The Top Five What's That Drinks (so far)

This blog has come a long way. What started out as a silly little idea has now become a fully-fledged thing that I do now. I just posted my 30th ever drink for this blog with The Turtle in Times Square (and if you haven't read it yet, definitely do so now because it has probably one of the funniest stories behind the name on this whole blog).

And since we've reached a nice round number like 30, I thought I'd celebrate by looking back at these 30 drinks (technically 32 if you count the two-parters) and putting together the five best drinks that I've had for this blog since its beginning. I'm taking into account both the taste of the drink and also how well I think the drink lived up to the name. Meaning the fantastic Honey Milked From the Teats of Zeus is unfortunately out of the running: it was possibly the most delicious custom drink I've had but I got a little nitpicky when it came to the name of the drink. It gets an honorable mention, though. So do The Traveling Teddy Bear and The Fish of the Sea, which were great but just got beaten out by the top five. And so should the Murdered Moose created by my friend Jane, which was excellent but which didn't come from an actual bar so I left it out on a technicality (sorry, Jane). And now, here's my list.

And, as a reminder, you can find a full list of all of the drinks I've gotten here.

#5: The Undead Gamble
Bar: One if By Land, Two If By Sea

Looking back on this drink, I was kind of harsh on it and said the drink could have been more suited to the name. And it could have been, but considering that I wanted a spooky drink, this one fit the bill. Bright green from the creme de menthe, it felt like drinking a magic potion. A minty magic potion. It was incredibly refreshing and I can still remember the taste of it even half a year later.

#4: The Evil Rapping Clown
Bar: Bar 9

When I consider the best drinks I've gotten for this blog, they're mostly from fancy bars specializing in cocktails. The Evil Rapping Clown is the only one that came from a more low key pub. And while it probably didn't taste as good as some of the other drinks I mentioned as honorable mentions, it more than made up for it in terms of presentation. Rainbow stripes AND an evil clown face constructed out of lime wedges and a maraschino cherry? Fantastic. This was the second drink I ever got for this blog and I remember that after it arrived was when I realized how much I loved this blog idea, because bartenders would create something like this. It was just so much fun, and remains the most memorable drink I've gotten.

It doubles as a drink AND as a nightmare!

#3: Shut the Box
Bar: The Rum House

Well before it was featured prominently in my favorite film of last year, I was very fond of The Rum House, a standout bar in Times Square. And that's because of this fabulous drink. I loved the ingenuity of the two drinks that placed higher than this one, but I don't know if they'd be as good in the hands of a less-skilled bartender. The Shut the Box was superb, but also the drink on this list that I think could be best replicated. It's the one I think could most easily be seen on an actual cocktail menu.

#2: My Only Jacket
Bar: Bar 44 at the Royalton Hotel

Sadly my phone ran out of battery when I ordered this drink, so this is only an approximation of what it looked like...but it was great!

There's not much to say about this one, really. I thought that it was almost perfect in every way, and I hold it up as the epitome of what I always hope bartenders will do when I play this game. It was delicious, fit the name perfectly (and this was one of the tougher names I've assigned to bartenders), and showcased the bartender's own personality. Oftentimes people would ask me "What's the best drink you've ever gotten for the blog?" and this was always my easy answer. It was just perfect and I thought for a long time it couldn't be beat. But, recently, it was bested by my #1 choice.

#1: The Shovel Shark
Bar: Lot No. 3

The Shovel Shark, with its "fin" peeking out

As much as I hate to admit it, the very best drink I've had for this blog came from one of the very few drinks I've gotten outside of New York City. In fact, I got this drink across the country, in Washington. But this drink is the clear winner, beating out even My Only Jacket. It tasted good and it fit the name well, but it was more than just a cocktail, it was a spectacle. This pitch-black drink was an experience. It was exciting, it was cool, it was simply amazing. Like all the drinks on this list, it demonstrated why I like to play this game. Because in the best of situations, the bartenders embrace the challenge to find a drink that is unique, that is fun, and that goes well beyond what you would ordinarily expect. It's simply the best drink I've had for this blog, and I can't imagine I'll see any drink like it for quite some time.



So there you have it, my picks for the top five drinks I've gotten for this blog. As for the worst drinks? Well, the single worst is undoubtedly The Brave Potato, the drink that made me make this face.

What are your favorite posts from this blog? Favorite stories? Feel free to share in the comments, and I look forward to getting many more drinks to share with you all.

Until next time, cheers!

Drink 30: The Turtle in Times Square

The Name: The Turtle in Times Square                                                                               

The Bar: St. Dymphna's (118 St. Mark's Place, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: A few years ago, my girlfriend at the time and I were browsing through the famous Strand Bookstore. If you don't know about The Strand, it is one of the greatest places in the world, and a true haven for any bibliophile. I always find something great when I'm at The Strand, and this particular excursion probably introduced me to the single greatest book I have ever read: a children's book called How Little Lori Visited Times Square.

It may not look like much, but I promise that it contains many wonders.

I was drawn to the book because, as you can see, it was illustrated by Maurice Sendak, the artist behind such childhood classics as Where the Wild Things Are, Chicken Soup with Rice, In the Night Kitchen, and more. It was sitting on a "rare books" table, and I later found out that it had been out of print for about thirty years. A Maurice Sendak book I'd never heard of? The inner child in me couldn't contain his excitement. So I read the entire book in the store. And when I finished the book I knew two things to be true.

1: This was the most amazing book I had ever read.

2: Under no circumstances should this book be read to children.

It's impossible to truly describe this book. When I finished, I think I was speechless for several minutes. Nothing would be the same again. On the inside cover there's a warning that claims that  "This is a very funny book and should not be read while drinking orange juice, or you will spill it!"And...I have to admit that if I had been drinking orange juice while reading this book I would have probably spat it out.

As the title suggests, the book is about a little boy named Lori who wants to see Times Square. And so, he heads off to try and get there. First, he takes the subway.

Even though almost every single subway line in New York goes directly to Times Square, Lori somehow fucks it up and ends up at South Ferry instead.

So he takes a bus.

The bus, by the way says "DON'T WALK ON THE PIGEONS!!!" on the side of it for...some reason. There are lots of strange bits of text in this book, with billboards simply saying things like "STRING BEANS!" with no explanation. Regardless, Lori's bus trip is about as successful as his subway trip.

By now you've probably caught on to what this book is about. It seems to be a way to teach children about modes of transportation and about places in New York. So, Lori's going to try to get to Times Square in a bunch of different ways and get to a bunch of different places before finally getting to Times Square. A pretty cute idea, right? Things follow this pattern predictably. After the bus, Lori tries to take a taxi. And I know what you're thinking: how could Lori fuck that up? There are no stops for Lori to somehow miss. Well, the taxi driver asks him if he has money to ride in the cab and Lori says no, so the driver says "Please get out then." Note how he does not say "Where are your parents, lost child?" Which...actually is probably in line with what a taxi driver would do. Lori next tried to take the "elevated subway" and ends up at his Uncle Eddie's house in Queens. which is perhaps not as recognizable a location as South Ferry.

The movie suddenly speeds up and Lori has the equivalent of a literary montage to save time, which the author openly acknowledges.

There's a lot going on on these pages. First, that boat is called the "Grampus" for reasons which are never explained. Second, Lori didn't have enough money for a taxi, but can apparently afford a goddamn helicopter. Also, the fact that he's going to "Idlewild Airport" (which was later renamed JFK) betrays the fact that this book was written in 1963. Then he takes a horse and wagon in Central Park, which considering price gouging probably cost even more than the helicopter.

But the pattern still fits. Lori takes some transportation and goes to a location in New York City. That all changes on the next page.

What? Where did the pony come from? And why does it only ride around in a circle? But this is not as stupid as Lori's next idea.

That's right, he jumps into the pool with sea lions at the zoo. This strategy, shockingly, doesn't work. Then he takes an elevator to the 125th floor of Macy's, a store which has never had 125 floors.

Lori is sad and is ready to give up (even though Macy's is only eight blocks away from Times Square) so he sits down and starts to cry. Then this happens.

Never in the entire history of the written word has the word "Suddenly" been more applicable.

What?! A turtle? Where did the turtle come from? And not just a turtle, but a talking turtle. Granted, this book has really stretched the boundaries of plausibility, but the revelation that animals can talk in this world is especially jarring. What does this mean? Why does the turtle talk? Does this mean that the pony could talk too and was just being a dick by riding in a circle and not taking Lori to Times Square?

By the way, the turtle is not just saying "Why?" It's part of a longer sentence. Here's the rest of the sentence.

In all of these pictures, it's really funny to watch as Lori becomes increasingly more distraught.

So, each word is on a separate page. This is done to convey that the turtle talks very slowly. But, this is also done because they needed to fill pages. There was clearly a page limit that the book was not meeting, so the author (Amos Vogel, whose greatest life achievement after this book was, randomly, founding the New York Film Festival) was just like "Fuck it, we put one word on each page." Now you might think I can prove this, but I know this is the truth. And I know that because this is the next page.

So Lori summarizes the book we just read. He says "Because I want to see Times Square, I took a subway and got to South Ferry, and a bus and got to 242nd Street, and a taxi, and the man told me to get out, and the elevated subway and I got to Queens, and a helicopter to Idlewild, a horse and wagon to Central Park, and an elevator to Macy's, where I am now, although I do not want to be here." Lori leaves out the part about the sea lions because even Lori realizes that this was not his brightest idea.

But the turtle has a solution, and she tells Lori that if hops on her back, she can take him to Times Square. I don't want to post all of the pictures because that would take forever, although I should note that for some reason, this time the turtle can suddenly speak three words at a time. And those three words are incredibly odd fragments broken up in what seems to be the most intentionally confusing way possible. She says "Do Not," "Worry My Little," Friend Just Hop," "On And I," "Will Take You," "To..."

Lori hops on the turtle's back and they head off to times Square. Lori holds out his handkerchief in the most pretentious way possible.

So they're on their way. Finally, Lori's story appears to be coming to a close and he has found a way to get to Times Square. This is the next page.

HAHAHAHA TURTLES WALK SLOWLY!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!

There is only one page remaining in this book. One page left. Only one page to finish telling the little story that Amos Vogel and Maurice Sendak have put forth. I want you to try and guess what is on the last page of the story. Perhaps it is just a picture of Times Square? Perhaps it is a picture of Lori's smiling face as he and the turtle arrive? There are many viable options.

Scroll down to find out what is on the last page.

Now is when you spit out your orange juice.

Holy shit.

Holy shit, right?

I mean...holy shit.

HOLY SHIT.

You see now why I was stunned into silence after reading this, I'm sure. I bet as you read through this post you were thinking "Come on Miles, this book is kind of silly but nowhere near as bad as you're making it out to be. Certainly not something so amazing as to be hailed the greatest book you'd ever read." But now you understand. Because it is the only kids' book that decides to end on the note of child abduction and possibly murder OUT OF NOWHERE. Seriously, out of nowhere. Remember when you thought this book was about Lori trying to get to Times Square and seeing various places in New York while taking a number of methods of transportation? You were wrong. This book is about how you should not trust talking turtles because they WILL kidnap you (very slowly) and they WILL kill you.

HOLY SHIT.

What I'm saying is I can understand why this book did not become a beloved childhood classic like some of Sendak's other books. And I can understand why Amos Vogel never really made it as a successful children's book author.

I just want to know what happened, because clearly something went wrong between this book's conception and its publication. I think that the publishers probably tried to rush the book

"Come on, Amos, we need an ending."

"Don't rush my work!" 

"Amos, it's a silly book about a kid traveling around New York." 

"I SAID DON'T RUSH MY WORK!" 

"Just write something." 

"Okay, okay, fine. A talking turtle abducts the kid and he's probably dead. You happy?"

And then maybe the publisher published it just to spite him. I don't know. Something must have happened because there is no way this is how the book was pitched.

To make matters stranger, according to his bio, Amos Vogel has two sons. Named Loring and Steve. The book is dedicated "To Steve" and my guess is that the character of Lori is based off of "Loring," because why else would he have chosen to name his young male hero Lori? So...this book is about/dedicated to his own children. And this is what he came up with. Basically, I view this book as Amos Vogel's confession that he abducted his own children.

I didn't buy this book after I first saw it at The Strand. Once I regained consciousness, I just kept looking around and let it stay on the "rare books" table. But I regretted my decision ever since. I would sometimes tell people about this book and they would actively not believe me. "There's no way it ends like that," they'd say. But three weeks ago, I was buying some books and decided to order the book. Because I just had to have it in my possession; because it's the most batshit thing I've ever read, and also because I had to prove to myself that this book was not a massive hallucination on my part. Well, it is real. And I've been carrying the book with me everywhere and showing it to everyone ever since. And everyone has reacted in the same way. Because it's impossible to not react with a mixture of horror, amusement, and amazement after reading How Little Lori Visited Times Square. There's just nothing like it. And I love it so much.

Clearly, I had to get a cocktail to commemorate such a literary achievement. I settled on "The Turtle in Times Square" as the drink name, even though the turtle never makes it to Times Square. As a matter of fact, the whole title of the book is wrong. How Little Lori Visited Times Square implies that he visits Times Square. Not that he tries to visit it and then gets abducted and most likely eaten by a psychotic turtle.

A face soon to be seen on milk cartons everywhere.

Ordering The Drink: I was out having dinner with my friend Ryan (who was, of course, present at this blog's conception) shortly after I purchased How Little Lori Visited Times Square, and so he was one of the very first people I showed the book to. Similarly horrified and amused by the tale's morbid twist, we agreed that it was very necessary that I order "The Turtle in Times Square," and made our way to a nearby bar called St. Dymphna's that Ryan had been to once before and greatly enjoyed. It was a fun place--a nice Irish pub which probably is best suited for beer, but which nonetheless had a reasonably sized liquor selection, and even a list of featured cocktails. It might be best for a pint of Guinness, but it was clear that it could satisfy a cocktail drinker just fine (sure enough, I first ordered a Whiskey Sour and was not disappointed).

But since Irish pubs have not always served me well for this blog, I was still a little tentative as I made my drink request. I explained the rules of the game to the bartender, and there was a definite moment of pause. But it was a decidedly brief moment, and after his second of thought, he responded with gusto, "Let's do it! What's the name?!" I told him "The Turtle in Times Square" and he set about crafting the drink.

As he put it down, I asked him what was in it and he playfully replied, "No, you gotta taste it first and THEN I'll tell you." So I sipped.

"It tastes like sour apple candy," I said.

"Sounds about right," he replied.

The Drink:

The Turtle in Times Square

Crown Royal Regal Apple Whiskey

Lemon Juice

Pimm's liqueur finish

Assessment of Drink: Well...it tasted like sour apple candy. I don't really know what else to say. That's pretty much it. Sour green apple candy has a pretty distinct taste, there's nothing else like it and it's very strong so...yeah it tasted like that. But mixed with whiskey. And while the fruitiness of the Pimm's served to cut the green apple taste a little bit and was actually pretty refreshing, it also accentuated the sweetness. But, yeah, this is probably the easiest drink I've ever had to describe. If you like sour green apple candy you would love this drink. If not...you would not have liked this drink. I am pretty indifferent to the taste of sour green apple candy myself, but I will admit that it was actually kind of intriguing. I'd never tasted a drink like this, so that alone made it stand out. And it wasn't unpleasant. It was actually kinda like the whiskey sour I had just had. Only much more sour green apple-y.

Before I knew what ingredient had given it this distinct flavor, I had guessed apple schnapps but it was, of course, the Crown Royal Apple Whiskey. Flavored whiskeys are still rather unusual, and were initially made to try and replicate the success of flavored vodkas. The clear problem I see here is that while vodka is mostly flavorless and can therefore carry an added flavor more effectively, whiskey is pretty distinct (and delicious). If someone is drinking whiskey, then they want to be able to drink the whiskey. That's why the most common flavored whiskeys are typically honey whiskeys, where the honey is a much milder but nonetheless complimentary flavor (I'm a huge fan of honey whiskey). There are also some more assertively flavored whiskeys out there: Fireball cinnamon whiskey is, of course, incredibly popular, and Crown Royal makes a maple whiskey that I've never had but is supposed to be delicious. But, in those cases, the flavors are more universally popular. Sour green apple candy tastes artificial. It's one of those flavors that some might enjoy, but nobody actually thinks is objectively good.

That being said, if the idea behind the drink was to serve the flavor of the apple whiskey, then it did it's job. The Pimm's on top was a nice touch which added a certain amount of depth to the drink, and the lemon juice brought out some of the actual sourness of the sour green apple, which cut down on it being too unbearably sweet. All in all, the drink worked far better than a drink that tastes like sour green apple candy should. I enjoyed it. And while I won't be rushing out to buy a bottle of Crown Royal Regal Apple, it was definitely a good drink.

Does It Live Up To The Name: When I thought about this drink, I gravitated towards the turtle part. Maybe it's because I know the name's origin, and maybe it's because I feel like turtles are automatically the most important part of any sentence they're a part of.

Pictured: important

Because of this, the entire time I was sipping this drink I was trying to figure out what it had to do with turtles. I kept thinking of the apple. Was it that the apple was green? Like a turtle? Was it that the apple is kind of round but not really? And a turtle is also kind of round but not really? Maybe this drink was stronger than I thought because by the time I finished it I was convinced that there was a very strong connection between turtles and apples. They were BASICALLY the same thing.

It wasn't until the next morning that I realized, "Oh. It probably meant The Big Apple. As in New York. Which is where Times Square is."

So, yeah, that's what I think the bartender was getting at. I think, at least. Ryan and I were lost in conversation so I didn't actually ask the bartender his intention and, in hindsight, I wish I had, because I'd love to know what he felt made this drink turtle-y. Because to me I really don't see it. I will leniently give the drink a pass and say the apple thing conveys Times Square (look, making a drink based on a name is tough so you have to leave room for interpretation) but the turtle is definitely missing. You could have made the drink green! At the very least he could have put a wedge of lime in it and gone "The lime is the turtle, the drink is Times Square, it's a turtle in Times Square, boom there you go." That would have been something.

But I appreciate it regardless. When this blog started, I split my time between going to fancy cocktail bars and more laidback pubs, and have unsurprisingly always gotten better results at the fancy cocktail places. But, in this case, The Turtle in Times Square stood out. Sometimes when I write these posts, I really have to think to try and remember how the drink tasted, even if I enjoyed it at the time. This wasn't the best drink, but I'll definitely remember it for a while. Say what you will about that sour green apple flavor, but one can conjure up the memory of it immediately. And that sort of signature taste can actually be pretty successful. It wasn't just a simple well drink, the bartender at St. Dymphna's took a risk and tried something--he clearly embraced the challenge and I applaud him for it. So, did the drink match the name? Not really. Would I order this drink again? It wasn't bad, but probably not. But, despite this, I'd say my outing to St. Dymphna's, unlike Lori's ill-fated trip to Times Square, was a definite success

Drink 29: Picasso's Pigeons

The Name: Picasso's Pigeons                                                                                

The Bar: The Raines Law Room (48 West 17th St., NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: Last year, I was lucky enough to get to travel to Barcelona. It's an absolutely beautiful city, and it was a truly thrilling trip. Of the many wondrous things to see in Barcelona, one of the highlights is undoubtedly the Picasso Museum. Which is exactly what it sounds like: a museum dedicated to Pablo Picasso. It's definitely worth a visit. After all, Picasso was (and I know this might be an unpopular opinion) pretty good at art. But beyond showcasing Picasso's works, the museum does a wonderful job of painting its own picture of who Picasso was as a person. One of the most interesting parts of the museum was the very beginning where we see sketches that Picasso made while a student in art school, and we can see that his technique is perfect. It turns out the man known for rearranging faces had a wonderful gift for realistic portraiture as well. It makes sense: to be able to break the rules you must first understand them. As you go through the museum, you essentially watch how Picasso found his own distinct style and it's pretty thrilling to watch.

The museum's proudest accomplishment is that it contains the entirety of Picasso's Las Meninas series, making it the only place where an entire Picasso series is displayed in its entirety. It's rather remarkable, but as amazing as it was to see the entirety of Las Meninas together, I was far more fascinated by the paintings that he created upon finishing that series. See, Picasso was already adored and respected by the time Las Meninas was finished, and was rightfully recognized as a genius. So, what did he do immediately after this 58-painting project was done?

He painted pigeons. Specifically, the pigeons on his windowsill. After all of this remarkable artistry, his follow-up was...pigeons.

Pigeons.

The pigeon series paintings are also on display, and are especially funny to see after all of the fanfare that accompanies the Meninas paintings. The subject matter is so mundane, so seemingly uninspired. Like something that a former president would paint in their spare time.

But, I can hear you right now. You're saying "This is Picasso! Surely he painted some really great pigeons! Surely his pigeons were the greatest pigeons of all time!"

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is one of his pigeon paintings.

© Pablo Picasso

Look at that. LOOK AT THAT! That's shit, right? That's really really bad. Unless you are nine years old or younger (in which case stop reading blogs about cocktails) then YOU could do better than this.

And unless you think that this is a mistake, they're all like this.

Sometimes Spanish pigeons are sideways. And have eight legs.

 LOOK AT THIS! It looks, at best, like he simply didn't finish. At worst, it looks like one of these inspirational pigeons just took a shit on the canvas and he put eyes on it and called it art.

Here's one that's slightly better than the last two.

Like I said, slightly.

Here there's more effort involved, and a little bit of texturing, but...it's still not something I would attribute to one of the greatest artists who ever lived. The other ones looked like something a five year old made. This looks like something a five year old who's good at art would make.

I found the "pigeon room" of the museum absolutely hilarious. Museums aren't known for their senses of humor, and sure enough, there was text on the wall describing the pastoral themes in these works, all the while ignoring that Picasso had just put some blobs on the canvas and called it art. So, these were treated with as much seriousness and hallowed reverence as the other recognized masterpieces in the museum's possession. I couldn't stop laughing. The security guards kept shooting me mean looks.

Look, I don't know anything about art. Maybe there's some really amazing talent on display here, but...it's Pablo Picasso. You cannot tell me that he put effort into these. Here's a painting he made called The Old Guitarist which one of my absolutely favorite paintings. Just look at the emotion and feeling conveyed here.

Now here is a closeup of some of his pigeons, painted almost 50 years later.

I am convinced that these pigeon paintings were done as some sort of test. A sort of Emperor's New Clothes type of deal. Picasso finished his Las Meninas series and was tired and just kinda wanted to coast and went "You know, I bet I could paint some really shitty pigeons and just because I am Picasso, everyone will think they're brilliant." And that's what happened! I'm not even convinced he MADE these. I think he might have given them to a small child just to see what would happen. Regardless, there's clearly something at play here. This can't have been a serious attempt at art.

"Oh, you don't like my pigeon paintings? Me? Pablo Picasso? You dare to criticize the work of Pablo Picasso? You think you know more about art than Pablo Picasso? Now let me ask you one more time: do you like my pigeon paintings? Oh, you love them?! That's wonderful to hear!"

Needless to say, the terrible pigeons were my favorite part of the museum. Which makes me feel a little bad, but I do promise I loved the whole museum but...this...this VERY obvious prank on Picasso's part was simply too much. There's no way he didn't make these just to see what people would say. There's just no way.

I loved them so much that my only souvenir from all of Barcelona is a silk tie from the Picasso Museum. Mostly blue, at the bottom there is a tiny graphic of, you guessed it, two of Picasso's pigeons. Just sort of sitting there. In a very blobbish sort of way.

I had a great time in Barcelona. It is a very dignified and culturally rich city, filled with history and artistic beauty. It truly is one of the most awe-inspiring places I could ever imagine. And it introduced me to Picasso's pathetic pigeon paintings and that is the greatest gift the city could have ever given me. I love them so much.

The second greatest gift Barcelona could have ever given me is Patatas Bravas.

Ordering The Drink: While having drinks with Arun, who fans of this blog will surely remember, we made our way to one of my favorite bars in the city: The Raines Law Room. The cocktails program is truly fantastic. It features an expansive and ever-changing menu of both seasonal and classic cocktails. Rooted in a very traditional cocktail approach, the Raines Law Room is innovative and sophisticated--I would be willing to bet that it would be impossible to get a bad drink here. They clearly know what they're doing, and it truly is one of my favorite places to go. I don't know why it has taken me so long to order a What's That Drink drink here--maybe because whenever I go there are several drinks on the menu that I'd rather try.

But even if the cocktails weren't as good as they are, The Raines Law Room would be one of my favorite bars in the city. Named after a liquor tax during the prohibition era, The Raines Law Room is a classic speakasy. Located underground and under an unmarked awning, to get in, you must press a buzzer which signals a bouncer to come in and secretly ask you how many in your party. Depending on how busy it is, you are soon escorted in and find yourself in a beautiful and very cool room that is exactly what you hope a speakasy would be. Plus, around most of the searing areas, there are curtains, so as you would expect from a old-fashioned speakasy, you can have privacy if you'd like. And even without drawing the curtains, it's a very intimate setting, where you can feel separate from the rest of the bar and actually have a conversation with the people you're with. Which is fairly rare even in the more upscale bars in New York.

This: but more crowded and more dimly lit.

The Raines Law Room is not just a good bar, it's a trip back in time. You feel transported to another era with both the surroundings and the drinks. It's one of the best bar experiences in the city--I truly can't recommend it enough. I was excited to return, and was excited to challenge the skilled bartenders with the Picasso's Pigeons. I was sure to wear my Picasso tie for the occasion.

After our first round of drinks (excellent as always) I placed my order for the Picasso's Pigeons. Arun had been considering also ordering a custom drink, but ended up ordering off of the menu. Because, again, there are a lot of cocktails offered and if you look at the menu you will want to drink every single one.

The Drink:

Zacapa Rum

Sherry

Chocolate Mole Bitters 

Maraschino cherry

Assessment of Drink: I tried to take a picture but, as one would expect in a prohibition-style speakeasy, The Raines Law Room is rather dimly lit, so the picture didn't really turn out well. This was the best I could do.

It's especially unfortunate that my subpar camera could not get a picture because it was a very attractive drink: a beautiful reddish-brown color. As you can tell from the drink description, it was a pretty simple drink, and the star was undoubtedly the Zacapa rum, as it should be. Zacapa is one of the best premium rums out there, and while I would have happily had it on its own, the Raines Law Room knew exactly how to showcase it and elevate it. The sherry was a nice touch. Zacapa is aged and blended in a distinct method called the Solera method, which involves four barrels--and Zacapa in particular incorporated barrels that were once used to make and store sherry. The addition of more sherry was whimsical and highlighted the sweet wine flavors inherent in the rum already. Similarly, while chocolate mole bitters can have a, well, bitter flavor, in this case, I actually felt the chocolate's sweetness came to the forefront. As such, we had a wonderfully smooth drink, definitely sweet, but with a more rounded and pleasantly spicy aftertaste. This drink took the already excellent product of Zacapa and incorporated it into a drink that was even greater than the sum of its parts. In fact, the best thing I can think to say is that this drink made a case for what is so great about cocktails: that combining alcohols can accentuate their flavors and further our appreciation for them.

Does It Live Up To The Name: This drink is immediately appropriate for the name due to its Spanish influences. Sherry is, of course, Spanish, and while Zacapa rum is Guatemalan, its distinct Solera method of blending is a decidedly Spanish technique. So, if I was told that this drink was called "Picasso's Pigeons" I'd definitely understand why and not question it. So, The Raines Law Room unquestionably passes the name test.

Of course, the "pigeons" part was completely missing. The drink Arun had ordered first was called "The Three Little Birds" and was also rum based, so I briefly thought that maybe the rum was meant to connect the pigeons and the birds of that drink's name, but...that was clearly reaching. And, frankly, there was nothing in this drink to tie it in to Picasso in particular: any Spanish celebrity would have been just as appropriate. But, as I considered the name more and more, I struggled to think of what they could have done better. As a New Yorker, I don't particularly want to think of pigeons any more than I already have to, and while there is a brand of rum called Pink Pigeon that could have perhaps been used...I obviously am not complaining about being served as wonderful a product as Zacapa. And how exactly would I want them to make Picasso clearer? By making the drink blue to represent his Blue Period? Sure, a blue drink isn't necessarily a bad one, but...I definitely would have been surprised and kind of disappointed to be served one in a place as sophisticated and dignified as The Raines Law Room. So, ultimately, I have to give the Picasso's Pigeons high marks. There could have been ways to make the drink fit the name a bit more, but to have done so would have been at the detriment of the drink itself. And despite the fact that I created and maintain a blog that requests drinks specifically based on names, the name really should come secondary to taste always. And this was a great cocktail.

I'm very glad to report that, unlike when Picasso painted his pigeons, the Raines Law Room did not rest on their laurels and serve me a white blob with dots for eyes. They served me a really fantastic cocktail, and I am excited to return and have many more such cocktails at The Raines Law Room. And I encourage anyone and everyone else to do so should they be in the area. Don't let the hidden entrance fool you: it's worth it.

See, Picasso? We KNOW you can draw birds if you try. You're not fooling anyone. This one isn't even all that fancy but it's still clearly a bird. WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST HAVE DONE THIS?!?!