{"id":37143,"date":"2015-06-10T14:31:28","date_gmt":"2015-06-10T18:31:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.uncommongoods.pro\/?p=37143"},"modified":"2019-07-11T18:31:07","modified_gmt":"2019-07-11T22:31:07","slug":"gift-lab-how-to-make-diy-tonic","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.uncommongoods.pro\/blog\/2015\/gift-lab-how-to-make-diy-tonic\/","title":{"rendered":"Gift Lab: How to Make DIY Tonic"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"MarisaGiftLab_TonicKitedited\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Product:\u00a0<\/strong>Tonic Making Kit<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Government<\/a>Government quinine factory, Mungpoo, India. Established in 1864 during British rule, via Wikipedia<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

Research:<\/strong>
\nFull-blown summer has arrived. In Cocktail Land, the hotter the weather, the lighter and crisper people want their drinks. Which brings us to the gin and tonic.<\/p>\n

Tonic water\u2019s bitter flavor derives from quinine<\/a>, a chemical in the bark of certain species of Cinchona <\/a>trees native to the Andes mountains of Peru. Quinine\u2019s association with gin – a British booze – came about when India was part of the British Empire.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\"Return<\/a><\/p>\n

“Return visit of the Viceroy to the Maharaja of Cashmere,” March 9, 1860. Chromolithograph by William Simpson, Plate 30 of ‘India: Ancient and Modern’ | via\u00a0The British Library<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

In the tropical areas of India, locals and their British overlords alike frequently perished from malaria<\/a>, the deadly, mosquito-borne illness endemic in sultry climates. Half a world and another European empire away, Jesuit <\/a>missionaries learned from the Quechua<\/a> people of Peru and Bolivia that quinine can both prevent and treat it. That knowledge was transferred to Continental Europe and eventually made use of by the British. They began cultivating Cinchona trees in India and Sri Lanka to help them stay healthy enough to properly oppress their subjects.<\/a><\/p>\n

\"Mary<\/a><\/p>\n

These children are not drinking gin.<\/em><\/p>\n

Quinine really is bitter. It\u2019s not something you\u2019d want to drink as is. As the British fictional nanny Mary Poppins<\/a> taught the world, \u201cA spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.\u201d Gin helps everything in life go down, so when both were added to the dose, health and happiness went hand in hand. For the British, at least.<\/p>\n

\"Angostura<\/a>
\nAngostura bitters<\/a>, found everywhere cocktails are.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hypothesis:<\/strong>
\nI love a bitter kick in my cocktails: bitters, Campari<\/a>, amaro<\/a>, whatever. Supermarket tonic water is made with corn syrup (and probably synthetic quinine) and doesn\u2019t have the complex flavors I crave. I\u2019ve used diet tonic water, which is even worse. There are new, improved tonic waters on the market now, but they\u2019re very expensive.<\/p>\n

The dose of quinine in the tonic I\u2019m making isn\u2019t going to be high enough to affect malarial parasites, so it won\u2019t contribute to my physical health. However, I predict that the flavor, particularly when combined with gin, will contribute to my happiness – and that of anyone else lucky enough to taste it.<\/p>\n

\"Tonic<\/a>
\nExperiment:<\/strong>
\nMaterials needed:<\/em>
\n1 fresh grapefruit
\n3 fresh lemons
\n3 fresh limes
\n3 stalks lemongrass
\nSugar
\nSalt
\nClub soda or seltzer<\/p>\n

For cocktails:<\/em>
\nGin and\/or vodka
\nBitters (optional)
\nAnything else you want<\/p>\n

IMPORTANT NOTE: It takes several days to make.<\/strong> It\u2019s not very labor-intensive, but ingredients need to sit and let their flavors work their blendy magic over time. So: Don\u2019t try to make this the night before a cocktail party. Because you can\u2019t.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Limes\"<\/p>\n

\"The<\/p>\n

First, I zested the citrus fruits (this takes a while, but smells lovely) and mixed the peels with a cup of sugar, where they sat, covered, overnight. I put mine in a jar, and saved the skinless citrus in the fridge for juicing into something later.<\/p>\n

The kit comes with little resealable plastic bags filled with powdered Cinchona bark, and other herbs and spices that you can use in combinations you like. Because I sought astringency, I chose gentian root, juniper berries, star anise, and quassia <\/a>bark. The kit also includes lavender and cardomom pods, but I skipped them, because my taste buds weren\u2019t in the mood for their more floral tastes.<\/p>\n

\"Saucepan\"<\/p>\n

On Day 2, I mixed my chosen botanicals with water in a saucepan, and as directed, brought them to a boil, immediately lowered the heat, and let them simmer for a half hour. It was while I was mixing them that I realized I\u2019d failed to notice that the recipe calls for lemongrass, which I didn\u2019t have, and is not available just anywhere. Drat. I thought I\u2019d skip it, but then Googled tonic water recipes online, and they all called for a significant lemongrass presence.<\/p>\n

\"Tonic<\/p>\n

OK, I\u2019d fix that later. I mixed the simmered brew with the citrus-zesty sugar I\u2019d combined on Day 1, and let it chill overnight. I read somewhere that the reason you add the zest after<\/em> the simmering because you want a fresh, not cooked, citrus taste.<\/p>\n

\"Tonic<\/p>\n

\"Tonic<\/p>\n

The next day I strained it. It was just like straining stock<\/a>. First I strained the solids out, then, with a finer strainer, as much of the Cinchona bark powder sludge as I could. I also squeezed as much flavor-filled liquid as I could out of the solid ingredients. Then I let the jar sit in the fridge for a couple of days.<\/p>\n

\"Lemongrass\"<\/p>\n

By this time, I\u2019d gone to Chinatown and obtained the lemongrass. I chopped it, then bruised it with a mortar and pestle. (For those who\u2019ve never cooked with lemongrass, you have to take off the tough outer layer of the stalk, as well as the very top and bottom. The tender inner part is what you want, just like with leeks. Bashing it around a little releases the aromatic oils.)<\/p>\n