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You mean, this has been going on since the 80s? |
The first I heard of pisco was in December of 2013, when my friend Ann first heard about my trip to Chile. "You have to drink pisco!" So, as part of my very important research I did try some pisco at home before I left. The pisco sours were good, but not great. I was very happy to discover that I was doing it wrong, and that I now have a better idea of how to make a proper pisco sour.
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Welcome to Chilean Pisco Country otherwise known as Valle de Elqui |
The Spanish introduced vineyards to the west coast of South America in the late 1500s/early 1600s, and grapes thrive in this valley. It is where the majority of Chilean pisco comes from. (It hardly ever rains, and yet the grapes grow with a minimal irrigation system in place).
Pisco, like other alcohols, is made by first fermenting the (in this case) grapes (similar to wine), and then distilling them by evaporating the alcohol, collecting the steam, and condensing it back into liquid form. Ask any Chilean, and they will tell you that Chile invented pisco. Ask any Peruvian, and they will tell you that Peru invented pisco.
This is such a popular and long-term debate that the president of Chile changed the name of La Unión (a small village in the heart of the Elqui Valley) to Pisco Elqui in the 1930s, just to give Chile a bit of an edge in the debate over who gets to claim pisco. I think he was going for the same prestige of the Champagne region of France.
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| Pisco Elqui Iglesia |
We toured two pisco production places - an artesenal distillery called Los Nichos, and the Capel plant.
Los Nichos started production in 1868, and have done little to change their process since then. They produce their pisco in small batches, and have perfected the craft over the years.
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| Fermentation station |
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| Distillery room |
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| Pisco in the making |
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| Pisco barrels |
The founder had little recesses in the basement of Los Nichos (nichos means niche, or alcove in Spanish). He would regularly invite his drinking buddies to sample his product, then filled the recesses with bottles of pisco in their honor.
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| Los Nichos |
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| Each buddy received a poem and pisco |
The Capel plant (this is the only brand of pisco I was able to find in Minneapolis) operates on a much larger scale. While it is a smaller operation than I was expecting, it is definitely a different feel than the small distillery in the heart of the valley.
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| Trippy welcome sign |
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| Do not eat the grapes at Capel. Do drink them, however. |
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| 123 days without an accident at the plant. |
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| Fermentation room |
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| Distillery process |
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| Barrels and barrels of pisco |
This picture did not turn out well, but these are pallets of oak-flavored cubes that they add to the pisco somewhere in the process. I was surprised to see them out on the floor during the tour!
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| Oak barrels aren´t enough? |
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| Bottling room |
Capel makes a variety of pisco flavors that I can only hope become available in the US. They brilliantly created manjar lucuma pisco. The caramel and the fruit are some of the best flavors to be found in Chile.
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Don´t forget the maoi.
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