thank you for being here in such an awesome community with strong roots. My family owns a little orchard of fruit trees and I legally manufacture the legendary Hungarian pálinka, 50L/yr for each of my family members. Now the EU is not very happy about it, but hey, I welcome them too with a tulip glass of my finest fruit spirits if they come and make me a visit.
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In 2004 the European Union accepted pálinka as a Hungarian speciality, and hence it's production is limited to Hungary (and four provinces of Austria for pálinka made from apricot). So, in a nutshell, you can make sparkling wines anywhere in the world you wish, but you can't call it champagne. Same with pálinka. There are very strict production and higienic rules too.
I am lucky to live in a farm near Kecskemét, which is the historical site of the apricot-pálinka, and I have a few apricot tree as well (different plum varieties, apples, cherries, sour cherries as well). For instance for my barackpálinka I use three types of apricot, all of them has a role:
- One that's skin is more sour than the others' when ripe, it will be the protector of the mash, leader of pH-lowering under 3,5 in a natural way, so no harm can be done, only our yeast will thrive in that region. Bearing the name "Kécskei rózsabarack", which means rose-apricot from Kécske, and it really looks like a string of little roseheads on the bough.
- One that gives the body, it has a honey sweetness and most sugars, giving more alcohol than the others. It is also the variety that has a sweet stone, some can be put in the mash (depending on the blend I make). Called "Ceglédi óriás", giant from Cegléd. A robust, very juicy and sweet fruit indeed.
- One that has that intensive heartwarming "sunripe apricot skin" aroma, it gives most of the wanted apricot terpenoids, esters and ketons, best in fragrance and flavor, but a little bit too perfumy alone. It's name is "Gönci magyar kajszi", means Hungarian apricot from Gönc, the oldest variety and a national heritage, it is like no other apricot.
Mind you, all of those apricot varieties can be great alone too with a good blending, I just happened to have these old trees and this is how I use their fruits in pálinka-manufacturing. The rules I follow are pretty straightforward: if you wouldn't eat it then don't put it in the mash. No piece of straw, not even the tiniest drop of soil goes to the mash. If a fruit is not good enough for a premium apricot-marmelade then it will end on the compost-pile, not in the mash. Applies even to unripe parts of the same fruit. As simple as it sounds, it also means lots of work: when the apricot is as ripe as it can be, it falls down to the lawn under the trees. Harvesting is not picking from the trees, especially not shaking the tree (no touchy at that time of the year!), but picking up from the ground. Yes, bending down, a few hundred times for every liter of pálinka.
On those summer nights, after a bucket of two ripe apricot is collected, they are properly washed by hand in a baby bath tub filled with water, destoned and cut into pieces. If a varieties' stone can be used in the mash, it is collected and dried separately, a part of them is cracked when dry. Most of the apricot variants' stone has a pretty high cyanide content, so a select variety with a "sweet seed" can be used only, it will give enough almondish kick, no need to use poisonous seeds.
I have big rain-collector plastic barrels as fermenter. They have a perfect spot under a cherry tree, temperature does not fluctuate there as much as elsewhere. I don't use store bought yeast, our orchard is an organic garden thus we have that wild yeast culture that developed through the last 15 years freely. They are not as fast as bakers' yeasts but they produce much less sulphur and much-much less metil. A little bit more than two weeks is needed for full conversion of the sugars, then the mash calms down ("takes off its' hat") and is ready to be cooked.
Did I mentioned no sugar is added? Alcohol made from sugar makes a kick on the tongue and harsh on the throat, while pálinka should be an elegant drink with smooth high alcohol and strong fruit taste. There is no place for sugar in the pálinka-mash if we are going for quality and not quantity.
Testing the readiness of our mash: a drop of the mash on a foil, burned with a lighter, smell-test. If no caramel or burnt' sugar coal is there, and it does not taste sweet then it is ready. I trust my senses better than a refractometer.
Now, before it comes to lit up under the pot, there are three tricks that will help greatly, and the latter two can come handy in making grainspirits too, and these are those secrets that are told and not written on public forum, trust me, they work wonders:
- Puree the mash just before cooking, so it will release all the aromas trapped in remaining chunks and pieces.
- To reduce the possibility of burning down the mash when harvesting the tail: butter the bottom of the pot lightly with purified butter. Do not use oil, oils capture a lot of taste and replace with oil-taste which is avoidable. On the other hand, a little methyl butyrate that comes from the converted thin layer of butter adds to the taste and smoothens it a bit.
- Drop a few little piece of broken rooftile on the buttered pan-bottom, those will be the "boilstones", they prevent spitting flow by calming down the boiling.
Now we are ready to fill the pot up to 2/3. Wheatflour+water "glue" is applied on all connections, and a very slow cooking starts. The first glass of the fluid that comes out is put to the freezer, and the top is "deoiled" with a piece of blotting paper. Those are the chaotic oils we do not need. I keep collecting the predistillate until it comes sour and bitter, and alcohol-content drops drastically.
At the distillation phase (when I also add boilstones) I start with a strong fire, shooting out the metils first (the Fat Lady screams), it is used as a window-cleaner, lovely shining blue color it has, also it is very poisonous, as we all know it here. Flames then turned to minimum, here comes the fun part: the fresh ripe apricot skin and the almond seed sensation (sopranos) comes with the head, so it is collected in different numbered glasses. The body (tenor+baritones) is also highly aromatic and tasteful, deepening slightly as we reach the tail. Now, the tail (alto+bass) is not an easy task with apricot: to make most of the complex, deep, "aged to black, cut with a pickaxe" apricot jam scent that lingers in the tulip-glass even an hour (!) after the pálinka is drank, it had to be separated very precisely, way before the tail start to smell like a dead hedgehog. All in all the final blend used to be between 60-65% alcohol-content wise before thinning up with a very thin strip of reverse osmotic water.
Yet blending is only done when all the batch is ready, with (relatively) clean head and full concentration are attainable. In our cellar the pálinka has 42 to 44% alcohol-content, I found it to be a perfect balance for the style I cook. No barrel-aging is used, it takes a bit less than half a year and the taste smooths out to be harmonious and rewarding. I usually test previous years' drinks in Easter. So far I made William's Pear, Apricot, Plum, and Greengage pálinka, also I made "brandy" from a few bottle of orange&apple flavored wine (I needed those bottles to put pálinka in), but I am interested in FG spirits, and it makes me very happy that I can learn here a lot.
Cheers/Egészségedre!