If ever there was a spirit that has truly been driven by the march of civilization, that spirit is vodka. First created sometime in the twelfth century, probably in Russia, possibly in Poland, or perhaps even in Persia, it was originally a crude, rye-based spirit whose applications were more medicinal than social. The modern descendants of ‘zhiznennia voda’, Russian for ‘water of life’, perform a directly comparable but arguably less critical role to those who frequent such places whose smoke-filled atmosphere and cacophony of music present at least as great a threat to human existence as does a sub-zero winter amid the Russian steppes. Taken with such revitalising and nutritionally replenishing ingredients as lime juice, tonic water (which does, after all, contain quinine), vermouth (infused with herbs and spices) and soda water (whose bubbles are reported to aid the digestion), or else dextrously and harmoniously blended with an infusion of other alcohols and mixers in a broad and potentially dangerous spectrum of cocktails, vodka is unquestionably the white spirit of the moment. Vodka is slaying them in the nightclubs and bars of Europe, the US and Australia. Would-be international spies order Stolichnaya Martinis. Since the 1940s Americans have unloaded their worries onto a Smirnoff Moscow Mule. Poles habitually drink it neat, in a single gulp, no matter how large or small the glass. Visitors to their restaurants may be shocked by the style and speed with which vodka can be absorbed by human beings. Like the Poles, the Russians habitually serve it to their guests. Orbiting the globe, their cosmonauts give it to our astronauts. How contemporary can a spirit become? Back in the eighteenth century, vodka was known by its nickname, ‘little water’, from which its name is derived. It was regularly distilled throughout the Russian Empire from barley, maize or, more popularly, from potatoes. Today it’s almost exclusively made from grain. Given that most ‘commercial’ vodka is consumed so stiffly mixed with popular cola-based soft drinks, it’s perfectly okay for them to tend towards the neutral, provided they’re of requisite cleanness and clarity. The New Zealand-made vodkas of Karloff, Cossack and Smirnoff (Red) all fit the commercial bill perfectly and are clearly modelled on the more neutral Russian style. Light heady notes and a slight bitterness detract slightly from an otherwise acceptable Karloff, while there’s a light grainy aroma about the spotlessly clean Smirnoff, although it finishes slightly short. Of the three, I’d take the Karloff for its delicate lemony and grainy flavours, although there’s the faintest whiff of acetate. A truly international beverage, vodka is imported from the FRG, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Japan as well as Poland and Russia. Rasputin (FRG) has intense malty grain flavours, chewy viscosity and a fine definition of clean spirit. I’d happily take it neat. Even more grainy is the world’s hottest non-Russian brand, the Swedish Absolut. Brilliant advertising and merchandising is helping this revitalised brand to enjoy unprecedented popularity, but it’s also a winner to taste. An excellent length of almost creamy texture makes this spotlessly clean vodka one of the very best. The Danish Danzka is a lighter style with a spirity, grainy note and a very refined, subtle palate with light citrusy and mealy notes. It’s a vodka that any vodka drinker could not possibly dislike and its aluminium bottle chills quicker than glass. Finlandia is more intense and zesty, with excellent palate length of pure clean spirit and a fine, soft finish, while Suntory has taken the concept of purity to heart with its brand-new Ice Vodka, as delicate, supple and supremely smooth a vodka with a glycerol-like texture as you could imagine. The taste of Stolichnaya, which with annual sales of 60 million cases is the world’s leading brand, entirely lives up to the ubiquitous Stoli-mania. A typically restrained Russian style, its delicate aroma is perfectly clean, lightly floral and fresh, preceding an excellent length of relatively neutral and lightly grainy spirit. Triple-distilled in copper pot-stills, the premium Smirnoff Black has acquired a pungent smoky, oily flavour as a result of filtration through the charcoal of Russian silver birch. It would be sheer folly to mix this vodka, although it may be too astringent and smoky for some. First amongst the Polish vodkas from Polmos is the popular Wyborowa, a typically assertive, pungent and grainy spirit with an oily, fractionally sweet palate with light heady notes. The Polmos Chopin, as imaginatively packaged as its stablemate of Belvedere, is an intense, tangy spirit with spicy, anise-like flavours and an excellent grainy palate, although purists will detect head and tails influences. I like it, almost as much as the Belvedere, a smoky, mealy spirit with a drying, savoury sack-cloth taste and long, tangy finish. Vodka has come far, especially since the fall of communism in Europe. The economic future of many countries has become closely entwined with the rate at which those like us consume it. From the point of quality, there’s no reason to hold back. So take to heart the words of Russian Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev, who commented at the launch of Stolichnaya’s American distributor: ‘Not a single deal, not a single diplomatic agreement will be successful unless it is toasted in vodka.’
