The Drunken Botanist: The Plants that Create the World's Great Drinks (48 page)

Finally, he brought drums of his own high-proof neutral grape spirit into the woods, where he poured it into buckets and carried it directly to the trees. “We dropped the buds straight into the buckets,” he said. “We were actually making the eau-de-vie out in the woods.” He took the infused spirit back to the distillery, let it sit for two weeks, then filtered and redistilled the mixture. “Eau-de-vie is very unforgiving,” he said. “It is not aged in oak, so any off flavors in the spirit or the ingredients will not be corrected in the barrel.”

At last he was satisfied with the flavor of the finished product—but not the color. “It comes from an evergreen,” he said. “It should be green. But the second distillation took all the color out.” There was only one way to get the color he wanted: he took the second distillation back into the woods, poured it back into buckets, and carried those buckets back to the trees. “We picked buds again and dropped them into the buckets, and let them sit just long enough to bring the color back.”

It took McCarthy years to figure out how to get the color, clarity, and flavor to come together, but his trials weren't over. He had to get federal approval for the label. “I wanted to put the Latin name of the Douglas fir (
Pseudotsuga menziesii
) on the label, because this product is all about the tree,” he said. “But the federal liquor agents didn't believe that there was a tree called a Douglas fir, and they really didn't know what to make of the Latin name.” Eventually the label, which also featured a drawing of the tree by his wife, the artist Lucinda Parker, won approval. McCarthy's Clear Creek Distillery now produces 250 cases per year of the green spirit.

EUCALYPTUS

Eucalyptus
spp.

myrtaceae (myrtle family)

B
y 1868, the Tre Fontane Abbey near Rome was almost abandoned. The soil was depleted, the surrounding community deserted, and worst of all, malaria had reached an intolerable level. At that time people still believed that malaria was caused not by mosquitoes carrying a parasite but by something in the air; the word itself meant “bad air” in Latin. The monks hit upon an unusual solution to their problems: they planted stands of eucalyptus trees around the monastery. This fast-growing Australian tree, which, after all, smelled of medicine, would surely clear the air, rid the abbey of malaria, improve the soil, and give the monks some sort of crop with which to earn an income. They even made a tea from the leaves, which they believed would keep malaria away.

The American Medical Association ridiculed these efforts in an 1894 journal article titled “The Passing of the Eucalyptus.” It pointed out that malarial outbreaks had taken place since the trees were planted and scoffed at its “reputed medical virtues.” However, the monks were not entirely wrong: in 2011, an extract of
Eucalyptus citriodora
called oil of lemon eucalyptus won approval from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention as a recommended mosquito repellant.

Still, the monks were left to contend with thousands of eucalyptus trees that served no real purpose. Like any good farmers, they found a way to bottle their crop. Today visitors to the abbey can pick up a bottle of sweet Eucalittino delle Tre Fontane, a liqueur made with macerated eucalyptus leaves. They also offer a bitter Estratto di Eucaliptus, made with no added sugar and recommended for cold winter nights.

Eucalyptus might seem like a flavor better suited to cough medicine than liquor, but the cool note of menthol or camphor can help amplify woodsy flavors like pine or juniper. It is used in bitters, vermouth, and gin. Fernet Branca in particular is known for its powerful eucalyptus flavor.

Eucalyptus has a long history as an intoxicating substance in its native Australia. The cider gum eucalyptus,
E. gunnii,
excretes a sweet, sticky sap that naturally ferments as it drips down the tree. As many as four gallons per day can flow from a single tree, and Aboriginal people made good use of it. In 1847, the British botanist John Lindley wrote that it “furnishes the inhabitants of Tasmannia with a copious supply of a cool, refreshing, slightly aperient liquid, which ferments and acquires the properties of beer.” Today the Tamborine Mountain Distillery is winning awards for its Eucalyptus Gum Leaf Vodka and Australian Herbal Liqueur, both flavored with the leaves.

Bartenders are beginning to experiment with eucalyptus syrups and infusions, but it's important to note that only
E. globulus,
the so-called blue gum that is widely distributed in the western United States, is considered a safe food ingredient by the FDA—and it has only approved the use of the leaves, not the essential oil extract.

MASTIC

Pistacia lentiscus

anacardiaceae (cashew family)

A
close relative to the pistachio, the mastic tree is native to the Mediterranean, where its resin has been harvested since ancient times for a surprising number of uses. Mastic gum oozes from the trunk when the bark is cut and dries to a hard, translucent yellow substance that softens to something like chewing gum when chewed. It is useful as a varnish; in fact, painters still use it on their canvases. As an adhesive, it's used in dissolvable stitches, bandages, and topical ointments. The gum seems to control cavities, so it's used in some toothpaste brands as well. And although the flavor is decidedly medicinal—imagine a cross between pine, bay laurel, and clove—it also flavors Greek spirits. Mastika is a high-proof anise-flavored spirit, usually with a brandy base, served as a digestif.

The tree itself is a small and highly fragrant scrubby plant with tiny red fruits that turn black with age. The Greek island of Chios is best known for its mastic gum production; in fact, mastic from Chios enjoys recognition from the European Union as a product with a protected designation of origin, much like Champagne or Calvados.

MAUBY