Sangria success
My employer has a fairly relaxed policy about alcoholic beverages "at work." The centerpiece of the policy is that drinking must be social -- a team can have a round of champagne to celebrate a successful product release, for example, but solitary nipping from a flask at your desk is not on. The policy extends to their most-weeks "TGIF" gatherings, during which the entire company is invited to listen to the news of the week, applaud the new arrivals, and have finger food and a cup of beer or wine if they so desire.
A couple of weeks ago I learned that one of the TGIF gathering places now had a standard offering: their own sangria. I've had good and bad, and this turned out to be pretty darn good. That, in turn, got me thinking about making it at home. I didn't have much of an idea how to go about it, though, and the bad sangrias I've had made me a bit hesitant to blindly experiment with raw ingredients as pricey as wine.
Coincidence then struck, in the form of a Teresa Nielsen Hayden blog post entitled "A redacted recipe for sangria." She'd done the legwork, looking around for everyone's favorites, then distilling the commonalities and eradicating the inauthentic to arrive at a good, simple core recipe. I put it to the test, and lo, it is indeed quite good. Check out the link for the recipe.
In my case, I used a bottle of Castillo de Daroca 2007 Old Vines Grenache, $9 because this is the Bay Area and wine is expensive here. It was the nice local wine shop guy's immediate recommendation for a sangria wine. For fruit I used one regular lemon and two minneola tangelos, since they were so much better than the oranges at the market. For the spirits I used 2 TBSP of triple sec plus enough brandy to make a total of ½ cup.
Next time around I might go with just brandy; the triple sec sweet orange Kool-Aid character wasn't working for me as well as I thought it would. That particular aspect of it seems to be diminishing as the sangria blends, though, so perhaps it's just a matter of letting it age sufficiently. In pomegranate season here those would be an excellent addition; the flavor is obviously complementary. Lastly, next time I might peel one of the oranges and use just the fruit: the pith bitterness is evident, and the undertone of bitterness might not be to everyone's taste (though it's ubiquitous in European drinks making).
A couple of weeks ago I learned that one of the TGIF gathering places now had a standard offering: their own sangria. I've had good and bad, and this turned out to be pretty darn good. That, in turn, got me thinking about making it at home. I didn't have much of an idea how to go about it, though, and the bad sangrias I've had made me a bit hesitant to blindly experiment with raw ingredients as pricey as wine.
Coincidence then struck, in the form of a Teresa Nielsen Hayden blog post entitled "A redacted recipe for sangria." She'd done the legwork, looking around for everyone's favorites, then distilling the commonalities and eradicating the inauthentic to arrive at a good, simple core recipe. I put it to the test, and lo, it is indeed quite good. Check out the link for the recipe.
In my case, I used a bottle of Castillo de Daroca 2007 Old Vines Grenache, $9 because this is the Bay Area and wine is expensive here. It was the nice local wine shop guy's immediate recommendation for a sangria wine. For fruit I used one regular lemon and two minneola tangelos, since they were so much better than the oranges at the market. For the spirits I used 2 TBSP of triple sec plus enough brandy to make a total of ½ cup.
Next time around I might go with just brandy; the triple sec sweet orange Kool-Aid character wasn't working for me as well as I thought it would. That particular aspect of it seems to be diminishing as the sangria blends, though, so perhaps it's just a matter of letting it age sufficiently. In pomegranate season here those would be an excellent addition; the flavor is obviously complementary. Lastly, next time I might peel one of the oranges and use just the fruit: the pith bitterness is evident, and the undertone of bitterness might not be to everyone's taste (though it's ubiquitous in European drinks making).