The Pegu Blog

OK, my last post on When Politics Attacks, regarding Absolut and SKYY Vodkas, got us a little attention here at the Pegu Blog. I’ve run across another story which shows that the United States in not the only place where you can hurt yourself unnecessarily by offending nationalist sentiment, and so I’ll share it with you. I assure you I have no other motive than pure political punditry…. That said, this will not be my most Safe For Work post. And the links will be even less so.
Our subject today is Cabana Cachaça. Cachaça is an interesting liquor that was invented and is mostly produced in Brazil (This is important to our tale). Lots of people in the US refer to it as Brazilian Rum.
Cabana is a new brand that will soon be on sale in the United States. While it is made in Brazil, it is owned, marketed, and imported by a New York firm. Their advertising campaign uses the tag line, Authentically Brazillian. Numerous people in Brazil, especially a number of bloggers, have gotten angry at the use of this phrase for a brand that is owned and created by a foreign company. To the Brazillians, Cabana is essentially a carpet bagger, coming into town to exploit the ignorant local rubes, profiting from their culture without being a part of it. The problem in Brazil’s is essentially the same as Absolut’s here: You run ads tailored for one country at your own peril in this age when those same ads will hurt you somewhere else. The Internet Is Watching Your Booze Ads!™
Now, Cabana may also be sailing into stormy political waters here in the US as well, but for a different reason—The content of the ads. Cabana’s ad campaign features that for which Brazil is most famous in the United States, and I don’t mean rain forests. In fact, it really isn’t about rain forests! Cabana’s website is here. It currently is only a flash video, but you will not be seeing said video running on American television. Follow the link for the whole thing, but here is a screen shot of the relevant not rainforested area that is so Authentically Brazillian (Pops to full-size):
Now, I want to go on record as emphatically not objecting to this ad campaign. Frankly, its a Hall-of-Famer in my book. But it already is raising eyebrows in the Sex-Equals-Objectification crowd, and I’m guessing we’ll be hearing more from them later. At least I certainly hope so, as it will give me an excuse to go back and examine the issue further…. UPDATE: Incidentally, the AdAge blogger, Laura Martinez, who wrote that piece I just pointed to is who tipped me off to the controversy. She only posts one link in her article, and she kind of undermines her point, by choosing a Brazilian blogger who more closely shares Laura’s concerns, rather than being in sync with the larger controversy in Brazil. Odd choice, Laura.
At any rate, I should leave you with a recipe that uses Cachaça. This drink is one I’ve started to mix every week or so since I started keeping fresh limes in stock more frequently in my basement bar.
THE CAIPIRINHA
Approx. 2 oz. Cachaça (Cachaça 61: The soul of Brazil)
1 Lime
1 tsp. Agave Nectar (or Simple Syrup)
Cut lime into eights, and muddle vigorously in a Double Old-Fashioned glass.
Pour Agave Nectar over this pretty little mess.
Fill glass loosely with ice and add about 2 ounces of Cachaça.
Stir.
This is a delicious, refreshing drink. There is lots of lime juice (adjust how much lime you end up muddling in to taste), but the oils from the peel are what are special. Also, it just looks really good in the glass.
Cheers!

UPDATE x2: Ace-o-lanche! Welcome Morons and David Lynch fans! While you are here, I hope you look around—You know you want to, you drunken bastards! If you are looking for something to do with all that Valu-Rite™, try a Moscow Mule. If you want a gallon-plus cocktail, you need only go here. And for God’s sake, this blog exists to get get you to try this recipe, so help a poor blogger out, M’kay?

Well, Drat!

Sorry to all three of you who were waiting with baited breath to see how I managed to make a Pegu with Rum, or some such.

Real Life intervened, and I have not had time to do anything with this month’s theme, other than buy a bottle of Rum I’ve never tried before (Pusser’s). When I do crack it and try some things, I’ll put up the most belated MxMo post in history.

In the mean time, head over to Trader Tiki’s and read all about Rum from those souls enterprising enough to do their posts!

From time to time, I look through my logs to see what kind of search terms people are putting into Google or Yahoo that end up bringing them here. The two that seem to be a running theme are inquiries about Tony Sinclair, and a burning desire to find out how much juice there is in a lime.
I’ve touched on this before, but for those who come here looking for just this info, here it is. I’ll start with an uncharacteristically brief version, then proceed in my usual maundering style for the long form.

How Much Juice Will I Get From One Lime?
One Ounce.
There. How’s that?

Fortunately, that is not remotely all the story, or I’d have a real short post!
Why do you need to know how much juice is in one lime? Do you have a recipe that calls for the juice of one lime?, or do you need 1 oz. lime juice? Is it for a cocktail, a cake, or perhaps a sauce?
If you are making food, first ask ourself one question: Am I baking, or am I cooking? Food Genius, Alton Brown says over and over on his show, and in his book I’m Just Here for More Food that cooking is an art, but baking is chemistry. When cooking a sauce, or entrée, or some such, feel free to go all Benihana and madly squeeze the requisite lime halves right in and be about your business. You folks are done with this post. One lime = one ounce juice. Go about your business. For bakers, you just can’t count on it: Measure your squeezings!
What about cocktails? Art or science? Art. But be reasonably precise anyway. Precision is important in cocktails. The amounts are small, so variations of even a small amount will result in large flavor changes.
What causes variations in how much juice you get? Well, size for one. Even thought current commercially available limes are pretty uniform in size, they are not clones. And if you slip up and get stuck with a bag of Key Limes, then all bets are off. But don’t get stuck with them unless you really want them. The flavor is very different.
More important than size, which effects a few limes, is squeezing method, which effects every lime you squeeze. I don’t like power juicers, so I won’t address them here. That leaves me with three basic methods.
The first method is called the Mark I Hand. Cut your lime in half, position over the vessel, and squeeze the dickens out of it. With an average sized lime, this will probably get you:

• Much less than an ounce of juice.
• Cramps

I don’t recommend it.
The second method is to use a reamer. You cut your lime in half, jam the pointy end of the reamer into it, then squeeze and turn the lime and the reamer. When you are done, you will have:

• Less severe cramps.
• Somewhere between one half and one ounce of juice. With very little idea where you are in between.
• A sticky mess in your hands, and on the counter around whatever you were squeezing the juice into.

I still recommend this over the hand. You can get a lot more juice out of your lime, especially with practice.
The third method, and my favorite, is to use a hand juicer, like the OXO Citrus Press. You put each lime half in the squeezer, and give it several good squeezes. By your second or third try, you will end up with:

• Relatively little mess.
• Clean hands.
• On the close order of one ounce of lime juice per lime squeezed!

Obviously, this is how I recommend you juice limes. It is even easy enough to get me to more often than not these days put up with the inventory issue of keeping limes on hand. These days I actually squeeze my own for Pegus and other cocktails more than using bottled lime juice.

NICK TO BARMAN: A Manhattan you shake to foxtrot time. A Bronx to, er, two-step time. A Dry Martini you always shake to to waltz time.

—From Hollywood Cocktails

Or you can always just use the Hard Shake for all three….

Anyway, this important bit of mixological instruction comes from noted cocktailscienti, Nick Charles, in The Thin Man. Reading this just reminded me of how I’ve intended to watch this movie. I ordered it this morning. I may have to make it my first movie review….

Apparently, someone is under the mistaken impression that I have huge traffic. That or the even more mistaken impression that I might be telegenic….

Hello,

We are looking for a very cool, hip, and fun male bartender for some: 30 and: 60 second spots for SOAPnet. This is an on-camera position, not just a bartending gig!

Looking for a great bartender who can talk and create drinks at the same time.

If the individual has no appropriate tape we will be able to get a crew to shoot some tape at the bar where the person is working.

Your website has a great membership base and I was hoping you could let them know of our search.

Information on the casting can be found here: http://www.gotcast.com/casting-calls/SOAPnet-Bartender-Spots/50631

If you have any questions, please let me know.

Dezmon
The Bartender Guy

91%DRUNKARD

I only got a 91%!?!? I feel so… irritatedly naive!

(H/T: Anavolena)

RICHARD SHERMAN: There’s Gin and Vermouth. That’s a Martini.
THE GIRL: Oh, that sounds cool! I think I’ll have a glass of that — a big tall one!

—From Hollywood Cocktails

This bit of banter comes from the film The Seven Year Itch, with Tom Ewell and Marilyn Monroe.
Bonus Quote from La Femme Monroe in the film:

Have you ever tried dunking a potato chip in Champagne?

She was lovely and tragic, but I can’t quite forgive Marilyn for so profoundly changing the apex of sexiness in popular culture from smart to stupid….

OK, I’m looking for some discussion/advice, especially from the pros out there who can look at this from the other side of the bar. I’m not looking to slam anyone, so names and identifying characteristics will be avoided.

Maggi and I went out to a nice restaurant the other night, looking for a drink and some quick food at the bar, before seeing the Billy Joel concert. (Capsule Review: Billy Rocked. 80 years old or not, he rocked.) Even on a Sunday night, the entire Short North area of town was packed. Maggi managed, miraculously, to grab us two seats at the bar. We often eat at the other location of this restaurant, but were not known here. There were two bartenders working, but the place was full, and nearly everyone at the bar was getting food. I could tell they were in the weeds immediately. Given the size of the bar, I’m not sure it was justified with two bartenders and a barback, but in the weeds, they definitely were.
I had ample time to figure all this out, as it was a while before we were served. Actually, make that contacted. The blonde bartender finally stopped in front of us, smiled, stretched her arms over her head wearily, essentially shaking her breasts in our faces, said words to the effect that she was weary, smiled again, and left to go help other customers without asking us what we’d like to drink!
We finally got asked what we’d like a few minutes later, after she had made two other drinks down the bar, served two plates, and asked the people who sat down next to, and well after, us, what they would like. In (un)fairness, they were apparently friends. That’s friends, not regular customers, just to be clear.
Maggi ordered a glass of wine, and I asked for (not by name) a Pegu. I usually never order any uncommon cocktail, much less one I’m real picky about, when a bartender is even slightly busy, but at this bar, many cocktails were being constructed with at least one fresh squeezed fruit, so asking for a Pegu by recipe, rather than name, seemed reasonable!
Now, as I have joked about way back on this blog, I’m one of those obnoxious customers who watches the bartender like a hawk to make sure they use the right Gin. I’m not looking to be a jerk, or show anyone up, I just don’t want them to waste the inventory. But I was distracted this time. In part, I was distracted by the young lady with three especially obtrusive facial piercings, and in part by boredom while she made three other cocktails before getting to mine.
When I looked back, I was had before me a clear, sweet, pale cocktail. I tried to figure what was wrong, and after incorrectly thinking it was missing enough bitters, caught her attention long enough to get her to drip another dash or two directly into my glass. Still no go. Another two minutes, and I grabbed her again to ask if she had put the whole lime in there. Lime juice? Never heard me say that! She’ll take care of it. She then moves off and completely forgets me! After more than five minutes, and many customers, including one who leaned over my shoulder to order four drinks, we finally get her attention long enough to inquire when the lime juice might be forthcoming. Apology. She then starts to squeeze the lime directly into my glass! I decline this unique table-side presentation, and get her to reshake it. It ended up tasting pretty good.
So here’s my problem: You have a technically quite competent, amiable, hard-working bartender who is getting slammed. But she is highly disorganized, likes to socialize, forgetful, and has whacked priorities. How should a customer respond? I’m not going to complain about her. I never complain about anyone who is not rude. Ever. And I hate short-tipping. What is a reasonable way for a customer to respond?

One of the most entertaining kind of cocktailblog posts, both to read and to write, is what I call the rollcall review. What could be better than line up a bunch of competitors or varieties of some libation and try them out?
Yum.
Well, Gabriel, over at Cocktailnerd, ran into the one potential downside of the process. You need to read his rundown on Limoncellos, folks. Pay close attention to his words on Gioia Luisa Lemoncello. You won’t regret it.

A while back, Doug put up a post about a now apparently defunct blog called I ❤ Bacon, adding some drivel about his nephew who believes everything is better with bacon. Personally, I think Doug should be more circumspect in his pimping of such an unhealthy food, and…

Hey!

Yes?

What are you doing?

I’m putting up a post. I’ve got a great link for you.

Yes, but you are criticising me! You’re a sock puppet. Your function is to extoll my virtues, since I don’t have a legion of devoted commenters (yet) to do it!

She said I should show more independence.

You are so whipped!

Guilty.
Anyway, back when you last ranted on about Bacon and its unhealthy deliciousness, I made the comment that the world was not ready for the Bacontini. Apparently, I was wrong. I direct your attention to Lance Mayhew’s My Life on the Rocks. Right now, as we speak, Lance is prowling his secret lab, dressed in some kind of tattered, grimy white lab coat. I can only assume that there is an excessive amount of breakable glassware, and loud, crackling electrical arcs in the background. His diabolical plot is to perfect an unholy hybrid. Grab your torch and pitchfork folks, before his Bacon Bourbon destroys us all.

Sounds delicious!

I certainly thought so.