Cocktail: Sour Marxist

A synthesis of Marxist ideologies:

Sour Marxist, or Sour Plum Mojito

1 oz rum
1 oz vodka or plum sake
1/2 oz lime juice
2 1/2 oz soda water (Perrier)
3 red and/or salted plums (see photo below)
2 mint sprigs

Combine rum, vodka, lime juice, soda water, and plums with a couple ice cubes in tumbler. Tear up mint sprigs before adding to tumbler. Mix vigorously and strain into cocktail glass.

For accents, garnish with a mint sprig and retrieve a plum or two from the tumbler and drop in the glass.

This week's cocktail was inspired by the soda xi muoi, or salty plum soda, I had at my neighbourhood Vietnamese cafe recently. I love the way the soda combines sweet, sour, salty, and bubbly. But I wanted to see if I could make it utterly intoxication by making it... utterly intoxicating. Taking my cue from the mojito, which with its mint flavor and other ideological affinities seemed a natural match, I decided to mix in a little rum and mint. I was very pleased with the results.

First, I experimented on the soda xi muoi side by soaking in soda water three different types of dried plums I picked up at 99 Ranch market. Pictured below, they are, left to right, salty, preserved, and red:



All were salty, sour, and sweet. The red plums (right) imbued the strongest flavor and dyed the water pinkish, while the salted plums (left) were the saltiest. I'd recommend either for the cocktail. The preserved plums (center) weren't bad. I wouldn't recommend for the drink, but they make great treats to idly suck on as you tinker.

Once that was settled, I knocked out a few trial-size mojitos until I found a recipe with which I was satisfied. From there it was a pretty straightforward synthesis of ingredients. As is my wont, I measured out the ingredients, together with a couple ice cubes, into a tumbler. I shook well, in order to release the flavor of the plums and mint, then strained into a cocktail glass.

The red plum recipe (the "pinko" version with plum sake in lieu of vodka), pictured below, gave the spirit a bit more fruit and blush. But I think I liked the slightly drier character of the straight salted plum, pictured above.



I figure there's plenty of room for further experimentation and I would like to try versions substituting a little ginger ale for the soda water as well as one that uses champagne for the second alcohol.

Cocktail: Purple Cloud

First the recipe (with some variations):

Purple Cloud

1 oz Sambazon organic açaí juice (original)
1 oz natural coconut water
1 oz ginger ale (Reed's Extra Ginger Brew Ginger Beer)
1 oz real lemonade (Trader Joe's) or cranberry-grape juice
1 oz vodka
1 oz brandy, cointreau, or vodka
A cloud of half-and-half

Swirl in a tumbler with a couple ice cubes and strain into a martini glass.

This was an effort to recreate the eco-tini I had had at the Grand Californian lounge over the holidays. The eco-tini uses VeeV liqueur, which is açaí infused, as its primary spirit. When I tried to find this at Whole Foods, I was surprised to learn that they do not carry it, perhaps because, the employee I spoke to explained, it contains additives or impurities inconsistent with Whole Foods' organic policy.

Being that I was at Whole Foods when I hit this unforeseen obstacle, I figured I'd just track down some açaí berry juice or oil or extract or something, and handle the "infusion" myself. I found the juice aisle and after scanning the shelves for a couple minutes, I found it! In the lower right-hand corner of the aisle. An 8 oz bottle of pure açaí juice: $30!

That was definitely outside my budget, given the fact I wasn't even sure how it tasted in its pure form (I entertained terrors of raw cranberries). But I was still at Whole Foods. So my instincts told me that somewhere in this magnificent emporium I should be able to find a naturally sweetened, affordably priced, single-serving size of açaí juice drink. Sure enough, over in the refrigerated drinks aisle, I found the Sambazon juice.

The Sambazon product has the added benefit of using agave nectar as its sweetener, which allow me to put back the little bottle of agave nectar I had picked up over in the honey section and save $12.

I also bought an organic ginger drink. But I abandoned that in early trials for the Reed's Ginger Beer, which adds a little more zing.

The half-and-half was the final touch. The cocktail is not bad without it. But it has a muddy purple color (the eco-tini is cloudy clear) and has no linger in the mouth. The half-and-half even out the coloring (giving it the lighter color of cotton candy) and provides it more (I'm going to attempt to coin a new food-snob expression here, forgive me) "legacy on the palate."

All in all, a happy success.