Seasonal Affective Drinking Disorder
"I hope you like a lot of bourbon. I got a little carried away. Be careful!" ~ The bartender at The Magician on Thursday evening.
No worries here, I thought, as I took that first sip of Maker's Mark at Magician Bar on the corner of Rivington and Essex Streets on Thursday night. At $4.50 a drink for happy hour, it was an economic way to add some jolly to the doldrums of February. I was waiting for Mrs. O, one of the few souls brave enough to keep a happy hour date during a walloping snow storm.
I'm from Illinois, you know, and us midwesterners will pretty much go anywhere in a snow storm. It's true. On February 14, 1990, I received a notice in the mail stating that because I had passed Drivers Ed with an A, I could go to the DMV to pick up my driver's license. I insisted my mother take me that afternoon despite the blizzard that was dropping 12 inches on Illinois. And you know what? She took me. Because she grew up in Illinois too.
Despite our fortitude in the face of a little (or a lot of) snow, we are not immune to seasonal depression. More than one family member has succumbed to the melancholy morosity of February. In fact, even the pets were affected. One cat in particular would press her face up to the full-spectrum light that was supposed to keep us humans at least sanely happy during the most sunlight-deprived months of the midwest winter.
And I, my friends, recently found myself falling prey to the gloomy dark of Old Man Winter. What better remedy for the February blues than happy hour? I mean, they call it happy hour for a reason, don't they?
And so, Mrs. O and I were toasting away the snow storm with warm hearts and full drinks in the Magician on Thursday. I overheard the bartender tell another patron about a place called Teneleven that serves cilantro-infused vodka. Upon further inquiry, I learned Teneleven offers a make-your-own Bloody Mary bar on Sundays. My weekend suddenly seemed as though it too would be less chilly and depressing.
Mrs. O and I stuffed ourselves on burgers, fries and Brussels sprouts at Spitzers and then found ourselves smoking Djarums in the wet snow while reminiscing about our younger years on the Lower East Side. I was in bed by 11:00, a phenomenon that would not have happened ten years ago when we had our first night out together in that same hood.
I rallied friends A. and CME for brunch at Esperanto on Sunday followed by Bloody Marys at the aforementioned Teneleven, both on Avenue C.
I have never had a bad meal at Esperanto, and although we had to wait quite a while, the food was phenomenal. When the handsome host in his dapper white hat told us it would be just a few minutes more unless we wanted to squeeze around a tiny table, we jumped off our bar stools with growling stomachs exclaiming that tiny was fine for us.
The Eggs Benedict with Brazilian ham and spicy Hollandaise sauce was sublime, and the home fries so tasty! They had a perfectly crunchy outer skin with a wonderful garlic flavor.
When we arrived at Teneleven, the bar had just opened. I asked the bartender if they were offering the make-your-own Bloody Marys and she replied, she could or she could just make them for us. Perfect! Who wants to make your own Bloody Mary at a bar anyway.
We were given a choice of several infused vodkas. I chose cilantro. A. picked habanero. CME opted for Rosemary, but they were out, so her Bloody Mary went un-infused. The cilantro was refreshing... as A. said it was like a salad in a glass. The habanero was smoky with a kick.
And, when we should have called it a day and gone home, we instead looked at each other and decided, oh just one more. Really, how could we leave without trying the ginger hibiscus infused vodka. After a tasting sip offered by the lovely and friendly bartender, we asked for it on the rocks.
It was so lovely, like the promise of spring on the tongue with a flirty bite of ginger. It was so good, in fact, we had to have another before calling it an afternoon, and I have decided I have to try infusing my own.
In between the pours of hibiscus, we had a taste of tamarind-infused tequila. A little trickier on the tongue, but not without promise.
What a happy day to not only have battled Old Man Winter with a flirty Spring beverage, but also to have discovered a venue that knows how to make a good infusion.
And that, my friends, is all I have for you this evening. I sit and listen to the hiss of the radiator in my apartment while I dream about hibiscus and the warming spring sun falling upon my pale, wintry face.
Thank Dionsys that today is the last day of February. I don't think I could take another.
Stay tuned and stay warm! And hang in there! Spring is coming. (And thanks to A. for the great title!)
"I hope you like a lot of bourbon. I got a little carried away. Be careful!" ~ The bartender at The Magician on Thursday evening.
No worries here, I thought, as I took that first sip of Maker's Mark at Magician Bar on the corner of Rivington and Essex Streets on Thursday night. At $4.50 a drink for happy hour, it was an economic way to add some jolly to the doldrums of February. I was waiting for Mrs. O, one of the few souls brave enough to keep a happy hour date during a walloping snow storm.
I'm from Illinois, you know, and us midwesterners will pretty much go anywhere in a snow storm. It's true. On February 14, 1990, I received a notice in the mail stating that because I had passed Drivers Ed with an A, I could go to the DMV to pick up my driver's license. I insisted my mother take me that afternoon despite the blizzard that was dropping 12 inches on Illinois. And you know what? She took me. Because she grew up in Illinois too.
Despite our fortitude in the face of a little (or a lot of) snow, we are not immune to seasonal depression. More than one family member has succumbed to the melancholy morosity of February. In fact, even the pets were affected. One cat in particular would press her face up to the full-spectrum light that was supposed to keep us humans at least sanely happy during the most sunlight-deprived months of the midwest winter.
And I, my friends, recently found myself falling prey to the gloomy dark of Old Man Winter. What better remedy for the February blues than happy hour? I mean, they call it happy hour for a reason, don't they?
And so, Mrs. O and I were toasting away the snow storm with warm hearts and full drinks in the Magician on Thursday. I overheard the bartender tell another patron about a place called Teneleven that serves cilantro-infused vodka. Upon further inquiry, I learned Teneleven offers a make-your-own Bloody Mary bar on Sundays. My weekend suddenly seemed as though it too would be less chilly and depressing.
Mrs. O and I stuffed ourselves on burgers, fries and Brussels sprouts at Spitzers and then found ourselves smoking Djarums in the wet snow while reminiscing about our younger years on the Lower East Side. I was in bed by 11:00, a phenomenon that would not have happened ten years ago when we had our first night out together in that same hood.
I rallied friends A. and CME for brunch at Esperanto on Sunday followed by Bloody Marys at the aforementioned Teneleven, both on Avenue C.
I have never had a bad meal at Esperanto, and although we had to wait quite a while, the food was phenomenal. When the handsome host in his dapper white hat told us it would be just a few minutes more unless we wanted to squeeze around a tiny table, we jumped off our bar stools with growling stomachs exclaiming that tiny was fine for us.
The Eggs Benedict with Brazilian ham and spicy Hollandaise sauce was sublime, and the home fries so tasty! They had a perfectly crunchy outer skin with a wonderful garlic flavor.
When we arrived at Teneleven, the bar had just opened. I asked the bartender if they were offering the make-your-own Bloody Marys and she replied, she could or she could just make them for us. Perfect! Who wants to make your own Bloody Mary at a bar anyway.
We were given a choice of several infused vodkas. I chose cilantro. A. picked habanero. CME opted for Rosemary, but they were out, so her Bloody Mary went un-infused. The cilantro was refreshing... as A. said it was like a salad in a glass. The habanero was smoky with a kick.
And, when we should have called it a day and gone home, we instead looked at each other and decided, oh just one more. Really, how could we leave without trying the ginger hibiscus infused vodka. After a tasting sip offered by the lovely and friendly bartender, we asked for it on the rocks.
It was so lovely, like the promise of spring on the tongue with a flirty bite of ginger. It was so good, in fact, we had to have another before calling it an afternoon, and I have decided I have to try infusing my own.
In between the pours of hibiscus, we had a taste of tamarind-infused tequila. A little trickier on the tongue, but not without promise.
What a happy day to not only have battled Old Man Winter with a flirty Spring beverage, but also to have discovered a venue that knows how to make a good infusion.
And that, my friends, is all I have for you this evening. I sit and listen to the hiss of the radiator in my apartment while I dream about hibiscus and the warming spring sun falling upon my pale, wintry face.
Thank Dionsys that today is the last day of February. I don't think I could take another.
Stay tuned and stay warm! And hang in there! Spring is coming. (And thanks to A. for the great title!)
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