[Collaboration] Barañamo and the Radiance of Liqueurs

🍾 Barañamo and the Radiance of Liqueurs

This time, I’m introducing Licores Barañamo, a family-run company rooted in the heart of the Basque Country since 1831. They kindly sent me four of their most iconic liqueurs: herbal liqueur, patxaran, vermouth, and craft gin. Each one arrived like a bottled universe, with its own personality, aroma, and color—and those intense hues I was so eagerly waiting for. When I first discovered them, it was the colors that struck me most. I knew immediately I had to create a piece inspired by that palette forged in liqueur.

For me, collaborations like this are rituals. I like to get to know the product, taste it, observe how my body reacts, what memories it stirs, what emotions it provokes. Then I let all of that filter into my creative process. I paint from experience, from what moves me. And in this case, what moved me was more than flavor—it was memory, family, and an unexpected connection with my mother.

☄️ Meteor of Color

The canvas I created for Licores Barañamo is an explosion of color, yes—but also of rhythm, texture, and energy, falling and striking the surface like a meteor shower. It’s not a literal depiction of the liqueurs, but an emotional interpretation. Each brushstroke carries intention, crashing down onto Earth, onto lives, onto me, onto memory, onto what I feel in each moment of tasting.

• Golden yellows and herbal greens expand like the herbal liqueur on the palate: warm, enveloping, with a balsamic touch that comforts. These colors dominate the center of the canvas—especially the green, which feels like the heart of the composition—while the yellow stretches outward. They represent not just flavor, but the emotional bond I have with this drink, thanks to my mother.
• Deep reds and purples intertwine like the sloes in patxaran. These are colors that evoke sunsets, ripe fruit, and a sweetness that doesn’t overwhelm. On the canvas, they move like a slow dance, as if reluctant to leave.
• Amber, ochre, and earthy browns appear as denser layers throughout the piece, especially as we move away from the center. They are vermouth—botanically complex, introspective. These tones add depth, like the low voice in a harmony.
• Electric blues and citrus bursts erupt like the craft gin: bright, lively, with a spark that awakens. In the painting, these tones appear as flashes, as bursts of light that cut through the composition and lift it. They add a phosphorescent, effervescent aura—but only in small doses, just enough to disrupt and elevate the rest.

This artwork isn’t meant to decorate. It’s meant to provoke. To make the viewer feel something akin to what I felt tasting these liqueurs. To let themselves be carried by the colors as one is carried by flavor. To get a little lost—and in doing so, maybe find something. Or better yet, not find anything at all. Because getting lost in sensations—flavors, aromas, colors, feelings—is a journey we all take. And sometimes, we don’t want to come back. Let’s allow ourselves, if we wish, the luxury of staying in that floating world.

I also want to mention another experience: as I painted, the colors began to arrange themselves, as if they instinctively knew where they belonged. And within that quiet harmony, an unexpected image appeared: a peacock.  The peacock found me, and suddenly, without realizing it, I was drawing strokes to bring it to life instinctively, even if it was in a vague way.

I didn’t seek it out—it came to me. The liqueurs from Barañamo, with their elegance and depth, made me think of that majestic creature that doesn’t need noise to be noticed. Its tail, covered in thousands of painted eyes, reminded me of the chromatic richness I was working with: greens, blues, golds, purples… all parading in silence.

So I hid it in the painting. Not as the central figure, but as a presence. A symbol of the majesty I felt while tasting those liqueurs. It’s there, camouflaged among the brushstrokes. And if you don’t see it, that’s perfectly fine. Sometimes, the most beautiful things are the ones you only sense.

🍸 Tasting the Liqueurs: A Journey Through Flavor, Memory, and Play

Opening each bottle was fascinating. I didn’t approach them as an expert, but as someone curious, eager to explore. I like to taste without expectations, without hunting for specific notes—just letting the flavor speak. As I always say, I’m no professional, just someone with a unique and deeply subjective perspective:

• The herbal liqueur was the first to speak to me, and it did so with a familiar voice. Its aroma was intense and complex, with notes of mint, fennel, eucalyptus, and a refreshing citrus base. I tasted it with my mother, who inherited from my grandfather a love for digestive liqueurs. He’s no longer here to try it, but he’s watching from somewhere. When my mother tasted it, she smiled and said, “This is delicious.” And in that moment, nothing more needed to be said—I knew it was top quality.
• Patxaran took me down a different path. Its fruity sweetness, soft and enveloping, reminded me of walks in the countryside, of slow afternoons. It has a nostalgic quality, inviting you to remember without sadness. I imagined it as the liqueur my grandfather would’ve chosen to end the midday meal, relaxed and content, with that mischievous grin he had after eating and drinking well—during the sobremesa of the sobremesa of the sobremesa, haha.
• Vermouth was a surprise. I expected something more conventional, but what I found was a complex blend with hints of clove, vanilla, citrus, and a bitter finish that balanced everything. It’s a liqueur that evolves in the mouth, demanding attention. I saw it as the perfect companion for an autumn afternoon, with soft music and a book in hand.
• The craft gin was pure energy. The juniper was present but not overpowering, and the citrus and spice notes gave it a vibrant character. It reminded me of summer nights, long conversations, spontaneous toasts. It’s a gin that wakes you up, that invites celebration—when you don’t want the night to end and you simply say: let’s have a gin and tonic. And maybe a few more.
  

In the midst of this exploration, I decided to experiment. I started mixing cocktails with Barañamo’s liqueurs. I had fresh fruit to choose from—watermelon, figs, mango, blueberries, melon… I won’t pretend to remember the exact combinations, because honestly, I don’t. I’m no expert, though I did take a mixology course once, and the proportions were probably a technical disaster. But sometimes I just love to experiment, no recipe, whether it turns out great or not. And this time… it was delicious. I had a blast finding the balance between freshly crushed fruit and the right amount of liqueur. I didn’t use much, because these wonderful liqueurs deserve to be savored on their own—but hey, why not let creativity run wild here too?

🌟 Liquor as Art: Surrendering to What’s Good

Licores Barañamo brought to this collaboration—through their intense colors and flavors—a deeply personal and familial experience. The colors I chose don’t just represent the product, but the memories they evoke and the moments they embrace. Though my grandmother isn’t here to taste them (and she would’ve loved them—her eyes would’ve lit up), I drank them in her honor, as did my mother. And we’re happy to have honored her memory this way.

Beyond that, I want to thank Licores Barañamo for their professionalism, dedication, and generosity in this collaboration. They put genuine care into sending me four of their wonderful creations, which left a lasting impression. Simply fantastic.