Aguardiente Sour 

A bold and creamy Colombian Aguardiente Sour made with panela syrup and fresh lemon. Chaotic, smooth, and perfect for late-night stories.

Some drinks just come and go. You try them once, maybe twice, and they fade into the background of your twenties. But some? Some stick.

This aguardiente sour is one that stuck.

It started when my then-boyfriend, now-husband and I were just dating. Getting to know each other, we made a habit out of slow bar-hopping. One night here, another night there.

We’d nurse one drink for hours, splitting snacks, and talking until our voices got hoarse. We spoke of faith and spirituality, technology and travel. We talked it all out, over cheap beers and sometimes Russian mulled wine (yes, I brought a thermos to a pregame, no regrets), but one night we stumbled onto something better.

One night, he said, I'll make you a drink. He introduced me to an aguardiente sour. He said, “You want something with a bite? Try this.” And it had bite. But also a smoothness.

The anise from the aguardiente, the softness from panela syrup, that sharp kiss of lemon, all clouded under a foamy white top. It felt like a cocktail that was in on the joke with us. A little chaotic, a little sweet, and definitely stronger than it looked.

Why I Make Aguardiente Sour, and Why You Should Too

Aguardiente, if you’ve never had it, is one of those spirits that demands your attention. Distilled from sugarcane and flavored with anise, it hits hard at first, then leaves you with this soft, almost licorice whisper at the end of the sip. In Colombia, it’s a celebration drink, poured into tiny shot glasses at birthdays, holidays, backyard parties, basically any moment with music and people.

Until this sour, I had had aguardiente in canelazo. It was lovely and warm and ascerbic. But it was also hot, and not perfect for summer. But in this aguardiente sour? It's just right for hot weather.

Now, when friends drop by, especially the ones who come to sit and talk for a while, I reach for the shaker. Or, honestly, a mason jar. Because as I wrote in how to juice without a juicer, you don’t need fancy bar tools. A clean jar does the job. A fork is a citrus reamer in disguise. What matters is the mix, and the moment.

Still Stirring, Still Talking 

The drink’s evolved a little. I’ve started making my own panela syrup at home. It’s quick, it keeps in the fridge, and it smells like burnt sugar and summer. Sometimes I swap in aquafaba instead of egg white, depending on who’s coming over. But the vibe? Still the same.

And because I can never help myself, I always pair it with a snack. Usually fried cheese curds because they’re golden, salty, and exactly what you want when you’re a few sips in. And a side of Colombian patacones, or even just air fryer chips. It’s comfort in a different form. Less bar stool, more dining room chair. But the conversation is just as messy and the stories were just as long.

The drink still hits the same. Tart, bold, and a little wild. Like that girl I used to be in college, who didn’t know where she was headed but always had something to say about it.

And that’s why I still make it. Because it reminds me of where I’ve been. Because it gives the night a little structure. And because it tastes really, really good.

Ingredients 

• Aguardiente – This anise-flavored Colombian spirit is distilled from sugarcane, with a bold profile that hits sharp and finishes soft. If you can’t find aguardiente, ouzo or sambuca are some passable substitutes, though they’ll be a little heavier on the licorice note.
• Panela Syrup – Panela is unrefined Colombian cane sugar, and the syrup made from it is what gives this cocktail depth. It’s richer than white sugar, with a molasses edge and a whisper of smoke. If panela isn’t accessible, dark brown sugar is your best bet for a similar flavor, though it won’t be quite as distinct.
• Egg White (or Aquafaba) – For that classic frothy sour top. I use egg white when it’s just us at home, but if friends are over, I’ll reach for aquafaba (for a vegan option) , the liquid from a can of chickpeas. It foams beautifully and gives the same creamy texture without changing the flavor. Either way, it’s what makes the drink feel like something a little more special.

See the recipe card for full list and exact quantities.

How to Make this Aguardiente Sour Recipe

A cocktail with bite, balance, and just enough chaos, this aguardiente sour comes together in a few easy steps. If you’ve got a shaker and a little time, you’re halfway there. Here's how to make this recipe:

Make the Panela Syrup

In a small saucepan, combine equal parts grated panela and water. Stir over medium heat until the panela dissolves completely. Let it simmer for 5 minutes until slightly thickened, then remove from heat and cool. Once cooled, strain and store in the fridge. This syrup keeps for weeks, and you’ll be glad you have extra.

Dry Shake the Base

In a cocktail shaker (or a mason jar with a tight lid), add the aguardiente, fresh lemon juice, panela syrup, and your egg white or aquafaba. Shake without ice for about 15 seconds. This step is key for creating that thick, creamy foam on top. Don’t skip it.

Add Ice and Shake Again

Open the shaker, add a handful of ice, and shake again until the outside feels frosty. This chills and slightly dilutes the drink, giving it balance.

Strain and Serve

Strain the drink into a chilled rocks or coupe glass. You’ll see the foam settle on top almost immediately.

Finish with Flair

If using, dot the foam with a few drops of Angostura bitters and drag a toothpick through them for a little design. Add a lemon twist or a thin wheel on the rim, and serve right away.

Storage

Aguardiente Sour is best when it's fresh, shaken, poured, and sipped while the foam is still thick and the citrus is bright. But if you find yourself with a little extra (say, after one friend bails and the other brings a bottle), don’t toss it.

Just strain any leftovers into a sealed jar and tuck it in the fridge. It’ll keep well for up to 24 hours. The foam will disappear, but the flavor holds up surprisingly well. I’ve poured chilled leftovers over ice the next evening and added a quick splash of fresh lemon. Not exactly the same, but still worth the sip.

The real trick? Keep extra panela syrup on hand. I store mine in a small glass bottle in the fridge, where it hangs out happily for weeks. It’s perfect for quick sours, a splash in tea, or drizzled over fried cheese curds when you need a sweet-salty fix after a long day.

Recipe