A Day Late but Never a Cocktail Short
Quote of the Week:
"We had so much fun at the Flatiron. It's odd, I mean, we were hanging practically out the door after you guys had been pushed by fate from places you would rather have been, but there was a thread of birthday happiness as shiny as the lovely necklace you were wearing gracing us."
~Jennifer (of Jersey Pie)
Enough about monks! The host at Raines scowled when our party reached seven and refused to let LP through the door when she arrived shortly thereafter. When we left Raines, the entire front room was empty, so why, one might ask, must they throw us out so unapologetically? We hit the sidewalks in search of more drinks, and along the way, we lost two revelers and gained two more and stopped in shortly at a too crowded and noisy Lillie's.
Our evening once again proved that the nature of the New York City cocktail scene is hit or miss. I have yet to find that magical spot where every drink is fabulous. The Flatiron's Scotch Newfangled, a mix of scotch and honey with a dash of bitters, sounds wonderfully rich and deep in theory, but it failed to please the tongue! More flavorful honey and a different scotch would have probably saved the drink from being shallow and drab. Only one way to know (and, happily, it involves the liquor store and the farmer's market).
CME had the Bell Bottom, a brew of gin and absinthe, which was too heavy on the anise for her liking, and LP ordered a cocktail that tasted like root beer syrup without the fizz. Jennifer and Kendal (of Jersey Pie) each had Jameson's on the rocks, a solid choice, and Mr. O had a scotch neat (I can't recall which). Mrs. O traded in the whiskey sours for a rum and coke, and KG had a mixed drink daintily decorated with a live flower. LP and I had a second round, trying the Ichabod's Challenge, a lovely blend of pumpkin and whiskey.
It was a day late, since my birthday was on Thursday, but it was certainly not a cocktail short! And there was birthday shininess to be sure. How can one not but glow with happiness when celebrating another year by reveling in good friendship and tasty libations? And now, readers, I am closer to 40 than 30, but what, really, can be done? The only thing for it is to continue to eat and drink well.
Also of note this week, birthday wine and good eating with LB and EB at Gottino on Greenwich Avenue near Perry, an enoteca and salumeria or wine bar and cured meat shop for those of you who don't know your Italian. I lost the notes from the evening (yes I am a terrible urban gastronomer, but it was my birthday). The most memorable items from our feast were the cacciatorini (Italian salami) and a cow's milk blue cheese served with honey. I was the only one who liked the blue with honey (happy birthday to me).
And, additional highlights from last week's trip to Portland include breakfast at Pine State Biscuits where I devoured a buttery biscuit with egg, cheese and a housemade sausage patty, and CM did her best to make a dent in the Reggie, a biscuit sandwich with fried chicken, bacon, egg and gravy. The night before we had an excellent meal at The Country Cat where we were fortunate enough to sit at the Chef's table. CM, Mr. CM and I were mesmerized by the culinary waltz of head chef and creator Adam Sappington and his two assistants. The cocktails and the food were delicious.
Stay tuned! Next week: why I panic when someone calls me a foodie and other ponderings about the great gastronomic events of another week.
Late fall roses in Portland:
Quote of the Week:
"We had so much fun at the Flatiron. It's odd, I mean, we were hanging practically out the door after you guys had been pushed by fate from places you would rather have been, but there was a thread of birthday happiness as shiny as the lovely necklace you were wearing gracing us."
~Jennifer (of Jersey Pie)
Eight people + two Irish whiskeys on the rocks, one scotch neat, three mixed drinks and two cocktails = a fabulous birthday celebration, even considering that we were hanging out the door at the Flatiron Lounge on Friday night after having been chased out of Raines Law Room for having more than six people. (You know, ladies and g's, that I am a planner at heart, but I completely dropped the highball on this one.)
At Raines, the group had already collectively consumed a round and a half, the stars of which were the classic Whiskey Sour, with a pretty amber flourish on the frothy white, and the Champs-Élysées, a concoction of Hennessy VS, Green Chartreuse, lemon juice, mint, sugar, Angostura bitters and Chandon sparkling wine.
Chartreuse is, as I have mentioned before, one of those wonderful elixirs brought to the world by crafty, spirit-loving, mountain-dwelling French monks. The flavor of Green Chartreuse comes from 130 plants and flowers, a recipe known only by two monks! Ah, how those French monks and their holy spirits have earned an eternal soft spot in my cocktail-soaked heart. Praise be.
These particular French monks are of the Chartreuse Order of Carthusians (a term which rings some long forgotten bell in the church of repressed Catholic-grade school memories that exists in my subconscious). According to the Chartreuse Liqueurs Web site, "Chartreuse monks are contemplatives, dedicating their lives to listening in silence to God." Well, thank the silent gods that contemplation has led to sacred libations. And yes, I realize the intention of the monks was the treatment of illness, but if we consider for a moment that a good cocktail can be a grand alleviator of stress, one of the most prevalent illness-causing factors, perhaps their intention still holds.
At Raines, the group had already collectively consumed a round and a half, the stars of which were the classic Whiskey Sour, with a pretty amber flourish on the frothy white, and the Champs-Élysées, a concoction of Hennessy VS, Green Chartreuse, lemon juice, mint, sugar, Angostura bitters and Chandon sparkling wine.
Chartreuse is, as I have mentioned before, one of those wonderful elixirs brought to the world by crafty, spirit-loving, mountain-dwelling French monks. The flavor of Green Chartreuse comes from 130 plants and flowers, a recipe known only by two monks! Ah, how those French monks and their holy spirits have earned an eternal soft spot in my cocktail-soaked heart. Praise be.
These particular French monks are of the Chartreuse Order of Carthusians (a term which rings some long forgotten bell in the church of repressed Catholic-grade school memories that exists in my subconscious). According to the Chartreuse Liqueurs Web site, "Chartreuse monks are contemplatives, dedicating their lives to listening in silence to God." Well, thank the silent gods that contemplation has led to sacred libations. And yes, I realize the intention of the monks was the treatment of illness, but if we consider for a moment that a good cocktail can be a grand alleviator of stress, one of the most prevalent illness-causing factors, perhaps their intention still holds.
Enough about monks! The host at Raines scowled when our party reached seven and refused to let LP through the door when she arrived shortly thereafter. When we left Raines, the entire front room was empty, so why, one might ask, must they throw us out so unapologetically? We hit the sidewalks in search of more drinks, and along the way, we lost two revelers and gained two more and stopped in shortly at a too crowded and noisy Lillie's.
Our evening once again proved that the nature of the New York City cocktail scene is hit or miss. I have yet to find that magical spot where every drink is fabulous. The Flatiron's Scotch Newfangled, a mix of scotch and honey with a dash of bitters, sounds wonderfully rich and deep in theory, but it failed to please the tongue! More flavorful honey and a different scotch would have probably saved the drink from being shallow and drab. Only one way to know (and, happily, it involves the liquor store and the farmer's market).
CME had the Bell Bottom, a brew of gin and absinthe, which was too heavy on the anise for her liking, and LP ordered a cocktail that tasted like root beer syrup without the fizz. Jennifer and Kendal (of Jersey Pie) each had Jameson's on the rocks, a solid choice, and Mr. O had a scotch neat (I can't recall which). Mrs. O traded in the whiskey sours for a rum and coke, and KG had a mixed drink daintily decorated with a live flower. LP and I had a second round, trying the Ichabod's Challenge, a lovely blend of pumpkin and whiskey.
It was a day late, since my birthday was on Thursday, but it was certainly not a cocktail short! And there was birthday shininess to be sure. How can one not but glow with happiness when celebrating another year by reveling in good friendship and tasty libations? And now, readers, I am closer to 40 than 30, but what, really, can be done? The only thing for it is to continue to eat and drink well.
Also of note this week, birthday wine and good eating with LB and EB at Gottino on Greenwich Avenue near Perry, an enoteca and salumeria or wine bar and cured meat shop for those of you who don't know your Italian. I lost the notes from the evening (yes I am a terrible urban gastronomer, but it was my birthday). The most memorable items from our feast were the cacciatorini (Italian salami) and a cow's milk blue cheese served with honey. I was the only one who liked the blue with honey (happy birthday to me).
And, additional highlights from last week's trip to Portland include breakfast at Pine State Biscuits where I devoured a buttery biscuit with egg, cheese and a housemade sausage patty, and CM did her best to make a dent in the Reggie, a biscuit sandwich with fried chicken, bacon, egg and gravy. The night before we had an excellent meal at The Country Cat where we were fortunate enough to sit at the Chef's table. CM, Mr. CM and I were mesmerized by the culinary waltz of head chef and creator Adam Sappington and his two assistants. The cocktails and the food were delicious.
Stay tuned! Next week: why I panic when someone calls me a foodie and other ponderings about the great gastronomic events of another week.
Late fall roses in Portland:
Sorry I missed it. Perhaps Jennifer filled you in on the horrible gastronomic experience I had earlier in the day, which doesn't even really deserve a mention on this blog, but I will say it if only to warn others: friends don't let friends eat the Au Bon Pain Thai Chicken Wrap. I was at work, and I was desperate, but let's hope I never reach that level of desperation again.
ReplyDeleteWould still love to try Lillie's on a week night. I hear that it becomes less heinous after 8 on week nights.