Despite my northern upbringing, I’ve always been partial to the summertime, and increasingly so as I get older. The beauty of autumn, the magic of winter, the new life of spring – it’s all just ad copy in my book.
Sure, there is a weekend in the fall when I like to return to New England for no reason other than to see the brilliance of natural leaf color painted beneath the vast expanse of Connecticut sky. And yes, if we find ourselves fortunate enough to have anything resembling a white Christmas, I can still be found making snow-angels and trying to catch flakes on my tongue. I’m not opposed to the seasons, nor do I sulk until they end, leaving me with only three months of the stuff I like best.
But the isolated pleasantries of a season are not enough to warrant the profession of my love. I much prefer a season that boasts of little else besides pleasantries, where those very same novelties we cling to in other times of the year are naught but icing on the bright, yellow cake of longer days, fewer clothes, and cheerful smiles.
“But what about the summer heat?”
Indeed, what to do about the one obstacle to the utopian season. But the complaint is nearly moot in this day and age. Air conditioning – whether you choose to use it or not (ahem, New Yorkers) – is readily available and much more affordable than ever before, thanks to “energy saving” units. Ice water remains plentiful, ice cream becomes a justifiable necessity, water balloons are making a comeback, and water pistols never went out of style in the first place. In fact, summer offers more variety than any other season in fighting back against the element with which it attempts to oppress us. The rub is to find something new, something different, and in this case, something alcoholic.
My proposed solution? Arancello.
“Doesn’t he mean ‘limoncello’?” No, I don’t, although since limoncello tends to be more popular, I’ll include the recipe with lemons as well. But lemons hoard too much of the limelight (haha) of summer, and I propose that there are plenty of other refreshing, tropical fruits to be paid mind during the dog days. Thus, I’d like to take this time to say a few words about one of my favorite summer beverages that does not involve our little yellow friend.
The name “arancello” comes from the Italian for “orange,” which is “arancia.” Because of this, arancello is sometimes spelled “aranciello,” and in typical Italian fashion, there is no stone rule about which spelling is correct, though “arancello” remains more common.
I was first introduced to the beverage by my aunt during a brief stay in Bergamo a couple of years ago. After dinner, she brought out a large, glass bottle and I could already tell from the condensation on the bottle that it was cold. I’m talking arctic cold, here. It also appeared to be full of thick, cloudy orange juice.
“What’s that?” I asked, not so much out of impatience, but because I got the sense it was precisely what she wanted me to do. She didn’t answer verbally at first, but smiled with a glint of something like mischief in her eye.
“Just drink it,” she said, “but only a little sip!” She poured the liquid into a tall shot glass and, as instructed, I sipped. I’d imagine my expression was well worth the suspense.
It was rapturously sweet, and I was tempted to roll the arancello over my tongue a few times to take in all of the orange and sugar, but no sooner had I considered it did I change my mind as a subtle, pleasant burn began to creep over my taste buds. I swallowed, and the burn lost all quality of subtlety, dispersing through whatever maze of pipes stretch and twist through my insides. But despite what sounds like the miserable experience of swallowing something equivalent to rubbing alcohol, there was something else about it, something entirely counter to its nature which made it not only tolerable, but delectable: it was served ice cold.
There will doubtless be skeptics among you that such a potent alcoholic drink could be any sort of desirable summer companion. This is where the serving temperature of arancello becomes vital. Even in the dead of winter, warm arancello would be disappointing, if not vile; the sugar content is simply too high and the strength of the alcohol too intense. The beverage must – I cannot put enough emphasis on “must” – be stored in glass containers in the freezer. The refrigerator simply will not get the job done. Because the alcohol used is 150-proof or higher, there’s no need to worry about the stuff freezing; I’ve had the same bottle of arancello in my freezer for months. (Just make sure to shake it from time to time so all of the orange doesn’t settle on the bottom.) If, by some chance, you have access to a shock freezer, use that for storage.
The mantra here is: The colder, the better.
But enough stalling already. Let’s move on to more important things – the recipe.
You’ll need:
– 5-6 large oranges (or 9-10 lemons for limoncello)
– 1 liter 150-proof or higher clear alcohol (over-proof vodka or grain alcohol works the best)
– 1 liter water
– 1 kilo (2.2 lbs) granulated sugar
Begin by peeling the oranges with a vegetable peeler. It’s important to get as little of the fleshy, white part of the orange as possible; all you really want is the zest. Once the oranges are peeled, use a funnel to disperse equal parts of the vodka into three liter-sized bottles. Distribute equal portions of orange zest into all three bottles and cork or cap. Shake each bottle vigorously and store in a cool place. (Those of you without air-conditioning this summer may even want to consider the refrigerator for storage during the steeping process.) Shake each bottle two to three times daily for 20 days.
Twenty days later, bring the liter of water to a boil, leaving at least two inches above the water level for the sugar. Slowly stir in all of the sugar so the water becomes a simple syrup. Let the syrup cool for about five minutes, then distribute evenly across the three bottles. Shake the new mixture in each bottle and return to storage. Continue to shake each bottle 2-3 times a day for another 20 days. The mixture should appear to be a cloudy, orange color.
Once the arancello has steeped, transfer to glass containers without any zest. (Note: If you leave the arancello in the containers with the zest, it will ruin the flavor over time.) If you have an empty “handle” jug lying around, that works really well, and cuts down on the number of bottles you’ll have in storage. Seal the container(s) and put them into the freezer. Arancello should be ready to drink in about three hours.
Serving suggestions: Serve in tall shot glasses and sip. If you are throwing a dinner party, try drizzling a moderate amount of arancello over a colorful fruit salad or vanilla ice cream for dessert. The stuff is pretty versatile, so don’t be afraid to experiment. Just remember that it’ll take another forty days to make more if you run out!
I’ll admit that if the heat if the summer really bothers you that much, nothing – not even the magic of arancello – will bring you the relief you desire. But I can also tell you this: If arancello cannot alleviate your discomfort, it will most certainly help you to forget about it for a little while. That said, please enjoy responsibly!