Lockdown Libations no. 4: Gibson

Can I do two martini posts in a row? With the amount of gin I have, I would say the answer is yes.

But, more than that, I think I’ve discovered a new favourite cocktail so, yes, that’s more than enough reason to do so.

Gibson I

I was recently, gratefully, on the receiving end of a media drop featuring two bottles of liquor from a Quebecois distillery whose products are now hitting the Alberta market thanks to Spur Imports.

The package of holiday cheer featured a bottle each of gin and creme de menthe from Les Subversifs, among other goodies.

The small distillery currently offers four options: vodka, the aforementioned gin, a creme de menthe — which, don’t you dare raise your nose at; this is no mouthwash-evocative booze you used to drink as a teenager at clandestine house or bush parties —and a maple liqueur, each named for an historical Quebecois figure.

Les Subversifs gin

(I’d like to note here that I have been very fortunate in my career to be gifted products to try and opportunities to eat at new restaurants etc. I try to ensure it’s very clear when I’m being gifted something because it’s really important to me to make a distinction between a gift/media event and something I am posting about because I love and truly endorse it. This gin? It very much fits into the category of “gifted but 10/10 would purchase — and likely will.” Also, most of the time that you see me posting on social, it’s because I paid my own money for things. OK, I feel better for getting that out of the way.)

Which means that when I tell I consumed about a fifth of the bottle of Isabelle Montour creme de menthe, it is a legit endorsement of a delicious liqueur that works simply on the rocks, though I will definitely be trying it as a hot chocolate add-in.

But I digress.

Admittedly — and certainly confirmed by the Vesper Martini disaster — I’ve never been much of a martini drinker. I can remember the first I had, with my friend Julie at some bar in Victoria while we were still at UVic for our undergrads. (Pucker readers, it’s the same Julie who introduced me to the beauty of the Whiskey Sour, so any encouraging she did for me to have a martini is entirely forgivable.) Obviously, my tastes have changed a lot in the, cough, cough, number of years since then. But I still haven’t really managed to get into martinis.

Until this one.

Behold the Gibson!

Actually, let’s be clear: behold the Gibson made with Les Subversifs’ Gin Marie-Victorin.*

*Because, let me tell you, if I’ve learned nothing else in recent weeks it’s that some hard liquors are better in some applications over others. One gin is great with tonic, while another is really best where it can shine. And this gin? It’s the latter.

Gibson II

With similar leanings as a London dry, there are undertones of lemon, juniper, cardamom and coriander. But the subversion comes from using parsnip — surely an unexpected ingredient — to lend a slight sweet, earthy note that makes for a very smooth, highly drinkable gin.

The first time I tried it was straight-up… and I liked it.

So I was intrigued when it was suggested I try it as a Gibson. Gin + pickled onion? Yes, I am in.

Cocktail onions

This is not the martini where you skip over the vermouth because you really just want ice-cold gin in a fancy glass. Vermouth is crucial. As is the briney, acidic addition of a cocktail onion.

The ones I had the pleasure of enjoying — eight pearl onions over two cocktails — were made by a former colleague. I had been hoarding them for the last numerous months and, frankly, I’m glad I did. They were waiting for this cocktail. Now it won’t take long for the rest of them to disappear.

Cocktail onions

Like most martinis, the beauty here is in the simplicity and using liquors you genuinely enjoy. (It doesn’t have to be this gin. But it does have to be one you love the taste of, of course.) If I can, I would recommend adding just the smallest, dirtiest splash of pickled onion brine before stirring to chill.

It’s a drink and a snack all in one!

Gibson

  • 2 1/2 ounces gin
  • 1/2 ounce vermouth
  • cocktail onions

Add gin and vermouth to a mixing glass full of ice. Stir until well chilled.

Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with cocktail onion — no judgment on how many.

 

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Butter, onion, tomato sauce

My general approach to tomato sauce is simple: I wing it.

After years of watching my parents throw basic ingredients into a pot and letting it simmer for an hour or two to create a hearty and rich tomato sauce, and even more years of making it from scratch on my own – owing to a perhaps unnatural love of pasta – I don’t give too much thought to cooking up a decent red sauce.

I’m a big believer in the long-simmered sauce with a multitude of ingredients that all come together over a slow heat, melding and marrying into something that is so much greater as a whole than the sum of its parts.

But I can also turn around a very basic sauce in 15 minutes.

At the very least, my spaghetti sauce usually has garlic and diced onions, sauted in olive oil with a generous pinch of salt, canned plum tomatoes I roughly (and gently, using a butter knife) chop in my hand over the pot, fresh basil if I can get my hands on it, a little sprinkle of sugar if the whole mix is too acidic, and a Parmesan heel, which I stash in my freezer for just such occasions.

So, it takes an unusual tomato sauce recipe to catch my eye.

Like this one. It has three ingredients. (OK, four, if you count salt, which, in general, I don’t, since almost all recipes call for salt.)

Canned tomatoes. A yellow onion. Butter.

That’s it.

Butter, onion, tomato II

Marcella Hazan’s recipe for tomato sauce with butter and onion has made appearances over the years on various food blogs I follow.

Each time I saw it, I thought I really should remember to give that a try.

And then I’d forget about it until someone else posted their love of this simple yet rich dish.

This seemed like a great weeknight dinner recipe since there is minimal fuss. No chopping or dicing, sweating or sauteing.

You dump it all into the pot, let it come to a simmer, reduce the heat, and go about things. In this case, a little laundry, some tidying and things that allowed for a quick wander past the pot to give the tomatoes a stir and squish against the side with a wooden spoon.

At the end of 45 minutes, all it needed was a small pinch of salt and to be dolloped over a nest of noodles.

Some have suggested sprinkling on Parmesan, but I opted not to. The sauce is rich and tasty without adornment, which is sort of the beauty of it.

The butter adds an almost unidentifiable creaminess and mellows out the acidity of the tomatoes.

And, luckily, such an easy recipe is simple enough that in the future I can pretty much wing it.

Butter, onion, tomato

Cooked sauce

Spaghetti and Sauce I

Spaghetti and sauce II

Marcella Hazan’s Tomato Sauce

This was adapted from Hazan’s The Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by way of several food blogs. Since there are only three ingredients, I do recommend using San Marzano or San Marzano-style canned tomatoes, which are packed in tomato puree instead of water and have, therefore, a greater tomato flavour. You can find Marzano-style tomatoes in most grocery stores these days.

  • 1 28-oz (796-mL) can of whole tomatoes
  • 5 tbsp (75 mL) butter
  • 1 medium yellow onion, peeled and halved
  • 1 lb (500 g) spaghetti
  • salt to taste, if needed

Put the tomatoes, butter and onion in a pot over medium heat. Once the butter is melted, stir to combine, then reduce the heat to low or medium low – depending on how hot your element is; you’re looking for a slow but steady simmer – and cook for about 45 minutes. Stir occasionally, squishing the tomatoes against the side of the pot.

Cook pasta according to package instructions.

Remove sauce from heat, discard the onion and taste. Add salt if needed. Serve over cooked pasta.

This article first appeared in the Calgary Herald. For more recipes and meal ideas, head to the Calgary Herald’s food page.

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