From Russia With Love

There's something so low lighted and soothing about Manhattan's Russian Samovar that any prohibitions around drinking vodka in the early afternoon can be easily chased with the tiny Corniche pickles in silver cups that dot the bar and booths. It's also reassuring to know that even after fifteen years, the dusty Samovar remains largely unchanged, and many midtown office workers can still be seen quietly sipping their lunches, some worryingly alone, but many in groups large enough to commander a banquet.

There are deep red velvets, tiny lampshades and hushed conversations throughout, but the decor focus is the hundreds of dramatically lit curio jars running the length of the bar, holding not only the precious Russian vodka, but also the flavorings. Some are pretty, elderberries and floating red peppers, but a ginger-infused vodka refracts back its root tenant in a disturbing way like a showcase at the carnival freak show. I keep moving down the bar.

Scary though it may be, the ginger is still an old reliable, but I'm here for horseradish. I have a hunch that it's just the thing for a vodka recipe I've been tinkering with, ramping up through trial and error from a bland lemon vodka really more colored than flavored by the runoff from boiled beets to a concoction that now featured chunky beet puree, an interesting taste, but still called out for some kick.

I honestly believe the horseradish will make this cocktail sing. I belly up to the bar and order a horseradish-flavored vodka. When it arrives, I ask the elderly barkeep to tell me everything, and in a thick Russian accent, he delves into the history of Mother Russia, horseradish and, natch, vodka. It's not surprising that this five-foot, white-flowering plant, coveted for its curved, chalky root, is in the same family as eye-watering mustards and wasabi, but I'm shocked it also counts broccoli and cabbage as members of the family.

Much like my initial misstep with the boiled beets, Alexi cautions me to grate the horseradish root, letting it tumble directly into the vodka. He also tells me not to bother with what his native Russians call "red khreyn" as it's just pre-shaved horseradish mixed with red beets. "So I am onto something," I ask rhetorically. He nods, but then goes onto nix the lemon-flavored vodka, insisting the flavors from the beet puree and grated horseradish will be more than enough for the palate to contend with, but he eventually relents, allowing a lemon wedge as garnish at the end of a recipe. "Like the sun," he says.

As I stumble out into the daylight myself, the world of unflavored vodkas stretches our before me. I never understood things like Grey Goose or the bottle-service vodka in a nightclub that, although it does have a giant flare atop the bottle, is still retailing at a 5000 percent markup. I'm more about rotgut booze, always have been, and unabashedly so, but lately, I've been running my cheap hooch through a Brita water filter, acting on a tip from Esquire that says the taste and hangover quotient are on par with Kettle One after the quintuple filtration.

My clerk at the Buy-Rite calls bullshit on the filtration. The vodka I've selected has a price tag well under ten dollars for a fifth, still definitely bottom shelf, but it comes in a modern, oval bottle with its brand "Burnett's" across the front in quaint, old-timey lettering. It's about the same price, but doesn't store any of that secret, back-of-the-freezer shame that, say, a bottle of Popov would.

I tell the clerk I suspect he has a vested interest in this urban legend being untrue, but when I arrive home to begin the lengthy coal-filtration process, I hop online and find that mythbusters.com has also discredited the idea, while chowhound.com quotes vodka expert and San Francisco World Spirits Competition chief Anthony Dias Blue as saying, "Passing a low-end vodka through a filter will make it better, but it won't make it a top shelf."

On the second filtration, I decide to get going on the beet, but most of the recipes I find online call for all kinds of craziness from epicurious.com's 1/2 pound of boiling potatoes to food.com's two tablespoons of heavy cream. My afternoon vodka almost comes back up on that last suggestion so I decide to keep it simple, spraying the beet with cooking spray, wrapping it in foil and throwing it into a hot oven for an hour.

When the beet's done, I'm on my last filtration. As all of this detoxification has been happening in the fridge, I decide to cozy up to my second, chilled vodka of the afternoon, just so I can have some basis for comparison when I'm done flavoring. When I open the foil, the beet has shed its skin, so I extract the meat and mash it in a bowl instead of processing as I want some fiber to remain. I add the vodka and all that remains is to grate in the horseradish.

As Alexi said it would, breaking down the root releases enzymes from the ruptured plant cells which in turn break down a glucose that results in a mustard oil that attacks my eyes and sinus like a Chechen rebel. Before I know it, I'm standing in my kitchen, slightly drunk and crying. I feel like something out of a Lifetime movie. It's okay, I tell myself, I'm just moments away from a refreshing cocktail. The sun will return momentarily, just as soon as I'm done cutting lemons.

The Beet Red Khreyn Vodka Sunrise Cocktail
Let's face it, Sex and the City did some serious damage to the vodka cocktail. What was once the provenience of Romanovs and Czars had devolved into a syrupy girl drink. But as that show sunsets, somewhere on the horizon drinks like the mint cucumber vodka martini and vodka dill pickle-tini are rising to the fore. Vodka, beet puree and grated horseradish, your time has come.

Ingredients:
-1 fifth of unflavored vodka
-1 large red beet
-1 medium horseradish root
-1 medium lemon
-1 medium bag of chopped ice

Method:
1. Begin charcoal filtering vodka in commercial pitcher like a Brita. Repeat filtration four more times.
2. Spray beet lightly with Pam or other cooking spray and wrap loosely in foil.
3. Cook beet on middle shelf of oven at 450 degrees for one hour.
4. Remove beet from oven, peel and mash lightly in large mixing bowl.
5. Add filtered vodka to bowl.
6. Using a cheese grater or fork, grate horseradish root into bowl and stir.
7. Transfer mixture to serving pitcher then place in refrigerator or freezer.
8. Serve cocktail cold in tall glass with chopped ice, garnish with lemon wedges if desired.