It’s always nice to see a quality bartender (and, in this case, pal) get a little public recognition, as Andrew Bohrer does in this Seattle Times article about the new Chantanee/Bar Naga combo. And if I did write about them a little earlier (here), then all the better. A good bar needs all the public words about it that are possible, so that people find their way there, take advantage of the tasty cocktails, chat up the friendly bar staff, eat snacks, be merry, dance around a bit, and then tip accordingly and stumble home. That’s just makes the world a better place, friends. Oh, as a side note, when I myself was at Chantanee/Naga last Friday, Andrew did indeed toss around a Blue Blazer like in the picture (said picture taken by photog Baydra Rutledge–go Baydra!), as a remedy for my cold, and as entertainment for patrons. It was a kick, and went down divinely. I felt better almost immediately. At least by the second one. Now, go read that article.
It’s a dog-gone dreary first day of spring here, with clouds, wind, and intermittently nasty and extra-nasty rain, and I’ve had a cold/flu/allergy/asstastic thing all week (my sinuses hate me, I swear), and am generally in a woe-is-me state of mind (cause, well, I have to work, when I should be under the covers drinking a hot drink and watching the Thin Man or some such). With that, I’m turning to two quotes from Wilkie Collins short stories, quotes about warming up with a drink and fire, a situation I’d much like to be within. Being that Mr. Collins (old schools Dickens era writer and partier) is most remembered for rolling out some formative ancestors to our current detective yarns and mysteries, and has a habit of putting his characters in unfriendly situations, maybe I shouldn’t wish to be one of his characters–but dang, that “gin and water hot” sounds dreamy right now.
He said, ‘All right?’ and walked back to the inn. In the hall he ordered hot rum and water, cigars, slippers, and a fire to be lit in his room
After settling these little matters, having half-an-hour to spare, I turned to and did myself a bloater at the office-fire and had a drop of gin and water hot and felt comparatively happy.
PS: Just realized “The Yellow Mask” would be a pretty great name for a drink. It’d need to be a bit creepy though (the story is). But hey, if anyone reading this wants to take a shot at a drink that fits the name, go to—just let me know how it turns out.
It being St. Patrick’s Day and all, I figured I’d better at least have a Guinness (and probably a Dublin 8, too, which is a fantastic drink created by bar-master Jeremy Sidener, containing Irish whiskey, orange juice, ginger ale, and a squeeze of lime juice), but then I saw this video from bartender John Blake (via the How2Heroes site), who’s from County Clare, Ireland, though currently working at the Druid in Cambridge, and thought, “why the heck not have a Black & Tan?” And so, I think I will. You should too, and you should watch the video to learn the proper method, and to hear a bit of an Irish accent as well. I mean, today’s not just about the drinking.
It being St. Patrick’s Day and all, I figured I’d better at least have a Guinness (and probably a Dublin 8, too, which is a fantastic drink created by bar-master Jeremy Sidener, containing Irish whiskey, orange juice, ginger ale, and a squeeze of lime juice), but then I saw this video from bartender John Blake (via the How2Heroes site), who’s from County Clare, Ireland, though currently working at the Druid in Cambridge, and thought, “why the heck not have a Black & Tan?” And so, I think I will. You should too, and you should watch the video to learn the proper method, and to hear a bit of an Irish accent as well. I mean, today’s not just about the drinking.
Just two on this lucky day–but two good ones (well, one good drink and one good post). And it’s lucky because A: it’s Friday the 13th (I tend to want to turn around bad luck omens on their heads, so I think of this day as lucky for anyone not camping near a lake. But if you’re silly enough to do that on a day like today, then, well, maybe it’s best you are camping near that lake), and B: yesterday was pal and rapidly-shaking Seattle bartender Andrew Bohrer’s birthday. In honor of said luck, here are two links from his blog, CaskStrength. A blog that’s been a little lonely lately, but only because he just opened a new bar, Naga (which I mentioned more in-depthly here), and is working ferociously to ensure you (yep, you) get the best drinks possible. Which means, if you want to be really, truly lucky, you’ll head out to restaurant Chantanee where bar Naga is (doubly lucky, by the way, cause the food in the restaurant is just amazingly tasty: have the crispy spicy tofu before you dodder on into the afterworld or call your life incomplete), and have him mix you up a drink. Then buy him one for his birthday. And then have him mix you up one. And so on, into the sunset.
Penelope’s Pit Stop: This is way deep in a longer post about elfin-magic-potion Chartreuse, but any drink that combines tequila and the just-mentioned Chartreuse and lemon juice and a muddle pear for gawd’s sake demands to be tried. Or at least be talked about. Or, if not that, be thought about for the rest of this day (a Friday, after all) until you can’t take it any more and rush home to make yourself one. That’s my take on it.
How to Carve an Ice Ball: Okay, this isn’t a drink at all, but whiskey is a drink, and one that I (and most I know) have all by its lonesome on occasion, over a bit of ice usually, and this post from Andrew is about carving an ice ball to serve your whisky over, so as to maximize the ratio of ice to booze. It’s pretty darn cool. And Andrew has ice balls at Naga (and if anyone doesn’t have a childish, 12-yr-old boy laugh at the phrase “Andrew has ice balls at Naga” then they need to go soak their head), and is a bit obsessed with ice balls (I saw him carving one on the bus once), so it’s a worthy post to read.
Cornell Woolrich was one of the top crime writers of his time, though he isn’t as super well known as a couple fedora-wearing others (I supposed in-the-know crime buffs are hip to him, but hey, everyone isn’t in the know all the time)–his time being mainly the 1940s and 50s, though he had outlying books from the 1920s until the 1960s. He wrote under some assumed names, wrote literate (and pretty downbeat by and large) crime and noirish numbers, did some time in Hollywood and had movies made from his books and stories (the most cherished being the Hitchcock classic and generally kick-cinematic-ass Rear Window), and then lived the latter part of his life in a seedy hotel in NY next to or with his mother (who never read a word he wrote). I’m a fan. Not of the living in a seedy NY hotel (though maybe that’s okay, too), but of all the books of his I’ve read. Which leads to the following quote, which is from a book called Fright. Originally published in 1950 (with a dandy Hard Case reprint in 2007) under the name George Hopley, it’s not my favorite book by Mr. Woolrich, but the following quote rings right for today, a frigid day in March, a Tuesday (the gloomiest day of the week), a day that would be best spent musing about life while drinking a host of Manhattans.
Sometimes they were like pinwheels, revolving around a single colored center. The bright red cherry of a Manhattan. He must have been looking straight down into his own glass when that happened. He was on Manhattans.
It’s not only March (a month which lends itself to trying new drinks—wait, every month lends itself to trying new drinks), but also my pal Nicole’s birthday (yay!), which means you should not only try a new drink (from the list below), but also give her a toast when drinking it. And then give yourself a toast on the next sip. And then give me a toast on the third sip. And then how about a toast for Dr. Strange on the next sip. And by then you shouldn’t need toasting reasons for sipping anymore.
Matatlan Oax: Learn a lot about mescal (a good idea on birthdays) at A Mountain of Crushed Ice (which, I have to say again, is a fantasticalicious name for a blog), and then try a couple drinks made with it, including the Oax, which uses the aforementioned mescal and a bunch of fruit flavors to travel the road to deliciousness.
Moral Suasion: Bringing a little history and art into the mix, as is a good idea on birthdays, this elegant little number comes from The Art of Drink via the 1873 Daily Picayune (out of New Orleans), or the other way around. That doesn’t matter as much as remembering that cheerfulness and drinking have gone on so well together for so long. What a beautiful world.
Maime Taylor: Ah, a favorite for springtime’s approach (and fitting well into this post’s month-of-March-M-drinks), Maime is given a gracious going-over at the Underhill Lounge (a lounge that’s always worth a visit). Its refreshing nature is sure to bring a smile, even if it’s freaking freezing outside (like it is here in Seattle). Luckily, the large dollop of scotch is sure to warm ya.
So, right, I tend to dislike lack of originality in naming drinks. I’m upfront about it. I think drinks are imaginative little mixes that drive us to better conversations as well as transporting us from the mundane and providing us with flights of fancy and joyous silly-ness and good spirits (hah). And sure, I’m flowery, but that’s all right, right? With that said then, my take is that if you come up with a really good drink then you should come up with a really good name to match (such as Mrs. Solomon Wears Slacks), and to bring the whole creative process full circle. Which is why just adding “ini” or “olitan” to something and calling it a fine moniker bores me, even when the drink’s scrumptious. But, in the case of the English Martini, I’ll put up with it, cause that’s the way I heard it when first sampling the particular combination, and if I change it now I’ll get confused (which happens so often, why increase the possibilities?). If this all sounds a touch hypocritical to you, well, I’ll buy your next drink in penance. Anywho, the reason I’m now calling it “English Martini (Winter Style)” is that when I had one last night I used Pimm’s # 3 Winter Cup, which is based on brandy (instead of gin, like Pimm’s # 1 Cup) in a ménage with orange and spices. I don’t believe it’s available stateside (he says, like a yank), but I picked some up when on a U.K. trip last fall. It was pretty good in this drink, but I think I’ll try orange juice, instead of lemon juice, when making it again. And maybe up the Pimm’s a bit. And maybe then come up with a new name. Still, it warmed me inside and out, and got me dreaming about strolling along one of those green-as-green-can-be English hillsides, with white puffy sheep frolicking on every side. Nice stuff, isn’t it?
Ice cubes
2 ounces gin
1 ounce Pimm’s No. 3 Cup
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
Lemon twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add everything but the twist. Shake well.
2. Strain the mix into a cocktail glass, and garnish with that lemon twist.
It’s always nice to see a quality bartender (and, in this case, pal) get a little public recognition, as Andrew Bohrer does in this Seattle Times article about the new Chantanee/Bar Naga combo. And if I did write about them a little earlier (here), then all the better. A good bar needs all the public words about it that are possible, so that people find their way there, take advantage of the tasty cocktails, chat up the friendly bar staff, eat snacks, be merry, dance around a bit, and then tip accordingly and stumble home. That’s just makes the world a better place, friends. Oh, as a side note, when I myself was at Chantanee/Naga last Friday, Andrew did indeed toss around a Blue Blazer like in the picture (said picture taken by photog Baydra Rutledge–go Baydra!), as a remedy for my cold, and as entertainment for patrons. It was a kick, and went down divinely. I felt better almost immediately. At least by the second one. Now, go read that article.
