The perfect mojito
With the summer all but over as school and work force most of us back into a routine, it was time to find the season’s favoured drink in the heart of Nicosia
We were on a quest. Summer was almost over. I’d wakeboarded, hit the beach bars, discovered that nudism is illegal in Cyprus and pretty much done everything one is meant to do during the summer season. But there was one thing missing. I hadn’t found the perfect mojito. It was time to remedy the situation before autumn struck.
Summer 2007 has been the summer of the mojito: the Cuban cocktail, whose name derives from the Spanish word mojare, to make wet. And during those long hot summer nights, when most of the populace is out there trying to cool down, a most appropriate drink.
A quick call to Fabrizio Musorella, seven’s resident mixologist, put me in the picture. This is a man who has actually been to the haven of the mojito, La Bodeguita del Medio in Cuba.
Invented in the 1920s, and currently enjoying a resurgence in popularity, every barman worth his tequila salt claims to make the perfect mojito. But what exactly goes into it?
Fabrizio had the definitive recipe: “Fresh mint, using the whole of the plant from the middle of the stem. Add 1½ teaspoons of sugar – caster sugar or anything white and superfine is best. Then, either roll your lime to release the juices and squeeze it into the glass, or halve the lime and place three wedges in your mojito. Muddle the concoction gently to release the juice, pour in a measure of rum, stir, add crushed ice and top up with soda or carbonated water.”
It seemed simple enough, but Fabrizio had barely started. Apparently it’s not what you do do, it’s what you don’t do that makes the perfect mojito, and Fabrizio was adamant about this: “Any barman who uses brown sugar should find another job,” he declared, “and I’ve seen some crush the mint down to pesto! Never use lemon instead of lime, never use 7-Up instead of soda.” Dutifully, I wrote it all down and, armed with the definitive recipe, set about finding a willing mojito-tester.
There was no shortage of volunteers. I eventually settled on a six-foot mojito-lover with a background in bar work and heavy drinking – valuable assets in someone who would have to drink seven mojitos in one evening. To make matters simpler, I decided to narrow the range – seven mojitos within the walls of old Nicosia – and set off to our first port of call.
We met at Casa Vieja, an authentic Spanish restaurant in the backstreets of the old town. Parking being what it is within the walls, the two testers (Tester no. 1 had a 6 foot 5 friend) were half way down their first mojitos when I rolled up. And there our quest almost drew to a grinding halt. Both testers were agreed: this was the perfect mojito; the glass was correct, the drink superb, the taste divine and the atmosphere truly Hispanic. I quizzed managing partner Louis Tsielepis on his recipe and was amazed to find it matched Fabrizio’s directions completely. The only difference was that Mr. T preferred his mojitos shaken, while Senor F recommended a good stir. Could it be possible that we had found the perfect mojito first try? I herded my grumbling testers around the corner to the next venue.
Uq Bar is below Octana Caf?, and it was heaving. The music was pounding, the staff were frantic and the ceilings were low. With a haze of smoke clouding the atmosphere, I described to the barman what we were trying to do. To give him credit, he explained the process of mojito-making most thoroughly as he prepared drinks for our three testers (amazing how many people had heard there was a bar crawl going on!). He certainly knew what he was doing, even though it was not per Fabrizio’s instructions – brown sugar instead of white, and a great deal of mint went into each glass. My testers agreed with Fabrizio. “Too much mint,” said Tester no. 1. “Too bitter,” said Tester no. 2. “Where next?” asked No. 3 after a few quick sips.
I had high hopes for bar number 3, which was actually named Mojito. It was closed for renovation. Strike 3, and across the road to Plato’s.
I shall gloss over venue number 4. The service was charming, if a little slow: “Mojitos are a pain to mix!” was the barman’s verdict, and I don’t think his heart was quite in it on this crowded Friday night. Suffice to say, all 4 testers (Tester no. 1 had a brother – a dead ringer for Orlando Bloom) gave the Plato’s mojito a thumbs down, casting the slices of lemon into the ashtray and lamenting the lack of alcohol. I forcibly restrained them from returning to Casa Vieja. We removed the girls from our Orlando lookalike and headed into Laiki Yitonia.
Luckily we were saved by Nas, part-owner of Brew. “I’ll just cut some mint from my garden,” he said when my four despondent testers demanded the perfect mojito. And after the quickest service of the night things began to look up. Everything was according to Fabrizio’s instructions – the sugar was refined, the rum was Havana Club, the mint was fresher than fresh. The problem was that we had another two bars to visit and two of my testers were on their second mojitos and had hit the dance floor. Tester no. 3 was drunkenly congratulating Nas on his skill and Tester no. 4 was exchanging drinking stories with the barwoman (“after Barcelona it took me six months before I could even look at another mojito”). Spurred on by their excitement, I decided it was time to try the Brew mojitos myself…
Two hours later I danced into Domus in a Panama hat (I never found the owner), bounced off a few walls, kicked off my heels and scandalised the clientele with a rendition of ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’. Testers 1 and 2 were chatting up the barwoman, who was patently enjoying their lack of hand to mouth coordination. With the Brew mojitos inside us, the party atmosphere didn’t so much prevail as dominate – No. 4 swears blind that he saw one of the yuppies loosen his tie. At some point I must have talked to the barwoman, because my notes definitely say: “LIME CORDIAL OH NO” but the testers – and I – were all in agreement that it didn’t affect the taste in the slightest. The verdict for Domus? “I really enjoyed drinking this!” said No. 2, sliding off his stool onto No. 1.
At this point we realised that everyone thought someone else was the designated driver. I knew I wasn’t, I was the writer, and No. 1 knew he’d been promised a free ride. Tester no. 2 had been with us from Casa Vieja, so he was no use, and we’d lost No. 3 completely – it turned out he’d decided to walk home. It fell to No. 4 to get us all to the last venue of the night, a club called Fusion next to the old market.
All I can make out of my notes is “ONE OF THE BEST MOJITOS EVER” but whose quote it was I have no idea. It could have been mine, it could have been Marios’ (the gorgeous owner who gave us all free shots) it could even have belonged to Hemingway’s ghost. I know they used lemon rather than lime and the sugar was brown not white, but as we air-guitared to ‘Summer of 69’, none of that seemed to matter. No. 1 was on the bar, No. 2 was on his knees, No. 4 was on someone else’s knees and I was at least 7 over the 8.
We made it home at 5 am and I slept twelve hours straight.
Now I’m sober – and it’s taken quite some time – what was the overall verdict?
There was little difference in price (all the mojitos cost between £4 and £6), so the general consensus was that the perfect mojito is as much dependent on atmosphere as content. Going by ingredients, you can’t beat Casa Vieja – they got everything right. Going by atmosphere, it was thumbs up to Fusion – I’m still trying to work out who all these phone numbers belong to. And overall? You can’t beat a man who cuts his mint while you watch – Brew put the mojo into our mojito.
