Drink 25: The African Violet (Part I)

Before I get into the drink, I'd like to just apologize to this blog's fans for not posting in so long! The last couple of months have been hectic (as you can imagine, December is pretty busy for a toy salesman, and then I was very focused on grad school auditions). But I am back and should be posting regularly again. In fact, I'm getting back into the swing of things with not just any post, but a TWO PART post! I haven't had one of those since The Murdered Moose so you KNOW it's exciting. Now, read all about The African Violet

The Name: The African Violet                                                                                 

The Bar: Superfine (126 Front Street, Brooklyn, NYC)

 

The Story Behind The Name: I'm an only child, and so when I left home to go to college, it was predictable that my parents would feel a little bit of empty nest syndrome. Now, all parents respond to this situation in different ways. Some pick up a new hobby, some get a dog, and some simply follow their children and live in a trailer camped outside of their dorm room. Although she briefly considered that last option, my mother ultimately settled on another option all together. She decided to get a plant. Specifically, and this shouldn't be too surprising considering the title of this post, an African violet.

But not just any African violet. An African violet that she named Irving. Who was the best African violet in the whole wide world.

Irving. The best plant of all time.

I first heard of Irving's existence during a phone call with my mom where she excitedly told me she had purchased an African violet. I don't remember my response, to be honest. I probably said something vaguely encouraging like "good for you!" But at the time, I was not aware of how big a part of my life Irving would soon become. From that day on, every time I called home, I would receive an Irving report. This report was always prefaced with "Do you want to hear how Irving is doing," which was funny because it implied I had a choice. And the report was pretty much always "Irving gave me a new flower today!" The first time I came home from college, I got to meet Irving, and it was a huge ceremony. It felt like I was meeting a celebrity. Or, more accurately, it felt like I was meeting a new member of my family.

My mother, for her part, seemed mostly unaware of just how much she talked about Irving. When my dad and I first mentioned that she talked about him as if he was my new brother, she seemed surprised, but soon conceded and, with that acceptance, the level of Irving enthusiasm intensified. As part of a stand-up routine in college, I actually include a whole bit about Irving. I was worried that, when my mom watched it she'd object, but as I said the words "I've been replaced by a plant" my mom just nodded her head and was like "yeah."

This story is, I know, ridiculously cute. My mom has been known to get excited about things before, but her love of Irving was truly adorable and heartfelt. Like the movie Babe.

That'll do, plant. That'll do.

But, also like the movie Babe, this seemingly cute story WILL make you cry. Because...at the start of my senior year, I got an email that Irving was struggling. He was no longer as vibrant as he once was, was losing leaves rapidly, and needed emergency surgery (read: pruning). A month later, Irving had still not recovered. Irving, my mother's African violet, and my brother, had passed away. My mother sent me an email with the following paragraph.

On a sadder note, we mourn the passing of Irving this evening.  And we celebrate his life.  He brought many hours of joy and humor to our family.  He will be missed.

Private services were held with immediate family members.  We all shed a tear ~ as he shed his leaves.

 In Pace Requiescat

But while Irving was gone, his legacy lives on. The next year, I got my mother a gift card to the local florist, which she used to purchase a new African violet, this time named Irving II. Unfortunately, Irving II is a bit of a problem child, and has failed to live up to his predecessor. My mother chose him for his distinctive leaf pattern, which he still has, but he has failed to produce flowers for quite some time, which, for an African violet, does seem to be a shortcoming. My mother has grown increasingly frustrated with him. I bring him up and she says "Don't even get me started on Irving II." At one point she even threatened to bring him back to the plant shop and exchange him for another plant. My father and I were horrified--this joke that my mother's African violets are treated like children has always been just a joke, but threats of exchanging Irving II for another plant made that joke feel incredibly real. "YOU CAN'T DO THAT," we begged of my mom, and we passionately started championing Irving II's cause. "Have you ever considered that perhaps your negativity is contributing to his inability to grow flowers?" I asked at one point. My mother's eyes got wide. "I have been NOTHING if not supportive," she insisted. "I've praised him, I've encouraged him. Miles, I've SUNG to him." I 100% believe that she has sung to him. Possibly "Grow For Me" from Little Shop of Horrors which is both very apt and also very worrying.

Thankfully, my mother did not get rid of Irving II, but she did buy a third plant, this one named Irviletta. And Irviletta has been the show-off that Irving II simply is not. She produces more than enough flowers for both plants, and she, Irving II, and my mother seem to all be very happy together.

My mom with her plants, Irviletta, Irving II, and Groot.

Ordering The Drink: I was out to see a show at the marvelous St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn with my parents, and we went to get dinner beforehand. We are decidedly Manhattan folk (this is, after all, the first drink I've gotten for this blog in Brooklyn so far)

Superfine, a cool restaurant which has benefited greatly from the increasing trendiness of the DUMBO neighborhood. It serves classic food, but with a twist, and was a really wonderful find. The innovation of its menu extends to its cocktails--while we were eating at the restaurant, there is a large bar that one can sit at, and the entire place had a pleasant, laidback vibe that one looks for in a neighborhood bar. 

The bar at Superfine

Since my parents were with me, I decided this was the perfect time to order a drink in honor of my mother's collection of Irvings. So, after we finished our first round of drinks (I had an excellent hot toddy) I asked out waiter if the bartender would be willing to make me a drink based on the name "The African Violet." He said that would be no problem and went off to get the drink. My parents and I were all excited!

Completely ready for a purple drink to come my way, I sat back and waited. But was rather surprised when a decidedly un-purple drink was brought over. I was intrigued.

The Drink:

The African Violet...or is it?

Rum (probably coconut rum)

Lime Juice

Grenadine

 

Assessment of Drink: A fairly simple drink, but really excellently presented. When the waiter brought the drink, he only listed the alcohol as rum, but tasting it, there was a distinct coconut flavor so my guess is it was a coconut rum specifically. And so this was very tropical and yummy. The lime was nice, its sourness cut through the other potentially sweet flavors, and brought out more of the tart flavors in the grenadine. Speaking of the grenadine, it was by far the best part of this drink, and what really set this drink apart from your standard everyday cocktail. As you can see in the picture above, the grenadine was sort of concentrated at the bottom of the glass, so it was not a major flavor the entire time you had this drink. For the most part it was just the coconut and lime (or...perhaps I should say the lime in the coconut...) but came into play when you got to the very bottom of the drink. It was like a little treat--this sweet reward for finishing off the drink. Grenadine is cloying on its own, but when combined with flavors to balance it it can be incredibly appealing. Cut by both the rum and the lime, the grenadine became very vibrant. It tasted almost like candy. The drink was really great, but it ended really strong especially. It wasn't just a cocktail, it was a bit of a journey-- a drink that evolved as you enjoyed it and that's pretty cool. I can't think of any complaints!

Does It Live Up To The Name: So, as good as this drink is, it does of course beg the question "what the hell does this have to do with African violets?" Well, the restaurant was a bit loud (some groovy live musicians started playing towards the end of our meal) and there are a few clues that suggested that perhaps the waiter had misheard me when I placed this order. For one thing, the fact that the drink was not purple or floral in any way suggested that the "violet" part might have been lost. Secondly, when our waiter placed the drink on the table, he said "So this is rum, and lime juice, and a splash of grenadine for the blood." 

The mention of blood was really a huge red flag. While all three of us enjoyed the drink, we couldn't help but wonder if whether we were drinking an African Violet at all. Sure enough, when he came back, we said we loved the drink, but asked if could clarify what drink he thought I ordered. Our waiter clarified that he thought I had ordered a drink called The African Violence.

I explained that I had said Violet, so no, I had not wanted to drink a cocktail inspired by the Sudan after all, and we all laughed at the hilarious misunderstanding. The waiter, honestly, looked kind of relieved. "I thought that was kind of dark," he said, in an understatement.

So, yeah. This drink was not an African Violet at all. And so it, of course, does not live up to the name of The African Violet at all, since  that wasn't the bartender's phrase of inspiration. So, I guess I'll have to talk about whether it lives up to the name The African Violence...which...no it doesn't. Now, to be fair, I wouldn't particularly WANT to drink a cocktail called The African Violence, so I'm not sure what I wish the bartender had done, so they were dealt an unintentionally bad hand. The splash of grenadine at the bottom didn't convincingly represent blood for me, but then again, I am happy I wasn't given some grotesque blood-splattered martini. So, I guess the way to approach this would have been to bring out the African part of the name more? Rum was a good choice--they do have African rums after all--but the coconut flavor which admittedly made this dish so yummy is not one that is relatable to African. So, whether it's the African Violet or the African Violence, this drink doesn't really live up to its assigned name all that much. But, I give the bartender a pass considering the name mix-up.

Also, immediately after we finished the drink, we got some praline cheesecake so all was immediately forgiven.

Superfine was a wonderful find, and should I find myself in DUMBO in need of a drink, I will definitely make my way over again. The food was great and the drinks were great...but I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed to have not gotten an African Violet drink in Irving's honor. That's why I ordered this drink again a few days later. Stay tuned to read part II of my story when I order The African Violet again (this time, making sure the waiter hears the name correctly).