The Pear Essentials

"Is it sweet or not?" The woman had been puzzling in front of the fruit brandies and liqueurs and was finally asking for help from the liquor store clerk. Hers was not a silly question. Open a bottle of raspberry eau-de-vie expecting a sweet cordial resembling a raspberry syrup and you will be shocked to get a mouthful of firewater. Yet the eau-de-vie and cordial may both say "framboise" on the label. How do you know which is which?

Old cocktail books can be particularly confusing when it comes to fruit brandies. Does a recipe calling for "cherry brandy" mean a brandy distilled from fermented cherries, or a liqueur made by macerating cherries in an already distilled spirit and then adding sugar? It will make a big difference in how the cocktail turns out.

The former is what is called an "eau-de-vie," and it is usually colorless (though occasionally eaux-de-vie are aged and take on a slight honeyed hue). The thick sweet stuff can be labeled with the word "liqueur" or "crème" (which, by the way, does not mean that the liqueur has cream in it). The American term "cordial" might also be found on the label. But the simplest cue comes from a peek at what's inside: Liqueurs are generally jewel-toned. This is not, however, a rule. Though I can't think of any candy-colored eaux-de-vie, there are plenty of sweet liqueurs that abjure gaudy dyes -- Cointreau, triple sec, and the clear varieties of such staples as crème de cacao and crème de menthe.
PEAR RICKEY

[Pear Drinks photo]
1 oz pear brandy (eau-de-vie)
1 oz pear liqueur
juice of ½ lime
Build on the rocks in a highball glass and top with soda water. Garnish with the lime shell.
LENNART

1½ oz pear brandy (eau-de-vie) or pear vodka
juice of ½ lime
Build on the rocks in a highball glass and top with lemon-lime soda, such as Sprite or 7UP.

I suspect that the eau-de-vie that has most often surprised the unsuspecting palate is "poire William," in particular that version that comes with a pear trapped inside the bottle. Not all pear eaux-de-vie employ this eye-catching shtick, but those that do pull off the trick by sticking bottles right on the branches of pear trees when the fruit is just starting to bud. The pear grows in the bottle and the two are harvested together. One can be forgiven for expecting something sugary sweet with luscious ripe fruit sitting there pickled in the brandy. But poire William is classic eau, dry and hot, with just a hint of elusive sweetness.

If you buy a bottle of pear-in-bottle brandy, also be prepared to purchase one of fruit-free poire to keep the fancy one topped up. As long as the pear is fully submerged in the eau-de-vie, it will be preserved, a permanent lab specimen for your bar. But should the brandy level fall to the point that the pear is even the least bit exposed, the fruit will rot and ruin what's left of the spirit.

There are a number of excellent poire William brandies -- with or without fruit -- available in the States. I tried two French versions, Massenez and Trimbach, along with two from artisanal distillers on the West Coast -- California's St. George Spirits and Oregon's Clear Creek Distillery. When I tasted them blind, I found that I preferred the American pair.

The Massenez was so dry that hardly any of the fruit was left in the flavor; there was more pear in the Trimbach, especially when I rolled the spirit forward in my mouth, but it was even hotter with alcohol than the Massenez. St. George's poire William had, by far, the headiest pear perfume, but the taste in the glass -- elegant and smooth as it was -- didn't quite live up to the pronounced nose. The Clear Creek poire William combined a welcoming pear scent with a lovely, mellow and subtle taste of the fruit.

I also tasted several pear liqueurs, all of which leaned toward the simple-sweet. Unlike oranges -- which combine bitter peels with sweet fruit -- pears are just plain sweet, which makes it hard to devise a complex pear liqueur. My favorite of the bunch, the Trimbach liqueur, compensated for the cloying sweetness of the pears by upping the alcohol heat. Most of the liqueurs are bottled at a mild 20% alcohol (40 proof) level. The Trimbach uses more eau-de-vie and less fruit syrup, making for a well-balanced 80-proof spirit.

In between the understated pear eaux-de-vie and the sybaritic liqueurs are a couple of anjou-flavored vodkas from Absolut and Grey Goose. They have a far more pronounced pear flavor than the pear brandies, but the fruit is unnaturally dry in the flavored-vodka manner. Absolut Pears had the more aggressive pear taste of the two, but Grey Goose La Poire was lighter and smoother.

But what to make with all these pear spirits? They have long been neglected in cocktail construction. There are hundreds of drinks that employ orange liqueurs. And not only do plenty of drinks call for sweet cherry "brandies" such as Cherry Heering, there are a number that use the cherry eau-de-vie, kirsch. But hardly anything for the poor pear. A rare exception is the Lennart, a European highball made with pear brandy, lime juice and lemon-lime soda. The moniker is Swedish for "Leonard," and though I don't know whom the drink was named for, I like to imagine it is a tip of the hat to the modern realist artist Lennart Anderson, whose still-life of a pear and a jug is one of his better-known paintings.

In a similar highball vein, I found that pear brandy and pear liqueur together make for a refreshing "rickey" -- a category that combines just about any liquor with fresh lime juice and club soda on the rocks.

Then again, you can't go wrong drinking a good eau-de-vie de poire all by itself, chilled to cellar temperature. Save it for the end of a meal and enjoy it slowly -- the only way you'll get the elusive pears, shy at first, fully to reveal themselves.

By ERIC FELTEN
April 7, 2007; Page P8

• Email me at eric.felten@wsj.com.