Two spirits new to me: Damiana liqueur and Slivovitz

The Neighbor System, knowing much about fertility herself, recently gifted me a bottle of Damiana liqueur.  I’d never heard of it, and so we drank some on cracked ice with a squeeze of lemon.  At first the taste reminded me of Becherovka “lite,” but then the flavor became a bit more complex and woody.  Trying it at room temperature after eating some corn chips and an apple changes everything.  The nose has a curry-like spice to it, but it’s overall fruity.  The first sip burns with alcohol and cinnamon, fades into a burdock root kind of medicinal, and finishes sweet.  I may sound like a douche, but I’m being as serious as possible.

Damiana or Turnera diffusa, as Wikipedia will be delighted to tell you all about, is a plant that grows in Mexico and seems to be well-liked down there.  People smoke it and drink it in hopes that it will calm them down and love them up like Barry White.  The bottle says it all:

Since there is a claim that Damiana was used instead of triple sec in the original margarita, I did just that.  Except I used mezcal instead of tequila because I love it so.  2 0z.  mezcal, 1 oz. fresh lime juice, 1 oz. Damiana.  Shake with ice and strain into a chilled glass.  I might add 1.5 oz Damiana next time since this was fairly tart, but overall it made for great margarita that’s just different enough.  You don’t see many mexican aperatifs in cocktail programs, and you certainly don’t get to grab onto many bottles shaped like this.  Daaaaaamn.

Now, if Slivovitz came in a bottle, it would be shaped like a bony chain-smoking harpy.  Damson plum brandy.  Sounds delicious!  On the back of the bottle, there’s a little picture of a glass of the stuff neat, with a prune speared on a pick as garnish.  Some cruel person on the Intenet recommended that Slivovitz be enjoyed at room temperature, and so I poured some into a grappa flute to give it a try.

This spirit is clearly made of the angriest of damsom plums.  These plums felt cut down in their prime; they didn’t want to die.  They’re so mad I can’t even tell they were once plums.  I’m going to have to think long and hard about what I can do with this volatile substance, so in the meantime I leave you with this:

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