Pink Vodka Sauce
When it comes to cravings, pregnant women have nothing
on me. On Wednesdays, for example, I like to peruse various dining sections
from on-line newspapers. My plans for dinner change with every article I read.
Sometimes a memory or smell will set me off, and suddenly I must have a certain
item. Some cravings are repeat offenders: pickles, sushi, and lobster are all
common, as are the Best Recipe’s chewy chocolate chip cookies. Yesterday
Lisa mentioned that her husband had made a killer pink vodka sauce the night
before. That was all it took.
I had made
a simple pink vodka sauce once before – some of you may remember it from
the great gnocchi debacle of 2004. Sautéed garlic and red pepper, a 28
ounce can of tomatoes, a half cup vodka, seasonings and cream, and I had arrived
at one of life’s great pleasures. At the time, I was sure I would make it
again and again, but days pass, and there are always new cravings to sate. I
was shocked to realize that it has been well over a year since my last encounter
with PVS.
I can’t say the same
about vodka itself. Like many Americans, vodka is my spirit of choice. Its
purity makes it ultimately adaptable to any cocktail; I myself am equally
partial to a dirty martini, a cape codder, or a bloody mary. For the last
several years, I’ve become somewhat of a vodka snob, faithful to Kettle
One except for the occasional dalliance with other top shelf brands. Imagine my
surprise when a recent New York Times taste test ranked Smirnoff at the top of
the list for quality, purity and value. Belvedere also scored high marks, but
costs four times as much.
In terms of
distilled spirits, vodka is a relative newcomer. According to Harold
McGee’s “On Food and Cooking,” Mesopotamians were distilling
aromatic plants 5,000 years ago, and alcohol became a commercial product as
early as the 13th century. Up until that time, it was used for
medicinal purposes, but soon the only thing it was curing was thirst. Vodka
didn’t come on the scene until the 16th century in Russia. Its
name means “little water,” reflecting its 95% alcohol concentration.
Bourbon, for contrast, is about 65%.
Vodka can be distilled from almost
anything, including potatoes, grains, fruits and malted barley. Since it is so
stringently distilled and filtered, very few characteristics and aromatics from
the source material come through in the final product. A good vodka is prized
for its absence of taste and smell. What vodka retains is harder to describe.
For me it feels soft and smooth, but has a quality akin to pepper – a
distinctive sharpness and warmth that coats your insides. Ice cold vodka has
that luxurious viscosity – like not-set
gelatin.
It’s vodka’s sharp
heat that makes PVS brilliant. The suggestion of pepper in the vodka emphasizes
the red and black pepper in the sauce - they create a lively dance on the
palate. This is tempered just slightly by the addition of cream, which gives
the sauce a luscious consistency. Over penne and grilled chicken, it warms and
energizes on stormy winter nights.
Posted: Fri - February 18, 2005 at 04:26 PM