Ice Cuba
Meet the mojito, this summer's cosmopolitan
by Leslie Robarge
Consider it the year of the mojito. Until recently this refreshing, minty cuban
cocktail barely registered on mainstream bar radar. For a long time the mojito
-- pronounced mo-HEE-toe -- was the secret of Americans who'd tried the
drink in Cuba, or foodies who ate at the few local Latin-inflected restaurants
that served it at the bar.
Now they're everywhere. The mojito, with loose mint leaves floating around the
glass, looks like a combination of a mint julep and a gin and tonic. You can
order one at upscale international bars (Bomboa), at hip neighborhood lounges
(the B-Side), and even at chain restaurants (Naked Fish).
No one really knows just why this combination of mint, rum, sugar, and lime has
suddenly caught on. Maybe because its lean, crisp flavors appeal to beer
drinkers and foofy-drink hounds alike. Maybe it's because of the Cuban
renaissance in American culture. Bomboa bartender Liz Moses says, "I think it's
just the way they look. People sit down and go, `What the hell is
that?' "
One practical reason offered by Joe Carbonara of South End Galleria, where
mojitos have been on the menu since the doors opened in April: they're a great
summer alternative to body-warming martinis and the warm-weather staple,
margaritas.
Make your own mojito
7 or 8 de-stemmed mint leaves
1 teaspoon sugar
splash of Rose's lime juice
1 shot Bacardi light rum
soda water
In a highball glass, add in this order: mint leaves, sugar, lime juice, and a
few ice cubes. Muddle vigorously so that a syrup forms. Leave the muddle in the
glass.
Fill the glass the rest of the way with ice. Add the rum and top it off with
soda water. Cover the top of the drink with your hand and then muddle once more
to distribute the mint leaves throughout the drink.
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The man who may have brought the mojito to Boston is Paul O'Connell, owner of
Chez Henri, in Cambridge, which has featured the drink for five years. The
authentic mojito, according to O'Connell, starts with the proper ingredients:
fresh lime juice, fresh mint, and so on. You also need a muddle -- a long
wooden pestle -- to mash it all together in a tall glass. O'Connell says it's
important to be aggressive with the muddle: the more mint oil released, the
better the mojito tastes.
But beware of mojito impostors. Some bars and restaurants are substituting
ginger ale for the soda water, or even a mint-sugar syrup to save the time it
takes to mash the ingredients together. This makes die-hards like O'Connell
cringe.
"That's just not right," he says.