A NYC scene I’ll miss – firehouse on our block, dalmatian and all

Bertessa is leaving Manhattan (EE and Dahlia are coming too), and the time has come to close the bar. Actually, the bar is the last piece of the apartment getting shutdown, but it is looking pretty picked over:

Yeah, there are bottles left, but note how low they’re running

EE’s beautiful living room, obliterated

We’re decamping for Houston where the bar will be re-born bigger and better than ever, in a customized area of the kitchen. Just as soon as we get around to installing a kitchen, anyway:

No more cabinets, but the floors are purdy

The old one wouldn’t do, so it had to go while we were getting the floors re-done. We figure it won’t matter much since we’ve gotten in the habit of not cooking anyway. We’ll have a microwave and fridge; what more could one need?

I’ll let EE glory in the details of design, remodeling, etc. I’ve come here to lament my bar.

The bar started as a little cart with some bottles, but the cart couldn’t handle the expanding load. I customized the utility closet/pantry and got a stunning amount of bar space in the deal. EE made it look spiffy with some paint and good light. It’s a special space. Hidden behind the seemingly mundane door. Still a bit rough around the edges. Cozy. My first bar.

Originally designed to share space with a cat, the bar outlived the cat and presided over a motley collection of toiletries, laundry supplies, dog food, and tools. It enabled grand visions of cocktail making and dabbling with infusions and liqueurs that were critical to allowing this blog’s development.

The final days of a developed bar are strange times. Open liquor doesn’t do so well in such a hot truck for such a long time. Plus, many of the bottles are stoppered with re-used corks or other innovations. The challenge of consuming the remainder is in the variety. It’s all well and good to make a margarita with the remaining tequila, but what happens when the Cointreau runs dry before the tequila? The bar quickly fell all out of whack, and the whole goal was to avoid replenishing it. This led to some odd drinks (trying to do summer coolers with a surfeit of whiskeys) and to one great realization: make the missing ingredients myself.

This realization of self-creation shall be the First Principle of the new bar. In order to handle the Cointreau dilemma, I bought a bag of juice oranges for $1.50 and used excess brandy to make my own. It is fresh, light on the tongue and amazing. Even better is the orange-ginger liqueur I made at the same time. I used the peels and moonshine to make wicked orange bitters. We still can’t drink everything, but I’m inspired to buy only the bases that I need and certain specialties I can’t infuse or distill myself.

There is not currently a Second Principle. I’m just not very principled.