The Caribou cocktail is one of those drinks that, for me, feels like pure winter nostalgia in a mug. I’ll never forget my introduction to it: shivering in minus-twenty windchill, wandering the snowy streets of Quebec City’s Winter Carnival, and being handed a steaming thermos from a group of locals. The spicy, sweet warmth shot straight to my core, so much so that when I got home, I started tinkering with the recipe, determined to recreate that moment.
Caribou doesn’t have the flashy Instagram presence of other cocktails, but it’s a staple at Quebec winter festivals – something the locals have clung to for generations. The idea, legend has it, goes all the way back to fur trappers and hunters who supposedly mixed caribou blood and whisky to fight off the cold. Thankfully we’ve moved on: today’s Caribou is all wine, whisky, and a very Canadian dose of maple syrup.
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Here’s how I like to make it. I’ve tried a bunch of tweaks, but this is the recipe I keep coming back to:
Ingredients:
- 4 oz (120 ml) port wine (or a full-bodied red wine if you prefer something less sweet)
- 1 oz (30 ml) whisky or brandy
- 1 tbsp (15 ml) pure maple syrup (the real stuff, always)
- 1 tsp (5 ml) fresh lemon juice
- Cinnamon stick, for garnish (optional)
I usually make Caribou hot, mostly because that’s how I first tried it. If you want the full Quebec winter experience, pour it into a big mug. If you’re serving it chilled – for a backyard party or just because you like cold cocktails – a rocks glass works too. One year at the Carnival, they served it in goofy plastic canes (“canne de Caribou”) – fun but not the classiest presentation.
How to Make It (Hot or Cold):
For the hot version:
- Combine the port, whisky, maple syrup, and lemon juice in a small saucepan.
- Warm gently over low heat – don’t let it boil, just heat it through until it’s steaming and fragrant.
- Pour into mugs. Add a cinnamon stick if you’re feeling fancy.
For the chilled version:
- Fill a mixing glass with ice.
- Add the port, whisky, maple syrup, and lemon juice.
- Stir for 20 seconds or so to get it nice and cold.
- Strain into a rocks glass over fresh ice.
It sounds simple, but people are always surprised by how smooth and cozy it tastes. I’ve even had skeptics change their minds after one sip. And hey – if you need a non-alcoholic version, a mix of cranberry or grape juice, a little maple syrup, and a splash of ginger ale won’t transport you to Quebec, but it’s kid-friendly and tasty.
When I make a batch for friends, I try to serve it with good bread, a hunk of Oka cheese (if I can track some down), and sometimes tourtière or maple cookies. The drink’s richness and subtle spice are amazing with fatty, savory foods.
Some tips I’ve learned by trial and error:
- Don’t cheap out on the wine! Even though you’re mixing it, you’ll taste it.
- Maple syrup is the soul of this drink. Skip the “pancake syrup” nonsense.
- The lemon is just a tiny squirt – enough to perk things up without turning the drink sour.
Over the years, I’ve played with versions – orange slices and a clove or two in the hot batch make it a little like mulled wine, and if you can get your hands on Sortilège (a maple whisky from Quebec), it’s worth the splurge for a super-maple kick.
Caribou isn’t about impressing cocktail connoisseurs. It’s about sharing something warming with your favorite people, ideally somewhere snowy (or at least chilly). Whether you’re by a bonfire in February or having a slow evening on the porch, it’s one of those drinks that just feels like a celebration – of winter, of good company, and of those little Canadian traditions that somehow turn surviving the cold into something joyful.
