In Search of the Perfect Ouzo

"I don't like licorice!"

That is often the response I get when I ask if someone would like to do a shot of Ouzo with me. Actually, they like a similar confection that is cherry or chocolate flavored, but licorice is licorice. It's black and it's the actual flavor, not the candy itself. We Americans often make the distinction, "I don't like black licorice."

OK, fair enough.

But that has NOTHING to do with Ouzo. Ouzo may taste like (black) licorice, but it's not made from the root of the Glycyrrhiza glabra plant. It is instead an extract from similarly flavored anise made from another flowering plant.

Now that the botany lesson is over, lets get down to the drinking.

Ouzo is ONLY made in Greece and Cyprus. Similar tasting products are made around the globe, but Ouzo has a protected designation of origin. Unlike Sambuca, the Italian aperitif which is thicker and more syrupy, Ouzo has a drier taste. It turns milky white when mixed with water or poured over ice. Straight, it maintains it's clarity.

I recall my "old world" uncles drinking this generally with a meze (think tapas, but Greek). Unaccompanied with food, this stuff will go to your head rather quickly.

In the U.S., the brands of Ouzo that are most readily available are Metaxa and No. 12. Personally I think No. 12 is the best available outside of Greece. Other brands available stateside include Sans Rival, Lesvos, and Cambas. But in my opinion, the best brands are kept in the homeland. Mini is produced on the island of Mytilini (Lesvos) and is my favorite. It's crisp taste is the perfect accent to a pre dinner meze (of olives, kasseri (cheese) and pita bread) at say about 8PM as the sun sets into the Aegean, and the bouzouki players are just warming up with some quiet ballads. I think I just spotted my dinner arrive via fishing boat.

Other top brands I've had the good fortune to sample are Plomari and Kefi.

To seek out the perfect Ouzo goes beyond what actually pours out of a bottle. Ask yourself these questions: What brand am I drinking? What's the accompanying meze? Where am I drinking it? Who's drinking with me?

Here are my answers: I'm drinking Mini on the rocks. The meze is stuffed grape leaves with some crispy Greek bread and a few olives. I'm drinking it in Naufplion overlooking the Aegean Sea with the Palamidi Fortress to my left at about 8:30 on a Saturday evening (but anywhere in Greece will do). Finally, who am I drinking with? Well, my wife isn't a huge lover of Ouzo and my son - well, he's a little too young. So, my cousin Thanasi is my choice. His dry wit, infectious laugh and stories about old family members makes for my perfect Ouzo.

Here's some fun info on the national drink of Greece.

A Word About Ouzo

Ouzo is a delightful anise-flavored spirit with a licorice taste that goes down easily, but be careful because it's a potent drink.

In the bottle, ouzo is a clear liquid, but once ice cubes or water are added, it turns a milky white. Ouzo experts say this is because oils in the ouzo are soluble in alcohol but not water. Whatever the reason, diluting ouzo with water tones down the licorice taste, but it still packs quite a punch.

How to Serve Ouzo

Ouzo is generally served as an apéritif or an after-dinner drink, but it's also a reason for friends to get together and enjoy good company and conversation at any time. To the Greeks, serving ouzo in an art. It is drunk slowly, and is always served with at least one meze (small dish of food) because of its potency.

Ouzo can be served straight in a shot glass or, as most of us prefer, over ice in an old-fashioned or highball glass with a pitcher of water to dilute to taste. Ouzo is also an ingredient in several cocktails.

On the islands, a favorite sport is dancing to loud bouzouki music and drinking Ouzo till the head explodes. Trust me, its fun while it's happening, but it's not a hangover you want to experience. An Ouzo hangover really is one of the worst.

Case in point:

COMMENTARY

BY CHRISTY LEMIRE

updated 5:41 p.m. ET Aug. 23, 2004

ATHENS, Greece - I was an ouzo virgin.

Before coming to Athens to cover parties and nightlife during the Olympics, I’d never tasted the powerful licorice liqueur that’s a tradition here. (The closest I’d come to organized Greek drinking involved standing around a keg at the Sigma Chi house.)

So in the spirit of “Super Size Me” — the documentary about the debilitating effects of fast-food consumption — I embarked upon an experiment dubbed “Ouzo-ize Me.” The plan was to drink ouzo all night and document my deterioration. 

I’d hoped ouzo would be gentle with me, even though I had been warned that the hangover can be a killer. Unfortunately, it maintained its agonizing grasp all day: Ouzo Night took place in the wee hours Sunday, and I’d planned to write this later that day, but that was physically impossible.

What is it about this combination of pressed grapes, herbs and berries — including aniseed, licorice, mint, wintergreen, fennel and hazelnut — that makes it so potent?

For starters, it contains about 40 percent alcohol. In theory, you’re not supposed to drink it to get drunk — it’s intended as a social drink, best enjoyed with friends at an ouzeri and accompanied by tiny snacks called mezedes.

Adding water or ice to the clear liquid dilutes it, turning it milky white. But when you drink as much ouzo as I did — and I can’t even say how much because friends kept refilling my glass — nothing could have weakened it, especially for a woman who’s only 5 feet tall.

This Greek tragedy took place at Cafe Avisinia, in a square in the bustling Monastiraki section of Athens at the foot of the Acropolis. By day, the square looks like a rundown parking lot with a quiet cafe in one corner. By night, the place is transformed, crowded with round tables that are packed with people eating and drinking. They also sing along to traditional Greek tunes performed by an accordionist and a buxom, charismatic singer playing the tambourine. Patrons get up and dance joyously, and I eventually joined them.

It was the perfect spot for my adventure — at least, what I can recall. I took notes as I went along but, in time, I needed help from the dozen or so skilled journalists who were brave enough to accompany me.

Apparently, after we left Cafe Avisinia, a few of us went to another bar across the square for beer. Then someone hailed a cab and a colleague made sure I got back safely. I remember none of this.

Sunday consisted of moving very slowly between the bed and the toilet. Around 11 p.m., I called my husband in New York. “You’re alive!” he said. Just barely.

On Monday, in an unintended homage to “Super Size Me,” I ate a McDonald’s double cheeseburger and fries while writing. It was my first solid food in about 36 hours.

I lost a couple of pounds, but I wouldn’t recommend the ouze-and-purge diet to anyone.

So, there you have it. One of just many do's and don'ts for the perfect Ouzo experience. Let me know how yours goes.