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Andrew J. Linn
Friday, 26 December 2025, 11:43
For decades, vodka has laboured under a curious identity crisis. Official definitions insist it should be neutral, silent, almost invisible - a spirit designed to say nothing at all. Yet step into a traditional distillery anywhere from eastern Poland to northern France and that idea quickly falls apart. The aromas are warm and grainy, sometimes earthy, sometimes creamy, and unmistakably alive. This is not a liquid without character; it is one the character of which has been politely ignored.
Vodka's reputation for blankness owes more to regulation and marketing than to reality. European rules have long encouraged distillation methods that strip flavour away. But producers who focus on raw materials, water, and process know that vodka behaves much like wine or whisky: ingredients and place matter.
Potato-based vodkas are broad, rounded and almost luxurious on the palate; rye brings spice, while wheat tends toward softness and florals. These differences are not accidents but direct expressions of agriculture and landscape. Even water - filtered through limestone or drawn from deep aquifers - shapes weight and mouthfeel in the finished spirit.
Wine of the week
Monte Real Gran Reserva 2009
Monte Real Gran Reserva 2009 is a limited-edition Rioja from top Tempranillo vineyards, made for ageing, ideal for festive meals with 16 years of history, and widely acclaimed by critics. Around 60 euros in a presentation wooden box.
Behind the bar, attitudes are shifting. Bartenders increasingly treat vodka not as a void but as a structural element: something that binds flavours, carries aroma and gives cocktails balance without shouting.
Today's vodka conversation is moving beyond 'smoothness' toward origin, ingredient and intention. Far from needing reinvention, vodka simply needs to be tasted with attention. Do that, and the myth of neutrality quietly evaporates.