Oh, what? Didn’t see this coming so soon? Well, surprise…
They tried to distract me. They tried to silence me. They even tried to kill me. Who’s “they,” you ask? Why, Big Vodka Soda, of course. But they couldn’t keep this newsletter down. My pre-diabetic ass is back with an all-new cordial that will be an anti-venom against boring, run-of-the-mill swill. Get ready L.O.S.ers, because it’s time to get sipping.
The criteria 🧖♂️
My summer kicks off, or rather, kicks back, with a brief trip to the Baltic Sea, where I intend to get the opposite of a tan and romance an ABBA hologram. My impending journey to the land of saunas inspired me. This year’s Liqueur of the Summer had to be a certified steam-room sipper. Something fresh and spritzable for the schvitzers. But also, something homegrown. Besides that jaunt to the Nordics, the rest of my year will likely be spent Stateside, and I wanted LoS to feel appropriate for the pools, beaches, and sprinkler-wetted lawns of home. This got me meditating on the Renaissance of the American spa. Bathhouses are popping up on every corner of New York, and I think that’s…um…great? Right?
It’s not that I don’t love a hydro-circuit. I hope to spend most of the summer in one. But I often find the execution of US spas to be contrived and soulless. Historically speaking, communal bathhouses only thrived for but a blip in our national timeline, nothing compared to the millennia-long traditions found in Europe and Asia. So unless you grew up in a collective bathing culture, and/or know where the hidden gems are, many American spas often feel a little too precious. A little too overpriced. A little too polished. Banyas, perhaps, but with the cultural richness of a SweetGreen.
It’s clearly an “us” problem. Americans famously don’t know how to act, especially not in a space like a bathhouse, which challenges some of our most cherished values: hatred of relaxation, squeamishness with nudity, wearing pants, and the right to scream wherever and whenever we want. We’re not a group of people that, en masse, is well equipped to sit contentedly, flab-to-flab, with our community. So, we’ve turned spas into HSA-eligible theme parks, where Instagrammable escapism reigns supreme.
All to say, I was struggling. Was there any genuine American contribution to spa culture? And if there was, did it translate somehow to booze? And then it struck me…
The revelation 🏜️
Desert wellness. Amangiri. Drying out our miasmas in the Pacific sun. Mud. The American West has long been known as the place where the sad, snow-burdened masses could renew themselves. The dry air facilitated the creation of numerous tuberculosis sanatoria, which later evolved into the modern-day celebrity rehab. The epicenter of this healthist movement was California. With its even climate and fecund soil, it had everything it needed to become what Meghan Markle would later identify as the American Riviera. As long as there has been a “California,” it has been sold to the public as a health utopia, and we’ve been rolling our eyes at its outlandish claims ever since:
“When I left home, I had but one lung, and it was almost gone…I have been two weeks in Pasadena, have three lungs, can roar like a descending avalanche [and] ate three mules for breakfast.” - A wise guy from 1883
With the desert-spa die now clearly cast, that meant that the only suitable choice for Liqueur of the Summer 2024 would be:
🌵🥒 Chareau 🍃🍈
The Plant-Based Spirit Made with California Aloe
For a non-alcoholic alternative, you can try this fancy aloe vera juice here. It is also possible to make your own juice with organic aloe and the proper equipment, but given that the juice is now readily available in stores, I can’t see going through the trouble, as I’m told it can be a difficult and goopy job.
Oh! Eau?
And what is that?
Much like a publicist who drinks spirulina en route to her botulism appointment, Chareau understands the power of combining healing botanicals with recreational poison. It starts with a base of eau de vie, which is French for “water of life.” For all you Dune fans, I’m not referring to the mystical ichor extracted from a Shai-Hulud, but rather to a clear, colorless, brandy. Made with California grapes. Obviously. Free of artificial colors and unnatural sugars. Duh!
This base is then infused with local flora. Most notably: Aloe Vera.
Drink the cactus
Notes on taste, from my palate, to yours.
Before having Chareau, I don’t know that I’d ever tasted aloe. Sure, I’ve been tempted to take a swig of the bright green sunburn gel in my medicine cabinet, which I can’t be blamed for. Like Tide Pods, Mancala beads, and Fabuloso, it just looks fucking scrumptious. Luckily, when it comes to that temptation, Chareau and the many, now widely available non-alcoholic Aloe Vera soft drinks provide superior, safer, much sweeter relief.
Aloe, for lack of better adjectives, tastes like it smells, with an overall flavor impact that I can best describe as "round." Aside from this, Chareau delivers on its promise of strong botanical flavors that don't typically find their way into cordials and liqueurs. There are clear puffs of spearmint, lemon peel, muskmelon, and cucumber, which come together in a liquid that has a satisfyingly glossy mouthfeel. Overall, Chareau has an incredibly cooling energy with the gentlest of bite, like lounging in a pool and overhearing someone else’s gossip.
Chareau, applied
Recipes for your IV B12 session.
If, like me, you have not tried aloe before, you should first drink Chareau straight. Not that you need a recipe for that but just in case:
- 2oz Chareau
- Ice
- splash of soda (optional)
- dash of celery bitters (optional but delicious)
I still drink it straight often, but Chareau is even more talented as an ensemble player, bringing a unique vegetal curvature to acidic cocktails and spritzes. The spearmint and melon notes make it the perfect plus one in a mojito. Verdant cactus flavors become enlivened in a margarita. To honor the spa-water-vibes theme, add a dash of Chareau and gin into some green juice or cucumber-lemon agua fresca. If you’re going for something richer, other California botanicals like rosemary and sage will bring herbal darkness to this lighthearted tipple.
I personally have been treating myself to a cocktail of my own creation, which I’ve dubbed: The White Negreauni
- 1.5 oz Gin
- 1 oz Chareau
- 1oz Cocchi Americano
- Twist of lime peel
As always, I also want you to get in the lab! Let me know what cocktails you’ve invented by leaving a comment, or reaching out to me on insta: @ethanhardyethan. I’ve taken the liberty of creating some recipe-less cocktail names that are yours to claim. Let them inspire you!
The Chareauline Caloeway, The Vera Farmiga, The “Aloe Guvna!”, The Gentille Aloe-ette, The Irish Car Balm, The Sunburnadino, The Aloe McBeal, The Vera Farmiga 2
And where do I find this?
As far as securing this succulent-based succor, I’ve had no trouble finding it when ordering from TotalWine.com, WineChateau.com, or Minibar.com (RIP Drizly).
🥈Give it up for the runners-up🥉
For man does not live by Chareau alone.
1st Alternate - Blue Chair Bay Key Lime Rum Cream 🦜
Cream liqueurs are definitely the Jamaican bobsled team of Liqueur of the Summer candidates. They face an uphill battle - the summer sun doesn’t put most of us in the mood for non-ice-cream dairy - but I can’t help but root for them! Sweet and full of character, this one is a delicious dead ringer for key lime pie, down to the graham cracker crust. I, for one, can’t wait to get some into a piña colada. It’s a good time for it too; mid-century kitsch is having a moment among culinarians, with ironic jellos, mayonnaise salads, and Baked Alaska in the midst of a revival. Plus, Blue Chair Bay is Kenny Chesney’s company, so I like to think that, somehow, this liqueur is touched by the spiritual beauty of his brief marriage to Renée Zellweger. Sadly, much like the Jamaican bobsled team, this one isn’t a winner yet. Great entry in the wrong year, but keep an eye out for it on Liqueur of the Summer All-Stars.
2nd Alternate - Kleiner Feigling 👀
Stellar, 90’s-cartoon-esque branding. A gorgeous purple wax seal. Kleiner Feigling makes for an excellent bar-cart conversation starter. In addition to their flagship fig liqueur, they offer a panoply of wacky flavors, like Bubblegum, American Popcorn, “Peanut Flips” (?), and a traditional, bitter herbal that they call “Weed.” Most of these are offered in adorable little bottles that make for perfect party shots. Imagine those little nips of 99Bananas, but imagine that they went to The New School. I only reviewed the original fig flavor, which is sweet, spicy, and very velvety. It’s actually not unlike Chareau in look, feel, and flavor, and that’s its main problem. Chareau is just…more! Figs are not exactly flavor powerhouses as is, and they don’t come through much in this liqueur. Funnily enough, “Kleiner Feigling” is a pun, meaning both “little fig” and “little coward.” It’s that titular lack of boldness that keeps it from the top spot. Still, it’s delicious, so use it exactly as you would use Chareau if aloe is just not your thing.
🍝 A special toast 🍸
This year's Liqueur of the Summer is dedicated to one of the first and most enthusiastic members of this little community, the brilliant writer, unmatched wit, and beloved friend to so many of us, Anthony Smith. In his honor, I hope you take time out of your day to drag an overhyped bakery, try one of his perfected recipes, enjoy some calamansi juice, and giggle uncontrollably at a tweet of your own creation.
Hall of Fame 👵
The drinks that paved the way
2018 - Rosolio di Bergamotto
2019 - Strega
2020 - Rabarbaro
2021 - Camomilla
2022 - Huana Guanabana Liqueur
2023 - Sloe Gin
So…what now?
Enjoy! Try it. Tell me you love it. Tell me you hate it. Try ingesting Chareau transdermally to honor its lotion cousins (please don’t do that). Drink well, intentionally, and responsibly, and raise the tiniest glass you can find to salute the start of the season.
Other Writing
I write about lots of things, beyond just aperitivi. For comedic takes on my travels, food and culture, and whatever pops to mind, consider subscribing to my other newsletter by clicking here. It’ll also let you know when I have a comedy show coming up in New York.
To get a taste, you can read, and hopefully enjoy, a recap of my trip to Paris here.
Sorry, li-who of the what?
Liqueur of the Summer is a playful starting point for your summer cocktails that hopefully feels like being invited to a months-long, open-invite party. These days, as I try to live an increasingly low-to-no-ABV lifestyle, I hold onto drinking experiences that help us discover new ways of enjoying and living life. Liqueurs are strange, specific, often hard to find, and are frankly, sometimes gross, but that’s part of their fun. So, as you embark on your own summer revelry, take a double shot of curiosity with every endeavor, on me.
wow!!! NOW I know that summer is coming…. thank god…. can’t wait to try it