Not just gin anymore
Suppose you really savored your daily swig of mouthwash or craved the occasional tall, cool glass of PeptoBismol. Suppose your fondness for said elixir was in fact such that you were inclined, come cocktail hour, to mix it with a jigger of Bombay Sapphire and kick back with your own private highball.
You might even call it a gin and tonic.
After all, at its broadest, tonic is simply a synonym for “medicine,” for “restorative.” Hence its conflation with tonic water, whose key ingredient, quinine — derived from the bark of an evergreen indigenous to South America, though it’s also produced synthetically — has been used for centuries to ameliorate malaria (some New Age healers claim it relieves muscle cramps, too).
Quinine has also, for centuries, been mixed with alcohol, which eases its distinctive bitterness (never mind the bitterness mosquito-borne disease has a way of engendering). Apothecaries infused it in wine; others — namely British soldiers in India — made gin their spoonful of sugar. To this day, when at home, we Americans do as the colonialist forces did (presumably sans muskets), lounging out on decks with our lime-garnished G&Ts, occasionally shaking things up by switching to vodka.
Along the way, many of us have actually developed a taste for quinine.
Of course, that’s in part because modern-day tonic water contains only a small amount of the stuff, diluting it in carbonated water with citric acid and sweetener for a zesty, cooling flavor profile we’ve come to associate with summer. Since we’ve also come to be increasingly bar-savvy, the demand for craft tonic — using naturally sourced instead of artificial quinine, real sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup, and so on — has risen sharply in the past few years. The difference in taste — as Lauren Clark, founder of the smart, stylishly liquor-soaked site Drinkboston.com, explains — is striking: “The attraction of [premium] brands like Fever Tree, Q, and Stirrings (and, apparently, the one that Whole Foods sells under its 365 label) is that they aren’t as sweet as the mass-produced versions; they have a brighter quinine flavor.”
To get the full scoop on this newfound appreciation for tonic, I pestered other local pros as well.
Take Eric Pierce. The bar manager at Kingston Station (25 Kingston Street, Boston, 617.482.6282) has relied “for years” on a pick-me-up of tonic, lime, and Peychaud’s bitters — which come by their name honestly via gentian, yet another medicinal plant — to see him through long shifts behind the bar. One day, he says, “while looking for a not-too-sweet, more sophisticated drink for the menu, I threw some gin in my trusty side drink, let some people try it, got good responses, and the Bitter End was born.” While Pierce’s potion, essentially a Pink G&T, is on-menu at Kingston Station ($7), he’s happy to entertain unlisted notions. “Tonic water is great for adding sparkle and citrus flavors without making things as sweet as, say, Sprite,” he says. “In fact, it’s a good mixer for sweet liqueurs. Some of the more unusual [pairings with tonic] I’ve heard of are sweet vermouth; Lillet Blanc; Campari and OJ; and vodka and Chambord. I’m experimenting now with vodka, [Domaine de] Canton ginger liqueur, and tonic.”
Like Pierce, the bar crew at Dante (40 Edwin H. Land Boulevard, Cambridge, 617.497.4200) gets its mixers from local microbrewer Real City Soda, which chef/owner Dante de Magistris actually prefers to the higher-end producers. “The premium tonic waters available may be okay, but tonic water is supposed to be virtually free, and they’re quite expensive,” he says. De Magistris and his lead mixologist, Stephen Shellenberger, have even tried making it in-house “in a couple of different ways. Sodaclub.com sells a carbonator that I’ve used with a quinine tincture, but [the result] essentially tasted just like all the commercial bottlings. Stephen has also made it with yeast using Champagne-making techniques, which is quite an elaborate task and takes a long time to brew.”
Yet for all his efforts, de Magistris has mixed (no pun intended) feelings about tonic water versus quinine per se. “Tonic’s bubbly, fun, slightly sweet, and bitter in a refreshing, ‘adult’ way. Any time a cocktail needs to be balanced with a touch of bitterness, a splash of tonic always works. But we typically don’t use tonic water for anything other than gin and tonic; we’d rather use Champagne for bubbles and acidity, plus a dash of quinine bitters, which I keep around.” He admits his taste for quinine smacks of Jazz Age nostalgia: “During the period of classic cocktails, people had incredibly sophisticated tastes. It was a fun, open-minded time for drinking, and that’s what people are working to replicate today.” Hence de Magistris’s excitement about the resurgence of all those aforementioned quinine-infused wines: “We bought all we could of a trial importation” of Vergano Luli ($12), a fortified Piedmontese Moscato, “and it’s selling really well, so you will definitely see more of it around the city as it starts getting steadily imported. Luli’s similar to Lillet, but a little more elaborate and intense — especially due to the quinine in the recipe.”
And that’s not all: “Another one with quinine to look for on our list is Barolo Chinato [$14], made from Nebbiolo grapes,” de Magistris says. “It hasn’t been regularly imported in a while, but it’s really important to The Savoy Cocktail Book, which is very popular these days.”
Ben Sandrof — who’ll soon be transferring from the bar at No. 9 Park (9 Park Street, Boston, 617.742.9991) to Barbara Lynch’s almost-open Progresso-retro lounge Drink (348 Congress Street, Boston) — shares de Magistris’s ambivalence about boutique tonic (tonique?) to the point of favoring mass-marketed brands. “Personally I like tonic water because of its bitter qualities — it makes your belly feel good, unless it’s mixed with really bad gin,” Sandrof says. “I also love the refreshing qualities of the citrus. I tend to lean toward Schwepps as my favorite. While I’ve had some good small-production tonics, they tend to be really expensive and haven’t proved to me to be worth it. Who wants to pay more than 10 bucks for a gin and tonic? My second choice is Canada Dry. It has good bubbles.” Not surprisingly, Sandrof’s concoction of choice is likewise “nothing complicated. I do love gin, so a gin and tonic on a hot day is great. But a chartreuse and tonic wins every time.” It may even beat mouthwash.
