Drink 24: The Fish of the Sea

The Name: The Fish of the Sea                                                                             

The Bar: The Mulberry Project (149 Mulberry Street, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: Fans of this blog will surely remember Quinnland-- my unofficial second family which passes an old dirty beer can back and forth with my family. Well, "The Can" is not the only strange tradition that our families have. There was another one too-- a tradition which occurred every summer when Leila and I were growing up. Since the Quinns and my family vacationed together, during those summer vacation, Leila and I would be visited multiple times by a creature called The Fish of the Sea.

Everyone's familiar with Santa Claus and The Tooth Fairy-- magical gift-bringing beings much loved by kids everywhere. Well, in my childhood, The Fish of the Sea was a member of their hallowed ranks. Each summer, Leila and I would find notes hidden around our summer house, written on fish-shaped paper, addressed to the "Little Blond Boy and Little Blond Girl." On these notes would be instructions-- written in rhyme-- telling us when the Fish of the Sea (or F.O.T.S. as the note was typically signed) would be arriving. At that specified time, Leila and I would go to a window in our vacation house, and cast a fishing pole with a bucket on the end of it out the window. After letting the Fish of the Sea know we were ready (which we did by chanting "Here Fishy Fishy Fishy") good ol' F.O.T.S. would tug on the bucket. We'd reel in the line and, lo and behold, a toy would be inside the bucket! It was a great tradition and always a highlight of summer vacations.

The Little Blond Boy and Little Blond Girl, pre-fishing

Now, surely, many of you are wondering why the Fish of the Sea did not visit you during your summer! Well, Leila and I discovered somewhat early on that the Fish of the Sea might not be...what word am I thinking of...real. For one thing, the notes written by the "fish" were in a handwriting that was shockingly similar to my mother's (which I also thought bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy's but Leila didn't seem to think so). And then there was the fact that my mother always seemed to disappear during our fishing excursions, only to came back immediately after the fishing was done, always sounding disappointed and surprised that she had missed it even though she KNEW when the fish was going to arrive. This happened every single time. And the weirdest part is that there was never an excuse. My mother never went "Oh, well, I was out getting groceries," or "Oh, I went for a bike ride," so we were never given an alternative option for where she might have been. All we knew was that she was not in the house. And that she "thinks she might have seen the fish swimming away." There was also the problem that the actual biology of the Fish of the Sea was not explained. As far as we could tell, F.O.T.S. was an actual fish. They certainly identified as such. Perhaps a giant, human-sized fish. But...how did they get around on land? Was this a giant fish with legs? Did the fish swim around through the air like some Miyazakiesque creation? It's not like our toys were ever wet-- so while the Fish of the Sea presumably needed water to live, somehow the toys stayed perfectly dry. Was this a merperson of some sort? They clearly had to have thumbs, in order to write us notes in marker. Unlike Santa Claus who we could visualize, the Fish of the Sea just kind of existed in an unexplained way which we immediately began to question once we discovered at an early age how fish worked.

Artist's rendering of The Fish of the Sea

Because of these reasons, Leila and I pretty quickly began to guess that it was my mother on the other end of the fishing line. I can't say how early on, but it was pretty early on. I don't actually remember a time where I thought the Fish of the Sea was real, although evidence of such a time does exist on home videos where Leila and I are clearly excited and not yet ruined to harsh realities of the non-magical world. I do remember there was one summer where we started to think "Huh, this doesn't make sense" and first formed our "The Fish of the Sea is not a real aquatic deity that visits us and only us each summer to give us toys including some we had specifically asked our parents for" theory. By the very next summer, we were convinced that The Fish was not real. But, we still really enjoyed the tradition. It was a lot of fun and, frankly, we were getting a steady supply of toys for basically no reason. And our parents seemed to be having fun too, so we kept up the pretense that we believed the Fish was real for quite some time. Our parents seemed to know what we were doing as we became way too old to actually believe it...but also kept up the pretense. Even after Leila and I had revealed that we knew the truth about Santa and the Tooth Fairy, we were still fishing for toys. So, soon, we had a tradition each summer of us throwing a fishing pole outside of a window so that my mother could put toys in it and we would all pretend that it was because of a beautiful and monstrous fish-human hybrid that none of us actually believed was real or thought anyone else believed was real either. It was vaguely cultlike, but still great. And a wonderful tradition that really speaks to the creativity of our parents.

We continue calling for the Fish of the Sea to this very day. As you can see from the picture, nothing much has changed.

Ordering The Drink: Leila now lives in Boston, but was back in New York for a few days for Thanksgiving, so we found some time to go out for drinks. After considering a few places, we decided to go to The Mulberry Project-- a bar in Little Italy that I'd not been to before, but which had been recommended to me specifically as a place that would be good for this blog. We walked up Mulberry Street (and saw a horse, no a zebra, no a reindeer, no an elephant, no an elephant and some giraffes, no a fucking parade!!!!!!!!) and were surprised to find that, at one point, we must have passed the bar. Even though we'd been looking for its street number-- 149-- we had somehow ended up at building number 165. We turned around and looked extra closely, before seeing a red door situated kind of underground, which, in the corner, had the numbers "149" scrawled on it. I knocked on the door and there was no response. After becoming genuinely worried that somehow the internet had given us the wrong address, we found that the door was unlocked and, when opened, led us to a dimly-lit alcove-- still no bar. Leila became convinced that at best, we were in the wrong place and, at worst, we were definitely going to get murdered.

The last known photograph ever taken of Leila Quinn.

But, after going through another door, we finally found ourselves in a beautiful little bar and took our seats. When the menu arrived, I could understand why this place had been recommended. Even though there were signature cocktails, they also encouraged creativity in your drink ordering. For example, you could request a drink based on a handful of ingredients listed-- including seasonal fruits like persimmon, pomegranate, and rambutan, or a selection of "tonight's syrups"; a rotating roster of flavors which, that night, included cinnamon, vadouvan curry, and a Japanese chili pepper called togarashi. We were intrigued and excited.

Leila. Intrigued and excited.

But before we tested our bartender's improvisational skills, we decided to order from the signature cocktail menu. They didn't disappoint. I got the "Sister Morphine" a creamy not-too-sweet drink made from plum liqueur, gin, vermouth, and coconut water. It was great, but Leila's was even better. She got the "Bitch with an Egg" which I can only describe as a combination of an old fashioned, eggnog, and a pumpkin spice latte. It was amazing.

Our first round of drinks.

After finishing these drinks, it was time to get the Fish of the Sea. Our bartender, a really nice guy named Aaron with a hipster-lumberjack aesthetic--unsurprisingly, was 100% on board. In no time, The Fish of the Sea was in front of us. And we didn't even have to call out "Here Fishy, Fishy, Fishy" this time.

We took a selfie with our drinks because it seemed appropriate at the time.

The Drink:

Islay Scotch
Vermouth di Torino 
Chamomile
Angostura Bitters 

Lemon peel
Alcohol-soaked cherry

Assessment of Drink: Anyone with a passing familiarity of cocktails will recognize that this was essentially a Manhattan: whiskey, vermouth, angostura, and a maraschino cherry. Although, at The Mulberry Project, they have their own housemade maraschino cherries that are not sweet like the variety we're all familiar with and which are absolutely amazing-- they're juicy and plump with their alcohol-soaking and maintained the wonderful tartness cherries should have. They didn't have that artificial candy flavor at all. Really great stuff.

Me, with the cherry in my mouth. I could have basically just received a bowl of these as a bar snack and gotten drunk off of them alone and I would have been happy.

So, it was a Manhattan, but a very well-crafted one at that (thanks, Aaron). But it wasn't JUST a Manhattan. Because it had chamomile in it. Now, I don't think anyone would immediately think that chamomile tea and such a strong drink would go together--I know I was skeptical at first--but it really did work. The flavors definitely contrasted, but in a complimentary way. It gave the Manhattan a vaguely herbal and earthy quality-- at once intensifying both the sweetness and the bitterness in the original drink. There are certain ingredients that are pleasing, and then there are certain ingredients which have the potential to actually conjure up emotions in us. Some smells and flavors can bring up memories of a specific place or time or person-- which elevates the ingredient to an actual emotional trigger. Chamomile is one of those rare flavors that is distinct enough that it can bring up emotions in whoever is tasting it. I think this is why there are some people who have a natural aversion to the flavor-- just because it is so distinct. But even if you don't have any memories of drinking chamomile tea, it has a naturally comforting taste. I described the drink to Leila as feeling "homey." Fittingly for the name (unwittingly so on Aaron's part since he didn't know the story yet) the drink actually evoked memories of childhood in me. Which is weird because I didn't drink that much chamomile tea as a kid. And drank even fewer Manhattans (as far as I know).

I pose with The Fish of the Sea. I was going for a neutral expression but I think I look vaguely creepy.

Does It Live Up To The Name: When we had decided to order this drink, Leila had been concerned we would get a blue drink. Which could have definitely happened. For this blog, I have already had a blue drink, and been to an even bluer bar. And while a blue drink is not necessarily a bad drink, it was nice that Aaron did not take that route. A bright blue drink would have felt a bit out of place at The Mulberry Project, I think. And while I'm glad that the drink was not aggressively blue, I will admit that it was nothing like what I would have come up with for the name. I wanted something brinier, something saltier and more oceanlike. If we had been in a whiskey bar, I'm sure I would have gotten something with picklejuice in it, for example. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn't expecting a Manhattan. And as delightful as it was, the addition of chamomile didn't exactly make the drink more fishlike in any way.

When Aaron set down the drink and explained the ingredients, he explained that he used the Islay Scotch to evoke the sea, and this makes sense-- as the name says, this Scotch is made on the Scottish isle of Islay and is, therefore, surrounded by sea. So, the choice of Scotch works logically, but that alone doesn't sell this drink's name to me. So, I was a bit skeptical of what this drink had to do with the name. But, if you look at the ingredients, there's one other ingredient besides chamomile that was in this drink that you don't find in most Manhattans. And that ingredient is what made this drink live up to the name for me.

The lemon peel.

This was not a giant peel of lemon rind, nor was it a twist. It was just a tiny little piece of the lemon peel that Aaron had situated in the drink. And as I drank, the lemon peel swirled around and around like a little goldfish in the pool of water.

As I finished the cocktail, the lemon fish became more apparent. In my mind, the cherry is a rock that the fish is swimming around.

This was such a delightful addition-- very whimsical and cute, and was absolutely enough to make me feel that the name had been satisfied. The lemon peel was somehow kind of cute as a little fish swimming around in its sea of Manhattan and chamomile. Until I drank all of it, of course.

Our trip to The Mulberry Project was great, and I'm excited to go again as the seasons change and their menu changes with it. All the drinks we had that night were fantastic and, most impressively, very different. After The Fish of the Sea, I got a Bourbon Sour made with asian pear (one of the seasonal fruits) and tiki bitters that was heavenly.

This drink was acidic and bright and fruity. The Fish of the Sea was earthy, classic, and strong. The drinks Leila and I got before this were creamy and yummy. We had lots of different styles of cocktail, and Aaron executed all of them perfectly.

Aaron cuts a huge chunk of ice. His mixology skills are matched only be his beard-growing skills.

It was a great night out at a great bar with a great friend. Considering the lore of The Fish of the Sea, and how large a part of my childhood mythology they were, this was another drink name that I took very personally and was glad to see it honored in such a way. I will definitely be returning to The Mulberry Project sometime soon. They clearly take their craft very seriously, and are a great place for cocktail aficionados and casual drinkers alike-- it's laidback and unassuming but with a certain unmistakable sophistication. It's a well-designed bar serving well-designed drinks and I can't recommend it highly enough.

Leila and I fishing for F.O.T.S.

Drink 23: Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus

The Name: Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus                                                                             

The Bar: Attaboy (134 Eldridge Street, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: I'll get to the name of the drink in just a second, but before I do, there's one important thing I have to say: today is this blog's birthday. One year ago, me and my friends Laura and Ryan were out having drinks when I ordered the Frog Hitler and this blog was born. Since then, I've had 22 drinks in total. Most of them good, at least one not so good, but all have been a lot of fun. I've enjoyed it, I think most bartenders have enjoyed it, and most importantly, I hope you readers have enjoyed it. You certainly seem to. I know I have quite a few regular readers at that point, and it means so much that you have stuck with me for a full year now. Rest assured, I do plan to keep this blog going-- there are so many more bars to go to, and so many ridiculous stories to turn into cocktail names. Plus, I'm going to see if I can shake things up a little bit-- add a few new things to the blog to make it even better (although, I'm pretty happy with this blog's format so it won't be changed TOO much). As I finalize the details, definitely let me know in the comments if you have any thoughts for what I could improve or do differently.

And, as a little birthday present for the blog, I was wondering if people would leave a comment citing their favorite post from this blog! I'm just curious to see which stories and/or drinks have stood out to people. If you need a refresher, you can find a list of all the drinks ordered here.

Anyway, on to the drink. I must admit it's not much of a story, and more of a small anecdote. Basically, in college, a group of friends and I were hanging out when my friend Lexie tried Benedictine for the first time. If you don't know, Benedictine is a tasty herbal liqueur made by French monks because they don't have much else to do.

Some Benedictine monks. They are so wasted right now.

It's quite good, and also quite distinct (its recipe is as closely guarded as the one for Coca Cola). And while I like the taste of Benedictine a lot, I do not like it quite as much as Lexie did. Upon taking a sip, she memorably described it as "honey milked from the teats of Zeus." It's a pretty phenomenal phrase, and perhaps the highest compliment I can imagine being paid to anything edible. 

They should really hire Lexie to do their advertising.

So, there's not much of a story, but ever since I conceived of this blog a year ago, I knew I would have to order a drink by this name at some point. And, since there's no way a drink by this name could NOT be incredibly delicious, I thought it would be a wonderful anniversary drink to get for this blog. While drink names like The Third Greatest Tragedy, for example, sometimes make me worry about how good the drink will actually taste, I had no doubt that a drink by this name would yield something pretty wondrous. It seemed like the perfect name for a celebratory night like tonight.

I should note that the same night that Lexie uttered this memorable phrase, she also told me "You're a liar and your eyes are made of poison," but that's a story for another day.

Ordering The Drink: In honor of the one-year anniversary of this blog, I made plans to meet up with my friend Ryan who, of course, was present when the idea for this blog first came to be. Sadly, Laura was not present as she is happily living on the other side of the country, but she was certainly there in spirit. We also didn't eat any frogs legs this time, but the frogs were also there in spirit. And, for this occasion, Ryan knew the perfect place to go. He suggested a bar called Attaboy on the Lower East Side, which is a very neat little place. Part of its appeal is that it's modeled after a speakeasy-- if you didn't know that it was there and were actively looking for it, you would undoubtedly walk right by it.

The bar's unassuming door. The "AB" most likely stands for "Attaboy," but might also stand for "A Bar," "Alcohol Building," or "Abdominal Muscle."

But, while this is certainly a very cool aspect of the bar, the best part is that they have no set drink menu. When you go in, it is customary to simply tell the bartender your spirit of choice and they will craft a drink for you (occasionally with follow-up questions, like if you want a drink that's citrusy and light, or more spirit-focused and intense). My guess is they still don't make drinks based solely on a name most of the time, but it was clear that they would certainly be up for the challenge. This location used to be a well-known bar called Milk & Honey which operated in much the same way, but closed and reopened under this name (still being run by the same people). Given the establishment's old name, the cocktail name "Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus" seemed even more appropriate.

A bust of Zeus, depicted here in one of the few times that he was NOT raping someone while disguised as an animal or some shit.

Before ordering this drink, however, I wanted to see what the bartender was like. I ordered my first drink and simply asked for a drink with absinthe (perhaps because I had been promised and then denied absinthe in the last drink I got for this blog). As a follow up, I said I'd prefer a stronger, intense drink as opposed to one of the lighter options. When my drink arrived-- a cocktail called the Peacock made from picon, absinthe, and brandy-- I had high expectations, but this drink still managed to surpass it. Even though it was pure alcohol, it was shockingly smooth, and had a pleasant sweetness which brought out the licorice undertones of the absinthe perfectly, and had almost a honeylike feel in the mouth. Really great stuff. I drank it probably quicker than I should have. Especially after this drink, I was excited for what the bartender would make.

For my next drink, I ordered the Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus, which of course, the bartender agreed to without missing a beat. He conferred with his other bartender for a bit and, after not too long, my drink arrived (along with Ryan's drink-- another tasty offering which used mezcal at his request).

The Drink:

The Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus

Fernet Branca
Coffee Liqueur
Topped with hand-whipped cream

Assessment of Drink: This was a beautiful drink. It looked absolutely scrumptious, and I was excited to drink it as soon as it was placed before me. Unfortunately, as you can see, it was very dark in the bar and so the picture above does not do it justice in the slightest. I generally don't do this as I think it's rude in dark bars, but I did take a picture with flash. That picture, however, somehow made the drink look even less appetizing.

What the fuck even is this?

But I assure you that, while none of these pictures really attest to it, it was a beautiful drink. The hand-whipped cream on top especially was aesthetically pleasing and particularly inviting. It looked like a beautiful and pristine cloud...that I was going to inhale as soon as I could.

That's just what I did, and it tasted even more delicious than it looked. This drink was amazing. The best that I can describe it is to say that it tasted like the greatest tiramisu that you could ever imagine. Fernet Branca is an Italian spirit which is usually consumed as a digestif. It's primarily bitter in taste, but is very light so it was certainly not overpowering here, and most likely was used to counteract the coffee liqueur, which tends to be on the sweeter side. Therefore, while this was absolutely a dessert drink, it didn't taste too sweet. Again, like a really good tiramisu should. With the Fernet Branca taking the cloying edge out of the coffee liqueur, that allowed the more genuine coffee flavor to stand out and, accented by the cream, it was absolutely perfect. Because it only had three ingredients, emphasis was clearly placed on the quality of those ingredients-- there truly is nothing like hand-whipped cream. There really isn't much more to say. It was just absolutely heavenly. I had to pace myself and not drink it too quickly.

And, you know how when you make whipped cream, it's really fun to lick the whisks and get that last little taste of the cream? Well...when I finished the drink I 100% licked the glass in a manner much like that. It was super embarrassing and probably really immature of me but I have no regrets. It was those last little licks of whipped cream, with a touch of the cocktail still lingering on the glass, that were probably the best part of the drink as a whole. I don't think I've ever literally licked a glass clean to get every drop of a cocktail before. Overall, not only a delicious drink, but a really fun one too. It was never in doubt, but the mixologists over at Attaboy definitely know what they're doing.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Yes! Yes yes yes! By giving the bartender this drink name, I basically was saying "Give me the most delicious fucking thing you can make," and I have to believe that this was it. And, yes, if I milked Zeus' teats and this drink came out, that would make total sense to me. In fact, I would be surprised if the honey-milk from Zeus' teats did NOT taste like this.

Obviously, Zeus isn't real, but the actor Liam Neeson is the next closest thing, so we should really test this out.

But...that being said there is room for improvement. I know, I can hear all my readers yelling at the screen "MILES, YOU JUST WENT ON AND ON ABOUT HOW MAGICAL THIS DRINK WAS AND YOU'RE STILL NOT HAPPY?!" Well, for one thing, this cocktail existed before me ordering it. As it was brought to me, I was told that this was a cocktail called The Milano which had, presumably for its deliciousness, simply been repurposed as the Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus (although, when I google "The Milano + Cocktail" it tells me that The Milano is a gin-based drink that has nothing to do with this, so, I'm not so sure they were right about the name). And while I cannot fault bartenders for simply taking a preexisting drink and preparing it because they think it fits the name, I'm always much more pleased when the drink is specifically created in honor of the name. It makes the drink and the name have a much more special connection. While drinking this, I couldn't help but think "I'm drinking a Milano. Not Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus." But, that's more of a pet peeve of mine than a legitimate complaint.

My bigger complaint about how this drink lives up to the name is that, as delicious as the drink was, I felt there could have been more to actually tie in the specifics of the name. After all, my absinthe-based Peacock drink that I ordered actually tasted more honeylike than this one. And what made this cocktail come specifically from Zeus' teat? Perhaps a drink with Ouzo or something would have been more appropriate and drawn in the Ancient Greek connotations. Perhaps he could have had lightning shoot out of the drink? WHY DIDN'T HE MAKE LIGHTNING SHOOT OUT OF THE DRINK?! I mean, I know this is impossible, but if he had managed that, I mean, wow, that would have been pretty cool. That last example aside, I do think a little more could have been done had this drink's name been broken down a bit more. As opposed to creating an overall ambrosia-like drink, we could have had a more specific ambrosia. One that would more definitively come from Zeus' teat.

Zeus, teats proudly on display

But, despite this nitpicking, I think it's clear that Attaboy was a real winner. And it would certainly be fun for anyone who reads and enjoys this blog in particular, given its emphasis on cocktail experimentation and customization. I went in wanting a drink that was undeniably delicious, and that is exactly what I got. When a drink is as good as that, I can't complain too much. It was a perfect drink for the milestone this blog has achieved.

And, by the way, after finishing my Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus (gosh, that's fun to type) I did order one more drink. And, fittingly, asked the bartender to make me something that featured Benedictine.

It was also delicious.

Cheers everyone, and please join me as I raise my glass to toast one full year of successful cocktail blogging! Here's to another year with more outrageous drinks to come!

Drink 22: The Undead Gamble

The Name: The Undead Gamble                                                                               

The Bar: One If By Land, Two If By Sea (17 Barrow Street, New York City)

The Story Behind The Name: This month, I've already ordered some drinks with a Halloween theme, but they've genuinely been pretty funny stories and amusing anecdotes. Well, in time for the actual holiday itself, the name for this drink comes from a genuinely creepy story-- perfect for Halloween. It's creepier than mysterious phone calls from so-called comedians. It's even creepier than an evil clown. And it's about a cat my mother used to own by the name of Gamble.

Now Gamble was no ordinary kitty. First off, he had quite a distinctive appearance. He was a large striped cat, and when I say large, I mean large. Clocking in at 26 pounds, he could reportedly lie down on a piano bench (my mom is an accomplished pianist) and be longer than the bench. I asked my mom if she could find any pictures of Gamble, and there were none she could find readily, so instead I leave you with this approximation of what Gamble might have looked like.

But his size alone is not what made Gamble so distinct. He was a bit of a hot-tempered cat and was known to fight with other cats-- primarily by defending his smaller, gay brother Procter. Over the years, he had, appropriately, collected some battle scars, including a permanent bruise on his upper lip, a missing tooth, and a chip in his left ear. So, imagine those on the liger above and you've got a sense of Gamble.

Like all cats, however, his appearance was not the only thing notable about him. He had a distinctively scratchy "meow," for one, and also seemed to show a preference for a particular brand of cat food called "Cozy Kitten" that smelled incredibly foul and which no other cat ever wanted to go near. My mom has described the scent as being like chum. Exactly like chum. So, Gamble might also have been part shark. Gamble sounds awesome.

My mom also had two pet dogs, named Poppy and Sacha, and like many dogs, they weren't particularly fond of cats, barking if they ever saw one, but they made an exception with Gamble and had always treated him like one of the gang. Like many cats, Gamble would sometimes go out (presumably, to fight cats) and not come back for days on end. But, Gamble had always had a fondness for my Uncle Doug (I believe Gamble was technically Doug's cat, even though he lived with my mom) and whenever my Uncle Doug would come to visit, Gamble seemed to always know that he should come back home to say hello.

One day, my mother was riding her bike to school when, on the road ahead, she saw an especially large piece of roadkill lying in the middle of the street. As she got closer, and the roadkill came more into view, she could see it was a cat. A large cat. With stripes. She stopped her bike and went to look. Gamble had not been seen for a few days, which again, was pretty normal for him, but, seeing that roadkill, she immediately assumed the worst. As she got off of her bike, she knelt by the dead cat and saw that, sure enough, it was her beloved Gamble. There was the bruise on the lip. There was the chip in the ear. If that wasn't enough, the poor cat was even wearing a white flea collar that Gamble wore (the vet used to have to clamp it into place so that he couldn't slip out of it and it would have to be cut). Sadly, Gamble was brought home and buried in the yard, under a hibiscus bush.

A month and a half passed, longer than Gamble had ever been gone before-- although, of course, that made sense, since he was dead. But then, one day, my mother kept hearing a cat loudly meowing outside. A loud scratchy meow that sounded very much like Gamble, but of course this was impossible, so she chalked it up to an eerie similarity. Sometimes the meowing would sound like it was very close, and when she'd look outside, she would see a large cat standing on the edge of the lawn, but would never come any closer. My Uncle Doug was coming to visit in a few days, so my mom joked that it was Gamble coming back because Doug was going to visit. It was a joke..or so she thought. The night before Doug arrived, the large cat actually came right up to the house and was at the bottom of the stairs leading to their front door. They got a better look at him, and were surprised by how much he looked like Gamble. They were even more surprised that Poppy and Sacha were not barking at the strange cat. But, of course, it couldn't be Gamble. It just couldn't be.

The next night, on schedule, Doug arrived and, that evening, they heard the cat loudly meowing again. My mom mentioned the strange cat to her brother and, out of curiosity, he went to the door to get a look. There, right in front of the door, was the cat. A large cat. With stripes. And a bruise on his lip and a chip in his ear.

Oh shit!

There was no mistaking him-- just like the dead cat that had been buried in the yard, this cat had all of Gamble's distinct markings. The only thing missing was the clamped-on flea collar (which, again, had to be cut off and which he could not just slip out of), almost as if he had been reborn into a new body. He ran through the open door and jumped onto the kitchen counter where his food bowl used to be. At this point, he was greeted by Poppy and Sasha, who seemed super happy to see their good friend and not at all worried about how or why he was there. My mom got the cat some of his very own Cozy Kitten cat food (she still had a ton of it since none of the other cat owners that she knew wanted it) which he happily ate. And while my mother and her brother were certainly weirded out by this strange appearance, and could think of absolutely no explanation, one thing was clear: Gamble was back and was most certainly alive now.

Gamble meows in the face of death.

To this day we have no idea what happened. Perhaps it was another cat they found in the road, but it seems unlikely that another cat would resemble Gamble so closely. Gamble lived with my mother for a few more years and continued to have some close scrapes with death. One time, on a road trip to Florida, Gamble jumped out of an open car window and ran off. This would be bad no matter what, but my mother happened to be driving through the Everglades at the time-- a place known for being filled with alligators. After searching for him and calling his name for hours, they eventually left because they were being bitten by mosquitoes. While they figured they might have lost Gamble forever, they decided to go back to where he had run off the next day, as they didn't want to give up all hope of finding their pet. They called him for several more hours (and my mom even brought a can of his disgusting Cozy Kitten cat food) and, eventually, miraculously, Gamble appeared from out of the glades. My mother picked him up and held him, not believing that he had actually returned. Unfortunately, at that moment, a huge semi noisily passed by. This startled Gamble who jumped out of my mother's arms, clawing her face, neck, and arm in the process. From the pain, she instinctively let go, and Gamble once again scampered off into the Everglades. This time, they were unable to find him. It was the last they saw of Gamble.

Although, the night that they were returning home from Florida, right before they left, a small kitten from a fish camp down the road jumped onto their windshield. A kitten with distinct stripes running down its side.

A photo of some stairs with nothing terrifying on them at all.

Since then, there were no more Gamble sightings, but I'm pretty sure that if he were to show up on my mother's doorstep today, she wouldn't be surprised. My mom lives in New York now, not in the South, so maybe Gamble still is roaming around, meowing, looking for Cozy Kitten, and just generally being his bizarre and supernatural self.

And, no. She never dug up the grave from under the hibiscus bush. She was too terrified by what she might find. Let's just assume that she would have found nothing but a lone white flea collar. And no skeleton.

Ordering The Drink: I knew I wanted to order a Gamble-themed drink for Halloween, but struggled to think of a name. I almost went with The Cat With Nine Lives, but that's just a saying. Gamble didn't come back from the dead NINE times, just once or twice (that we know of). Ultimately, I settled on The Undead Gamble as I thought it sounded cool. And while it's not an obvious name for a bartender to make a drink for, I thought it was fairly evocative and might provide some good inspiration. I was excited for my drink. And it was truly a GAMBLE since I might end up with a delicious drink, or something that tastes like Cozy Kitten.

I made my way to One If By Land, Two If By Sea, a bar and restaurant which I have been planning to go to for a a Halloween drink for months now. That's because it's known for two things: its beautiful decor and for being haunted. 

Seriously, look at this beautiful place. Now, we'll forget all about that and focus on the "haunted" part.

My last attempt at ordering a drink from a haunted bar proved unsuccessful, but I had high hopes for this one. And, also, the ghost stories from this place seem to be much more detailed and well-documented. It has, if we were to believe all accounts and stories, a total of 20 ghosts residing within the establishment, and numerous people have vouched that they have seen them (including some members of the waitstaff who quit after witnessing a supernatural occurrence). The most well-known ghost there is that of former Vice President, dueling enthusiast, and one time owner of the bar, Aaron Burr. I actually first heard that Aaron Burr's ghost haunted this place on the infamous ghost tour which fans of the blog will surely recall. Sure enough, as I entered the bar, there was another ghost tour right outside. Sadly, their tour was not being given by Alice and they had no idea what they were missing.

Why even take a ghost tour without Alice?

  
I entered the bar and ordered a drink. Rather than immediately get my custom drink, I ordered a signature cocktail of their called the Cigar Box, which has been a favorite of mine since I first tried it here a couple of years ago. I hadn't been back since then, and wanted to see if it lived up to my recollection, which it did.

The Cigar Box, a delicious bourbon and fig vodka based drink

As I sipped my Cigar Box, a couple arrived who was there to celebrate an anniversary. As they spoke to the hostess, one asked "Is Aaron Burr here tonight?" The hostess laughed and said "We think he left here a few years ago, actually." So, alas, I most likely would not be seeing Aaron Burr tonight. It only took him about 175 years to move on so, you know, good for him I guess.

I then asked the bartender if he'd be willing to make me a drink based on the name "The Undead Gamble." He said "I'll give it my best shot," and set to work. A couple to my right heard me placing my order and were intrigued too. The three of us watched him at work.

The bartender ponders what the hell "undead gamble" means.

This is easily the most methodical I've ever seen a bartender be about a drink. He took out several bottles which he seemed to be considering. At one point, he even pulled out a cocktail book and flipped through it, which easily is the first time a bartender has actually done research in pursuit of one of these drinks. He caught my eye at one point and laughed. "It's coming along," he said. "I'm excited!" I told him. "I see you have a bottle of absinthe out and that's always a good sign." He grinned mischievously. "I want it to be green," he said.

He didn't end up using the absinthe (which is sad because I love absinthe) but he definitely succeeded in his goal. This was the brightest, greenest drink I've ever seen.

The Drink:

The Undead Gamble

1 1/2 oz. blanco Tequila
1 oz. lime
3/4 oz. simple syrup
1/4 oz. creme de menthe
Ice

(The bartender was kind enough to write out the full list of ingredients for me, including proportions.)

Assessment of Drink: As I think the picture shows, this drink is immediately striking, and undeniably one of the more distinct-looking drinks I've gotten for this blog thus far. And it tasted absolutely delicious. I was at first a bit skeptical of how the lime and mint would work together. As anyone who has foolishly attempted to drink orange juice immediately after brushing one's teeth can attest, citrus and mint really do not work well together. But here, it undeniably worked. The lime's more fruity and floral notes were brought out by the freshness of the mint, making this a surprisingly refreshing drink. As he handed me the ingredient list, the bartender said, "It's basically a margarita without the triple sec." Which it was. But, like, a mint margarita. Which sounds very odd, but trust me, it worked.

As much as I would have loved for the absinthe to have made it into this drink (and I feel like that liquor just feels generally spookier for some reason and might have been a good inclusion) I was really glad that this bartender used creme de menthe, as it's an alcohol that I think is very underrated and looked down upon, perhaps because of its low alcohol content. But I think creme de menthe is really fantastic. It compliments other flavors really well (and for those who don't like strong drinks, is a great way to make a stronger drink a bit more palatable) and has a distinct taste that is, ultimately, not too overpowering most of the time. And its vibrant green color certainly adds a wow factor (the bartender was right-- the green from the absinthe would never have been this bright). In college, I always had some creme de menthe on hand. A signature drink of mine was an alcoholic milkshake using creme de menthe, vanilla ice cream, vodka, and either creme de cacao or regular chocolate syrup. I called it an Avodka Kedavra. I miss college.

But what I love most about creme de menthe is its aftertaste. It's just a very clean flavor and it lingers very nicely on the tongue and lips-- it has a sweetness but not too much so. And an aftertaste is, to me, what separates the good drinks from the great drinks-- the great drinks are the ones that you can still taste long after. And this drink was definitely a great drink. I can still taste it right now, in fact. Had I not ordered my beloved Cigar Box, then I probably would have ordered another, and am especially glad to have this recipe as I might try to make one of these on my own in the summer. Really delicious stuff, and an absolute Halloween treat.

A mysterious hand clutches the Undead Gamble. Could it be a ghost's hand?! Maybe. Could it be my own hand?! Much more likely.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Yeah! I mean, if I got this drink and was told "This is called The Undead Gamble" I'd definitely buy it. The bright green color certainly has something spooky about it, and that's definitely what I was looking for. The drink actually kind of reminded me of drinking Slimer from Ghostbusters. And that would, in all other circumstances, be a terrible, terrible thing. But, luckily, in this case, it was appropriate and, more importantly, truly delicious.

Mmm! Minty fresh!

While this cocktail does indeed fit the name, I can't help but think of a lot of other ideas that might have worked even better. There are many ways to go with the word "undead": mummies, vampires, ghosts, etc. There's even a cocktail called the Zombie which could have been a great inspiration for The Undead Gamble (it's made of assorted rums and fruit juices). And I must say that the "gamble" part of this drink was totally missing. How perfect would it have been to have gotten a drink with some Black Label Jack Daniels? In other words: Blackjack.

But I merely throw these out as alternatives. I truly was happy with the drink I received. The fun in this whole experiment is, after all, seeing how different bartenders respond to the different names. And, in this case, name inspired the bartender to go "I WILL MAKE A GREEN DRINK!" He didn't just make a green drink, he made one of the best all around drinks I've gotten for this blog. I'll definitely be returning to One If By Land, Two If By Sea sometime soon. And might just bring this recipe with me to see if it can be recreated. It was the perfect place to cap off my month of spooky drinks.

And, on that note, happy Halloween, everybody! As much as I love the holiday, I couldn't think of a good costume this year, so I won't be dressing up. Which means that this Halloween, I'll of course be going as Jon Hamm.