Like a virgin? The expanding world of alcohol-free cocktails
I gave up drinking three years ago, after twenty-odd enthusiastic years, and so I’ve spent the time since then searching out replacements. Some people say that’s a bad idea, that you maintain the habit and tread a dangerous line: all I can say is that the habit, the ritual, the variety was one of the important attractions for me, and finding replacements has been a considerable solace. There were not many things I didn’t drink—tequila and rum dredged up bad memories, and I drew the line at Toilet Duck—but for most occasions, from celebration to solace, through relaxation and conviviality, it was cocktails; ideally, a very dry martini (on which subject I have previously written). But I enjoyed negronis and old-fashioneds, French 75s and whisky sours. A gallimaufry of spirits and liquors, with a seemingly endless vista of possibilities.
I’ll level with you here. The greatest minds of our age, the most skilled chemists and the brightest biologists, have not (yet?) found a way to synthesise spirits to include that back-of-the-throat kick which is part of the appeal. You know the feeling I mean: when you throw back a dram of whisky and get the taste of smoke and peat and caramel and spice and then suddenly—WHAM. There’s a burning sensation that makes you shiver, and which divides whisky-lovers from those who can’t take it at any price. So too with other spirits. And the replacements just don’t have that.
You can, however, have a damned good go. A reasonable place to start is the excellent Lyre’s. They produce a wide range of faux-spirits from gin (“Dry London Spirit”) through to bourbon (“American Malt”), and most are extraordinarily good mimetics. Enjoyed on their own, they lack a certain oomph—a glass of American Malt in front of a roaring fire or in a hot bath will have you longing for real Maker’s Mark or Bulleit—but the mysterious alchemy of the cocktail shaker can be transformative. Try the Italian Spritz with some soda water and alcohol-free prosecco for a refreshing Mediterranean fizz that will make you think you’re in Capri, waiting for your yacht to be refuelled.
An early player in the market was Seedlip, which now produces three non-alcoholic distilled ‘spirits’, Spice 94, Garden 108 and Grove 42. As effective gin substitutes, these caught the imagination about five years ago, and were snapped up by Selfridges then high-end bars and restaurants like the Savoy, the Ritz and the Fat Duck. Buckingham Palace even showed an interest, perhaps indicating that Her Majesty wanted a hangover-free alternative to her G&T? They remain tasty drinks, best chilled, but punchily priced at around £20 a bottle.
An interesting development, and a demonstration of the potential of the alcohol-free market, has been the entry of the big gin distillers. Gordon’s and Tanqueray now both offer 0% gin, and, despite my initial scepticism, they are surprisingly effective imitations. Again, they lack the killer punch of neat gin, and err slightly on the sweet side (reminiscent more of a Dutch or Old Tom gin than the dry London variety), but they nail the botanical bouquet and taste, and will stand in pretty well for the real thing in a number of drinks.
Here, I think, is the key. A good cocktail needs enough flavour to distract you from the lack of alcoholic buzz. The more elements you have, the better (up to a point), and something like Seedlip’s NOGroni is a very flavoursome and enjoyable glass, indistinguishable, if you are generous, from the spiritous original. Anything which features a good glug of vermouth is within reach, as the non-alcoholic variety can mask its virginity with herbs and spices, so a Manhattan is more than worth a try. But in honesty anything plain, like a martini or a gimlet, will never quite taste the same. Tanqueray 0.0% will take you a long way there, but you will, alas, remain like Moses, in sight of the promised land but destined never to reach it.
The world of hospitality has now thrown its doors open: where can an abstainer go for a good cocktail? The licensed trade is beginning to recognise the demand. Most good bars will have something to offer that isn’t a fright of fruit juices and sweet syrups (looking at you here, Rivoli Bar). The subterranean Nightjar on City Road has some interesting offerings which feel like thought has gone into them. The Alchemist on St Martin’s Lane is showy but fun and has some exotic mixes for the non-drinker. The Ivy (I’m a member of the club, upstairs, where they are resourceful and accommodating) also provides a good selection in fabulous surroundings.
It remains more difficult than it should be. The no and low alcohol market has grown 500% since the middle of the last decade, and the signs are there is more to come. There are people who want to enjoy flavoursome, grown-up drinks in a sophisticated surrounding, and are willing to pay for it rather than be left nursing an uninspiring bottle of Beck’s Blue. So ask. Make your bartender aware of the demand. Mention—politely—to the maître d’ that you’ve had a wonderful time but it would have been even better if they’d had a few non-alcoholic ‘spirits’ to top up your cocktail. The message to restaurateurs, bar managers and hoteliers must be: if you provide it, they will come.