Two more new white spirits to sip at today. They hail from Brazil and Nicaragua. Got one from Greenland as well, but that’s for another sunny day.

For the last couple of years, if you wanted to make a caipirinha, the cool Brazilian cocktail that’s especially pleasant when the weather’s warm, you had only one cachaça to make it with.

Cachaça, a distillation made after fermenting fresh sugar-cane juice, is known as the national spirit of Brazil. We didn’t have any of it here in B.C. until the distributor for Cachaça 61 landed some on our shores, three or four years ago.

We cheered, those of us who like nothing better than a tart, sweet caipirinha on a hot day—unless it’s two caipirinhas, in which case you might as well kiss the afternoon goodbye. (At my house, you only get served one before dinner, then its straight into wine and the first course. This is a matter of procedural necessity, based on solid research.)

Cachaça’s big bang came centuries ago, in the coalescence of the foam that collected in the metal kettles where the sugar-cane juice was boiled during the manufacture of sugar. Workers discovered that the foam could be fermented after being skimmed off. The first distillation is pegged somewhere around 1534.

Now there’s a new cachaça on the shelves, named Sagatiba Pura. At $39.99, it’s 10 bucks more than the 61 ($29.07)—admittedly, the bottle is 50 millilitres bigger—and it’s a hit: multidistilled, super-refined, smooth and clear, intense and dry, but with that tantalizing hint of sweetness way back there that gives it a unique flavour edge. Perfect for the mixing of caipirinhas, it’s also pretty tasty straight, ultra-iced. It is a specialty listing in the LDB right now, found in the “Other Spirits” section, which often means on a bottom shelf.

Now, of course, the caipirinha instructions—simplicity on ice. This is for one drink; it easily doubles, triples, quadruples, depending on the number of guests. Take a fresh, deep-green-skinned lime, quarter it, and cut the quarters in half. I like to use half a lime per drink. Get out your muddling spoon, if you have one, or any sort of (preferably wooden) mashing device, and crush the lime, rind, flesh, and all, to a pulp in a tall, sturdy glass or cocktail mixer, or a Pyrex measuring cup.

Add a tablespoon per drink of sugar (more or less to taste) and mash some more. Next, add a couple of ounces of cachaça and stir. Then add lots of ice, crushed but not too fine, and stir again. Sip slowly and think of clever things to say. Preferably in Portuguese.

A bonus is the recipe tag around the Sagatiba bottle’s neck. Here I discovered the Fresh Mary, which became my favourite summer sipper after the first taste.

Assemble, per cocktail, 1.5 ounces Sagatiba, three or four cherry tomatoes, four or five fresh basil leaves, one quarter lime (again, I think a half makes it taste better), four ounces tomato juice, a dash of Worcestershire sauce, a couple dashes of hot-pepper sauce, and a dash of salt. (Try R.W. Knudsen Organic Tomato Juice, $3.39 at Capers. I also use Frank’s RedHot Chile ’n Lime Hot Sauce, which, for some inexplicable reason, is hard to find in local supermarkets.)

Muddle the cherry tomatoes and lime in a shaker. Add salt, Worcestershire and Frank’s, basil, tomato juice, cachaça, and crushed ice. Shake well and serve in a big frosted glass with more basil or mint leaves as garnish. That’s a taste of summer you can take to the bank. At 40 bucks a bottle, you might have to. Ah, but it’s treat city.

Also new in town is Flor de Caña Extra Dry 4 Year Old White Rum, a shot of silver ice that can make your favourite mojito sing and sizzle. Straight from the freezer, first: sharp, distinctive flavour—the sugar-cane lineage is in there. It’s tougher to sip than some of the round-edged vodkas we’ve been sampling lately, but that’s all the better for the mojito-ing.

Everyone who’s ever been to Cuba, or even Florida, claims to have the definitive recipe for Papa H’s mojito. Here’s mine. Again, per single drink: four or five big, unblemished mint leaves; one teaspoon berry sugar; one-quarter cup each Flor de Caña white rum, fresh-squeezed lime juice, and soda; lots of crushed ice; and a thin sliver of fresh sugar cane, if you find some—that’s optional but it adds a little extra zap of heat. A sliver of fresh ginger will do the same. And have the Angostura bottle at hand.

Put the mint leaves and the sugar in the bottom of a sturdy glass (or the aforementioned measuring cup). Muddle gently—you don’t want the mint shredded, just bruised so that you can really smell the mintiness rising up out of the glass. Add the rum and the lime juice. Fill the glass with crushed ice and add a dash, two at the most, of Angostura bitters. Pour in the soda water and stir. Add a sprig of mint or a wedge of lime on the rim of the glass for garnish.

Before draining the glass, get started on a second. Play bocce, but with Nerf balls. Remember Nerf balls? Remember how to build this drink? Remember the dog’s name?