Philadelphia City Paper :: Spirit Sister

Spirit Sister: A Little Blood

From the fertile volcanic soil of Jalisco, Mexico arises the blue agave, a spiky cactus monitored by jimadores with generations of knowledge about the slow-growing plant. The agave matures for four to seven years before its juicy heart is harvested, slow-roasted to extract its complex sweetness, then mashed and distilled to produce the shot of tequila you so carelessly pound down at happy hour.

A better way to appreciate tequila's floral, vegetal and pepper notes is to sip the spirit alternately with its longtime dance partner, sangrita. LeNell Smothers, co-owner of Casa Coctel in La Paz, Mexico, traces sangrita's origins back to a snack of oranges topped with chili powder and salt in the home of a Senor and Senora Sanchez; the oranges were eventually juiced, and somewhere along the way tomato juice came into play, giving sangrita its moniker, meaning "a little blood." Apocrypha aside, a modern sangrita mixture of tomato and citrus juices spiked with chili powder or hot sauce is now a standard accompaniment to a caballito of booze at Philly's better tequila destinations.

Twins Cantina los Caballitos (1651 E. Passyunk Ave.) and Cantina dos Segundos (931 N. Second St.) take a Bloody Maria approach to sangrita. A combination of orange and tomato juices are punched with housemade vegan Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce and a blend of spices, including garlic powder. In addition to partnering flights and shots of high-end tequila, both Cantinas serve Micheladas of sangrita and beer, a strange-sounding pairing that alchemically transforms a steamy dog day. A similarly savory admixture is prepared with fresh juices at Tequilas (1602 Locust St.), where manager Manuel Lopez encourages guests to try sangrita as an aperitif. "It opens your appetite," he says.

Distrito (3945 Chestnut St.) serves sangrita with its shots, but the kitchen also spins its tomato, orange and lime concoction into a sorbet adorning hiramasa ceviche, the red nectar providing contrast to buttery yellowtail.

The sweetness and aci...

Spirit Sister: Get a Room

➤ Just a few years ago, city drinkers on a quest for a mixture more interesting than a gin and tonic but less tooth-decaying than an Appletini had a choice — Southwark or Chick's? Today, a thriving set of cocktail bars and like-minded restaurants are attracting customers. Stephen Starr, who’ll find out if he won the prize for Outstanding Restaurateur at the James Beard Foundation Awards May 3, stepped into the fray this past Sunday with the opening of the Ranstead Room, the speakeasy-like annex to his new Mexi-kitsch El Rey (see Feeding Frenzy), with which it shares an address and a kitchen.

With Manhattans, Old-Fashioneds and Aviations no longer such rare birds, Starr called in a heavy hitter to set apart Ranstead’s drinks list: Sasha Petraske, the brain behind New York’s standard-setting Milk & Honey and Dutch Kills. He developed a list of nine drinks evocative of the '40s and '50s, all relying on the fresh-squeezed juice and hand-chipped ice de rigueur for proper $12 tipples.

If sips like the Boulevardier (bourbon, Campari, sweet vermouth) or Sands Cocktail (gin, grapefruit and lemon juices, maraschino liqueur) don’t tempt, guests can request "bartender’s choice" and provide a few words of direction for a custom cup. In addition to curating the classics, Petraske created the House Special, an original recipe. Blanco tequila, chili piquin, lemon juice and sugar play nicely with a selection of tacos, gorditas, guacamole and albondigas drinkers can order off chef Dionicio Jimenez’s El Rey menu.

As with other Starr projects, aesthetics drive the Ranstead Room's environment as much as the drinks. Designer Shawn Hausman (Butcher & Singer, Parc) transformed the former Midtown IV Diner's back room into a 44-seat black-velvet fantasy, lining the snug, wine-hued space with vintage wallpaper, polished golden tiling and R-rated artwork. "The environment is supposed to be extremely low-key," says Petraske. "It's a room for grownups.” That feel is enhanced by the bar’s covert entrance on alley-like Ranstead Street, between Chestnut and Market, the security door marked only with a slim "RR" logo.

Ranstead's small size and no-reservations policy could mean a wait during prime hours, as they a...

Spirit Sister: Cuke Tips

For Pennsylvanians, creating bar-quality cocktails at home is both a joy and an endless frustration. Though the basic tools of the trade (pint glass, shaker tin, bar spoon, strainer, muddler, jigger) can be had for about $10 at any restaurant supply shop, the right liquid components can be hard to come by in the commonwealth's Wine & Spirits stores.

This perpetual lack was my inspiration for a party-worthy cocktail, the PLCB Cucumber Crush, that can be assembled with just two stops — one to a liquor store for locally distilled Bluecoat gin and the Italian aperitif Campari, and another to a market to pick up cucumbers, tarragon, grapefruit juice and club soda. Cucumber and gin is a classic pairing, and the citrus top notes of Bluecoat make for a drink that even gin haters will enjoy.

Muddling cukes and tarragon together releases their essential flavors, while a dash of honey syrup (method below) introduce warmth to the otherwise light/refreshing flavor profiles of the other ingredients. Making the PLCB Cucumber Crush also gives home mixologists a chance to hone their multi-step drink-making skills. Muddled ingredients are left behind in the tin when the mixture is strained over rocks, creating a bright cocktail with no messy, mashed-up bits.

This recipe creates a tart result. The drink can be sweetened by adding additional honey syrup.

The PLCB Cucumber Crush

3 heaping bar spoons peeled, diced cucumber

Leaves of one sprig of tarragon

(alternatives: mint or lemon verbena)

Dash of honey syrup *

1 1/2 ounce Bluecoat gin

1/4 ounce Campari

1 ounce grapefruit juice

Club soda, to top

Two cucumber slices as garnish

In a pint glass, muddle cucumber, tarragon and honey syrup together until thoroughly crushed. Add ice to glass; pour in Bluecoat, Campari and grapefruit juice. Place shaker tin on top of pint glass and tap to seal; shake mixture hard until outside of the tin frosts...

Spirit Sister: The Climb

When word leaked that David Ansill had been hired as chef at Ladder 15 (1528 Sansom St.), the Internet backlash was instantaneous. It consisted mostly of criticisms of the crowd believed to frequent the bar — think young, soused fraternity/sorority types — and trepidation toward how a critical darling like Ansill, who closed his eponymous restaurant in June 2009, would thrive in such an environment.

Ladder 15 partner Max Tucker finds the assertion that his clientele consists exclusively of Jager-chugging students unfair. "When we signed the lease, our landlord sent out a press release that some of the partners in Ladder 15 also owned Mad River," says Tucker, referencing the collegiate-friendly, multi-location concept he has a stake in. "There was immediate punch-in-the-kidneys stereotyping in the press."

Ansill, who landed at Ladder 15 after eight months of job hunting, was brought in to overhaul the bar's food, which has received just as much vitriol as the supposed crowd ordering it. "A great chef [and friend of Tucker's], Mike Stollenwerk, developed the menu, but executing a menu is an entirely different thing," says Tucker of the bar's opening eats, which were conceived, but not cooked, by the owner of fish and Little Fish. "It was a learning experience. It just wasn't good enough, nowhere near our expectations. ... That was enough reason to say we can do better."

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