“Baby we can do it, take the time, do it right…”

Meson Madrid. Villa of Spain. Casa Sevilla. El Cid. It doesn’t really matter what the hell the name is, does it? I sit at the bar with my best friend, waiting for the others to arrive. The room that wraps us is dressed in thick burgundy velvet with framed nostalgia of valiant matadors, sultry flamenco dancers and plated paellas. Music is being piped through small inconspicuous speakers in the corners, I think maybe it’s “Viva España” or no, maybe it’s some Placido Domingo aria. Whatever. Patrons’ lively chatter floats over the bar while I peruse the wine list. She signals the waiter with a slight nod and says, “A glass of sangria, please,” then proceeds to tell me that this joint is known for their amazing sangria. She loves it. I should order it. The bartender is, I think, winking at me—or he has something in his eye. He turns his back to us, pulls a wine glass from the racks that line the bar’s ceiling, and proceeds to pour her a glass of their famous sangria…from a jug of (I’m now biting my bottom lip so hard I think it’s going to bleed) commercially made “sangria.” He returns to take my order as he hands her that glass of prized juice, and in my infinite wisdom I decide to ask for something safe, something he can’t possibly screw up—a beer. She rolls her eyes, shakes her head and tells me I don’t know what I’m missing. I humor her, take a sip of hers, tell her it’s yummy, and go back to my cerveza.

A couple of years go by, and some random celebration finds her at my house, dipping into a big-ass bowl of my homemade sangria. “My god, Katie,” she exclaims, “this is the best sangria I’ve ever had!” I’m not much flattered by her compliment given what she’s deemed “amazing” in the past, but graciously thank her anyway. Sangria, is not something you pour out of a jug and add sliced fruit to. It’s not made—it’s prepared. There are a million variations, but none of them should ever include dumping something called “sangria” out of a bottle. That Chateau de Factory concoction is to sangria what Beefaroni is to Italian cuisine. Honestly, the most time-consuming part of the project is slicing the damned fruit anyway…what the hell are another 3 minutes gonna keep you from? Watching Paula Deen for christ’s sake? Red wine, juice, carbonation and fortifier (brandy, triple sec, etc). Throw in some fruit, let it sit, and you have yourself a serious beverage. Not exactly rocket science, and yet seldom done properly, much less done well. My go-to recipe always includes mediocre-quality wine (fruity Beaujolais, spicy shiraz, whatever) but good-quality spirits (Grand Marnier, brandy, etc). To that I add fruit juices (oj, citrus, mango, you name it) and last-minute carbonation (i.e. Sprite, 7-Up, fruit-flavored seltzers, etc.). Sangria was designed to be a “use up whatever you have in the fruit basket that’s about to go bad” device, so there’s no right or wrong, but I’m thinking that using mango juice and apple slices may not be the best combo. Other than that, some sugar, some cinammon/cloves…go to town. I even make a white sangria with chunks of watermelon, slices of lime and fresh chopped mint and basil—not classic, but certainly REAL. That’s something the stuff in a jug can never lay claim to.

Tagged as: Sangria