Poor Suffering Bastard
Quote of the Week: "I should just stay within the bastard family." ~ Your favorite (or at least most consistent) Urban Gastronomer
I've thought about why the bastard might be suffering. And, I've decided that clearly the bastard was suffering because he was looking for a place to live in the grand, over-priced, ridiculous and insane metropolis of NYC.
I was actually sitting at the bar at Painkiller on Essex Street on Tuesday waiting for VS., trying preemptively to ease some of the discomfort I knew was coming my way later in the week. The Tiki mixologist behind the bar had mixed a drink based on my preference for bourbon and my somewhat new interest in gin. It's only coincidence the name of the drink foreshadowed the state I myself would be in after a long weekend marathon of apartment hunting.
3.5 days, 13 apartments, 5 neighborhoods and so many miles on my birkenstocks that my feet have funny tan lines.
It's better, really, that I didn't know while sipping that glorious drink what insanity the apartment hunt would hold. Ah, the wonderful, boozy mixture of bourbon, gin, ginger syrup, crushed ice, bitters, lime and surely another syrup or two. It was my first Tiki experience. Part of me wishes I was still a Tiki virgin so I could give it up all over again. But alas, my innocence has been pierced by a pink flamingo stir stick and a good cocktail shakin'.
Or, something like that.
The drink, my friends, is one that will grow hair on your chest. But boy was it delicious. And it was served in a tall blue ceramic glass with a neat face on it that looked a little grouchy like a suffering bastard might. There were slices of cucumber, orange and candied ginger as garnish with a sprig of mint on the side.
As it turns out, the bastard progresses from suffering to dying to dead. So naturally, I had to order the dying bastard as my next drink. Add cognac to the above and there you have him. Slightly more complex than the suffering bastard and a little more delicious.
While I stuck with the bastards, VS and CK sipping varied versions of the Zombie, another category of Tiki drinks. The 1956 Zombie featured three kinds of rum and pineapple juice. Despite our better judgment, and the evil eye of the waitress, we ordered one to share as our last drink.
Painkiller is fun though menu lacks any description of what's in the drinks. So, you either have to be in the know with the Tiki culture or rely on one of the super knowledgeable staffers to help you out. Don't worry... they know their drinks! It's best when you go to sit in the back. The bar is chest high and sticks out a good foot. The stools are bolted down so there's no adjusting your seat. It feels a bit like your going to fall over any minute, which could be dangerous after more than one of those crazy concoctions!
As for my apartment hunt, alas I did not discover the home of my dreams or even an acceptable alternative, yet. But I did discover a few new gastronomic items:
Limited Edition Voodoo Gumbo Potato Chips by Zapp's.
(Way cool bag, but really just tasted like salt and vinegar.)
Butternuts Beer and Ale Farmhouse Ales in a Can
(Who knew beer in a can could be so tasty> The Moo Thunder Stout is chocolately delicious!)
And, LP and I went to Cienfuegos, a lovely new spot in the East Village. You will have to wait for next week to hear about that one. Get your rum punch on, my friends. It's the season!
Stay tuned! (And please forgive the typos. My brain is stewing in this 100-degree heat we're having in NYC.)
Quote of the Week: "I should just stay within the bastard family." ~ Your favorite (or at least most consistent) Urban Gastronomer
I've thought about why the bastard might be suffering. And, I've decided that clearly the bastard was suffering because he was looking for a place to live in the grand, over-priced, ridiculous and insane metropolis of NYC.
I was actually sitting at the bar at Painkiller on Essex Street on Tuesday waiting for VS., trying preemptively to ease some of the discomfort I knew was coming my way later in the week. The Tiki mixologist behind the bar had mixed a drink based on my preference for bourbon and my somewhat new interest in gin. It's only coincidence the name of the drink foreshadowed the state I myself would be in after a long weekend marathon of apartment hunting.
3.5 days, 13 apartments, 5 neighborhoods and so many miles on my birkenstocks that my feet have funny tan lines.
It's better, really, that I didn't know while sipping that glorious drink what insanity the apartment hunt would hold. Ah, the wonderful, boozy mixture of bourbon, gin, ginger syrup, crushed ice, bitters, lime and surely another syrup or two. It was my first Tiki experience. Part of me wishes I was still a Tiki virgin so I could give it up all over again. But alas, my innocence has been pierced by a pink flamingo stir stick and a good cocktail shakin'.
Or, something like that.
The drink, my friends, is one that will grow hair on your chest. But boy was it delicious. And it was served in a tall blue ceramic glass with a neat face on it that looked a little grouchy like a suffering bastard might. There were slices of cucumber, orange and candied ginger as garnish with a sprig of mint on the side.
As it turns out, the bastard progresses from suffering to dying to dead. So naturally, I had to order the dying bastard as my next drink. Add cognac to the above and there you have him. Slightly more complex than the suffering bastard and a little more delicious.
While I stuck with the bastards, VS and CK sipping varied versions of the Zombie, another category of Tiki drinks. The 1956 Zombie featured three kinds of rum and pineapple juice. Despite our better judgment, and the evil eye of the waitress, we ordered one to share as our last drink.
Painkiller is fun though menu lacks any description of what's in the drinks. So, you either have to be in the know with the Tiki culture or rely on one of the super knowledgeable staffers to help you out. Don't worry... they know their drinks! It's best when you go to sit in the back. The bar is chest high and sticks out a good foot. The stools are bolted down so there's no adjusting your seat. It feels a bit like your going to fall over any minute, which could be dangerous after more than one of those crazy concoctions!
As for my apartment hunt, alas I did not discover the home of my dreams or even an acceptable alternative, yet. But I did discover a few new gastronomic items:
Limited Edition Voodoo Gumbo Potato Chips by Zapp's.
(Way cool bag, but really just tasted like salt and vinegar.)
Butternuts Beer and Ale Farmhouse Ales in a Can
(Who knew beer in a can could be so tasty> The Moo Thunder Stout is chocolately delicious!)
And, LP and I went to Cienfuegos, a lovely new spot in the East Village. You will have to wait for next week to hear about that one. Get your rum punch on, my friends. It's the season!
Stay tuned! (And please forgive the typos. My brain is stewing in this 100-degree heat we're having in NYC.)
speaking of quality beer in a can seek out and enjoy gordon ale.
ReplyDeletehttp://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/2681/8919
i believe they have it on tap at roberta's in bushwick. powerful (and powerfully tasty) stuff!
oh and they have it in cans at greene grape provisions in fort greene. that's where i first discovered it.
This is from CM (somehow it got lost in the bloggersphere): I love Tiki drinks! I served Zombies one night last summer after I had a hankerin for pineapple. They were delicious... and chock full of rum. I polished off my bottle of Meyers over the weekend, shaking it up with my homemade Horchata! I also made (non-rum) Horchata popsicles. Good luck in your apartment search!
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