Whose (Who's) Bitter(s)?
Quote of the week: "All you want to do is eat too much, drink, and sleep until spring." ~ LP as we ate and drank too much on Tuesday evening.
Another Sunday morning, nearly afternoon, and I sit poised at the key board. I just had a wonderful brunch that I made for myself. I like to do that sometimes, cook a delicious solo brunch in the late morning sunlight in my cafe-blue kitchen. This morning it was an omelet with broccoli, red pepper and Comte cheese (French, slightly nutty) served with crispy bacon, toasted whole wheat pita (that the lady at the Greek grocery store told me she buys for her family), and a few strong cups of Cafe Bustelo to shake the dreamy gossamer out of my slept-too-long brain.
The clutter on my Formica table (which doubles as a desk), the small rectangle of cornflower blue, nearly-spring sky and the sounds of Prairie Home Companion are distracting. Most likely I will fidget, put away some of the clutter, heat up my coffee, turn off the radio, and possibly shower, before I find a premise and type forward.
Is it possible to digress before one even begins? Well, as I have told potential new UG readers before and as LP said aloud during a delicious dinner at Mercadito on Tuesday, some weeks are more interesting than others. Indeed.
It's not as though this week lacked interest. It was, in fact, one of those quirky NY single girl weeks seasoned with the usual pursuit of perfectly made cocktails. So, I'll ignore the clutter and just get to it... as soon as I reheat my coffee...
All right then. After I left you last week, readers, I joined KG for a birthday celebration that culminated in sipping Maker's Mark at The Stumble Inn on the Upper East Side. The pub was swarming with urban youngins drinking cheap American beer. KG asked me if I would be okay when we walked in the door. I smiled and said, of course, it's your birthday, not mine; I'll be okay wherever we go.
On my way back to the bar from the ladies', two young gentleman threw our their fishing line, and being curious, I allowed myself to be reeled in. One of the two, an independently wealthy 27-year-old whose family owns a house in Nevada was looking for a companion to take a spontaneous trip to Vegas on a 9:30 flight that evening.
I kindly explained they picked the wrong girl. Despite the show-girl sequined jacket I was wearing, Vegas is not my scene. But, the wealthy gent replied, it's all expenses paid. I laughed and told him I could pay my own way to Vegas should I choose. He actually seemed a little crushed as his approach had apparently failed with several other women. I suppose at 36, I should be flattered by the attentions of young men, but really it just seems ridiculous.
Now, if the young gent had been a talented bartender, well then, my heart would be easier won. Take, for example, the sexy mixologists behind the bar at Louis 649 on Tuesday evening. LP and I were at the bar after a fantastic Mexican dinner at Mercadito on Avenue B and 11th Street. We had the traditional guacamole, the mahi mahi ceviche, and chicken mole and fish tacos.
I was so stuffed it was too taxing to choose a cocktail, so I ordered a Manhattan. The bartender pulled out the Carpano Antica, and I knew I was in good mixing hands. When he dropped a dark brandied cherry into the bottom of the cocktail glass, I think I actually drooled a bit on the tiled bar. And, oh my, what a lovely Manhattan it was. LP ordered a Sidecar that was equally good.
For round two, I requested a bartender's choice with bourbon or rye and was delivered a variation of the Right Hand, a Milk-and-Honey creation. It was bourbon-based with sweet vermouth, Campari and orange and chocolate bitters with a slice of orange peel on top. Strong, dark, bitter, like an orange truffle made with the finest chocolate. It was so delicious that I went yesterday to Astor Wines and Spirits. Although I found the Campari there, they sent me to Kalustyans for the bitters (something about alcohol selling laws in NYC).
A Web search indicates the original cocktail used Bittermens Xocolatl Bitters, which Kalustyans didn't have. I, instead, have Fee Brothers Aztec bitters. Anyway, stay tuned. If I manage to re-create it or something similar and drinkable, it will be on the menu for my next cocktail party.
For her second, LP ordered the CS Lewis with rum and what may have been Batavia Arrack... my notes were sloppy. (After a margarita, a beer, and a Manhattan, it's no wonder!) It also had a liqueur called Velvet Falernum, lime juice and grapefruit bitters. Very tasty!
On Thursday night, I ordered a Right Hand at Flatiron Lounge, hoping a) for another delicious cocktail and b) a strong drink to help me make it through a painfully awkward date.
Why painfully awkward? Well...
Anyway, the drink was good, but not as good as the variation at Louis 649, which has long been a favorite spot in that area of town, but is now also on the short list for good cocktails. (See Oh Pappy, My Pappy for history on my first visit there.) Turns out the original is made with rum, which I find not nearly as complex and interesting as bourbon.
Well, it's happened again. You've wasted another perfectly good one minute and 9 seconds (according to Google Analytics) reading Urban Gastronomy. Stay tuned! More to come, as always, next week!
Quote of the week: "All you want to do is eat too much, drink, and sleep until spring." ~ LP as we ate and drank too much on Tuesday evening.
Another Sunday morning, nearly afternoon, and I sit poised at the key board. I just had a wonderful brunch that I made for myself. I like to do that sometimes, cook a delicious solo brunch in the late morning sunlight in my cafe-blue kitchen. This morning it was an omelet with broccoli, red pepper and Comte cheese (French, slightly nutty) served with crispy bacon, toasted whole wheat pita (that the lady at the Greek grocery store told me she buys for her family), and a few strong cups of Cafe Bustelo to shake the dreamy gossamer out of my slept-too-long brain.
The clutter on my Formica table (which doubles as a desk), the small rectangle of cornflower blue, nearly-spring sky and the sounds of Prairie Home Companion are distracting. Most likely I will fidget, put away some of the clutter, heat up my coffee, turn off the radio, and possibly shower, before I find a premise and type forward.
Is it possible to digress before one even begins? Well, as I have told potential new UG readers before and as LP said aloud during a delicious dinner at Mercadito on Tuesday, some weeks are more interesting than others. Indeed.
It's not as though this week lacked interest. It was, in fact, one of those quirky NY single girl weeks seasoned with the usual pursuit of perfectly made cocktails. So, I'll ignore the clutter and just get to it... as soon as I reheat my coffee...
All right then. After I left you last week, readers, I joined KG for a birthday celebration that culminated in sipping Maker's Mark at The Stumble Inn on the Upper East Side. The pub was swarming with urban youngins drinking cheap American beer. KG asked me if I would be okay when we walked in the door. I smiled and said, of course, it's your birthday, not mine; I'll be okay wherever we go.
On my way back to the bar from the ladies', two young gentleman threw our their fishing line, and being curious, I allowed myself to be reeled in. One of the two, an independently wealthy 27-year-old whose family owns a house in Nevada was looking for a companion to take a spontaneous trip to Vegas on a 9:30 flight that evening.
I kindly explained they picked the wrong girl. Despite the show-girl sequined jacket I was wearing, Vegas is not my scene. But, the wealthy gent replied, it's all expenses paid. I laughed and told him I could pay my own way to Vegas should I choose. He actually seemed a little crushed as his approach had apparently failed with several other women. I suppose at 36, I should be flattered by the attentions of young men, but really it just seems ridiculous.
Now, if the young gent had been a talented bartender, well then, my heart would be easier won. Take, for example, the sexy mixologists behind the bar at Louis 649 on Tuesday evening. LP and I were at the bar after a fantastic Mexican dinner at Mercadito on Avenue B and 11th Street. We had the traditional guacamole, the mahi mahi ceviche, and chicken mole and fish tacos.
I was so stuffed it was too taxing to choose a cocktail, so I ordered a Manhattan. The bartender pulled out the Carpano Antica, and I knew I was in good mixing hands. When he dropped a dark brandied cherry into the bottom of the cocktail glass, I think I actually drooled a bit on the tiled bar. And, oh my, what a lovely Manhattan it was. LP ordered a Sidecar that was equally good.
For round two, I requested a bartender's choice with bourbon or rye and was delivered a variation of the Right Hand, a Milk-and-Honey creation. It was bourbon-based with sweet vermouth, Campari and orange and chocolate bitters with a slice of orange peel on top. Strong, dark, bitter, like an orange truffle made with the finest chocolate. It was so delicious that I went yesterday to Astor Wines and Spirits. Although I found the Campari there, they sent me to Kalustyans for the bitters (something about alcohol selling laws in NYC).
A Web search indicates the original cocktail used Bittermens Xocolatl Bitters, which Kalustyans didn't have. I, instead, have Fee Brothers Aztec bitters. Anyway, stay tuned. If I manage to re-create it or something similar and drinkable, it will be on the menu for my next cocktail party.
For her second, LP ordered the CS Lewis with rum and what may have been Batavia Arrack... my notes were sloppy. (After a margarita, a beer, and a Manhattan, it's no wonder!) It also had a liqueur called Velvet Falernum, lime juice and grapefruit bitters. Very tasty!
On Thursday night, I ordered a Right Hand at Flatiron Lounge, hoping a) for another delicious cocktail and b) a strong drink to help me make it through a painfully awkward date.
Why painfully awkward? Well...
- Geeky, not in that cool hipster way, but in the classic slouchy, baggy khaki pants and sloppy sweater way
- Clearly older than the 39 stated in his profile and living with and working for his parents
- Part-time job at major pet store chain for benefits, which, by the way, include great dental insurance
- A physical tick of spontaneous squeezing blinks that when controlled by force led to super-awkward staring, mostly at my face, but sometimes at my chest
- The question: “Have you ever modeled? I bet a lot of people ask you that. You know like maybe for the Macy's catalog or something?"
- He ordered an Amstel light at Flatiron Lounge (see Amstel What? for full impact of the irony)
Anyway, the drink was good, but not as good as the variation at Louis 649, which has long been a favorite spot in that area of town, but is now also on the short list for good cocktails. (See Oh Pappy, My Pappy for history on my first visit there.) Turns out the original is made with rum, which I find not nearly as complex and interesting as bourbon.
Well, it's happened again. You've wasted another perfectly good one minute and 9 seconds (according to Google Analytics) reading Urban Gastronomy. Stay tuned! More to come, as always, next week!
Addendum: I am happy to report: the variation on the Right Hand is indeed delicious when homemade: 1 1/2 bourbon (Buffalo Trace), 3/4 carpano antica, 3/4 campari, a few dashes Fee Brothers Aztec Chocolate bitters, a few dashes Angostura Orange Bitters, stirred and served up with an orange peel twist. Yum!
ReplyDeleteNever a waste of time reading your blog!
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting the Right Hand as the one I found on the web (only found the "Red Right Hand") made it sound horrible and could not understand why you were drinking anything with strawberry schnapps!