Drink 3: The Brave Potato

The Name:  The Brave Potato

The Bar: The Dublin House (79^th between Broadway and Amsterdam, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: This one isn’t really a funny story or inside joke, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to get a drink with this name.  The significance is that Brave Potato is the name of a theater group I helped found in college. The name comes from a Spanish dish called Patatas Bravas, which translates to, you guessed it, “brave potatoes.”

I won’t go into it too much, but this group means a lot to me. There wasn’t a lot of student theater on campus when I first arrived at college, and I thought this was a real shame. Kenyon has a fantastic theater program (recently named the 12^th best in the country by some poll or another) and a large community of students interested in participating in theater, but there were a limited number of productions in a given year. With so many creative minds, there was no reason that students couldn’t be making their own theater.

Brave Potato eventually attracted a rather steady group of committed members, and by my senior year, was drawing consistent crowds and producing innovative theater on a shoestring budget, including the show that spawned the second drink on this blog—the Evil Rapping Clown. The group became more successful than I could have imagined, and inspired numerous other student groups to appear on campus, so that there is now a vibrant independent theater community on campus. The group and its legacy is one of the things of which I’m most proud. And, my senior year, the group even won the college’s award for Student Organization of the Year!

We got a plaque and everything.

Feel free to check out recordings of some of Brave Potato’s shows on their youtube channel.

Ordering The Drink: The Dublin House is a traditional Irish pub on the Upper West Side which has been around since 1921, and has been owned by the same family for all this time. It’s a nice neighborhood spot with great happy hour deals. For my recent birthday, I met up with some friends there, knowing it was a quiet and relatively spacious bar that actually has room where one can sit for a while on weekday nights. The bar is definitely known for its beer—cheaply priced and well-served Guinness and Smithwicks and the like, but has reliable mixed drinks

The bartender was exactly who you would expect him to be—a rather gruff old man with the type of character you want behind the bar at an Irish Pub in New York. But, it occurred to me that he wasn’t the absolute best candidate for this type of thing. He wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but he seemed less likely to embrace this idea than the younger bartenders I’ve had for the past few drinks. On most days, I would have just happily ordered a Guinness…but it was my birthday, and I wanted to get a special drink. And given how proud I am of this group, I felt that a Brave Potato would be most applicable.

I went up to the bartender and explained that I had an unusual request—that I wanted a drink called a Brave Potato that didn’t exist, but he could put anything in it as long as he thought it would fit the name “Brave Potato.” Now, this bartender at no point rejected the idea or seemed like he didn’t want to do it. But he wasn’t excited about it either. Instead, he just seemed really confused. Below is an imperfect and edited transcription of our discussion.

Miles: So, you can put anything in it that you want. As long as you think the drink would be called the Brave Potato.

Bartender: Okay. A Brave Potato. What’s in it?

Miles: Whatever you want to put in it.

Bartender: Okay. But what’s in the drink?

Miles: That’s up to you. You can put anything you want to put in it.

Bartender: I don’t know that drink though.

Miles: The drink doesn’t exist. It’s just an inside joke that we have [referencing friends, watching curiously from the sidelines] and so we want a drink with that name. But it doesn’t exist, so you can put anything you want in it. It’s up to you.

Bartender: What’s it called?

Miles: A Brave Potato.

Bartender: What’s in it?

Miles: Well…we were all thinking that maybe it would have vodka in it? Because vodka’s made of potatoes, so…

Bartender: So, vodka.

Miles: Yeah, a vodka-based drink.

Bartender: So you just want vodka?

Miles: Well…it would have whatever you want in it. But preferably it wouldn’t just be solid vodka.

Bartender: Would you want soda in it?

Miles: Sure, that would work. But, it’s really up to you.

Bartender: We have, like, orange vodka.

Miles: Yeah, that would probably be a good addition.

Bartender: So, some orange vodka?

Miles: Well, hopefully with other things.

This continued for a while, until the bartender abruptly decided to go make this drink. I flashed my friends a quick thumbs up.

Just some of the many flavored vodkas available at The Dublin House.

It seemed as if our surly bartender was actually getting into it. He was going from one end of the bar to the other, and seemed to be putting a bunch of things into the drink. My apprehension vanished. This guy has been a bartender for years! He knows what he’s doing. This is going to be delicious.

He returned to where I was sitting at the bar with a bright red drink. It was a strong shade of red. Bold. Bold like the theater. Very promising. 

He put the drink down and began to walk away.

“May I ask what’s in it?” I asked.

“I dunno,” he said. Referring to the drink he had just made. Upon further pushing, he clarified that he had put different flavors of vodka.

“Vanilla, strawberry, cherry, I dunno.”

And with these words of confidence, I took a sip.

Look at me! I'm taking a sip!

The Drink:

Orange vodka?

Vanilla vodka?

Strawberry vodka?

Cherry vodka?

Maybe more vodka?

Assessment of Drink: I’ve been lucky enough to have found success with the first two drinks for this blog. But I knew that not all the drinks that I would try would be delicious. Look at the picture above. Look at how excited I am for my Brave Potato.

Now, here is a picture of me after I’ve tried it.

The curious and unknown concoction of vodkas was disgustingly sweet, unsurprising considering the ingredients. One of my friends commented that it reminded her of Kool-Aid. This is definitely a good comparison, but I’m going to take it one step further. It wasn’t just Kool-Aid, it was off-brand Kool-Aid. It was like one those fruit punch juice brands that tried to recreate the subpar flavoring of Kool-Aid yet never quite succeeded. If this were sold in stores, it would be under the name Qewl-Ayd.

Also, whenever there’s a kind of disgusting edible liquid, people say that it tastes like cough syrup. Well, this one did not taste like cough syrup. But it tasted like it should have tasted like cough syrup. As in, cough syrup would have complimented it nicely.

After all this, you might be surprised to learn that I was not a fan of the drink.

Does It Live Up To The Name: No. Absolutely not. The honorable Brave Potato deserved better than this. I would never drink this and think it should have been called a Brave Potato. Now, it did have vodka in it. A lot of vodka in it. And that more than accounts for the “potato” part of the name. But the bravery was missing. There was nothing bold in this drink—the flavor was certainly overpowering, but not in a good way. I wanted something assertive, something spicy. Or, if you want to go by name alone, maybe put in some Jagermeister or some Barenjager—something with “jager” in it. We know jager means hunter, so that would be pretty brave. There just were so many possibilities for this drink.

Although, to be fair, it was pretty brave of me to drink it. Maybe that was this bartender’s plan all along.

I should say that, despite the failure of this particular drink, I had a wonderful evening out with some great company. And the other, more standard drinks were all more than adequate. The bartender at The Dublin House is hardly going to be named mixologist of the year, but it’s not like that was his goal. I just think I’ll stick to Guinness the next time I’m there.

And, despite this drink trying to sully the good name of Brave Potato, the group still goes strong.

They have a banner now and everything.

Drink 2: The Evil Rapping Clown

The Name: The Evil Rapping Clown

The Bar: Bar9 (807 9^th Ave, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: You may remember my friend Kenny from the first post, when he showed up and started making balloon animals. Well, the reason he happened to have balloons to turn into animals is because of his profession. Kenny is a clown, performing at birthday parties and other such events. And there are very few other times I can think of where a person’s profession and personality meshed so perfectly. Kenny is a perfect clown. He’s entertaining, hilarious, and hardworking.

But this is not the first time Kenny has been a clown. In college, I had the privilege of directing Kenny in a show entitled Stephen King High School: The Musical by Jamie King and Sam Rosenberg. The main antagonist in this musical is Dollarwise, an evil rapping clown inspired by Pennywise from Stephen King’s It.

Kenny was appropriately terrifying. As any evil rapping clown should be.

The evil rapping clown in its natural habitat.

Towards the end of the show, Dollarwise lives up to his name by performing a full rap about how evil he is. It includes lines about making Shamu fight Flipper, being the cause of cellular roaming, and threatening to eat people.  The whole performance happens to be on youtube—check it out! It’s a fun show, relatively short to watch, and it will help you appreciate this next drink all the more.

Ordering The Drink: It happened to be Kenny’s birthday, so this drink seemed like the obvious choice. I ordered directly from the bartender, who seemed really hesitant at first. To the point that I didn’t think she would make the drink. She was especially confused by the part where she could put anything that she wanted in it.

“Even if it tastes bad? Someone once made me a drink that was Budweiser, tomato juice, and lemon schnapps.”

I told her that I definitely did not want that. No one would ever want that. Why would a person want that?

Perhaps because it was Kenny’s birthday, and perhaps because her fellow bartender was urging her on, she agreed to do it, and the three of us brainstormed what would be in the Evil Rapping Clown. The other bartender said that there had to be a cherry in it to represent the clown’s red nose. I saw a bottle of Fireball cinnamon whiskey and suggested that it might be a good choice to represent the evil. After a few minutes, our brave bartender said she thought she had an idea and began to craft the drink. This was very involved. I could see that the drink itself had many layers of color which she was stacking on top of each other, and then there was the most involved garnish I’ve ever seen. At first, she appeared to be making a crucifix out of bar straws, with a cherry in the middle and olives on either end, but she scrapped this. And then scrapped a couple other ideas. I had no idea what this garnish was supposed to be, but she was determined to get it right.

The bartender works on the second draft of the garnish.

The Drink:

[Each ingredient is layered—not mixed together]

Grenadine

Ginger Ale

Blue Curacao

Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey

Three lime slices and a maraschino cherry for garnish

Assessment of Drink: The layering was very cool, and added to the overall enjoyment of the drink. The grenadine, ginger ale, and blue curacao are all very sweet—so when you first drink it, you get a blast of sweet, which is then nicely cut by the spiciness of the fireball. It’s very odd, but pleasing—almost like a spicy fruit punch. This drink would absolutely not work without the fireball there to undercut the sweet—it was still a sweet drink as is. But if you don’t mind that, then I’d certainly recommend it. I must say that I’m a fan of Blue Curacao. If you’re unfamiliar with it, it’s a bright blue liquor—think of blue powerade—but it doesn’t taste as blue as it looks, which is very fortunate. And for those of you who claim that blue is not a flavor, it totally is. It shouldn’t be, but it totally is. When I say “blue” then you all know exactly what flavor I’m referring to. It tastes of artificial raspberries and chemicals. But, I digress—blue curacao does not taste like this. I used it recently to make a drink for an Arrested Development party (the drink was called the I Just Blue Myself) and it has a really intriguing, citrusy taste.

A few people tasted the Evil Rapping Clown, and though all seemed to have positive reactions, it is fitting that the person who liked it the most was Kenny himself.

An evil rapping clown holding an Evil Rapping Clown.

Does It Live Up To The Name: It absolutely lives up to the name. The evil comes through in the spiciness—peeking through the sweetness, which in turn represents the fun and harmless clown exterior. Unfortunately, I was unable to get a picture which adequately showed the distinct blue and red stripe in the drink. In the picture below, you can kind of see that the red grenadine is all at the bottom. But, in person, the colors were very neat, and brought to mind a colorful circus. So, automatically, the drink did a good job personifying (or…drinkifying?) an evil clown.

Pictured: Miles failing at taking good pictures.

But even if the drink had consisted of something else entirely (like, Budweiser, tomato juice, and lemon schnapps…except please not that) the garnish which the bartender labored over would have made this drink successful. She painstakingly constructed an evil clown face. Following her fellow bartender’s suggestion, she used the maraschino cherry to make the nose, and settled on using the lime slices to make two eyes and a smile. The result is scary.

I'll see you in your dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeams!

  

Like, really scary.

We ALL float down here!

This is the garnish of nightmares.

And when you're down here with me, YOU'LL FLOAT TOO!

Our bartender was very pleased with her efforts—she took a picture herself before letting me take the drink to the table.

The only way this drink didn’t live up to the name is that there was nothing to signify that this is an evil rapping clown specifically. But, honestly, I don’t know how one would have done that, so I let it slide—and the garnish was so perfect. 

And so terrifying. Those limes follow you no matter where you're standing in the room.

On a side note, I was pleased that, for the second time out of two attempts, the bartender ultimately seemed to really enjoy the experiment, and the challenge of crafting the drink. Our bartender was certainly pleased with her final product, and was thrilled that the birthday clown had enjoyed his evil clown drink.

Happy birthday...you scary fucking clown

Drink 1: Frog Hitler

The Name: Frog Hitler

The Bar: The Rye House (11 W. 17^th St, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: I was eating Vietnamese food with my two friends, Laura and Ryan. As an appetizer, we ordered some frogs legs in a chili lemongrass sauce. They were delicious, but Ryan and I noticed that Laura was not eating any. We asked her why this was, and she explained that she had worked with toads this past summer and felt that she couldn’t eat a frog leg given her experience working with amphibians. It’s a completely reasonable explanation—but because Ryan and I are such good friends, we decided to convince her that she should try them anyway. For some reason, we thought that the best way to accomplish this goal would be through merciless taunting. Eventually, we resorted to saying that these particular legs only belonged to mean frogs. Evil frogs. Frogs who were total dicks.

“This frog would push other frogs into the water and laugh at them.”

“This frog contributed to the Rick Santorum presidential campaign.”

“This frog likes to be passive aggressive and something will be wrong but when you ask the frog if something is wrong, they’ll say that nothing is wrong. But then you find out that they were talking about you behind your back!”

“This frog beats up other frogs. And toads. This frog actually beat up the very toads you worked with this summer.”

Eventually, there was only one place for this to go.

“This is Frog Hitler.”

We laughed at the notion of Frog Hitler—who we all imagined as a particularly grumpy frog with a little black mustache and slick black hair, angrily ribbiting as he takes over another lily pad. It was a silly joke—something that we should have laughed at and then moved on from. But, instead, we somehow continued to talk about Frog Hitler for most of the meal. By the time we had paid for dinner, it was as if Frog Hitler was a fourth dinner companion. For the record, Laura did not eat any frog legs. Ryan and I had to finish Frog Hitler off by ourselves.

Ordering The Drink: After dinner, we went to The Rye House—a fun bar near Union Square with a great drink selection. After we had finished our first round and it was time to order our next drink, I mentioned that I wished there was a drink called the Frog Hitler. We imagined how a bartender would react.

“I’d like a Frog Hitler.”

“A what?”

“A Frog Hitler.”

“Is that a drink?”

“No. But it is the drink I’d like to have.”

“Well, what’s in it?”

“I don’t know, whatever you think should be in it. You’re the bartender. Make me a Frog Hitler—whatever that would mean.”

As we discussed this imagined conversation, our server came over and asked what we would like to have. I must admit, I hesitated before ordering-- unsure whether or not this was a good idea. Luckily, Ryan looked at her with a straight face and, gesturing to me, said, “Well, he’d like a Frog Hitler.”

Our poor, confused server thought she was just having trouble hearing over the noise. After repeating the ridiculous pairing of words a few times, Ryan finally broke down laughing, unable to keep his straight face. I explained to our server that there was an inside joke between the three of us about “Frog Hitler,” and it would mean a lot if I could have a drink by that name. I said that I totally understood that this was a ridiculous request and we’d all understand if the bartender refused, but that he could put anything he wanted in the drink—as long as he thought it would qualify as a Frog Hitler.

Our server looked completely puzzled. Then, after a second, she smiled and said “He can put anything he wants in it?” We said yes, and she put in our order. She came back a few minutes later and excitedly told us that the bartender was going to whip something up.

A little bit later, she proudly set down my drink. The Frog Hitler.

The Frog Hitler, presented here with decorative candlelight illumination

The Drink:
Jalapeño infused tequila 
Kale 
Orange bitters 
Dry vermouth 
Indonesian rum

Assessment of Drink: The jalapeno-infused tequila is certainly the most prominent ingredient in this drink. It hits you pretty hard and burns right in the solar plexus. Because of its powerful kick, it’s not a drink you can consume quickly—it’s one that you have to sip. But, it’s delicious. If you can get over the heat, it has a nice flavor and was certainly a pleasant, if intense drink. Under a name that didn’t include an evil dictator, it could even appear on a menu somewhere.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Our wonderful server—who seemed to be really into this whole experiment, and who confessed to having tried a sip of the drink from the shaker after the bartender had poured it in the glass—emphasized how the drink was powerful and aggressive, and she is certainly correct. It is clear that the bartender focused more on the Hitler aspect of the drink name, as opposed to the frog. The drink is assertive and no nonsense—certainly an evil dictator in cocktail form. I never would have thought that a mixture of tequila and rum could still relate to a German figure, but it worked. Upon first tasting the drink—all three of us agreed that it certainly embodied its moniker. After more discussion, though, we felt the frog part was missing a little bit. The kale was added to give it a greenish tint but, especially in the dim lighting, it didn’t really look all that green to us. 

Not pictured: a green drink

We had all imagined a bright green color—perhaps a drink made with Midori. I also suggested that maybe pickle juice would have been a good ingredient, although not necessarily with the other things in this drink. But the pickle juice might have added some nice swampy brininess. We tried to say that since the jalapeno gave it a nice kick, that was supposed to symbolize the powerful legs of the frog, but that’s kind of reaching and I know that. All of this is nitpicking, though—in general, we were incredibly happy with the Frog Hitler. And I laughed almost every time I went to drink it because I couldn’t believe this had happened.

As we drank and enjoyed the Frog Hitler, Ryan, Laura, and I all decided that this was a great idea. Cocktails have such unusual names—we could certainly create some of our own. Somehow the idea of starting a blog came up—and now, here you are. I’m excited to see how other bars react to the unusual orders. I must say that The Rye House was a great bar to start with—both our server and the bartender fully embraced the Frog Hitler. By the end of the meal, our server even brought us complimentary shots for being such a fun group. Although this probably had just as much to do with the fact that our friend Kenny joined us and made balloon animals at the table.

Laura with Kenny's balloon art