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.