Oh but the list insists

Now I don't usually like to name names, but the inspiration behind those of cachaça is tremendously varied, and I felt I should share some of that myriad diversity with you. Where appropriate, I have translated into English and imprisoned in parenthesis.

Cachaças are and have been named after:

Soap Operas
Children's Stories
Allusions to Macumba
Political Elections (1982)
Card Games
The Racing of Horses
The Game of Football
Mammals (Little Horse/Black Horse/Panther/Wee Jaguar/Wee Sloth/Wee Armadillo)
Birds (3 Herons/Falcon of the Valley)
Fish (Piranha/Giant Amazonian Catfish)
Reptiles
Crustaceans (Mouth of the Soft-shelled Crab)
Insects
Plants, Flowers & Fruit
Nobility & Orders
Celebrities
Styles of Music from Brasil
Numbers
Vessels or Casks
City/Town/Village Names
Plains, Valleys and Ridges
Farms
Indigenous Indian Groups
Saints
Brazilian Ethnic Groups
Emotions & Sentiments (Avarice/Shame/Shameless)
Types of Women (Old Black Lady/Lady Lover/Dreamer Girl/Widowed Cane/Wee Granny)
Women's Names
Men's Names
Professions (Barman/Farmer/Sailor/Mountaineer/Harpooner)
Consequences (Good Luck/Triumph/Fame/Victory/Trouble)
Slang Words
Properties of Cachaça Itself
Original Made up Names (The End of the Century/Baldy/Seductive Smile/Poor Man's Umbrella)
Allusions to Sex and Sexual Betrayal (Dying Erection/Getting Wood/Bride's Sweat/If the Wife Found Out/In the Ass/Give Me More/From The Head Down/Cuckold's Consolation)

Serra de Areia (Ridge of Sand)

Field Marshall was gifted this bottle a few years back. It lay dormant for perhaps as long as three years until around the time that my love for cachaça began to truly grow and frankly it's a miracle there's still any left.

What little I can say based on objective evidence, comes solely from the label. There is no website. I haven't found a single review, nor have I been able to find a seller online. Well now that's my kind of marketing.

The label, as ever, imparts all the information we need to know that this is at least a genuine, if not a good, cachaça:

It is 40% proof, and thus sits comfortably within the 38-48% parameters.
It is distilled from the fermented must of sugar cane.
The product is registered as a tax paying enterprise as witnessed by the CNPJ number required by legitimate business In Brazil.
A phone number and email address are also included.
Dare I write or call the number for further information?

The label states that this cachaça comes from the Northeastern state of Paraiba.
From the municipality of Areia to be precise.

Ever since a previous trip i took around the sertão of Alagoas, another northeastern state, I have wanted to visit the state of Paraiba and travel inland there. I'm not entirely sure what it is that draws me, but I know that one day I will go and whatever happens there will be very, very good indeed. I have come to realise that the Paraibans know more than a thing or two about making fine cachaças and I recently discovered that there may be as many as 60 active production sites in the state. Serra de Areia will most certainly not be the last cachaça I discuss here from this region.

So what can be said empirically?
As you may just be able to determine from the photos above, Serra de Areia is not totally transparent but in fact a very pale gold. From this we can tell that it is aged in wood, but we may only guess at the type and the time frame. It is a little dry to the taste, slightly aromatic, but not smooth, so I'm guessing oak was not involved and it's not fragrant and floral enough to have been aged in balsam. Perhaps an endemic wood of some sort. Whatever the case, it's damn good cachaça.

Old Schinus / Valley Queen / Golden Plaything

(The Friday Night Itinerant Itinerary)

Three cachacas firmly struck off the list last Friday night. All of them beauties. Naturally, I put such unerringly fine choices down to my exquisitely good taste.

Field Marshall Mack and I were joined by a Bavarian colleague, Frederick (sic), who is here on short release from the Dublin office.

Frederick has a dark, quasi-Morrissey quiff and a sharp nose that points downwards at a very acute angle. I found him to be an agreeable chap with a refreshingly modest and intelligent manner, quick to make keen observations and, more importantly, happy to join us in our spiritual sugar cane quest. The night's drinking took in the following:

Velha Aroeira
Rainha do Vale
Brinco de Ouro

Each of the above punctuated with multiple glasses of ice cold creamy pilsner served by my favourite waiters in my favourite bar (until now) in all Sao Paulo .

Frederick, who had never before experienced the wonder of pure cachaca, remarked on a family resemblance with his native schnapps which, in my opinion, is merely superficial. I would concede that they are both alcoholic beverages, yes.

Much to our surprise, later in the evening he went on to allege that schnapps is currently illegal in the Republic of Ireland. This demands corroboration as I believe his regular judgement had been severely compromised by a combination of jet lag and intoxication.

I myself got so drunk that alas I am unfit to write a just review of the three aforementioned cachacas. I'm noting them here, however, as a reminder to myself.

Note to self: these cachacas are all of fine quality and are more than worthy of further in depth analyses, perhaps even warranting purchase for future consumption in domicile.

Field Marshall is, as I write this, on her way to India. Which means I am alone until mid November. This will undoubtedly yield some more cachaca reviews and some more home recording.

Adeus amigos/as.
Oh, and flickr is go!

the east/west vine

Girl on the metro soaking up a book of fine wines.
She turns to leave her sleeve unsheathing a tattoo of a corkscrew.

Claudionor: The Continuing Cachaça Crusade

As you may recall, I ended my last, somewhat insistent post, with the promise that I would visit a newly discovered cachaça mecca in the centre of the city. Well, I kept that promise, and in an act of profound preclusion I will spare you immense tedium and simply relate that I made my way all there only to find that the place no longer exists. Damn it all to hell. Why, in the name of the great enchanted ram, is the website still online? Unanswerable questions aside, so as not to be completely undone, I did, without too much trouble, manage to hunt down another small booze emporium in the vicinity. And this excursion yielded a parallel discovery. I now know that this particular part of the centre, around Luz station, is overrun with shoppes supplying the restaurant trade. Places where one can find interesting objects such as swimming pool proportioned bain-maries. This discovery,though intriguing, was vastly incapable of quenching my beastly consumer lust, and, more than a little miffed at not finding my mecca, and thereby not being able to strike at least two bottles of the good stuff off my wish list, I opted to part with a mere R$13.90 (£5.23) for a bottle of Claudionor which I could easily have bought locally:


Here are some facts. Claudionor comes from the town of Januária in the state of Minas Gerais. I have read that Januária was once The Place for cachaça production in Minas but it has now been overshadowed by Salinas (The Islay-a-like region).
It is aged for a year/year and a half in casks of Umburana (aka Amburana) a wood renowned for its low impact on flavour. Amburana is also prized in the production of fine furniture, hence its current scarcity.
Claudionor is 48% vol.
This is a distinctive cachaça. Unlike any other previously imbibed, it sports a dryness and smoothness that belies the high alchol content. It glimmers an extremely pale gold in the glass, teetering on the titillating edges of transparency. One can taste the cane. Major points are scored for the label design and for its ever so low price, being a prime example of a quality cheap cachaça. It wasn't one that I set out to buy, but I'm more than happy to have it in my collection. I think it would go tremendously well with a small portion of pork crackling. However, in the interests my arteries, I generally opt to clear my palate with a handful of Wasabi Peas. I heart Wasabi Peas.

cane crushin' musts

Tonight's blog is brought to you by the pure power of cachaça!

That's right. I've fallen irreversibly in love with cachaça, in much the same way as I did many years ago with whisky and now I fear I may have to spread my whisky love a little thinner.

Well actually, a great deal thinner, given that there are as many as 5000 makes of cachaça available in Brazil. Thankfully though, many of these can be swiftly evicted from our consideration, as we shall see, for they are mere pretenders who take the cachaça name in vain.

I've witnessed an important distinction in all the literature I've so far read. That is the aguardente <-> cachaça distinction and we shall soon see that, by definition, cachaça ploughs a rather narrower furrow of meaning.

Current Brazilian legislation defines sugar cane aguardente as drink obtained from the simple distillation of sugar cane or the distillation of the fermented must of sugar cane with an alcohol per volume of between 38% and 54% at 20ºC.

Cachaça, on the other hand, is defined as a spirit fabricated in a manner typical to and, in fact, exclusive to Brazil, from fermented must, with a more rigorously controlled alcohol content of 38% to 48% at 20ºC.

A further difference is evident in the mode of production. Cachaça is created in copper stills, the cane is harvested by hand and the fermentation process may last from 15 to 30 hours. Aguardente production is industrial, occurs in steel drums, the harvest is mechanical and the chemically-induced fermentation takes a mere 6 hours.

All cachaça is aguardente, but not all aguardente can truthfully call itself cachaça.

Now let us quickly dispose of all talk of distinction and definition, and get down to the far more worthy business of description and delectation.

After all that, I'm starting with an industrially produced aguardente. But why? Because there is nothing elitist or pompous about this space. We will observe and take pleasure in the fact that the cost of a bottle does not necessarily reflect the quality of the product. Some expensive cachaça is shit and some cheap stuff is fantastic, and vice versa.

The focus of this and any future blogs on the subject, will be on pure cachaça and not on caipirinhas but in order to focus we must disavow ourselves of our colourful coctail cousin, the one who threatens to overshadow our divine drink, before we can immerse ourselves properly in this pure spirit world.

When I make caipirinhas, this is the guy I reach for. He's a true work horse. He goes for around £1.50 in the supermarket, making him aggressively cost beneficial and he works well with just about any fruit. His name is Velho Barreiro. Here is the label in English no less. This guy travels. You note that it is not called a cachaça but that it is double distilled and sweetened. I confess I've never noticed a sweet taste from Velho Barreiro, such that on occasion I've drunk it as it comes with a spoonful of honey stirred in. Basically, you don't drink this stuff straight unless you are an alcoholic. I've seen working class Brazilian men knocking back glasses of this stuff pure at the top of the morning when I'm on my way to my first class of the day. Hard. Core.

I'm translating all the names of the aguardente up for appreciation here, but very early on in the game I've managed to reach something of an impasse. Velho quite simply means old, of that there can be no doubt. My first instinct was to say that barreiro came from the word barril meaning barrel or cask in Portuguese and that barreiro would be a barrel maker or cooper, as we say. However, there is another word for that in Portuguese so I visited the dictionary. It seems the word eminates from barra meaning clay and so here, the translation would be something like Old Clay Pit. Not so glamourous. Still, there's something about the old man in his hat and bountiful beard staring into the distance from inside the barrel that entrances me. Perhaps I'm wrong to do so, but I trust him.


Vale Verde (trans. Green Valley)

Vale Verde is a prize winner. Playboy magazine elected it (not erected as is typically Playboy's purpose) the best cachaça in Brazil and not without good reason. Incidentally, I only know this because there's a small label saying so on the neck of the bottle. Aged in oak casks for 3 years with an alcohol content of 40% it comes from Betim in the state of Minas Gerais, and not the notorious Salinas region in the north of the state. Salinas is the Brazilian equivalent of Islay. We shall be hearing and tasting more from Salinas later.

Vale Verde is a fine cachaça. It's smooth and easy on the palate which well may be the result of a unique charcoal filtering process which I read about on their site. This is one for all the family, a little light for my tastes, like a decent Speyside perhaps.

Engenho D'Ouro - Azuladinha (trans. Mill of Gold - Little Blue One)

This is a special little bottle that we've had for a couple of years and now that I've opened it and sampled it I can say that it won't be around for too much longer.
This cachaça is produced near Paraty in the state of Rio, and we visited the site of production, known in Portuguese as an alambique (alambic still in English) and inevitably ended up parting with cash at the end of our brief tour. Here you can see a pic of the copper still and the little mill that crushes the cane. This place is on a far smaller scale than the previous cachaça we looked at and it is certain that every stage is carried out by hand. I had a go myself at feeding some stands of cane into the ancient crushing mill and felt all a quiver as I did so.

Let us turn our attention once more to the spirit. The first thing we see here is that the spirit is clear. Now sadly I can't be certain, but some research has led to the discovery that part of the production at Engenho D'Ouro is aged for a year in oak or jequitibá casks. However in the case of the Azuladinha, I believe that it hasn't been aged at all. What is different here is that, in order to soften the taste, extract from leaves of tangerine has been added (and the leaves removed) imparting a faint blue tinge to the colour. This cachaça is deliciously aromatic, retaining the flavour of the sugar cane, undisguised by wood and yet complex with a long lasting sweet aftertaste.

My research also led me to a number of online stores where I believed I would be forced to make some credit card transactions, however, along the way, I happened upon an emporium in the dark and largely unfamiliar centre of Sao Paulo which boasts a worryingly wide range of cachaça. Esquina da Cachaça (Cachaça Corner) is top of my list of places to go this week.

Aesthetic aside: Some of the label designs for cahcaca are superb and I'd say are worthy of collection purely for that reason. We shall feature some of these in the future.

In the meantime:

Saude!

two birds with one zone

Sunday saw us head to the park to let loose our hound.
Instinct carried us over the river and across to the Instituto Butantan and its surrounds which are reasonably well forested and ample in dimension:


Exibir mapa ampliado

We took to sitting in the grounds of an abandoned building where we settled down to some serious idling, letting nature slowly creep back in around us.

Two out of the ordinary birds were sighted. The first, and larger of the two was Amazona aestiva. It eyed us from time to time from a high branch whilst cracking and crunching some sort of nut or seed pod. Actually native to the centre and north of Brazil, released captive birds have managed to establish a precense in the West Zone of the city. My looking up at it caused a small crowd of others to gather in order to see if what I was seeing was worth seeing too.

The second was a woodpecker. Celeus flavescens. I was lucky to see this one. It came in fast to land on the trunk of a nearby tree and, sensing shyness, I approached by keeping foliage between it and I in order to facilitate a decent butcher's hook. I got that look. Then it shortly flighted.

I get a little bored with the predictable and monotonous lack of (non-human) diversity here in Sao Paulo and so it was great to go to a place a mere 20 minute drive from where we live and see something different in the wild. I shall return. And next time with my trusty Nikon 7x20s.

Hello, Chopper.

Hi Chris.
Listen, I have to do a site visit tomorrow, I'm going by helicopter. Why don't you come with me?
.......Eh...are you sure?....
Yeah. Come to my place at 8:30.
Wow. Ok, then.

Inside Out

7

7 by J.Orr

the dying head

The night before last I had a moustache glued to my moustache and I was not kissing another moustachioed man nor was I paying lip service to an exceptionally hirsute woman. Allow me to explain.

I look across the table at a woman in a gown with narrow sloping shoulders, a high neck collar and a wide hat brimmed with lace and silk. I glance nervously at her through spectacles, a light grey bowler atop my head, and at my neck a round collar shirt secured by a suitably large and exaggerated bow tie. We chat over glasses of beer. A man reaches over us and injects some beer from a syringe into our glasses to replace the dying head. How did you end up here? She asks me.

I met a woman on the street some time ago. We were walking our dogs. We got to chatting and I happened to ask her what she did. I work for a casting agency, she replied. Just as we were about to go our separate ways, she asked if I’d be interested in going to her office and registering with her, there and then. It was a block from my place and I had the time, so I thought, why not. My dog and I followed her and hers to the office.

Pictures were taken, details exchanged and in the weeks to come I received a succession of phone calls inviting me to tests.

Two weeks ago in a gap between classes I found myself with a free afternoon. A call came in. Would I be available for a test? Yes, I submitted. The offer? An advert for BEER. My weakness.

I found myself getting increasingly and frustratingly nervous as made my way to the test.I pushed open the corrugated door that led into the studio and found myself being searched over by the eyes of several model types of either sex.

You’re here for the test? Good, fill out this form will you?
Down go my details. But what is this? Weight. In kilos? Height, waist and neck in centimetres. I find myself lost in my own geometry.
The game is up and I return to confess I don’t have the solution to such searching equations.
Ah, I see. You’re a gringo – she notes from my ID number.
Don’t worry, you can go ahead for your pictures now.

Ok, stand just there. Head up now. Nice big smile. Relax the shoulders. Big smile.
Good, now a great big smile - please. Ok. Done! You can go now.[Inside that sickness I feel from forcing a smile. The impossible masquerade. I leave somewhat flushed and low of self esteem. I don’t belong here, why did I even bother going?]

Hello. Is that Christopher?
Yes.
Hi, it’s the agency here. You’ve been chosen for the Bohemia job. Congratulations, it's your first job…..

Cut to this pretty young lady and I in a bar in Victorian dress in a bar in the East End of Sao Paulo at 4 am in the morning surrounded by 10 or so models, a photographer, 3 photographer's technicians, an artistic director, two make up artists, three costume stylists and a myriad lights and flashes, all writhing in a sargasso sea of cables. The director orders me to take yet another sip of beer and I chuckle and pass comment with my drinking partner on the tremendously unreal nature of our current state of affairs.

I awake around lunchtime on the same day to pick out the glue left behind by my false 'tache.

A Gecko On The Hand Is Worth Two On The Wall

Daily Grind