Tanqueray's Rangpur Lime Gin

[Two Martini Breakfast]

I have ran into many gins in my time and I make no bones that Tanqueray's classic London Dry is my favorite of the lot. It might bear mention that I haven't had a gin that cost more than $30 for 750ml (Old Raj not counted because I'm a vindictive bastard), but rest assured it's not from want of trying. As the Tanqueray martini, barely a thumbnail of vermouth and at least twice as much scotch as vermouth, has been my water since I was 16, I never had the opportunity to come at it objectively, empirically even, that I do now when encountering a new gin, but more on that later. Suffice to say that my assessment of a gin is not complete, my opinion of the gin not fully solidified, until, in the wee hours, I gaze into my cabinet, see that still relatively new bottle and think, "I bet that will taste great, straight, at room temperature, drank directly from the bottle." Last night was that night for Tanqueray's Rangpur Lime.

First, how I initially approached this particular gin and all new gins that I come across. For me, gin must be strong in proof but also complex, flavorful in relation to its strength and price, and representative of the great juniper berry that gives it name. Taste and personal opinion -- what I look for in a successful gin, what I deem to be tasty -- aside, I believe the best approach is to thoroughly chill the gin in the freezer, and pour two shots in a sturdy ice-cold shot glass. I take my time with this, deciphering the flavors, noticing differences as it warms. Then there is the true test: the martini.

The martini I described above, while delicious as everything from a fog cutter to a mealtime drink to a nightcap, because of the scotch, will throw off the exact fusion of vermouth and gin in its simplest, best form. So I use a little more vermouth and no scotch in the next test. At this point the two shots will have sunk in and, while tastebuds have been a little whiped, they will not yet have been rendered useless. In a perfect world, this would be the level of intoxication I would always approach a martini, although there is much to be said about that first crisp undrunk bite. Once finished, now with four or five shots in me over a relatively short amount of time, the niceties of exact tasting are more or less inaccessible so I whip up a gin and tonic, a final but still important test, and suck it down. This arrangemet works for me doubly because then I will generally have two or three more G&T's before moving on to other potentially non-gin drinks.

In the initial advertising campaign, I immediately expressed reservations, before I had even seen the gin in the store. Flavored gin? While noting its use and sometimes openly praising its dynamism as a stand-alone drink or as vital ingredient, I have secretly felt that flavored vodkas are a gimmick to convince a watered-down drinking population that liquor isn't icky. This, of course, is entirely irrational -- ask anyone who has had black pepper or rosemary vodka -- but we all have our irrationalities and this one is mine. Yet even within that irrationality I knew that the intrusion of a dominant flavor would not upset the flavor of the vodka, per se. Gin, on the other hand, is all about flavor and how that flavor works off of one another and the olives and whatever cheese you're eating with it. Even though juniper is the "dominant" flavor of an ordinary gin, it's more a main character in a well-performed ensemble act; juniper is important, yes, but only as a unifying force.

I was right to suspect the overt dominance of lime, but I can't say I was disappointed. Having bought it in the middle of the day on a Friday, I assured that it would have sufficient time in the chill chest for it's first test: straight and chilled. I took one of the rows of heavy shot glasses from, the kind of shot glasses one finds in a real bar that can hold at least three shots, and poured two shots. Having set myself up for disappointment the scent was off-putting. After all, Tanqueray Ten, while tasty in its own right, is not good enough to pay more for it than London Dry and certainly not good enough to supplant it in my cabinet; I had been hoping that it would be a "top-shelf" item, but it turned out to be a same-shelf bottle and then never bought again.

The first sip, however, left me in complete surprise. Lime was dominant, Antonius Block rather than Kikuchiyo, but it was not the kind of lime I, nor, I venture, most Americans are familiar with. I've never ran into a rangpur lime in daily life, but I'm not sure its knowledge deprived me of experience. The lime taste was unmistakable, but it somehow brought out the spiciness of the juniper; fruity spice like apple cider as is usual but with overtones of an almost grains of paradise pepperiness. The bottle doesn't list other botanicals and for some reason there isn't a section on Tanqueray.com for Rangpur yet, but as it slowly came closer to room temperature in my hot hands the lime mellowed and blended with the juniper and cardamom and pear flavors came forth. But the lime never ceded even partial spotlight to the other flavors and interfered with any other developments or complexities. At a curious 82.6 proof (to London Dry's 94), its overall smoothness, which I would say was very smooth, was undoubtably aided by the lime.

The martini was this liquor's achilles heel, however. The vermouth blanched everything but the lime and the regular pimento olive almost physically fought with the gin. I even considered discarding the olive in lieu of eating it when the time came to make that decision.

However, after having tasted it in purity buttressed by earlier impressions, the gin and tonic was masterful. Everyone knows that lime in a G&T is a good way to go, but the unique bitterness of the rangpur was a perfect marriage to the minerality of the tonic, the sharpness of the quinine. It was, by accounts, a perfect G&T.

Rangpur has a lot going for it: funky green bottle, exotic botanicals in a world where exoticism is de rigeur, a built-in affinity for a drink staple. However, I cannot in good conscience fully endorse any gin that makes such a ho-hum martini. That said, Tanqueray Rangpur Lime should be a staple anywhere G&T's are drank.

78/100

[Mallory Knox]

1. Patron Silver
2. Sailor Jerry
3. Tanqueray Rangpur
4. Bookers

[Two Martini Breakfast]

1. Patron Silver
2. Sailor Jerry
3. Tanqueray Rangpur
4. Bookers

Now that's a cocktail I can sink my teeth in![/i]

[Two Martini Breakfast]

I think I'm going to reevaluate my initial opinion. Room temperature Rangpur is so easy to shoot. And it still tastes fantastic. No frills, no chilling, no repositioning. Warm straight rangpur tastes somehow... correct.

[Frankennietzsche]

As the Tanqueray martini, barely a thumbnail of vermouth and at least twice as much scotch as vermouth,

Huh?

[Two Martini Breakfast]

As the Tanqueray martini, barely a thumbnail of vermouth and at least twice as much scotch as vermouth,

Huh?

It's really just a modified smokie. Take 1 part dry vermouth, 2-3 parts low-mid level scotch, and no fewer than 10 parts gin. Unlike the smokie (which uses a dash of vermouth, one dash bitters, 1 part scotch and 3 parts gin) which actually does look smokie, this recipe, christened the Hanktini for my grandfather, by my grandfather, has a slightly off-color appearance. And the first bite is candy.

[mjm]

TMB, here's a discussion about the Rangpur from a couple of months ago. No offense intended, but this place has a decent search feature and lots of dedicated boozers.

Use our collective wisdom to add to your obvious know-how. We'll all benefit in the end.