Țuică

Țuică (Romanian pronunciation: [ˈt͡sujkə]; sometimes spelled tuica, tzuika, tsuika, tsuica, or tzuica) is a traditional Romanian spirit that contains 28–60% alcohol by volume (usually 40–45%), prepared only from plums. Other spirits that are produced from other fruit or from a cereal grain are called "rachiu" or "rachie".

Preparation

Traditionally, țuică is prepared from early October until early December (after winemaking is complete). The process must generally be finished before Christmas, so as not to leave unfinished business for the next year. If using plums, they must be left for fermentation (macerare) for 6–8 weeks, in large barrels (butoaie or căldări).

According to both tradition and Romanian standards (SR), distillation must be done in a brass still (cazan, pictures at ), using a traditional fire source (generally wood, but also of charcoal).

The temperature is controlled traditionally by interpreting the sounds that the still makes and by tasting the brew at different points in the process. Usually, this process results in two grades of țuică:

The Purest Of Knights

I see a knight - a wandering fool
A man of few words
Doesn’t play by the rules of deceit
I see a knight - courageous and cool
A master of swords
One who never surrenders, and knows no defeat
Now their ship’s setting sail
To the Castle of Sadness
Will their quest for the Grail
Lead to glory or madness
Will their search ever end
Are they lost in this secret land
Where nothing is real
One is judged by his deeds
Based on moral perfection
One is found too discrete
For not asking the questions
So their search never ends
They are lost in these secret lands
Where nothing is real
They can see it, almost touch it
But their eyes will be blinded by the light
Lacking courage, lacking virtue, lacking wisdom
Just found in the purest of knights
I see a knight - his journey begins
He comes from afar
And where others have failed he’ll succeed
I see a knight - free of all sins
His goodness of heart will earn him his place on the
Perilous Seat
In his barren domain
Waits a king for the right one
Plagued by terrible pains
That won’t stop ’till the knight comes
Whose compassion is real
Then his wounds will be healed at last
All misery’s passed
He can see it, he can touch it
And his eyes won’t be blinded by the light
Only courage, only virtue, only wisdom
Combined in the purest of knights
I see a knight
I see a knight