is a good one to pair with a seafood appetizer (we had it with a calamari dish).

Finally we tried the Golden Dragon (pictured), which matches a quinoa-based vodka with a touch of Creole Shrubb, lime, tea-infused syrup, and honey. Everything here works well, though you won’t notice any tea flavor. The end result is something like a tablespoon of orange-blossom honey turned into a cocktail. But it’s not too sweet. Everything here works well in harmony. Another fine cocktail!

The new cocktails are being served now. Check them out at bongsu.com!

Mekong Martini
1 1/2 oz. Kai Lychee vodka
2 oz. mango nectar
1/2 oz. Pandan syrup
1/2 fresh lime, juiced
black tea tapioca balls to garnish

Shaken and served up in a cocktail glass.

Sub simple syrup for the Pandan and forget the tapioca and you can easily make this one at home.