Drink 47: Colonel Wurzberger's Elephant Stew

The Name: Colonel Wurzberger's Elephant Stew                                                                                

The Bar: The Blind Barber (339 East 10th St., NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: I love second-hand books. I love how they're already a bit worn, and I love how you can sometimes find old books that are out of print. I've already talked about the time I found a bizarre book that I happened to read through and was so glad I did. Well, this story is about the time my mom happened upon a strange book, to hilarious results.

She was walking in our neighborhood and came across some old books for sale at a cheap price. My mom loves to cook, and so an old cookbook caught her eye. It was compiled by The Ladies of the Living History Association, a group of historical reenactors, and it was initially published in 1968. It was only $1.50 so she decided to look through it and see if it was interesting.

The cookbook is filled with recipe submissions that people sent in. The recipes are for the most part informally written--very few precise measurements. And the recipes are overly simple at best, and outright disgusting at worst. Seasoning hadn't quite been invented yet, and pretty much every recipe involves boiling meat and potatoes until all flavor is lost. There's a whole section on recipes that you can cook in this new-fangled thing called the microwave! But, despite the quality of the recipes, it's important to note that it's a serious cookbook. These are dishes that people actually prepared. This book was meant to be a real cookbook. And the reason that I emphasize this is because, amidst all of these actual recipes, my mom landed on this recipe, supposedly submitted by a certain Colonel A. Wurzberger.

Each member of my family read this one by one, and none of us could get through it without cracking up. Even before the hare pun, it's such a wonderfully silly and ridiculous joke. I love the casual statements, like, "Cook for about 4 weeks," and, "This will serve 3800 people." And, I also love the name Colonel A. Wurzberger. It HAS to be a pseudonym, of course, but if so, where did whoever wrote this come up with it? It so perfectly conjures up the image of some retired army general in full military garb. And to imagine such an official-looking figure painstakingly cutting up an elephant into bite-size pieces for two months straight is so ludicrous. Really the whole recipe is an absolute masterpiece.

But what makes the whole thing complete is the fact that it's in the cookbook at all. Obviously, the person who submitted this (Colonel A. Wurzberger, of course) knew it was a joke, but it remains to be seen if the Ladies of the Living History Association did. Did they simply compile all the recipes they received without actually reading any of them, and this one made it in through the cracks? Did they read the recipe and not realize it was a joke? Or did they get the joke, and decide to put it into their cookbook anyway? I genuinely don't know. But I'm so glad this cookbook exists, and that my mom was lucky enough to stumble onto it on the street and bring Colonel Wurzberger's Elephant Stew into our lives.

Ordering The Drink: After getting two drinks with my friend Pat--The Christopher Walken Duck Joke and The Day The Clown Cried--we decided to hop bars once again and set a new record for the most rounds of What's That Drink played in one night! And we knew exactly where to go: The Blind Barber. This is another hidden bar, and as the name suggests, it's located in the back of a barbershop. And it's a real barbershop--you can get a haircut and then go to the back and get a drink. I'd never been there, but I'd heard about it. It's always included on lists of the best speakeasies in New York City, and is known for having especially unusual cocktails, so it's somewhere I've been meaning to go for this blog for quite some time. Pat has been there before, and confirmed that it's a really neat place with a cool vibe and great drinks. We stopped for dinner first, since we had each had several strong drinks by now, and then went off towards The Blind Barber.

We stepped through the door in the back of the barbershop and, I have to admit, both of us were surprised. There was a live DJ sitting in one corner, and incredibly loud pop music blasting throughout the bar. If a real blind barber were to go, they would think it was a nightclub, not a tiny place known for unusual cocktails. Nightclubs aren't really my thing--I like to be able to hear myself think--but I know that a lot of people do like them and that's fine. But, the decor of The Blind Barber would never suggest "nightclub." It's decorated in an old-school Victorian style, with old books and photographs everywhere. It's beautiful, but you'd think that the music would be jazz, not Jay-Z.

Me, expressing my annoyance at the loud music blasting in this otherwise quaint library room.

It didn't help that the bar was pretty empty too. It was a Tuesday night, and when Pat and I walked in there were only three people on the dance floor and no one else in sight. They were awkwardly dancing as Pat and I screamed over each other. He apologized, and explained that the last time he was here, it was nothing like this. There was no music, and it had seemed like a really lovely hidden spot. The difference between what he described and what I'd heard about The Blind Barber, versus what we were actually experiencing, was night and day. And I really don't think that this was just me being like a crotchety old man. The loud music was simply odd for the environment. Reading online reviews, it's clear I'm not the only person who feels this way. It seems that after a certain time each night, the place suddenly changes completely. I'd certainly prefer to have been there earlier in the evening!

But, never mind that, we were here for drinks, and I was still excited to get some interesting cocktails! Pat ordered his favorite drink from the menu in both name and content-- the Sweeney Ted--which was absolutely delicious. But I went ahead and, of course, ordered the Colonel Wurzberger's Elephant Stew. The bartender initially seemed reluctant, and hesitant to know if this was what I really wanted. "There must be a kind of alcohol you want?" he insisted, and I promised him that I really would be happy with whatever he put together, as long as it fit the name. I eventually convinced him and he put the drink together.

The Drink:

 

Bourbon

Dry Vermouth

Pineapple Juice

Simple Syrup 

Assessment of Drink: Earlier in the night, Pat had asked me if I'd ever gotten a really bad drink while doing this blog. And the truth is that I've only had one actively awful-tasting drink. And 1 out of 46 isn't too bad. But, while Colonel Wurzberger's Elephant Stew was nowhere near as bad as The Brave Potato, it was not a good drink. It was very watery, and though he said there was bourbon and vermouth in it, I didn't really taste it. The only thing you could taste was pineapple. Watery pineapple. And the simple syrup didn't help matters, making it a sweet drink and taking out any tartness or acidity the pineapple might have had. Now, don't get me wrong, I like the taste of pineapple. The drink wasn't inedible. But it wasn't a good drink. It's a drink that I would have expected to get at some dive bar, or at a party at a college frathouse. "Oh yeah, we'll throw together some pineapple and bourbon. Voila!" The vermouth might have elevated it, but like I said, I didn't get any hint of the vermouth at all. 

It was, all in all, incredibly disappointing. And I was more disappointed because I knew this bartender could have done better. Pat's drink was absolutely delicious, and actually took skill to make. This drink felt lazy. To the point that I don't know if he maybe presented it to me as a bit of a "fuck you." Maybe he really found my request insulting and decided to phone it in. But it was certainly not worth the $13 that all cocktails cost at The Blind Barber. I'd have rather he simply not agreed to make the drink at all.

Does It Live Up To The Name: That the drink itself wasn't great is one thing, but where I really felt this drink dropped the ball was in the creativity. Or, lack thereof. I happen to think that this was an especially great name for a cocktail. There's already a cocktail called The Colonel--made with whiskey, benedictine, and bitters--and the drink could have been a play on that. I've already had an elephant-themed drink before, which was served in a very creative way. And the word "stew"could have been a gift to a creative mixologist. Stews are sort of a mish-mosh of ingredients thrown together to create a cohesive whole. Here, the ingredients were so simple, and there were so few of them, that it would be a really lousy stew. He could have even focused on the Wurzberger and gone with a German theme. The name of this drink as a whole suggests a sort of strength. Stew of any sort would be hearty, and elephant stew especially so. Add in the military component, and I thought I'd get a strong drink. I certainly did not get that.

Perhaps if the bourbon had been more prominent, it would have made matter better, but I honestly am at a loss as to why this name conjured up the idea of pineapples. They seem to have come completely out of left field, and considering they were the dominant flavor of the drink, it's especially egregious. Looking at the picture of the drink, I wonder if perhaps the lemon was supposed to represent an elephant ear and the straw was supposed to be the trunk? But I think that's a stretch and I might be giving the bartender too much benefit of the doubt if I accept that as explanation.

On the whole, I'm sorry to say that I've never been let down by a bar on this blog as much as by The Blind Barber. The loud music was odd and unexpected, but the drinks could have more than made up for it. I have no doubt that their set cocktail menu is great--and like I said, the Sweeney Ted that Pat ordered was absolutely delicious. But despite my high hopes and expectations, I don't feel like I had a chance to try Colonel Wurzberger's Elephant Stew. Perhaps I'll even try this name again in the future and see if I get better results. I do know that if I ever return to The Blind Barber, I'd certainly stick to their set menu, which I would like to try more. And I'd definitely come earlier in the evening, before its odd transformation into a noisy nightclub.

Drink 46: The Day The Clown Cried

The Name: The Day The Clown Cried                                                                                

The Bar: Fig. 19 (131½ Chrystie St., NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: If you've never heard of The Day The Clown Cried, then you are in for a treat. It's a title of a movie, and it's a movie that I and many others are obsessed, despite the fact that almost no one has ever seen it. Let me explain.

In 1972, actor, director, and comedian Jerry Lewis was already firmly established and beloved by many for his broad physical comedy. But, Lewis was feeling a bit unsatisfied as an artist. Sure, people loved his comedy, but he wanted to prove he was a serious actor too. And so he set out writing, directing, and starring in a movie called The Day The Clown Cried. It was going to be his foray into the world of drama. Like Steve Carell in Foxcatcher, but if Steve Carell's performance had been horribly, horribly offensive.

How bad could it be, you ask? Let me just briefly summarize the plot. The Day The Clown Cried is about a German circus clown named Helmut Doork. After learning he is going to be fired from his job, he is thrown into a concentration camp for being a political prisoner after drunkenly mocking Hitler in a bar. It only gets worse from here, folks, so, buckle your seatbelts. Doork tries to entertain the rest of the prisoners, but it turns out he's a really bad clown so they all hate him. Although, to be fair, prisoners in a concentration camp are probably going to be a tough audience. But even though the other prisoners hate him, a group of Jewish children at the other side of the camp actually seem to like Doork's routine. Doork continues to perform for them, not because he's trying to cheer them up, but because they're the only people who actually think he's funny. The Nazi guards, seeing that the Jewish kids like him, enlist Doork to help them. Doork is assigned to help load the kids onto a bus, and then off the bus and into the gas chamber where they will be killed. I told you to buckle your seatbelts. The film ends with Doork deciding to go into the gas chamber with them since they're the only people who think he's funny. As he and the children are killed, he begins to cry. And that's why it's The Day The Clown Cried.

I shouldn't have to explain why this is atrocious. this is such a terrible idea, and the fact that Jerry Lewis put so much time and money into this film is mind-boggling. Again, he wrote, directed, and starred in this and genuinely thought it would be a potential Oscar-winner. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he had a change of heart. After he finished putting the film together, he watched it all the way through. Apparently, it suddenly dawned on him that this was a complete disaster and if it was ever released, he would be absolutely ruined. Because the premise of this film really is one of the worst things I've ever heard. Knowing this, Lewis has gone through great pains to ensure that the film never sees the light of day.

Jerry Lewis, filming The Day The Clown Cried

But word travels fast, and The Day The Clown Cried has become a thing of legend. Think about the cult following of The Room, but through in a movie that just might be worse, and add in the mystery factor. It's essentially the Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster of the cinematic world. And, just like with those mythical beasts, little glimpses of the film have been released. Every so often, a new piece of footage is released. And a full screenplay was released at one point. Before he became famous, comedian Patton Oswalt actually brought together a group of his friends to hold regular readings of the scripts aloud. But, and this is how seriously Jerry Lewis takes this, Oswalt had to stop because Lewis sent lawyers after Oswalt with a cease and desist order. Honestly, it's Lewis' reactions to the whole thing that make this such a thing of legend. There are unfinished films all over the place, but none that have been so disavowed by its creator.

If you're as fascinated by this movie as I am (I've always been a lover of really bad art), I encourage you to do more research on the film on your own because it really is extraordinary. For now, I'll just leave you with this quote from comedian Harry Shearer, who has somehow seen a rough-cut of the movie. Of The Day The Clown Cried, he said:

With most of these kinds of things, you find that the anticipation, or the concept, is better than the thing itself. But seeing this film was really awe-inspiring, in that you are rarely in the presence of a perfect object. This was a perfect object. This movie is so drastically wrong, its pathos and its comedy are so wildly misplaced, that you could not, in your fantasy of what it might be like, improve on what it really is. "Oh My God!"—that's all you can say.

I hoped that any drink I ordered with this name might live up to the same awe-inspiring nature.

Also, it's worth noting that Lewis recently softened his strict declarations that the film would never be seen. Supposedly, he said he'd consider letting the film be released, but only ten years after his death. Hey, it's better than nothing.

Ordering The Drink: In my last post, I talked about ordering The Christopher Walken Duck Joke with my friend Pat. We had enjoyed drinking at The Ship very much, but decided that the night was still young and we wanted to head elsewhere. After wandering around aimlessly for a bit looking for a bar, we decided to not just leave things to chance and researched places in the area. Pat found out about a place called Fig. 19, and while neither of us had heard of it, we decided to give it a try based on positive online reviews.

It turns out we maybe should have done more research because we had a hard time finding it. Fig. 19 is a hidden bar behind the wall of an art gallery. You never would have known it was there if you were just passing by, which is of course the point of a hidden bar.

Pat, looking for the door that is literally right behind him.

Once we finally found the door to the bar, we entered and knew we'd come to a great place. It truly feels like a secret--completely isolated from the world. I even love that the building number is 131½! More importantly, the cocktails are really great. The menu sounded fascinating, and the two drinks that Pat and I ordered to start were phenomenal. Pat's drink was called The Red Leaf, a stunning drink made from whiskey, vermouth, sherry, absinthe, and--most intriguingly--red wine reduction. I don't think I've ever had a drink so alcoholic that's also so smooth. And, as someone who loves absinthe, this might have been one of the best absinthe cocktails I've ever had--it snuck in at the end as a deliciously licorice aftertaste. It got better and better with every sip. I, meanwhile, got a drink called The Vanishing Point, a scrumptious dessert cocktail with a base of vanilla bean and cinnamon infused gin, which tasted like a more autumnal and sophisticated version of eggnog. Upon tasting it, Pat claimed it might just be one of the top ten cocktails he'd ever tasted. The cocktails were so good, we essentially shared both drinks because we were unable to stick to one.

It was clear that our bartender was a skilled mixologist, and she was also very friendly, so I was sure she'd go along with the weird drink idea. She was certainly amused by the request for The Day The Clown Cried, and set about putting the drink together. Meanwhile, Pat got a second Red Leaf because it was so good that he couldn't even be tempted by the other intriguing options on the menu.

 

The Drink:

Rye (or, to quote the bartender, a LOT of rye)

Aperol

Amaro

Lemon Juice

Maraschino Cherries

Orange Peel 

Assessment of Drink: This was fantastic. We already knew from The Red Leaf that our bartender was skilled at making a strong drink that still tasted balanced, and she proved it yet again. She explained that this was her twist on a cocktail called a Paper Plane. The only difference (aside from the creative garnish) was that she swapped the traditional bourbon out for rye, and added a lot more of the rye than you ordinarily would get, and which I certainly appreciated. The use of rye ended up being a really smart choice. Rye tends to be a little spicier and have a bit more of a bite to it than regular whiskeys, which made the drink decidedly sharper than it would have been with bourbon. Pat told me that he usually wasn't a big fan of rye, but agreed with me that it was the perfect choice here, and I appreciated that it was really brought to the forefront.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Our bartender explained that her intention was to make a drink that was both whimsical and sorrowful to try and fit the name, and she got that here. The aperol is sweet, and the amaro is bitter (amaro literally means "bitter"), so the interplay between them really creates an intriguing balance. You can see the fun of the clown, and also the bitterness of the tears. This drink represented the bartender's intentions beautifully.

And then, there was that garnish. As soon as our bartender put the drink down, I said, "Are the cherries the clown nose?" and her face lit up. "You got it!" she said. Of course, I was kind of cheating, since this was also done on a previous clown-themed drink I've ordered. Although this time, they were the really great high-quality cherries, which are always a treat. I also like that she put a cherry on each side of the orange peel. If the peel represents the clown's mouth as it did in my mind, I was imagining that depending on which cherry was the nose, this clown was smiling or frowning. Does that make sense? Whatever, it made sense to me.

All in all, I could see a clown ordering this on a particularly sad day. And I know that should The Day The Clown Cried ever get a release, I will definitely order a Paper Plane, but with a double rye instead of bourbon.