Original at the New York Times.
On reading Mark’s interview with me last week, more than one of my graduate school friends wrote to point out an omission.
I declared my student diet to consist of Red Bull, curly fries and the occasional salad, but I neglected to mention one of my pre-doctoral staples: gin. Whether with tonic or vermouth, it was always to be found nearby as I struggled with my dissertation. I’m pleased to recognize the omission here. And I was even more pleased to discover that they’re making gin just six blocks from my home here in San Francisco.
Gin has its origins in the Netherlands, from which comes one of its many English synonyms, Dutch courage. Gin was also called Mother’s Ruin in the early 1800s. Because of high tariffs on imported alcohol, there was a market in England for local hooch that could be made on the cheap. Since gin is flavor-infused vodka, it was possible to spike large home containers of shoddy grain alcohol with everything from juniper berries to turpentine. Hence the term bathtub gin.
But, in the right context, as Ogden Nash once noted, gin can sing. Here in San Francisco, right by the stadium where the Giants play baseball, on pier 50, is my local gin still. The attractions of baseball will remain forever opaque to me — I’m more of a cricket man. But gin’s pleasures were unlocked when I paid a visit last month to Distillery 209.
It’s a two-person outfit. Arne Hillesland does the distilling and John Olson sells. “We don’t really have titles,” says Mr. Olson. “It’s just Arne and me.” Mr. Olson used to work at Seagram, and now spends a great deal of time on the road, persuading distributors to carry his wares, a David in a world of gin Goliaths.
Mr. Hillesland stays at the still, and tends to the good stuff. His career is very Californian, starting out in high tech, working in Silicon Valley manufacturing, before a series of twists made him a master distiller. The skills he picked up along the way come in handy. Gin distilling is a mixture of art and science. The science lies in coaxing the technology to produce consistently. The art lies in making it consistently good.
At 209, they start with Hetch Hetchy water and corn ethanol (yes, U.S. biofuels policies have driven up the price of gin, which is yet another strike against biofuels). The booze is then distilled through a series of secret ingredients that may or may not include juniper berries, bergamot, cloves, an exotic cinnamon, lemon peel and a range of herbs from Hillesland’s herb garden on the waterfront.
It’s a labor of love, and it involves a lot of both. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing that I love what I do,” said Mr. Hillesland. “I’d rather people drank less but enjoyed it more.”
The gin from 209 has a lighter and more citrusy taste than the distinctive flavor of London gin. It’s less about being hit over the head with a velvet-wrapped brick of juniper berries, and more about being soothed by aromatherapy.
One way to enjoy it in the summer months is in homemade ginger ale. Here’s one that works for me. –Raj Patel
Homemade Ginger Ale
Ingredients
- Soda water
- Gin
- 4 ounces ginger, peeled and grated
- 2 inches of lemongrass, finely chopped
- 1 cup unbleached cane sugar
- 1 cup water
- 1/2 teaspoon crushed chipotle skin (no seeds unless you’re brave)
- Pinch of salt
- Juice of one lime
- Pinch of tarragon
- 1 leaf holy basil
Method
- Bring the ginger, lemongrass, water, sugar, chipotle and salt to a boil. Simmer for 15 minutes.
- Turn off the heat and add lime, tarragon and basil. The holy basil is a little esoteric, I know. We’ve only got some out back because it’s an Indian cultural icon. But it’s a grand thing to have around though, and is very easy to grow. It’s worth crushing into this drink just for the smell on your fingers afterwards. If you don’t have any, a hint of anything astringent will do.
- Allow to cool. Strain out. The left-overs look like the sort of thing that’d be happiest in a cookie, but I’m still trying to figure out my baking game.
- Finally, to about a finger of the ginger syrup, stir in some home made soda water and, oh yes, don’t forget a shot of your favourite Dutch courage.
Source: The New York Times