Love, Through Rosé Colored Glasses

Having reached the ripe old age of 37 with zero romantic prospects, I’m clearly not the person you should be seeking for Valentine’s Day advice. I may not know a thing about conventional relationships, but that doesn’t stop me from celebrating love in all forms. The traditional view of love feels the most foreign to me, defined more by what it isn’t than what it is, reserved for just one, rather than all. Beyond fireworks and butterflies, grand gestures and soul mates, love is in the details; love is as simple as kindness.

Cheers, to All Forms of Love

I’d like to raise a glass to love, to those with and without partners. Even if you’re alone on Valentine’s Day, let’s not forget about self love, which is arguably the most important kind of all. Selfish? Yes, and it’s important to be selfish at times. As many have told me when I grouse about the idea of “deserving” x, y, or z, you can’t pour from an empty cup. To that, I’d suggest you fill your own champagne flute first.

French 75, with a Twist

One of my favorite drinks of the moment is the French 75. Classic, classy, and always welcome at any party, it’s been described as a Tom Collins in a Tuxedo. That is to say, a combination of gin, lemon, and simple syrup topped off with champagne. Variations are endless given that simple start: A French 95 swaps gin for bourbon, and a French 125 opts for cognac instead. Personally, I’d like a rosier outlook for a lovely little indulgence.

The Pink of Perfection

Prickly Pear & Rose Waterloo Gin was the inspiration, lending a floral flavor and tint to the drink. Finishing with sparkling rosé instead of plain Brut Champagne was only natural, softening the hints of juniper to an incredibly nuanced, gently blushing spritz. The prickly pear adds a subtly rounded sweetness, the rose wafts through like perfume on a silk scarf, and the bubbles do what bubbles do best, by lifting everything up.

If Valentine’s Day feels heavy, complicated, or hollow, let this be your permission to reclaim it. Make something beautiful just for yourself. Toast to the people you adore, the ones who lift you up, and the version of you that’s still growing, learning, trying. Love can be as soft as a pink drink in a chilled flute, enjoyed in your own quiet company.

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Gin is In

Texas is no stranger to strong spirits, boasting nearly 200 distilleries statewide, with a clear penchant for whiskey, tequila, and vodka, in that order. Gin isn’t one I initially associate with the Lone Star State, but here in Dripping Springs, Waterloo Gin has planted their flag, extracting the most distinctly Texan brew being bottled today. Juniper is only half of the equation.

What Makes Gin, Gin?

Originally used medicinally to treat everything from indigestion to gout, scurvy, and malaria, the key ingredient granting it these supposedly restorative properties was, and still is, juniper. The name itself is derived from the Dutch word jenever and/or French genièvre, both of which mean “juniper.” It must have a predominant juniper flavor to qualify as gin, and certain styles (like London Dry) lean much more heavily into these evergreen berries.

For ages, I thought I didn’t like gin, because this was the only type I had known. Aggressively resinous, piney, and grassy, it struck me as dilute floor polish mixed with liquefied Christmas trees. To each their own, of course, as this has been the uncontested winning option for centuries, with no sign of flagging in popularity.

Proudly American Gin

Waterloo Gin branched off of Treaty Oak Distillery, gaining roots of its own as the first official brand of gin made in Texas, surprisingly not long ago in 2009. Theirs is a proudly American style, less juniper-forward, sourcing botanicals native to Texas. That means that despite being bottled at 94 proof, it’s remarkably smooth, balanced, and easy to drink. The brand’s flagship Waterloo No. 9 Gin uses nine botanicals, as you may have guessed, including but not limited to lavender, grapefruit, and pecan, all locally sourced. This was the first gin I genuinely enjoyed drinking straight, and even more so when mixed into cocktails.

Neutral Base Spirits, Full-Flavored Results

Limestone-filtered spring water is another key to their success, crafting the cleanest, purest base spirit distilled from corn, which could just as well be sold as upper shelf vodka before infusion. Made in small batches and blended for consistency, they’ve just begun their push further afield for greater distribution in stores across the US. Though the production floor isn’t open to visitors, I was granted a private peek behind the scenes to see how it all happens. Fortunately, the mercantile across the plaza is ready already a destination for all, but more on that in a minute.

The Whiskey of Gin

What immediately captured my attention, and imagination, is their Barrel-Aged Gin. Not just taking a page from whiskey-making but honoring the traditional process, this is what happens when you take the classic No. 9 and age it for two years in new American white oak barrels. Even after a relatively short rest, the transformation is astounding. Gently smokey, honeyed, and sparking with warm spices, it’s unlike any gin or whiskey I’ve ever had, in the best way possible. There’s an uncanny sweetness to it, though absolutely no sugar is involved.

More In Store

Not to tease, but for the real gin and whiskey aficionados, it would serve you well to stay tuned to what Waterloo is working on next. I had the privilege of trying limited runs of gin aged for 4 and 12 years, respectively, that absolutely defy all expectations. Despite being wildly high proof, they’re impossibly smooth sippers. Somehow, notes of vanilla, custard, nutmeg, and mace develop over all those years, tasting almost like eggnog, without a drop of cream or eggs. Incredible sacrifices must be made to reach this level; being stored in an hot rickhouse (where the barrels are kept) without climate control means that aging happens at a faster rate than industry standard, but so does evaporation. By the time you hit the 12th year, very little remains. If these bottles do ever hit the market, expect to pay dearly, because they would be worth every cent.

For a more attainable luxury, don’t forget about the latest addition to the lineup, Prickly Pear & Rose Gin which joined the standard trio in 2025, perfect for anyone craving a lighter touch. Hibiscus, rose, and prickly pear are added to the essential base to create a pink elixir that’s more than just a pretty face. Bright, fruity, and floral, it challenges the status quo of traditional gin with a gentle touch.

New Old Fashioned

The Old Fashioned had been my go-to drink since I first started hitting the bar. The version being served at the mercantile bar here, anchored by Treaty Oak, takes the spirit-forward body, aromatic bitters, the faint glow of citrus, and reframes it through the lens of Waterloo Barrel Aged Gin. Swapping bourbon for this two-year-matured expression doesn’t lighten the drink so much as sharpen it. The gin’s toffee hue, gentle smoke, and spiced depth slip seamlessly into place, creating a cocktail that lands somewhere between the familiarity of whiskey and the brightness of botanicals. An orange twist brings the whole thing into focus, amplifying the gin’s soft vanilla and toasted pecan notes.

The Gin-uine Article

Gin has never been just one thing. It was my mistake to underestimate the category so severely for all this time. Evolving from the crisp austerity of London Dry to the soft, citrus-forward American styles, each bottle reflects the landscape, culture, and imagination of its makers. Waterloo takes this idea and runs with it, rooting their approach in staunchly Texan sensibilities. This new generation of gins don’t take themselves too seriously, and yet turn out serious winners left and right, expanding what the category can be. Waterloo stands as living proof that gin is still evolving, and Texas has something entirely its own to say about it.

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Pleased as Ponche

Ponche is a lot of things, drawing parallels to innumerable other festive drinks. You could see it as being related to mulled cider, stewed with warm spices and served steaming on cold winter nights. The inclusion of fruits calls to mind sangria, even more so if it happens to be spiked, though more likely with brandy, rum, or tequila than wine. Fruit punch, of course, given that the name translates about the same, has an obvious relation. Mexican ponche, however, is its own unique party starter, even when it defies easy definition.

Paantsch, Ponche, Punch

Ponche has come a long way to reach its current destination as a Latin holiday staple. Originally from India, it was called “paantsch,” meaning “five,” and was accordingly made with five basic ingredients: alcohol, fruit juice, sugar, water, and spices. British sailors became hooked on the brew, bringing it with them on their travels to Europe and the West Indies, adapting it to use local fruits. The Spanish eventually introduced the drink to Mexico, where it was developed into the distinctive drink we know and love today, transformed by the native fruits of the Americas.

Key Ingredients

What makes Mexican ponche special is also what makes it difficult to replicate faithfully in different parts of the world. Key ingredients that may not be as common in US households include:

  • Piloncillo: Unrefined dark brown sugar, often sold in hard cones or blocks, to be chopped, grated, or dissolved in hot liquids, such as this.
  • Tecojotes: AKA Mexican hawthorn, similar to crabapples, they have a sweet and sour tropical flavor, and can be eaten both raw and cooked.

Fortunately, there are as many versions of ponche as there are people that make it, so there’s nothing wrong with a bit of improvising based on availability. This is one of those recipes that’s more like a set of guidelines than rules, open to interpretation as you please.

Serves You Right

Both a drink and a snack, a huge asset to busy hosts is the way it’s served as is, whole fruits and all. Guests can help themselves while the pot simmers gently on the stove, infusing the whole house with citrus and spice. Whether you chose to spike it or not, it’s sure to raise spirits with just one sip.

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Spirited Secrets of Japan

Distinctly different from sake, and don’t you dare call it soju, shochu flies under the radar in most western liquor stores, yet is Japan’s top-selling spirit. Celebrated as the country’s national spirit, the fact that it’s nearly unknown to outsiders makes it feel like a poorly kept secret, whispered between izakaya stools while being passed around openly by patrons. Hidden in plain sight, shochu is primed for greater appreciation worldwide. Complex, storied, and incredibly versatile, I’m willing to wager that it’s the bottle missing on your bar cart right now.

Distilling the Highlights of Shochu

Shochu is a distilled spirit, bottled at no more than 45% ABV, and typically ranges quite a bit less. However, 24% ABV or lower isn’t even a thing in Japan. If you’ve seen something labeled “shochu” in California at wine-cooler strength, odds are it’s either a legal workaround or just plain mislabeling. To make things more confusing, some of it has been labeled as Korean soju to comply with the law.

Critical to the identity of shochu, it must be single-distilled. Because there’s only one pass through a pot still, every element leaves a strong impression.

Shochu can be made from just three ingredients. Some go solo while others create a blend from the full trio:

  • Sweet potato (imo) – earthy, funky, rich.
  • Barley (mugi) – nutty, clean, almost toasty.
  • Rice (kome) – soft, smooth, slightly floral.

Sweet potato and barley together account for 95% of shochu sales in Japan, which says a lot about the national palate. It’s grounded, earthy, umami, and robust.

Koji Craft

No matter the foundation of the ferment, shochu owes its depth to koji, the mold-based starter that’s the catalyst for transforming sugars into alcohol. Shochu producers employ a whole spectrum, and the differences dramatically affect flavor and aroma, creating unique regional styles.

  • White Koji Starter: This is the most common type used in shochu today. What’s wild is that it was actually discovered by accident as mutation from black koji. White koji is prized for its bright, balanced acidity and the ability to work well in both spirits and fermented foods that favor a cleaner, paler appearance, like white miso or amazake. It brings a gentle sweetness to shochu and is a go-to for distillers aiming for a crisp, clean finish.
  • Yellow Koji Starter: When koji mold sporulates, it forms yellowish-green spores—these are yellow koji starters. Traditionally used in foods like miso, amazake, and shio koji, yellow koji brings light, fruity, floral notes and low acidity. While it’s a staple in sake brewing, it’s less common in shochu. It forges delicate and nuanced flavors, but is not built for high temperatures or extended aging.
  • Black Koji Starter: Indigenous to Okinawa, black koji is the backbone of awamori, the bold, funkier counterpoint to shochu. Black koji thrives in hot, humid regions thanks to its high acidity, which naturally inhibits bacteria growth and spoilage. Flavor-wise, it’s earthy, spicy, and rich, full of character and perfect for deep, complex spirits with a bit of edge.

Cheers, To Your Health!

Besides being easy on the palate, shochu is refreshingly kind to your body, relative to other spirits. That’s because it’s…

  1. Lower in calories
  2. Additive-free by law (no artificial flavorings, colors, or added sugars)
  3. Historically recommended to combat gout, thanks to its very low purine content (¡Not medical advice!)

Mix It Up

While shochu is often enjoyed straight, on the rocks, or with hot water in Japan, it plays beautifully in cocktails. Clean, nuanced, and never overpowering, it blends seamlessly into many classics. For example, in a Sour, shochu’s crisp character complements the tang of citrus without overwhelming it, offering a sophisticated balance that’s both smooth and refreshing. In a Julep, barley shochu’s nutty, toasty notes blend beautifully with fresh mint and crushed ice, giving a lighter, more layered version of the traditional mint julep. You may not think it could stand up to the strong flavors of an Old Fashioned, yet aged barley shochu is often compared to whiskey for its dark, warm, subtly smoky notes.

With shochu, the goal is not to overpower but to enhance the flavors, creating cocktails that feel refined yet approachable—perfect for those looking for something familiar but with a new, subtly complex spin.

Start Sipping Today

It’s honestly baffling that shochu doesn’t enjoy even a fraction of the same popularity overseas. In 2022, Japan produced more shochu than Mexico produced tequila, and yet, many in the US have still never heard of it. In some ways, maybe that’s the beauty of it. Shochu doesn’t need to be flashy to be great. It just needs the right moment to find you, whether it’s a quiet night at home, a dinner with friends, or a curious detour through your local Japanese market.