Orange Peel Liqueur

One of the legacies of my time spent as a sous chef is the pleasure I derive from a perfectly peeled apple or potato. There's something smugly satisfactory about a long unbroken line of curling peel. Maybe this is the closest I'll ever get to the sort of superior triumph one experiences after buying a Prius.

I experienced this sense of accomplishment a month ago when I peeled five oranges for my orange peel liqueur experiment. As I coiled the long peels into the jar in preparation for their meeting with 750 ml of vodka, I realized this marriage should be cemented with cloves.

The humble clove no longer gets the respect it once did. They are indigenous to what was once called the Spice Islands (now called the Malukus - a post about my trip there earlier this year is forthcoming). For well over a millenia, cloves were highly prized in Africa, Asia and Europe for their medicinal and aesthetic properties. Entire sultanates crumbled on account of these little flower buds. I considered the clove-studded orange pomander. Ten cloves were dropped into the jar.

I posed my orange liqueur next to the Hungarian pear liqueur I'm trying out this weekend. The pear liqueur is ambrosial and rounded without being cloying. However, the ingredient list does not inspire confidence.

Feeling somewhat concerned about the time I might have to invest in filtering the orange peel liqueur (it took me 12 hours to filter the cherry liqueur), I started the process off by straining the liqueur using cheesecloth. My friend finished this step off by testing his death grip on the peel-filled cheesecloth.

On the subject of orange peels, when you peel your oranges, use a vegetable peeler. The object is to avoid including the white pith as much as possible because the pith will impart bitterness to the liqueur.

I briefly considered filtering with paper towel but that felt like cheating. I can't even change hairdressers; it feels so much like cheating to me. I resigned myself to the rigors of the coffee filter.

Miraculously, it only took two hours to filter the entire jar, make one cup of simple syrup and mix the syrup in with the final product (I heated 1 cup of white sugar and 1/2 cup of water until it just barely boiled. Cool it down before adding).

Now, the wait recommences. Generally, a month is required to introduce citrus to liquor, and after filtering, the liqueur should age at least two months. The longer you wait, the better it gets.