Danzka vodka

Mooching around in Copenhagen airport on the way home the other week I came across Danzka Vodka. Ah, a local tipple, I thought.

In fact the front label immediately admits that it is “imported”. Oddly, the Wikipedia entry for the brand states that it is made in Denmark from Danish wheat, though the website makes no mention of where it is actually distilled (only that it is made from 100% wheat), preferring to focus on the bottle design. Given that has been owned by Belvedere since 2006, perhaps it was once made in Denmark (it’s been going since 1989) but Belvedere now find it easier to produce elsewhere, perhaps in France.

The bottle is made from brushed aluminium and they make no bones about the fact that they are trying to chime with Denmark’s fame for chic minimalist design. They point out that it is unbreakable and “infinitely recyclable”. Does that mean I can take the empty back to the shop and get it refilled from a bucket out the back? At least if I get the shakes and drop it, it won’t smash. Or perhaps they just mean the aluminium is recyclable. In any case, they also make the point that a metal bottle cools more quickly when you put it in the freezer, so if you like your vodka frozen and you’re in a hurry to start necking it as soon as you get back from the shop, this could be the one for you.

Danzka has a nose lightly fragranced with violets, berry fruits, chocolate, a bit of curaçao, maybe a hint of strawberry. On the palate it’s fairly smooth, fruity and again slightly floral. I compare it to a couple of vodkas I have to hand, Green Mark and Russian Standard: compared to the former, Danzka seems softer and more fruity, and a rougher spirit—which is not to say that it is rough as such. Green Mark has a quiet nose and a balanced, minerally body. To me it seems a bit more “grown up”, somehow. It produces a refined, poised vodka Martini.

Russian Standard, on the other hand, is green and sappy, vegetal and herbaceous, with a nose of caraway and carrot, and a palate that is smoother than Danzka. It makes a fun Martini with dominant earthy, vegetable notes.

I’m not actually a massive fan of drinking vodka from the freezer, because few vodkas seem improved by it and many are worsened—this makes sense, when you think about it, because all the aromatic elements are going to be subdued by the low temperatures. I’m told that one shouldn’t taste vodka like a wine but should knock it back, but this just seems silly to me. If anyone tells you their product is best tasted by pouring it down your throat, bypassing your tongue, then I figure they’ve got something to hide.

Nevertheless, I try all three vodkas from the freezer (and I’m sure the Danzka did indeed chill the fastest, but I wasn’t in any great hurry). I find the characters remain essentially unchanged; the Danzka is relatively perfumed, but now has a more bitter, dry finish. Overall I also find it has something “over-mellow” about it, like overripe bananas.

Over here you can buy Danzka from the DrinkShop for £22.85 (my airport bottle is 40% ABV but I see that the UK version is 37.5%), but unless you’re turned on by the bottle I wouldn’t really bother. Both Russian Standard and Green Mark are much more interesting, in my opinion, and considerably cheaper. If you want something super creamy, try Sipsmith (slightly cheaper), or for an in-your-face minerally character, taste the extraordinary Krepkaya. It works out slightly more expensive, but then it is 56% ABV…

Bringing back the Good Old Days of vodka

I've noticed a recent trend with Russian vodkas to evoke some sort of old-school official sanction. At the Distil trade fair the other day I came across Kremlin Award which, the laconic Russian girl told me, was the official vodka at Kremlin dinners. "It's very high quality, because if it were not good enough everyone would get fired." (I think she said "fired"—or did she mean "shot"?). Meanwhile Russian Standard is named after an 1894 decree by the Tsar to create an Imperial "standard" vodka.

Now we have Green Mark Vodka, which takes its name from a later decree, this time a Soviet one from the 1920s. From that decade until the 1950s the government body Glavspirttrest regulated the quality of Russian vodka and awarded its seal of excellence, the Green Mark, to those that passed muster. With the fall of the Soviet Union this sort of centralised specification fell away, presumably replaced by market forces. Then in 1998 the Russian Alcohol Group decided to revive this quality standard commercially: researching Glavspirttrest archives for information on production methods, and conducting consumer tests, both with younger consumers and older ones who remembered the vodka from the 1950s, they came up with something they felt was a faithful recreation of the style and quality of this era—an era about which many Russians evidently feel rather nostalgic these days.

They've clearly hit the mark, as in 2008 some 9 million 9-litre cases were sold in Russia and it is now that country's no.1 vodka in its category. It is also one of the top five selling vodkas worldwide.

The bottle with that unusual cap

Glavspirttrest records were apparently quite specific about the recipe and production process. The wheat had to be of the Moldavia 76 variety, which was found to be growing wild in the Volga region of Central Russia. Trickier, the recipe specified a natural yeast, whereas most modern production processes used a laboratory-grown strain. But a small family operation was found still producing yeast in the same way it had been doing since the 1940s. The water comes from a well 300 metres deep, where it is naturally filtered through the rock. After distillation the vodka is filtered using "silver filtration", a process that utillises carbon impregnated with silver as a catalyst.

There is something retro about the packing too. The shoulders of the bottle taper to a surprisingly narrow neck, giving a sort of rustic feel, and the stopper is a flat plastic cap reminiscent of the utilitarian metal crown caps you used to see on hardcore bottles of Russian vodka—clearly once those puppies were opened there was no notion that you might want to reseal it again. (In fact the Green Mark cap conveniently pops on and off, so you don't have to drink the whole bottle in one sitting!) The poster art channels a sort of Art Deco/Constructivism that again harks back to the über-cool 1920s (but then I would say that).

Sniff the open bottle and you get a light medicinal whiff; in the glass this 40% ABV vodka opens to a creamy, fruity nose, with a little vanilla sweetness nicely balanced by a pencil-lead edge. On the palate it is very smooth and drinkable, with no burn to speak of. Yet it is not water-light like some—it still has distinct body and character, with a slight hint of caraway. From the freezer it pretty much retains the same profile, and I don't think it particularly benefits from this way of serving, as some other vodkas do where the super-low temperature might mask a roughness or lack of backbone. I would be inclined to drink Green Mark neat or on the rocks. I also discovered it makes a cracking vodka Martini: using Noilly Prat and my favoured ratio of 4:1 you get a drink where the vodka's own character is still clear, while the vermouth actually gets to display its own particular flavour more distinctly than in most gin Martinis. In fact this would be quite a good showcase cocktail for high-end or unusual vermouths.

Tried alongside some other vodkas that I happen to have to hand, Green Mark emerges as ethereal and refined. Russian Standard has a heavier, more vegetal nose, like cooked peppers, plus a hint of coffee; on the palate it too is smooth but with a darker fruit, like blackcurrants. Adnams Longshore has a woody, toffee nose and a more peppery, minerally fierceness (it is 48% ABV). Heavy Water again has a bit of toffee and a sharp graphite spike on the tongue. Finally Krepkaya is, unsurprisingly, rather intense (it is 56% ABV), with a petrol/rubber element. Compared to all of these, Green Mark comes across as light and pure, yet with its own presence. A classy an highly quaffable vodka.

Green Mark is, or soon will be, available from Waitrose, Tesco, Morrisons, Asda, Co-op, Nisa and Costcutter for around £15 a bottle. Which makes it pretty good value in my opinion.

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A Pash-ion for Vodka #2: Green Mark Russian Vodka

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For the second Pash-ion I shall look at a vodka given to me by Mr Pasha a little while ago, Green Mark Russian Vodka. 

This is made from wheat and naturally-farmed yeasts before it is distilled. The water comes from an ancient aquifer—the age and softness of the water is thought to be conducive to making a good vodka.

Green Mark is made by CJSC a Russian spirits company that make it at two distilleries, one in Topaz and one in Siberia.

They also make a Green Mark vodka based on rye-bread, one flavoured with cedar nut and one in a rather fancy decanter.

The brand was launched in 2003 and since then, according to their website, they have become the second best-selling vodka brand in the world. The name Green Mark comes from a green seal used by the government in Russia to endorse the quality of a vodka.

Neat (room-temperature)
Soft, bready sweetness and a very slight burn at the end. Not the smoothest but quite flavourful.



Frozen
Smooth and slippery with a slight oily sweetness, a great vodka to sip from the freezer.

Martini
Clean and crisp, a little wheat and a slight creaminess. Smooth but still with a flavour. A very good vodka.

Harvey Wallbanger
I had read that this vodka is particularly good in long drinks so what better way to try it than in on of the most famous long vodka drinks, the Harvey Wallbanger.
Smooth and silky with almost no trace of any alcoholic burn, so it is a good vodka for long mixed drinks. Fresh and easy to drink.

In conclusion
I think Green Mark is a quality vodka suitable for drinking on its own and also in longer, mixed drinks. It is very smooth but still has some flavour—perhaps I would have preferred a little more flavour. A good all-rounder.