EE and I headed to the Empire Hotel this week for a drink in the Lobby Bar.  It’s in our neighborhood, and EE loves their logo (duh), which is not only monogrammed on everything monogrammable, but also forms the pattern of the carpets, and serves as door handles on all the double-doors:

Anyway, the most recent drink menu has a title like, “Try a Gossip Girl Cocktail”  WTF?  Really?

Let’s consider the problems.  The:

a) show is absurd (not that you personally are absurd if you like it, but the show IS – you know it).

b) characters are teenagers and have not been drinking long enough to possibly have knowledge worth emulating.

c) characters are teenagers who really shouldn’t be drinking at that level (without getting into a bigger debate over what the drinking laws should be).

d) drinks ACTUALLY REFLECTED IMMATTURE TASTES.

I took one look and said, “I’ll have a negroni.”  EE, bless her soul, ordered one.  She claims she felt rushed to make a decision.  It involved an Atomic Fireball.  She asked me what an Atomic Fireball is just after ordering.  Candy.  It is a piece of candy.  The rim was encrusted with sugar - the most sugar I’ve ever seen on a rim.  The thing tasted like a strange, flat Cherry Coke served in a martini glass with a sugared rim.  Nasty.  The kind of thing you might like if your standard breakfast consists of Mountain Dew and Sour Patch Kids on the school bus.

EE re-orderded a classic margarita.  Meant in the best possible way, this type of admission-of-ordering-error and assertiveness-in-correcting-it is not very characteristic of EE, which should really underscore how horrific the drink was.  To the hotel’s credit, they just switched out the drinks and never charged us for the freaky one.

The lobby bar of the Empire Hotel.  Cool place, good bar, nasty cocktail menu.

The sad thing is that the Empire Hotel bar is really cool.  The ambiance is great, but more importantly, they are skilled drink-makers!  My negroni and EE’s margarita were perfectly executed.  The bartender was fast; the waitress was attentive.  But the drink menu was disgusting!

We went to the hotel restaurant, Ed’s Chowder House, after cocktails.  Confounding us further in regards to the drink menu is the fact that Ed’s drink menu is AWESOME.  I had a spectacular West Side Gimlet.  EE had a great jalapeno-infused margarita (feeling scarred by her Atomic Fireball attempt at branching out, my sweet EE may be back to margaritas for a while now).  The oysters were great, the service was again great.  I highly recommend it.

Bar of Ed’s Chowder House at the Empire Hotel.  Awesome.

Lesson: Skip the lounge bar and walk upstairs to Ed’s.

Moral: never design drinks for high schoolers.

I’ve been busy.  I’m only getting busier.  TR lives on, it just may not get as much love.

(EE-craftiness: part of a heart garland.)

I love Valentine’s Day.  I view it as an ideal holiday, and strenuously disagree with those who consider it to be over-commercialized, depressing, and all the rest.  Valentine’s is a bright spot in in the otherwise desolate month of February (at least in the Northeast).  Even before the days of EE, I was always happy to invite a pretty lady to be my valentine (and in my limited experience, ladies always enjoy being a valentine).  What could be better than fine dining, and perhaps the exchange of an extravagant gift or two, with someone whose company I enjoy?  Share the love, that’s what I say.

(Only on Valentine’s Day will your friends give you this card.  Hopefully.)

This year, EE and I somewhat reinterpreted our traditional Valentine’s celebration: we threw a cocktail party!

We hosted about 30 guests, a mix of singles and couples, for the express purposes of Valentining and having cocktails.  The goal was not to provide dinner - it was to provide an extra oomph of glizt and glam (and maybe even gossip and drama) to whatever evening people may or may not have planned for themselves.

In preparation for this momentous event, I went to work creating some drinks that fit the occasion.  The challenges/criteria were:

• 3 colors – EE often thinks in colors, so we determined the need for a red drink, a pink drink, and a white drink.
• Glassware – we only have so many of each type of glass, and wanted to avoid plastic.  The drinks had to spread across tumblers, stemmed wine, and stemmed cocktail glasses.
• Flavors – needed more than one type of flavor profile for a range of drinkers.

The results were (bearing their Valentine names):

Passion

Color: Red

Glass: Tumbler

Flavor area: Bitter

Ingredients

1 Tequila

3/4 Campari

3/4 Blood Orange Italian Soda (I bought this at Whole Foods)

1/3 Sweet Vermouth

drop Orange bitters

A muddled cherry (buy the frozen ones)

Muddle the cherry, stir vigorously with ice and all ingredients except the soda.  Strain into serving pitcher, add soda and stir gently.  At the party, I mixed batches of these in a pitcher, which we put out with an ice bucket and the correct glassware.

Blush

Color: Pink

Glass: Cocktail

Flavor area: Lightly fruity, easily accessible gin

Ingredients

1 Bombay Sapphire

1/4 Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur

1/4 Kumquat liqueur (you have to make it yourself – a post for another time – substitute Cointreau)

half a Lime’s juice

drop of Cranberry juice

Combine all ingredients with ice in a shaker and shake vigorously.  At the party I shook up batches and funneled them into a good-looking clear liquor bottle that I had de-labeled and cleaned.  The bottle was then left in an ice bucket next to the correct glassware.

Lovely

Color: White (ok, it’s yellowy, like white wine is white.  But true white is a pain)

Glass: Wine

Flavor area: Light, aromatic, refreshing, and sweeter

Ingredients

2 Seltzer Water

1 White Wine (something dry and simple – I used an Austrian wine made by Berger)

3/4 St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur

1/4 Dry Vermouth

1/4 Dolin Blanc Vermouth

Combine all ingredients and stir.  Or, if using a siphon for the seltzer (a superior way to go), just add the seltzer last and allow the blast of seltzer to do the mixing.  For the party, I had some old french lemonade bottles with flip-tops that I put batches into and then topped with seltzer.  We left the bottles in a bowl with ice next to the correct glassware.

Note:  Sadly, we had such a good time at the party that we didn’t take any drink/party pictures.  Sorry, that was lame of us.  Here’s a final photo:

(My present to EE this year – they are antique sterling stirrer-straws. I was a little wary of giving her something cocktail-related, given it’s kind of my own hobby at all, but she does seem to like them very much.)

]]> http://www.tessinrinpoche.com/2010/02/15/a-valentines-threesome/feed/ 1 http://www.tessinrinpoche.com/2010/01/28/non-alcoholic-mixology/ http://www.tessinrinpoche.com/2010/01/28/non-alcoholic-mixology/#comments Fri, 29 Jan 2010 05:32:46 +0000 Bertessa http://www.tessinrinpoche.com/?p=789

An N.A. Cleanser.  Serve it on the rocks, or in a flute.  With brunch, or at cocktail hour.

If you read lots of drinking/mixology blogs, you will have noted that January is practically international sobriety month.  Everyone needs a break after the holidays.  Here in Tessin land, we try for a little more balance by having non-drinking days every week (as opposed to a lot all at the beginning of the year).

Sometimes, though, the lure of drink-having ritual, or a desire for a new flavor, beckons when we do not want any alcohol.  Or we have a guest (like EE’s young cousin) who wants to feel part of the party, but can’t have alcohol.  I have also been informed that pregnant ladies do not lose their desire for tasty beverages even though they cannot imbibe fine spirits.

To support such challenging periods in life, I make some N.A.s.  I have not perfected the N.A. - I  can’t make one that really seems correct served up in a martini glass, and I am over-reliant on seltzer – but I have made some tasty beverages:

N.A. Pomegranate Lime

1/2 Pomegranate juice

1/4 Agave nectar

juice from 1/2 a lime

Mix the above ingredients and then top off with 3 times as much water as mix.  You can use sparkling or still, rocks or not.

N.A. Ginger Clementine

1 clementine orange, peeled

1/3 grapefruit juice

1/4 ginger juice

a few frozen cranberries

Muddle the ingredients (be sure to pop the cranberries), and then shake.  Top off with just twice as much seltzer as mix.

Sometimes, we need to go a step beyond a tasty N.A. to an N.A. that will correct some of our non-N.A. excess.  In those cases, I tend to make a batch for the household/group, because everyone probably feels about the same way.

N.A. Cleanser

handful frozen blueberries

handful frozen cranberries

1/3 ginger juice

1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

Combine above and muddle.

2 pomegranate juice

1 cranberry juice

1 grapefruit juice

2/3 agave nectar

Mix in remaining ingredients and stir well.  From here you need to add water, still or sparkling, with ice or without.  It’s pretty versatile really, but EE says I have to warn that all that juice really may cause your body to flush itself out (maybe not the worst given the circs, as long as you’ll be near a restroom).

A few notes:

• Always use pure fruit juice with no sugar added – no cranberry cocktail, just the cranberry juice
• Anywhere I say agave, you could use honey or simple syrup, but I like the agave flavor
• The seltzer will work better if it is from a siphon – that way the blast of water mixes everything up

The summary: 

The point of this mini manifesto is to set the stage for more posts on things I consider cool, and in keeping with the Tessin Rinpoche aesthetic.  To keep it interesting, I will try to focus on things that are not currently particularly popular.  And I will try to be a tiny bit disciplined about logic, reason, and research. 

Is this whole endeavor sort of silly and presumptuous?  Sure.  But the serious goodness of TR’s cocktails aside, the whole blog is an exercise in silliness, so you won’t find a lot of apologies here. 

Lively/unserious commentary and debate always welcome.

Sometimes – unfortunately not often enough – it’s possible for one thing to simultaneously possess/embody:

1. Style
2. Tradition (in the best sense of the word)
3. Function
4. General conscientiousness (e.g., to be healthy, thrifty, locally-made, green – in the environmental sense…. not necessarily all of these at once… 1 or 2 may be enough). 

I try to keep a sharp eye out for anything that fits this description.  When something fits into all of these categories, it’s only a matter of time (though admittedly, sometimes a very long time) until it becomes popular in a more mainstream sense.

I’d say home mixology itself is a good example.  It has some inherent style (if you think drinks look pretty and that there’s graciousness in the act of serving them).  It certainly has tradition.  It is very functional – customized drinks for yourself and your favorite people, in the comfort of your (or their) home!  And it’s even thrifty.  No wonder the hobby is enjoying a resurgence.

For the purposes of brevity and ease of communication, I call anything and everything that I believe possesses all of these qualities, whether it’s currently popular or not: “cool.”  In my book, this is very high praise.

If something is EE-cool, the good news is that it doesn’t really matter to me whether it’s actually popular or not.  If it isn’t popular, who cares?  I think it’s cool in its own right, and if/when it’s “discovered,” I’ll feel I was ahead of the time.  If it is popular, who cares?  I still think it’s cool in it’s own right, it will probably stay popular for a while, and eventually it will probably become popular again (see previous point). 

(In case you’re wondering, Bertessa and I usually, but do not always, agree on what’s cool.  In general, he thinks anything very popular/branded becomes, almost by definition, uncool… whereas I don’t hold this against something.  Example: Louis Vuitton Damier canvas.  I, on the other hand, think he gives function too much weight relative to aesthetic appeal.  Sometimes function is enough to justify something, but it doesn’t make it cool.  Example: Crocs.)

A few months ago, I wrote about potpourri, which I think is cool.  But there are other examples, which have enjoyed varying degrees of popular resurgence (currently or previously).  Whether we own these things or not, I’m a big fan of all of all of the things the below.  Not everyone is.  But as explained, it doesn’t really matter to me. 

 Basic examples, in no particular order: 

Dutch bicycles

 Obviously beautiful, useful for getting around, healthy – if you ride carefully – and environmentally responsible.  Sadly, not too affordable in the USA.

Awesome.  Almost enough to motivate me to dress up and ride to work…

 …or maybe we can leave that to Bertessa.

Barbour coats

Stylish (especially if you’re tromping around the grounds of a Scottish castle, in mind or body), a wardrobe classic for outdoor hobbies since the 1910s, warm, waterproof, long-lasting, and relatively thrifty – esp. considering the long-lasting part.  

The classic – waxed cotton 

Great vintage poster, circa 1920s?

 Props to Barbour for having the good sense to feature a Border Terrier on their homepage.

But we will not be outdone, even if it requires resorting to poor-quality Blackberry photos from last winter.

(And few Tessin posts are complete without fitting in at least a couple pet photos.)

 Dahlia models her very own Barbour, with some snowmen in Central Park.

For the record, clothes for dogs don’t qualify as cool.  They’re just cute.

Dahlia on the move.

Picardie glasses

So nice to look at, traditionally used in many charming cafes and restaurants, stackable, very easy to hold, very difficult to break, very inexpensive. 

 So great!

 Wine in a Picardie glass at an outdoor cafe – so cool.

A drink target could involve an objective property of the drink being designed: flavor (spice, citrus, basil), glass-type (cocktail, highball, solo cup), color (red, clear, orange), garnish-use (onion, brussel sprouts, licorice)… really anything that describes some aspect of the drink.

Another drink target could be a concept, feeling, or vibe that the drink should impart.  This type of criteria is trickier because it is inherently more subjective, but it is often my most effective method when mixing for those I know and love the most.  Since I’m a home mixologists, most of my guests are in this category.

As an example of designing a drink by feeling, I have two recipes for the same feeling.  The two recipes are nice because they illustrate differences of interpreting the same mandate, and because one is simple, the other complex.

EE said to me one Thursday, when making omelettes – something she’s very, very good at –  ”I’d like a drink that tastes like herbs, like in Provence.”  Nevermind that neither of us have been to France outside Paris.  I thought I got the idea: fields of lavender, soft skies, not too sweet, not too anything. 

In my head, at least, I saw something like this:

Fields of Provence, with lavender flowertops and soft light, is a good example of a concept or feeling a drink can seek to capture.

The result was the light and relatively simple:  

Flowertops:

Ingredients

1 lavender-infused gin

1/2 Dolin blanc vermouth

1/3 St. Germain’s elderflower liqueur

5 drops lemon bitters

couple leaves of mint

Shake vigorously.  Serve up.  Garnish with a flower, piece of fresh lavender, or any herb you have around (you know, make it pretty).

Unfortunately (but not that unfortunately, as come on, we’re talking about mixology here), this isn’t what EE had in mind.  She refined her request by saying, “No, no, it needs to be red and yellow too!  Like a tablecloth.”  She was thinking of vibrant, Provence-style linens, and of something much more earthy.  Ah!  Got it.  The concept of rich, aromatic soil is a much more challenging flavor, because it is quite complex. 

The Provence-style linens EE was thinking of, to complement her omelettes.

Still Provence, but more earth, and red soil - the Terroir.

The result was a drink that got high marks for meeting the desired target, and for just being a great drink:

Terroir de Provence (Cheesy name, yes, but there are enough ingredients to merit the grandiosity.  As I say, I’ve never been there, so there’s a lot of tongue-in-cheek involved in this whole project):

Ingredients:

1 lavender-infused gin

1/2 sweet vermouth

1/2 St. Germain’s elderflower liqueur

1/3 basil-infused bourbon

1/3 Bols genever

splash of brandy

whisper of dill-infused vodka

a little freshly grated ginger

Stir.  Serve up with an herbal garnish (EE voted for a rosemary sprig).

Two great drinks (Flowertops for me, Terroir for EE) to accompany a simple meal at home. 

Bon apetit.

Templeton Rye takes the lead on my whiskey shelf.

Templeton Rye is from Templeton, Iowa.  My father-in-law turned me onto Templeton when we visited Des Moines over Christmas, and I became an instant convert (I sampled my first glass at Sbrocco, a really wonderful restaurant where you can buy your wine retail from their well-stocked basement).

The back of the bottle shows Templeton’s provenance (note the recent bottling date, 12-05-09 — this does not sit on store shelves long).

The trick with Templeton is that it can be challenging to obtain.  It is basically sold-out in Iowa, and even the restaurants that carry it run out.  Miraculously for those of us who live in states that allow online purchases of liquor, Templeton is also sold from Illinois by Binny’s.

Here’s what it all boils down to: Order it today.  Order a lot.

Templeton has a deeper and smokier flavor than I have encountered in other ryes.  It also has pedigree with a recipe dating to Prohibition.  And, oh yeah, it only cost me $35 a bottle!

As if all that weren’t enough, the TR initials and logo are perfect for Tessin Rinpoche:

Dahlia rocks my Templeton Rye logo hat

(sorry about the green eyes - my software has red-eye correction, not dog-eye correction)

EE pointed me to Maria Ricapito’s article in the NY Times about bar carts, which she saw on Eddie Ross’s excellent blog (he is featured in the article).

Eddie Ross’s bar cart, from his blog.

I’ve shaken a lot of martinis, and despite being crowded with a shaker and gin, that cart does not have what it takes – namely a work surface.  Plus, what happens to that glassware when you or a guest kicks the cart, throws your dog a tennis ball, or worse, if a small child comes over?  Eddie may well understand these limitations and have a plan for them, but I’m inclined to think it is more for show.  With due respect, this is not a mixologist’s cart – this is a poser cart.

The article’s basic point is that bar carts have had a resurgence recently, which can’t be denied.  What I question is whether bar carts really serve, or should serve, any of the reasons the article identified for the resurgence.  I identify these as:

1. Guests can make their own drinks – how Mad Men retro!
2. Having the liquor visually present encourages having a drink.
3. Carts look so good that the host is justified in limiting the drink options.
4. Carts in the living room remove the drink mess from the kitchen (so it can stop interfering with meal prep).

I take issue with all of these, because they place the style of the drink above the enjoyability of the drink (see the Theory) and the social responsibilities of a host.  Let’s go in order (and then probably throw in a bit more):

1.  Guests can make their own drinks

Unless the guest is very good friends with the host, or is explicitly asked to mix drinks by the host, a guest who barges over to the bar and pours a drink is not particularly polite.  How is the guest to know drinks are being offered?  How should the guest know if a particular bottle is being saved for a special occasion?

I’ve been a guest, and I’ve been a host, and guests are rarely comfortable mixing their own drinks.  Actually, most people aren’t very comfortable mixing drinks at all, but I hope this blog helps people get over that.  Offering a guest a drink is a gracious act, whereas simply pointing to the bar is likely to cause anxiety and indecision.  The result is that people will pour/mix the simplest thing available.  Given the choice between mixing a drink and pouring already-open wine, people pour the wine.

Fine, so the host says, as graciously as possible, ”make a drink, there’s my lovely bar cart.”  Then the guest is not being rude by barging over, but the host(ess) could probably do better.  (Unless, ahem, the guest is me; I’ll admit I enjoy mixing drinks for a party in almost anyone’s home.)  I try to avoid gratuitous references to Mad Men, because as a general rule, I do not think it portrays the best version of American cocktail culture.  But, for the sake of argument, even on Mad Men - Don offers the drinks when guests come over.  Don does not say, “would you like a drink? The bar’s over there.”  Knox Harrington does say that in The Big Lebowski, and the Dude identifies him as “a friend with a cleft asshole.”  The Dude has it right.

2. Having liquor omnivisible is good

This point is more debatable, and depends a great deal on the specifics of the home, bar cart, and entertaining style.  Still, the premise is generally suspect.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with having cocktail after work, but there is something wrong with ex-Domino editor Deborah Needleman’s suggestion that, “The idea of walking over and fixing myself or my husband a drink after a long day is so visually appealing.”  Yes a drink can, and should, be visually appealing, but you shouldn’t need liquor stored in the living room to convince you to have a drink at the end of the day…  Nor should you drink cocktails out of visual vanity.  Do you need your coffee maker in the living room to offer people coffee?  Home mixology is meant to provide great drinks, which people want because they are great drinks.  It is not, and should not be, more complicated than that.

Additionally, many of the carts have a lower shelf designed for glassware – a fairly serious safety hazard to even closely-supervised and well-behaved children and pets.  Whoa, didn’t think Tessa has kids?  You’re right, I don’t, but I’d say it is being a poor host to try and entertain seriously in a home that is hostile to children for even short visits.

Beyond all that, I obviously like drinking, but sometimes everyone needs a break.  Some guests are on a very prolonged break from alcohol (or are too youg for it).  And the sight of a bar cart is rarely an appropriate part of a breakfast mileau.  If the bar cart truly wheels in and out, great, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to make it a permanent living room fixture.

3. A pretty cart justifies limited drink options

Apparently, a bar cart is “a signifier of graciousness, good breeding, conviviality and sophistication.”  I don’t think a bar cart is the opposite, but I think if you’re seeking to invest in this kind of signifier, maybe just buy good art.  The bar cart itself is neither here nor there.

When I went to Employees Only during the Manhattan Cocktail Classic, I heard the wise advice that dictating what someone drinks is an “act of violence” upon that poor soul.  We all like different things, and drinks can be very, very different.  Sure, you want to encourage a general atmosphere, but you should not be serving sweet champagne drinks only.  It’s upsetting to those of us who hate sweet champagne drinks.

If you want to “curate” a balanced selection of cocktails for your party, then great.  If you want to tell people to just bring what they want, also great.  Or, just as good, DON’T OFFER DRINKS!  Cocktails are not mandatory unless you’re having a cocktail party.  Do I like cocktails added to almost any event?  Obviously, but believing that you are being a gracious, sophisticated host by serving a severely limited selection of poorly-chosen cocktails is just plain wrong.

What this boils down to is: don’t be a poser.  If you don’t actually live a life that needs a cocktail cart, don’t try to force the issue for the sake of style.

4. The cart is a good place to make drinks

Have you ever made a drink?  Any drink?  Most carts are small with almost zero work surface.  Pay attention, and you’ll notice in Mad Men that the little trays and carts in people’s offices do not render mixed drinks – they render liquor neat or on the rocks.  Occasionally seltzer may make it in.  This is not mixology.  And yes, you be specific, gracious, and polite in offering someone a whiskey.  If that is the limit of your drink-making in a given setting, then yes, a cart is ideal.

But for anything beyond the most basic of drinks, the tools alone take up too much space: knife, cutting board, mixer, ice, strainer, spoon, jigger, and we haven’t even gotten to the non-alcohol ingredients (limes take up lots of space and are really uncool when off-cart rolling around the party).  Then start cutting the limes; they’re a mess.  Ok, Ok, what about martinis?  You could shake a simple martini.  Maybe true, if it were the only drink you served, but you still need a bucket to dump the used ice in.  The biggest problem with taking the mixology out of the kitchen is the lack of a sink.  Shakers don’t need to be washed between every drink - rinsing is probably fine - but it’s hard to rinse at a cart in your living room.

Carts can be effective storage – and when I had a cart, that’s what it was for – but I challenge you to consider whether something else may be better.  Don’t automatically think you’re “a pretty cool dude if you have a cocktail cart.”

Summary

Carts can be effective storage, and can be a lovely support to certain drinking habits such as:

• occasional scotch on the rocks
• displaying a few prized items
• limited storage
• access to booze if your home is so large that traveling from the smoking room to the butler’s pantry is tiresome

Ultimately, however, carts cannot provide the functions suggested by the Times article.  I think Steven Sclaroff (quoted in the article) has the best insights, “I need way more room for bottles et al than a cart generally provides. If you like liquor, they’re scrunchy…. They can be adorable objects, but even I stop drinking before I would need the liquor rolled up to me.”

My current mixology cabinet.  Finding a larger, safer space – a closet, a cabinet, an armoire - hopefully somewhat near to a sink (or realistically equiped to function without one), is generally superior to a dusty bar cart.

My grandparents’ home bar, off their living room.  (Entrance in the hallway. No doorknob – pull the painting) Midland, Texas

I can’t honestly say that my grandparents’ home bar inspired my mixology habit from the time I was a child (most of the time its crystal-lined shelves were simply a liability as we ran around the house), but it has always been my standard of the sweetest addition to a living room.  Separated from the living room by a shining stainless counter and hidden door, their bar was always a mysterious land of adult-things.  At this point, it strikes me as simply awesome.

Why is this relevant?

Because this Christmas (like most Christmases of my childhood), I’m hanging out at my grandparents’ house in Midland, Texas.  And because I want to inspire people with a variety of home bar styles (my way is not the only way), I will be conducting home bar/mixology station tours periodically.  Hopefully these tours will show a range of home mixology styles.  If you want your station featured, invite us over!

Now, if you’re not familiar with Midland, Texas, it does have a lot of the attributes you might imagine: oil rigs, ranch houses, Suburbans, more than a few people in Western hats and boots, tumbleweed, mesquite, and – my favorite part – a big, wide open sky.

My Granddad was kind enough to give me a quick tour of the bar – and more importantly, to share a little of his cocktail-drinking history, from age 12 to present.  Things were different in his childhood home in southern Louisiana back then:

Another view of the bar.  My Grandfather was the artist’s model in the painting next to it.

A little more detail on the bar and the home cocktail lifestyle it was created for:

When my Grandparents built their home in 1976, they entertained frequently, and they still do.  Their entertaining is a mix of informal and family events, as well as structured dinner clubs, bridge clubs, and other such social clubs that thrive in a place where restaurants just aren’t a big deal.  Wine was less common, and most of their entertaining would involve liquor-based drinks.  Given the circs, a decent bar was a natural feature to include in the design.  My Grandmother now thinks the architect and designer may have gone a bit overboard (that a simpler mixing station along the wall would be sufficient), but she brushed aside offers to include shutters so the bar could be hidden from “churchy friends and pastors.”  She figured since they were certainly going to serve alcohol, people may as well see where it came from.  Lesson: don’t hide your bar away!  Let it shine!

The drinks of the day were simpler mixes than many of the drinks commonly featured on this blog: whiskey with water or Coke, vodka and 7Up, Crown Royal on the rocks.  Though they did have a friend named Gus who made his own martinis.  Guests were encouraged to mix their own drinks.  Interestingly, rum wasn’t very common, despite my image of tiki drinks being popular during the era.  One favorite, though was frozen margarita mixes (the kind in a cardboard-wrapped can that comes frozen).  I think I would have followed Gus’s lead.

Bertessa with his Granddad in the home bar.

(And yes, with any luck, I will look just like him in  about 50 years.)

Coordinated variations on a strong milieu are good for any party, whether at a home, a restaurant, or somewhere bigger and grander.  The Plaza’s setup allowed for a calmer, well-lit, introductory space with gorgeous architecture in which to have a drink and settle in.  Guests could then move up to a darker, swanky lounge and nightclub atmosphere – complete with a bar made out of ice!

Did the ice bar really add a lot?  Was it worth reviving memories of sea-sickness in cruise ship casinos?  I’m not sure, but it definitely beats the perfunctory folding table covered with cheap white linens.

The ice-encased cocktail menu atop the bar made of ice

I had high hopes for the home of the fabled Oak Room (which I like extra because they have a website background similar to ours here), not to mention of ELOISE.  I was a bit disappointed, but the mixology was definitely a step in the right direction.  There was a cocktail menu (encased in ice) – a clear sign that someone’s heart is at least in the right place.  The menu tended toward the sweet, vodka, and champagne.  None of these are my thing.  No worries, they had a full bar, so you could call your drinks, almost.

If you, gentle reader, should soon find yourself with the task of negotiating a hotel bar package:

It is unfortunate that even the home of such a great bar can’t pass my simple dive-bar sizing test with their party bar package.

In classic “full bar package” fashion, there was plenty of great booze, but no liqueurs, bitters, digestifs, aperitifs, fresh fruits or juices.  One of the bars managed to not have dry vermouth (they were very ashamed of that, to be fair).  I don’t believe that hotels should be allowed to sell bar packages without guaranteeing at least a bottle of Angostura bitters.  This one correction would open a world of simple classics any bartender should be able to make.  Imagine what would happen with the introduction of Campari.

This is the kind of detail over which to get serious.

Brides, grooms, and mother-in-laws to-be, listen up! Bertessa says: Bitters and Campari at the bar(s) = better than flowers in the bathroom.  Not that they were present at my my own reception (the Campari, not the flowers – which were most certainly there).  But I have since gotten a little bit older and a whole lot wiser, maybe…

For all the shortcomings of hotel bar packages, it is fun to see more people wandering around with martini glasses (even when filled with green apple martinis – I was really shocked to see that early ’00s trend) than beer bottles.  We are heading the right direction.  And the Plaza is a sweet place to party.