Drink 6: The Old Beach Can

The Name: The Old Beach Can

The Bar: West 3rd Common (1 West 3rd Street, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: It has been said that friends are the family that you choose. For me, this quote is summed up perfectly by my relationship with a family called the Quinns. My family became friends with David and Leslie Quinn when their daughter Leila and I were in the same playgroup as babies. Even at a very young age, Leila and I clearly developed a special bond—the two of us quickly became best friends. And just as we became friends, our parents became friends too. Before long, our families were seeing each other on special occasions, vacationing with each other, and just generally spending lots of time together. Leila and I looked somewhat alike, being the same age and both having blonde hair, and people would sometime see the six of us—our parents, Leila, and me—on the street and would ask if Leila and I were twins. Both sets of parents would answer, in unison, “yes.” When asked who the parents were, they would again respond in unison with “we are.”

"Twins"

 Perhaps it is from this joke that Leila and I grew to think of ourselves as twins born a month apart and to different parents. As babies, we even developed a secret language, speaking nonsense to each other and start giggling.

To this day, I consider the Quinns—or “Quinnland” as they are affectionately known to me—as an extension of my own family. Even though they have since moved out of NYC to Hastings, we see them often, and still vacation with them most summers. 

Vacation photo with Quinnland

There will most likely be several drinks on this blog which will pertain to stories I share with the Quinns, so you can look forward to some of those soon. But, in honor of Leila’s birthday today (happy birthday, Leila!) I’ve decided to start the list of Quinn-themed drinks with one named after one of our longest-running traditions: The Can.

One day during summer vacation, we were on the beach. While Leila and I presumably ran around and climbed on things, our parents spent a couple of hours sitting on a beach, throwing rocks at a beer can that had washed up on shore. They would throw the rocks, trying to hit the can, and would continue to do so until the can had reached the edge of the ocean. Once it was about to get dragged away by the tide, one of them would quickly run to the ocean, grab the can, and bring it back so they could start over again. It was a simple activity, but they had a grand old time doing it. When we left the beach, David secretly took the can with him, unbeknownst to my parents.

My dad’s birthday is in August, and so a few days later, Leslie baked a pie in order to celebrate. When my dad cut into the pie, however, he paused. His knife had hit something solid inside. He reached in and pulled out…you guessed it, the very same beer can from the beach, hidden there as a practical joke by the Quinns. Not to be outdone, my parents secretly saved the can and hid it from the Quinns to find later. The can became "The Can," continuously exchanged hands, and so a tradition was born.

For years and years, The Can would be passed back and forth-- hidden inside puppets, found in luggage and hidden throughout apartments in increasingly elaborate ways. In one especially memorable move, the Quinns contacted my Uncle Peter in Vermont, and had him wrap the can and present it to us one year for Christmas during a Secret Santa gift exchange, hidden in a box of maple syrup (Uncle Peter makes maple syrup and actually produces 8% of Vermont’s maple syrup crop. I’ve been known to be a bit of a maple syrup snob because of this, and can be annoyingly critical of any maple syrup I deem inferior). When Leila and I entered college (Leila actually wrote a beautiful essay about the can and its significance in her life for her college applications), there became new opportunities for us to pass the can back and forth. Roommates and significant others alike were contacted so that the can would pop up on our respective college campuses.

And throughout all of this, do not forget that this is a beer can. But not just any beer can. This beer can is now at least 22 years old, and has not aged well. It had already not been in great shape, having been weathered by the ocean when my parents decided to throw rocks at it for several hours, and is now even worse for wear after years of being passed around. It’s crumpled, crumbling, and generally falling apart. But throughout the years, the can has continued to pass between our hands, and means a lot to all six of us. This past year, as a Christmas present to our family, the Quinns had the can silver-plated so as to better preserve it. It’s now proudly displayed in my parents’ apartment (for now).

The Can, artfully displayed on a plate

And that is why this next drink had to be called The Old Beach Can, which I settled on since I think it sounds like it could more feasibly be the name of a cocktail than simply “The Can.” Most of the stories behind the names of the drinks on this blog are humorous, but this name carries a lot of significance for me, and I had high hopes that it might live up to expectations.

Ordering The Drink: I had not been to West 3rd Common before, but it has a reputation as one of the best bars for students at NYU. I was there early before it got too crowded and grabbed a seat at the bar. The bartender, Jess, seemed a bit alarmed at the request. After I explained that I wanted her to invent the drink, she asked "What is this? Some type of trivia contest?" I explained it was for a blog, and she went to go confer with some other bartenders seated at the other end of the bar. I overheard one person say "Yeah, Malibu. That'd be beachy," and also "Yes. Pineapple. Yes." There was also lots of talk about rum and I was okay with this. 

Jess confers with other bartenders as she puts the drink together.

 Soon, the floral, red drink was presented to me. 

The Drink:

So floral and red.

Malibu Rum

Meyer's Dark Rum

Pineapple Juice

Grenadine

Muddled cherries, strawberries, and lime

Served on the rocks

Assessment of Drink: The drink contains a lot of sweet ingredients, and I've previously spoken about how overly-sweet drinks are really not for me. It's not that I don't like sweet liquors-- and Malibu is certainly delicious-- but when drinks are too cloyingly sweet they're hard to take. Luckily, that's not the case here. It's a great example of how a sweet drink doesn't have to be too sweet. Adding the Meyer's Dark Rum on top of the Malibu helps make the coconut flavor not too overpowering. When I complimented Jess-- who had a really great energy and seemed quite satisfied with her handiwork-- on this, she mentioned that she added extra lime as well to help cut through the Malibu.

I was also a huge fan of the muddled fruit at the bottom. I'm a sucker for alcohol-soaked fruit, and the crushed cherries and strawberries were delicious to munch on after the drink was done.

Muddled cherries and strawberries at the bottom of the glass.

In general, I've had other drinks quite similar to the Old Beach Can. The combination of flavors are not particularly unusual. But that's because they work really well together. It's a reliable drink, and a crowd-pleaser which I have a feeling most would enjoy. A solid drink all around-- I almost ordered another after finishing the first!

Does It Live Up To The Name: When I initially thought of the name, my focus was on the "Old" part. I imagined whiskey being utilized in this drink-- alluding to an Old Fashioned. Some sort of classic, strong cocktail. But, perhaps because the tradition of The Can has taken on such a life of its own since that day where my parents pelted it with rocks on the beach, I didn't really give too much thought to the "Beach" part of the Old Beach Can. Which is why I was surprised that this is what Jess chose to focus on. But, it makes sense, and given that it was Jess' focus, this drink works. The prominent use of rum made it definitely feel like a drink one could sip on a tropical beach.

The focus on the beach aspect, however, meant that "Old" and "Can" were put on the backburner. Which is fine. I don't know if it was intentional, but I actually felt the idea of the can was present in the vessel in which the drink was served. Rather than a highball or a martini glass, it was served in a standard beverage glass that one might expect to have a soft drink in. Basically, it was can-like in appearance. Which worked (although it made it hard to get at the delicious muddled fruits on the bottom). And I guess that the "Old" part could be present considering how classic these flavors are.

Perhaps the highest compliment I can give the Old Beach Can is that it lived up to its namesake. More than any other drink, this one could have been very disappointing given how meaningful The Can is to me, but I left very satisfied. Jess and her brain trust of bartenders put together a great drink-- and the muddled fruit really put it over the edge. It had been a long day (which is why I was getting a drink in the first place) and I was tired so I left early before a crowd formed, but I can easily see West 3rd Common being filled with excited young patrons. A nice neighborhood spot, and the perfect choice for getting the Old Beach Can.

 

Leila poses with The Can. Happy birthday, twin!

Drink 5: Moon God

The Name: The Moon God                                                 

The Bar: TheVillage Pourhouse (64 3^rd Avenue, New York City)

The Story Behind The Name: Few people have the potential to make more of an impact on our lives than teachers and other educators. And while everyone encounters good teachers and bad teachers, we all have only a select number of truly great teachers. These are the ones who are life-changing. The ones who simply have an innate talent for passing on knowledge—who make the material just as interesting for students who have an interest in the subject as for those who don’t.  These are the teachers who care about their students, and who are viewed with awe throughout the classroom. Even the luckiest among us can most likely count such teachers that we have had on one hand. These are the teachers who are Dead Poets Society-level stuff. Well, one such teacher for me is a former drama professor from Kenyon College (now teaching at Illinois State University) named Kevin Rich.

It would be impossible to fully explain all of what makes Kevin Rich such a fantastic professor. While I could certainly go on and on about great assignments and lectures, I don't think that's the best way to explain how great this professor is. Instead, I will tell you that I'm far from the only person who holds him in such high esteem-- I can guarantee that many of my peers from college would effusively echo my statements. He was only at Kenyon for a total of two years, but in that short time, developed a campus-wide reputation. You murmured the words “Kevin Rich” around drama students and for the next ten minutes, they would be unable to talk about anything other than how great Kevin is. Backstage at shows, the number one question on everyone’s mind was always if Kevin was in the audience (and if he was, the reaction would be a curious mixture of excitement, disbelief, terror, and more excitement). I had one non-theater-focused friend who mentioned that they were actually disappointed when they first met Kevin, because based on what everyone said about him, they had built an image in their mind of some sort of demigod who, I imagine, could shoot rainbows and wisdom out of his eyes and always carried around cookies and milk to give to passersby. Although, alas, he is a mere mortal, Kevin is truly an extraordinary educator, and an even more extraordinary individual-- one who commands the instant respect and appreciation of practically everyone he meets.

Now, most actors have a few projects under their belt that are not necessarily their finest work. It has come to light, for example, that television acting-deity Bryan Cranston once played a monster/villain/larvaesnakething on Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers named Snizard. 

Pictured: Future winner of all of the acting awards

These types of projects are expected, and actors typically have nothing to be embarrassed about. They're actually rather fun stories, and are sometimes the type of projects which the actor recalls most fondly. But, when the actor in question is a drama professor-- especially one held in such high regard-- these wacky anecdotes become skeletons in Chekov's closet. Sooner or later, the students are going to find out. And they will eat it up like Snizard eats precious jewels.

I don't know what this thing eats. Or how it eats. But I just assumed it eats precious jewels. I don't know why.

For a while, all the drama majors had been abuzz with excitement when it came to light that another well-loved professor had played an underground shoe salesman named Scabby in an episode of Even Stevens but, we didn’t know about any embarrassing projects from Kevin Rich’s past. Yet. Until, one day, Kevin made the mistake of revealing in class that he had acted in a low-rate horror movie. His reasoning was that to do so had always been on his bucket list, and I think it was the only union project being filmed where he was living. I wasn’t there at the moment that he let this little tidbit of information get out, but I can only assume that all of his students sat up in their seats and the hairs on the back of their necks stood up straight. They smelled blood in the water. Kevin—our esteemed and beloved professor with an affinity for Shakespeare—had been in a terrible horror film? The type known for cheesy acting and bad effects? We had to see this. They asked Kevin for the name of the film and he refused to say it. “You really don’t want to see it. It’s really, really bad,” he insisted.

Unfortunately for Kevin, IMDB exists. The very next day, word had spread of Kevin’s film, with the full title known by all. I don’t know how many times the group of drama majors watched the trailer for this film in the coming days. All we could really gather from it was that Kevin sported an especially out-of-place black goatee, and at one point shouted “It’s ALL his fault!” We milked this information for all it was worth.

I eventually took it upon myself to order the film on DVD and consider it one of the best purchases I have ever made. I believe it’s one of the twelve copies that were ever sold. This film was passed around the campus and went through so many hands that I actually don’t know where it is now (my hope is that it is lost in some room in Kenyon somewhere and will stay there forever). Before the DVD was lost, there were screenings for large audiences, and everyone agreed that the film was as bad as Kevin had described (I believe at one point, he described it as “porn without the porn,” which is perhaps the most accurate description of anything that I've ever heard) As owner of the DVD, I ended up watching it four times, which Kevin thinks is the record for the most times a person has managed to sit through the film in its entirety.

The film is pretty typical as far as horror movie premises go. A group of strangers are, through convoluted circumstances, left alone in the woods without any technology. Now, this film features the usual cast of characters who get killed off one by one—the attractive blonde female lead, the alpha male jock, the quirky best friend, the “slutty” one, the token minority/comic relief, etc. All standard fair. And then there was Kevin's character: the pagan moon worshipper.

This was truly glorious to behold.

Amidst the fairly standard slasher film fare, Kevin had to run around reciting lines like “It is perfectly clear what we must do: burn their bodies in reverence to the moon god,” with a straight face. At one point he ran under a dead body with a bucket yelling “GET THE BLOOD! GET THE BLOOD!” to then use in some sort of moon god ceremony. There was even an awkward dance scene around a campfire, which has nothing to do with any moon gods, but certainly deserves mention here as it was a favorite scene of many of Kevin's students. But Kevin's best work, everyone agreed, was the very first scene in which we met Kevin’s character. Presented without any explanation, Kevin is simply crouching on the ground in the woods and performing a ritual. A ritual in which he passionately screams the line that so many of us later mercilessly quoted back to him: “I HONOR YOU MOON GOD!” It became something of a motto between my friends and I. If moon gods are real, they received much adoration coming from this small college town in Ohio for a period of several months.

And so the idea of the moon god is both a private joke, and an homage to a really wonderful educator. Although I know Kevin should not and would rather not be remembered for this role out of all of his many accomplishments, this drink was ordered with the intent of honoring him and the impact he had, and continues to have, on so many lives.

"Oh moon god, my moon god!"

Ordering The Drink: I was out on the town with two of my friends—Aaron and Kenny (fans of this blog will remember Kenny from some previous entries) and we ended up at The Village Pourhouse, a fun and somewhat well-known bar near Union Square. It has a great atmosphere, and good drinks for rather cheap prices (we were there for Thirsty Thursdays, which featured multiple $3.00 drinks, which proved rather dangerous for our livers but beneficial for our wallets on that particular night). All three of us are former students of Kevin’s, and had in fact acted together in a show he had directed, so the Moon God felt like an obvious choice for a drink order. And I was optimistic for a good reception from the staff-- our waitress at The Village Pourhouse, Taylor, had been great and enthusiastic all evening, so we had a feeling that she’d like this idea. Sure enough, when I explained that I wanted the bartender to make a fake drink called “The Moon God,” she was 100% on board. This order definitely had the least amount of explaining that I’ve had to do for this blog thus far. Even the bartenders who have embraced the idea have initially needed some clarification before getting to work, but Taylor understood right away. Without hesitation, she excitedly said “Absolutely!” I emphasized that if the bartender didn’t want to do it, I’d understand, to which she responded, “Oh. He will definitely be on board for this.” 

Soon after, Taylor returned with a rather bright blue drink with a thin orange wedge in it. 

I IMBIBE YOU MOON GOD!

As Taylor set the drink down she explained it thusly.

“So, he said the orange represents the half moon, and the blue drink is the tide. And the Moon God is because of the correlation between those or...something.” It was clear that the bartender had a rather elaborate explanation for this drink. One which had not quite adequately been explained to Taylor. Although Kenny, operating on a different inebriated wavelength, seemed to understand this explanation completely. Taylor had also written down a list of the ingredients in the drink for our convenience. What a pro.

The Drink:

Blue curacao

Absolut mango

Triple Sec

Sour mix

Served on the rocks with an orange “half-moon” garnish

Closeup of the orange moon

Assessment of Drink: This is a tough one for me to truly assess in terms of taste. I’m not a fan of overly-sweet drinks, and this would certainly fit that description. It was floral and fruity and tasted like candy. I think most of this sweetness came from the absolut mango, and the sour mix and undercurrents of citrus were really not enough to cut through the exceeding sweetness.

That being said, while it was quite sweet, it wasn’t actively unpleasant-- it’s just not my type of drink. Kenny, on the other hand, is a huge fan of sweet drinks, and loved The Moon God. As sweet drinks go, it certainly wasn't the worst I've ever seen. Basically, I see it as a drink that could easily be on a restaurant’s drink menu and would probably have its fans, but looking at the ingredients it’s just not one that I personally would ever order. But while I've established that fans of sweet drinks would like it, I do maintain that the drink could be objectively improved if there was something else to give it a bit of an edge. Maybe tequila would be a good addition? I think that would work. Although, to be fair, tequila is usually a good addition to most things.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Although we only got the explanation for the drink secondhand, I can’t imagine that the description from the bartender himself would be all that much clearer. Tides? It sounds like something really deep—too deep for me to follow. Or just desperate reaching, that could be it too.

But...even if we were to accept the symbolism of the moon and the tides as being a completely acceptable and well-explained representation of the Moon God, then I still think this drink would miss the mark a bit. What about the drink actually represents the tides? It’s blue, sure, but that neon blue would never make me think of the ocean. It makes me think of powerade. Or the blue crystal meth from the show Breaking Bad.

But... even if we were to accept that the blue represents the ocean, then the drink would only represent the bartender’s vision in appearance. Nothing about mangoes or triple sec makes me think of the tides, let alone the moon. And where is the god in all of this? There is no god. There is no god I tell you! At least not in this drink. This is not the place for such a discussion. Ultimately, I have to reject the explanation of the tides. It just doesn't satisfy the prompt of "Moon God" for me. Instead, I prefer to think that the blue is representing the phrase “Once in a blue moon," which could definitely work, although that still leaves the deity out of it.

Speaking of “blue moon,” that could have been a nice direction for this drink to go in. There are plenty of cocktails out there which use beer as a base (one of my favorite summer cocktails is a Snakebite, which is beer and cider, with an optional addition of black currant juice or syrup) and perhaps the Moon God could have been made using Blue Moon beer. And since I so recently had the fantastic cocktail My Only Jacket which used another cocktail as inspiration, I couldn't help but wonder if that might have been a good direction for this drink to go in. I know there’s a cocktail called a “Blue Moon,” and while I don’t remember the recipe exactly, I know it involves gin and crème de violette. I also know there’s a popular cocktail called the Godmother which is vodka and amaretto. Perhaps these could have been combined to help make the Moon God? Gin, crème de violette, and amaretto sounds like it could be really interesting actually.

Still, it was a decent drink, and my assessment here is coming across as much more harsh than I meant it to. Aaron, Kenny, and I had a great time at The Village Pourhouse, and had many delicious drinks throughout the night. It’s a great neighborhood place which deserves its reputation as the friendliest bar in the neighborhood-- great drinks and a great environment means a great time is had by all.

Kenny and Aaron, both looking really sober,  pose with the Moon God

Drink 4: My Only Jacket

The Name:  My Only Jacket

The Bar: Bar44 at the Royalton Hotel (44 West 44^th St. New York, NY)

The Story Behind The Name: I used to work at a studio rental space near Penn Station as a receptionist and general office assistant. My official title was “Client Services” which sounds more impressive on a resume. As one would imagine, I had to deal with a lot of people, and while most were perfectly lovely, some made the job especially difficult. This story involves two renters who fit into the latter group. These two renters are two incredibly wealthy theater producers named Jack and Bruce who were holding auditions for an upcoming show. They had not used the space before, but their reputation preceded them. A casting director who regularly used our space had seen that they were there and had stuck her head into the office to say that she was so sorry we’d have to deal with them. When the producers arrived to start their reservation, they seemed a bit officious but not too bad.

About an hour into their reservation, Jack left the audition room and entered the office. He was holding one of the red metal folding chairs we used in the rooms, and had an expensive-looking blazer draped over his shoulder. I was the only person in the office at this point, and Jack wordlessly placed the chair on the floor and opened it. He pointed at the chair and asked me to “inspect the chair.” The chair looked fine to me—it wasn’t exactly pristine, but it was fine for a cheap metal folding chair. When I asked what I was supposed to be looking for, Jack looked almost offended and pointed to a tiny corner of the back of the chair which had started to come up. It was hardly noticeable and, even after pointing it out, I didn’t really see how it could ever be a problem. When I asked if it was uncomfortable to sit in, he raised his voice and said “It. Did. THIS!” With a dramatic flourish, he flipped the jacket from over his shoulder so that the damage to the jacket could be on full display. Now, to give credit where credit is due, the damage here was not imagined. It looked as if his jacket had been put in a cage with a wild animal. Really, it was ripped to shreds. Jack insisted that our chair was responsible. I honestly cannot see how the tiny corner of metal could have possibly done this—I sat in the chair and purposefully tried to snag my own clothes on it to simulate the effect and was unable to. But I believe that Jack believed the chair had done this.

Jack and I then had, more or less, the following conversation:

ME: I’m very sorry about your jacket.

JACK: I don’t care that you’re sorry. I want to know what you’re going to do about it.

ME: I personally can’t do anything, but I will bring it to the attention of the executive director when he arrives for the day.

JACK: Well what’s he going to do about it?

ME: I couldn’t tell you. But I will show him the chair and the jacket and explain the whole situation.

JACK: Well something needs to be done.

ME: And I’m sure it will be, but I have no authority to do anything. The only person who can make any decision is the executive director and he hasn’t arrived yet.

JACK: Because something needs to be done.

ME: And, again, I’m sure it will be. But I personally cannot do anything else for you except say that I’m sorry, and I will let you know what our executive director chooses to do.

After a bit more explaining to Jack that I was completely powerless here, he finally left to go back to the auditions, leaving the jacket and the chair in the office. As he left, he looked back at me and said “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind so much. But…it’s my only jacket.”

Jack went back into the room where auditions were being held. About five minutes later, Bruce—Jack’s producing partner—emerged from the room. From the same room that Jack had just been in after talking to me. That’s important to note, because it makes the following conversation much stranger.

BRUCE: Hi. Has Jack spoken to you about his jacket?
ME: Yes. I just spoke to him.

BRUCE: His jacket was ripped to shreds.

ME: I know. See? I have the jacket right here.

BRUCE: Well, your chair did it.

ME: Yes, and I’m very sorry about his jacket.

BRUCE: Well something needs to be done.

ME: Yes. I know. I…I just spoke to Jack about all of this.

BRUCE: Fine, but I want to know what you’re going to do about it.

ME: As I told Jack, I personally can’t do anything, but I will bring it to the attention of the executive director when he arrives for the day.

BRUCE: Well what’s he going to do about it?

ME: I couldn’t tell you. But I will show him the chair and the jacket and explain the whole situation.

BRUCE: Well something needs to be done.

ME: And I’m sure it will be, but I have no authority to do anything. The only person who can make any decision is the executive director and he hasn’t arrived yet.

BRUCE: Because something needs to be done.

ME: Well, as I explained to Jack…

This continued in much the same way. Finally, Bruce understood that not only was I powerless, but that I had already explained literally the exact same thing to Jack already. As if these conversations were not yet eerily similar enough, as Bruce was leaving to go back to the room, he looked back at me and said “And, the thing is, it’s his only jacket.”

When my boss arrived, I explained everything. And despite also not believing that the chair could have possibly been responsible for the disrepair into which the jacket had fallen, my boss wanted to avoid a conflict. So he said that I could offer Jack two things: either he could repair the jacket or buy a replacement jacket. Should he do either of these, he could then bring in a receipt for either the cost of the repair, or for the new jacket, and my boss was willing to reimburse him in full. I thought it was very generous, and was relieved that I wouldn’t have bad news to give to the jacketless producer.

A little bit later, Jack came back into the office and I explained to him my boss’ offer.

ME: So, the executive director has given me two options. You can choose to get the jacket replaced and he would…

JACK: Absolutely not! I can’t get this replaced!

ME: Okay, then…

JACK: That’s not good enough.

ME: Okay, then you will probably go with the second option. The executive director said you can buy a new replacement jacket and bring in a receipt and he will take care of it.

JACK: Well, what does that mean?!

ME: It means he’ll cover the full cost of the jacket.

JACK: As he should!

ME: Yes. And he will.

JACK: And the chair?
ME: We’ll throw out the chair.

Now, you’re going to read the next thing he said and you will think that I am making it up. But I swear to you he actually said this. Unironically, I might add.

JACK: And the chair?
ME: We’ll throw out the chair.

JACK: I want it burned.

ME: …

JACK: [stares pointedly]

ME: We’re not going to burn the chair.

Jack eventually left and seemed happy with the arrangement, lack of chair-burning aside. He returned to the audition room.

Once again, a few minutes after Jack had left, Bruce emerged from the room and came into the office. Once again, he emerged from the room that Jack had just gone into. And, once again, I proceeded to have the same exact conversation that I had just had with the other producer.  

BRUCE: Have you spoken to the executive director?
ME: Yes. And I just explained everything to Jack and he seems happy with it.

BRUCE: Because something needs to be done.

ME: Yes. And it will be. And I already explained it to Jack.

BRUCE: Something needs to be done.

ME: Yes. Jack is going to buy a replacement jacket and bring in a receipt and the executive director will cover the cost.

BRUCE: Well, what does that mean?!

ME: It means…he’ll cover the cost.

BRUCE: Jack shouldn’t have to pay for the jacket.

ME: He won’t. He’s going to buy the jacket and Paul will reimburse him.

BRUCE: As he should!
ME: And he will.

BRUCE: Okay. And the chair?
ME: We’ll throw out the chair.

Bruce was silent for a bit. I waited. It was one of the most tense moments of my life. Because I felt positive that Bruce would say “I want it burned.” I wanted him to say it. Because if he did say "I want it burned," then I would finally know that this whole thing was a prank. I would know that they must have planned this just to mess with me for some reason. That would be the definitive proof that I needed. But, instead of requesting the chair be burned, Bruce just said “okay,” and left.

The whole ordeal was such a strange event (and there are a few details to it which I’ve left out in the interest of brevity) and I knew I wanted to have a drink name to commemorate this. It was a lengthy ordeal with multiple parts, but I settled on the name “My Only Jacket” to represent the story. Obviously, this doesn’t come close to encapsulating everything that transpired, but I liked the name. It sounds like an actual custom cocktail one might see on a menu, and I have always thought that the line “it’s my only jacket” is one of the strangest lines of the whole story. What does it even mean? This guy has more money than he knows what to do with—how on earth does he not own more than one jacket? I’m pretty sure he was lying. He must have more than one jacket. He just has to.

Also, while I had said that I wanted to maintain some level of anonymity, I think I have to share Jack’s last name, because it really adds a whole other level of strangeness to this. His last name is Batman.

"Damn! That was my only cape!"

Ordering The Drink: After a day of work which felt especially long and difficult (despite the absence of disagreeable producers), I really needed a drink, and headed to the nearby Royalton Hotel, which I had heard had some of the best cocktails in midtown. A swanky and tasteful hotel, the décor was rather lovely, with fun and unusual light fixtures. Great atmosphere. I sat down and was approached by one of the bartenders, who I later found out is named Justin. I explained that I was hoping he could make me a drink based on the name alone— a drink called “My Only Jacket.” Now, I had specifically chosen this drink name for this bar. It was a difficult one, one which I thought might give a lot of bartenders pause. But Justin was ready from the get-go, and showed absolutely no pause.

Justin brainstorms with a fellow bartender.

Justin took this very seriously. At the other end of the bar, he and another bartender were brainstorming, but Justin seemed to have a game plan. I watched him meticulously craft the drink—it was a real project. When he was finished, he approached me and smiled. “You ready?” he asked. When I confirmed that I was, he poured the drink into my glass, garnished with a thick twist of orange peel, and launched into his explanation for the drink (which is coming up below). After he finished his explanation, he grabbed a small straw and dipped it into the drink. He took the straw out and tried his creation. “It’s really good,” he said, and left.

  

The Drink:

Green Chartreuse

Sweet Vermouth

Absinthe

Bulleit Bourbon

“Tiki” Bitters

Cayenne Bitters

Twisted orange peel garnish

Unfortunately, after I took the picture above, my phone decided not to have battery anymore. Which is especially sad, because this drink was rather pretty. It was a honey-brown color, with a slightly golden tint and was garnished with a wonderful corkscrew-shaped orange peel twist. There’s a picture below that doesn’t actually look like what the drink looked like, but it was the closest I could find on google. 

Thanks, google!

You’ll just have to take my word for it that it had this lovely amber color and was very picturesque, with a nice almost roasted aroma.

Justin explained his drink admirably. Apparently, there is a cocktail called the Gentleman’s Jacket, which consists of Gentleman Jack Tennessee Whiskey, Chartreuse, Vermouth, and bitters, and because of its name, Justin had used that drink as his inspiration. But he explained that because the cocktail is My Only Jacket, and he was the one being asked to make it, he made his own version. He replaced the Gentleman Jack with Bulleit Bourbon as it is his whiskey of choice. He also added absinthe-- always a good choice-- and he likes a bit of a kick in his drinks, so he added some spice with his choice of bitters (Tiki bitters are a Bar 44 specialty which have Caribbean influences and, according to Justin, tastes like jerk seasoning).

Assessment of Drink: This drink is absolutely delicious. Justin had clearly made a drink that he would want to drink, and luckily he and I have similar tastes. I drank this one embarrassingly quickly, to be honest. It was delicious enough to sip, but difficult to do so. It was just so good.

This is not the first time I have had a spicy drink in the making of this blog, but here the spice was really an undertone rather an overpowering flavor right at the forefront. The spice here was balanced with a bit of sweetness from the vermouth and chartreuse. The absinthe was a great addition too because it’s rather spicy and sweet, like licorice, and was a nice bridge between the two predominant flavors here. I love absinthe, but know it’s not liked by everybody—and while it was present here, it was really there as an accent, not as a predominant flavor. But the star here was the bourbon—the one that Justin put in to represent himself. I am sure a true whiskey connoisseur who actually knows something about bourbon could explain this better, and could say what made Bulleit such a good choice in this drink, but I imagine that it has a natural spicy bite to it that was just so perfectly complimented by everything else here. Everything in the drink truly heightened the quality of the bourbon and brought it to the forefront.

Another thing I liked about the drink is that it was truly appropriate for the season. Although it has been winter for a little while, it has only recently started to get truly wintery in New York City—and the past few days have been quite brisk. This drink tasted like winter. It was nice and toasty, and the smokiness (presumably from the tiki bitters) made it taste like it had been slightly roasted. It reminded me of something that I would put into eggnog. And that is the greatest compliment I could think to give to any drink.

In short, it is unequivocally the best tasting drink I have had for this blog to date. And while this blog is still new and has not had too many additions (my apologies—I will hopefully be able to update this with more regularity in the coming months) I have a feeling that the My Only Jacket will continue to be one of my favorites from this experiment. It’s a drink I would want to order again. And probably drink embarrassingly quickly again.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Yes, absolutely. As I mentioned earlier, this was what I thought might be one of the more difficult drinks to come up with. But Justin clearly had a plan, and it worked. I’m lucky that he knew about the Gentleman Jacket and had something to work off of. But the fact that he really personalized it with his own favorite flavors, I think, is what made this drink so special. And, of course, fit with the name perfectly.

But I think the drink fit the name for other reasons than the ones Justin mentioned. It was a cozy drink. It felt familiar—it felt comfortable. Something you’d want to drink again. Like the familiarity of an old jacket that you have worn forever. Also, as I mentioned, it felt like a winter drink. The type of weather where one would have to wear a jacket. Or, similarly, it could be because this felt like a drink you should sip in front of a fireplace wearing a smoking jacket. 

I want the chair burned.

Justin really embraced this project, and made a drink that he was clearly proud of. He is also the first bartender to actually ask what this whole thing is about—and to his credit, was patient enough to wait until after I’d already finished the drink, although he was clearly curious. He seemed to have a great time making the drink, and truly made a memorable one. This is the first time I’ve specifically sought out a bar to use for this blog, and it did not disappoint. It’s the kind of drink this blog was made for.