Rising Spirits: From Sinful to Gluten-free
I have never been a day drinker: rarely a glass of wine at lunch and never a morning Bloody Mary. But here I am, under the bright sun, with a glass of vodka in my hand. In Minnesota, where I grew up, one was not only judged by their religion but the severity of their Lutheranism. Nobody would dare enjoy an alcoholic beverage on the front porch. What would the neighbors think?
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In my childhood home, after Christmas dinner while the women cleared the tables, the men headed to the basement where, near the slop sink, under the fat, groaning tentacles of the furnace, they slugged down straight shots of Canadian whiskey. To demonstrate my emerging manhood, I hung out with the guys, who offered me my first taste. They chortled when I wrinkled my little nose and spit it out.
In my late teens, it was cool to sneak into bars. Bars were mysterious, dark places, signifying danger, from the seedy dives near downtown Minneapolis, on a street nicknamed Snuus Alley for the old tobacco-chewing Swedes who hung out there, to the leather-upholstered class joints downtown, frequented by the preening shaken-not-stirred crowd. Later, when bars began to have windows and were decorated with ferns, I sometimes hung out and fellow workers and local gossips. The drinks were light, often wine. I had never cared much for undiluted booze, especially dry martinis, which you were supposed to pour straight and, as Churchill suggested, “bow in the general direction of France,” for their essence of vermouth.
My drinking life took an abrupt, and thankfully short, detour at the turn of the century during the dot-com boom, when my wife and I were doing business in New York and Las Vegas. It was a frothy time. We weren’t lucky enough to cash in, but we did ride in a limo around Manhattan with friends, ending the night with martinis and cigars in the Oak Room at The Plaza. We were tempted to burn our clothes the next morning.
In the the Monkey Bar at Piero’s, the iconic Las Vegas hangout that was the setting for the movie Casino, my wife watched me down a martini which I judged to be roughly the size of Lake Mead, during which, she said, I tried to explain quantum physics using napkin rings.
I survived that era and am happy to be alive to talk about it.
So, on this beautiful sunshiny afternoon, I sit at a picnic table at Hanson’s, a craft distillery bordering a vineyard in Sonoma, California. I’m not tasting wine, but sipping vodka, paired with a mound of caviar. Tasty, for sure. Each sample is infused with an essence of fruit or spice and punctuated by a slight 80 proof burn on my tongue. This is a long way from the basement of my childhood, the cigar bars of New York or the naugahyde nooks of Las Vegas.
These days, that wussy old chardonnay is ceding popularity to the hard stuff, straight or mixed (just about anything is worth a try). Cocktail recipes are becoming as popular as wine reviews.
Vodka and whiskey have joined just about everything else you put in your mouth in being branded with an aura of healthfulness. Hanson’s is organic and – oh wait – gluten free. It is made from organic grapes, not grains: they partner with a long-established winery. The ingredients that infuse it: lemon, cucumber, habanero peppers, ginger, boysenberry, are also organic.
When Scott Hanson, the patriarch of the family operation, asked traditional liquor makers for advice, they told him to forget about going organic…too difficult, too expensive. He proved them wrong. He also produces his vodkas and whiskeys in batches rather than non-stop on a assembly line, which allows him to distill away ethanols and other nasties blamed for torturous morning afters. It is distilled seven times in steaming, shiny stainless steel cylinders, with brass pipes, valves and gauges that could inspire a design fad, Vodkapunk, perhaps.
I sip away. I could get used to this, especially with that mound of caviar winking at me and that slice of pizza waiting in the wings.
So, am I now free to drink this organic, gluten free liquid free of Lutheran guilt? Perhaps without guilt, but certainly not with reckless abandon, unless I wish to embellish my explanation of quantum physics or impress my table mates with a recitation of James Joyce.
Hanson of Sonoma Distillery and Tasting Room
22985 Burndale Road, Sonoma, CA
Open for Tasting 11 am-5:30 pm Everyday
Phone (707) 343-1805
