Not all flavored vodkas are created equal
All the bartenders working the filmmaker lounge at the Tribeca Film Festival in April were actors. Or models who wanted to be actors. Anyway, they were more than members of a catering crew, just as all of us are more than our job descriptions. They had stories and they were eager to tell them if they sensed the client was receptive.
Like most of these open bar things, the choices were limited. There was the primary spirit, a couple of elaborate and pre-assembled “signature” cocktails based on that spirit, then beer and wine. Beer and wine are things to switch to later in the evening, and my general instinct is to steer clear of any concoction of a color that might be found in one of Jimmy Buffett’s aloha shirts. And this column is called Spirits.
So my choices boiled down to festival sponsor
Effen vodka, in its regular, cucumber or black cherry iterations. Effen is one of those handsomely bottled, midpriced brands I’ve never paid much attention to, maybe because of the too-cute name. (“Give me an Effen vodka, stat.” “Who do you have to murder to get an Effen vodka around here?” “I’ll take a martini, Effen you know how to make one.”) More likely it’s because we’ve settled on our vodka: We pour local hero Rock Town as our house stuff, though sometimes Tito’s sneaks into the rotation. Some of that is pure homerism — Rock Town is made by neighbors; Tito’s is distilled in Austin, Texas, by a guy named Beverage.
Besides, vodka’s vodka, right?
Well, no — not all vodkas are created equal, though if
you stay away from lobotomy-inducing plastic gallons of the stuff you’re probably going to be all right. Over the years I’ve discovered something convenient about myself (and the other person I buy vodka for): We tend to prefer the earthier (cheaper) varieties over the high-end stuff. My favorite vodkas are made from corn (Rock Town) or potatoes (Tito’s, Luksusowa and wonderfully inexpensive Wodka, which is hard to find here but advertises itself, in New York at least, as Escort Quality at Hooker Prices).
Effen is made from wheat, like the excellent Ketel One and a lot of other pricey stuff. Belvedere is made from rye; Ciroc from grapes; $3,000 Stoli Elit: Himalyan Edition is distilled — I’m guessing — from moon rocks and Yeti bones.
Like most Americans I used to think that the best vodka was the most neutral vodka, that it was supposed to lack a distinctive taste,
aroma or character. Before I could really afford them, I used to shove bottles of Stolichnaya Cristall in the freezer. We drank it heart-stoppingly cold. It tasted stunned and staggered. It was wasted on us. All we got out of it was a little mouthfeel and the extinction of a few brain cells. (We were in our 20s; we could afford to lose a few.)
I used to cut up jalapeno peppers and drop them in a Mason jar, pour the Cristall over them, re-cap the jar and lose it in the back of the freezer for a few months. I made my own flavored vodka that way.
And, before my bartender poured me an Effen black cherry vodka over ice, that was the last time I had taken flavored vodka seriously. I’m generally opposed to the stuff on the grounds that it is alcohol for people who don’t really like liquor, but want a solvent on their inhibitions. Which is, I suppose, fine for them, but not for me. While I don’t want
to argue the morality of a delicious strawberry daiquiri, I don’t want the effects of imbibing sneaking up on me. I drink for a lot of reasons, but not for dessert.
Anyway, I only tried the black cherry because my bartender suggested it. Left to my own devices, I would have gone with the plain. (And given a wider choice, I would have had a bourbon with one ice cube.) But he was insistent, and a really nice kid who was having to put up with the stuff open-bar bartenders have to put up with at events for my ilk (and without a tip jar too; apparently it wasn’t allowed) so I took his advice.
Turns out Effen black cherry is pretty good.
Not life-changing, but it’s not like a lot of other flavored vodkas I’ve (half-heartedly) sampled. It isn’t simply a flavor profile bought from some lab and added to regular vodka. (At least I don’t think it is.) It’s an almost subtle sensation
that arrives a beat or two after the initial silkiness of the base spirit, riding on a creamy vanilla wave. It’s not unduly sweet and, while I tend to drink vodka either straight or in (occasionally dirty) martinis, I imagine those so inclined would find it an excellent mixer. (The internet seems to bear this out, for in comment sections of various blogs I found people who would admit to mixing Effen black cherry with everything from Coca-Cola to Diet Dr Pepper.)
The internet is a horrible place.