Vodka // Baby Got Sauce

A Dutch woman gave me the lowdown on the caprioska while we were sitting at the swim-up bar, drinking caipirinhas, at a resort in Aruba last week. Yes. Swim-up bar. Aruba. Perfect caipirinhas. Dutch people who earned a fortune making vacuum-sealing machines and now live in Bonaire. I guess that’s how you make a lot of money when you suck.

Our bartender for the week, Lito, had learned how to make caipirinhas from an uppity Brazilian guy who once corrected his technique. We were praising his skills, tipping well, getting free drinks, and being fat / dumb / happy. Then the nice Dutch woman said we should try a caprioska.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a caipirinha with vodka instead of cachaça.”

Oh shit. She said the V word. Now I have to plaster a dumb smile on my face and pretend I’m interested. But then we remembered. A very generous friend had gifted us with a bottle of bison grass vodka for our last big party. We had our doubts, but after a sip, we were sold. Do I know what the hell bison grass is? Fuck no. But it makes a damned tasty vodka. It’s got a subtle vanilla flavor, is very smooth, and feels more like a sweet (Old Tom) gin to me. Only problem is that other than sipping, we didnt’ know what to do with it. The delicate flavor just gets wiped out with mixers.

Caprioska

3 oz Bak’s Bison Grass Vodka
Half a lime (sliced crossways into six pieces)
4-5 rough-cut cubes La Perruche white sugar

Put everything in a cocktail shaker. Muddle the hell out of it. Stompity stomp stomp stomp. Shake it hard with ice and pour the whole thing into a rocks glass. Stick a couple cocktail straws in it. Tip your bartender. Surruptitiously pee in the pool.

If you can’t get the La Perruche sugar, plain old sugar cubes are ok. If you can’t get the bison grass vodka, for chrissakes, make a caipirinha.

Out of perhaps 120 bottles in our collection, two are vodka. One was a gift. The other we bought accidentally, mistaking it for a bottle of Dry Fly gin.

Now I know their are legit vodka connaisseurs out there. Apologies in advance. But we generally think of vodka as liquor for people who don’t like the taste of booze, but who want to get drunk. I’m in it for the opposite reasons. (Yes, it’s a good trick to be a cocktail geek and avoid getting sloshed.)

Anyway, here’s a classic for which we popped the Dry Fly vodka.

The Vesper

3 oz dry gin
1 oz vodka

.5 oz Lillet blanc or Cocchi Americano

Stir with ice and strain. Garnish with an overly dramatic lemon twist. Call a taxi.

This one, of course, originates from Ian Flemming’s Casino Royale. It was ‘invented’ by James Bond and named for Vesper Lynd, his equally fictitious love interest. Yes, yes. Shaken, not stirred. Stir it, dammit! I want this one clear and free of ice chips. Sue me. But it’s a matter of taste.

The original recipe called for something called Kina Lillet, which is no longer available. Lillet reformulated their stuff in the 80s and took out its quinine-ish bitter component. You can make it with today’s Lillet blanc just fine, but for something closer to the original, try the Cocchi Americano. It’s as close to Kina Lillet as we get nowadays. I like its bitter edge. I’m also fond of the overly large and obnoxious twist. The lemon peel really adds to the drink.

Obligatory warning: this is Don Draper-level octane. I have to be in a serious dry, hard liquor mood, and even then, I can manage maybe half of one. That bottle of Dry Fly vodka is going to be lasting us a looooong time.

Caprioska? I Hardly Know ‘Ah.

Beautiful and Deadly