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.

Drink 19: The Third Greatest Tragedy

The Name: The Third Greatest Tragedy                                                                            

The Bar: Public (210 Elizabeth Street, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: October, to me and to many others, is definitely Halloween month. There's something about the entire month that just feels generally spooky, and I love that. And so, for the month of October, in honor of Halloween, What's That Drink will have a Halloween theme. I'm looking forward to it and I hope you are too.

If I don't get at least one drink served in a cauldron I'm going to be really disappointed.

And, to start off this month of scary drinks, we have a drink inspired by a ghost tour that I took in New York City. The most awkward, terrible, and somehow amazing ghost tour of all time.

I'm guessing that most people know what a ghost tour is, but in case, it's a tour where you are lead to a lot of old buildings and told ghost stories. They are, of course, a lot of fun, and there are several that operate out of New York City around this time of year-- unsurprising considering that New York is an old city filled with lots of history. Two years ago, I went on one such ghost tour with some friends, and was very excited. I figured it might be a little cheesy, but would undoubtedly be a lot of fun, filled with some cool historical anecdotes and some spooky stories.

Our tour met at Washington Square Park, and we were introduced to our tour guide, a kindly older woman named Alice. Alice began the tour by apologizing and letting us know that she was not the usual tour guide-- she was the replacement tour guide who was called in when other people couldn't do it. And while all the other tour guides were actors and performers, she was a teacher. Despite this less than confident introduction, we all had faith in Alice and were sure she would do a great job. We would soon learn, sadly, that she would not do a great job at all.

The tour started off creepily enough. Alice polled the group to ask us who believed in ghosts and who did not. She further asked if anyone could see ghosts and then, most interestingly, asked if anyone on the tour used to see ghosts as a child and had since lost the gift. She explained that she herself was in this category, having experienced supernatural occurrences as a child. We were excited to hear that story, but Alice decided to bring us to our first location.

Alice brought us over to the first stop on the tour-- an old brick building. At this point, we were really amped up-- giddy like children gathered around a campfire. Once the entire tour was together, Alice spoke.

"The greatest tragedy in New York's history was, of course, 9/11." she said.

This put a bit of a damper on things. With that one sentence, all giddiness had subsided. But Alice had more to say on the matter.

"Even now, more than ten years later, people are still affected. Many died that day, and many survivors continue to struggle with medical issues from the attack. Volunteers and relief workers continue to fight for legal compensation for the health issues they face from their selfless efforts."

What the hell, Alice?! I mean, this is all true, and obviously September 11th was a terrible tragedy, but this seemed like a really strange thing to be talking about. We all just sort of stared around awkwardly, unsure of how Alice expected us to be reacting. Alice trudged along with her speech.

"The second greatest tragedy was when a passenger steamboat caught fire and sank in the East River. It is estimated that over one thousand people perished in that devastating accidents, but the exact number is, and forever shall be, unknown."

It was at this point that I grew concerned. We were, after all, nowhere near the East River. Nor were we near Ground Zero. What was Alice talking about?

"The third greatest tragedy was..."

At this point, I remember distinctly having to stifle what would have been an incredibly inappropriate giggle. But I found the thing so ludicrous. It seemed to me that Alice had completely forgotten the point of the tour. There would be no ghost stories this night. She was just going to keep listing terrible things that had happened in New York City until we all decided to go home.

"The five-hundred-and-thirty-second greatest tragedy was this one time when I bought a month-long unlimited Metro Card and lost it a week later and it was really inconvenient."

Luckily for us, this is not what happened. And the third greatest tragedy was actually relevant. (For those who are curious, the third greatest tragedy in New York City history was the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire-- which occurred at the old building we were standing in front of. It's not a particularly funny story, so I won't talk about it here, but if you don't know about it, I highly recommend reading about this important, tragic, and interesting story from history.)

Alice's ghost tour continued in a similarly somber mood. The ghost stories might have been really fun with a more excited storyteller, but as Alice said at the beginning, she was not a performer, and her storytelling was fairly half-hearted. At the end of the story, which, you know, is usually where a scary thing happens, Alice would typically adopt an apologetic tone. After talking about the creepy rumors of various hauntings around downtown Manhattan, she would subsequently say along the lines of "But, you know, maybe not. I don't know, it could be true, but it might not be," which really downplayed the whole point of the tour itself. The entire tour felt, frankly, uncomfortable. At one point, I tried to liven up the tour when we passed by an apartment where, from a partially obscured window, we could see legs moving about. "They're the legs of ghosts!" I cried. "No, those are people that live there," said Alice.

There was also no actual talk of ghosts. Alice encouraged people to take pictures on the ghost tour and said "Maybe some ghosts will appear in the photos. Many ghost experts say that they appear as orbs." We asked Alice to clarify what sort of orbs she was talking about. 

"You know," she said, "orbs of light. Like those little circles you get in photos when the camera has too much glare."
"You mean, those orbs are ghosts?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes that just happens in pictures, though, and the orbs are not ghosts."

Perhaps most frustratingly, it seemed like Alice was never going to talk about the supernatural experiences from her own childhood, which we had all really been looking forward to hearing. One member of our group, Alexis, finally outright asked Alice what sorts of experiences she had had.

"One time, I saw my sister in a room that she wasn't," said Alice. "But then, later, she said that, yeah, she actually was there."

I hate to be too much of a skeptic, especially since I'm not 100% sure what exactly Alice was talking about, but something about that statement implies that the magic of Alice's childhood experiences had been greatly exaggerated.

All in all, it completely failed as a ghost tour. But, it succeeded mightily as an Alice tour. She was absolutely endearing in her misguided efforts, and I must admit that I had a great time in spite of her utter lack of tour-guiding talent.

And so, in Alice's honor, I ordered a drink called The Third Greatest Tragedy. May she continue to list the horrible things that have happened in New York forever and ever, and may she one day figure out if her sister is actually in that room or not.

This one time a bagel dropped on the sidewalk. And that was the eight-thousand-and-fifty-ninth tragedy in the history of New York.

Ordering The Drink: I was out with my friend Arun, who fans of this blog will recognize from when I ordered the Male Pregnancy Test. He mentioned that he knew of a great bar which specialized in the sort of drinks that I order for this blog, so we made our way over to Public-- an acclaimed restaurant in its own right which has a lovely bar area. Sure enough, on their cocktail list, there was a note that if nothing struck your fancy, you could talk to the bartender and they'd make something different for you. As they put it, "We love a great cocktail challenge!" Well, that's what they were going to get.

A waiter came over to take our drink order. I, of course, ordered a drink called The Third Greatest Tragedy (otherwise you wouldn't be reading this blog post) and Arun decided to get in on the action too. While he didn't order a drink based on the name, he asked the bartender to create a drink inspired by the last day of summer. I may be a writer, but Arun is a true poet, apparently. The waiter brought our requests to the bartender and we were certainly excited for our drinks. 

Arun was so excited, he wouldn't stay in focus.

Unfortunately, there was a bit of a complication. One minute after our order had been placed, the bartender came out from behind the bar and approached our table. "WHAT do you want?" he asked? We repeated our request and he laughed. Apparently there had been some confusion (the waiter thought that I had ordered this drink at the bar before and wanted him to recreate it, so naturally he was a bit confused) but after everything was cleared up he returned to the bar and set about crafting our cocktails. In not too long, the drinks were brought to our table.

The bartender at Public crafts our custom drinks.

The Drink:

The Third Greatest Tragedy which, hopefully, would not be a tragedy at all.

Rye

Angostura Bitters

Ramazzotti Amaro

Cynar

Sweet Vermouth

Lemon peel garnish 

Assessment of Drink: This was a very solid drink. And certainly a strong one. And when I say strong, I don't just mean in terms of alcohol content, I mean in terms of boldness of flavor. A lot was going on here-- and it had a certain bitter flavor (although a not unpleasant one). Rye is known for being generally spicier than other whiskeys, and certainly came through here-- this drink showcased the rye very well. The bitterness of the Amaro, Cynar, and angostura bitters were present, but more as a highlight to the rye itself (I was excited that Cynar was used-- it's a really intriguing liqueur made from artichokes). This complimented the rye nicely, and brought out some of the rye's fruitier undertones. I have gotten a lot of lemon peel garnishes for this blog, and this one had another nice, thick slice of rind accompanying it, but this was the drink where I found the lemon most present. The peel was especially fragrant, and that citrusy aroma further enhanced the drink's bitterness. I don't think this would be a drink for everyone, but I must say that as someone who is not usually a fan of specifically bitter drinks, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this-- it was a lot smoother than I would have imagined (perhaps from the touch of sweet vermouth) and clearly well-balanced. It was bitter, sure, but the bitterness was clearly well-utilized and was oddly comforting and hearty.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Absolutely. While the bartender didn't discuss his intentions behind the drink specifically, it was clear that the bitterness of this drink was meant to symbolize the tragedy. And perhaps the trio of specifically bitter ingredients-- the Amaro, the Cynar, and the Angostura-- was what made this drink the THIRD greatest tragedy. I can't be sure of the intentions, but it definitely worked for me, and made a lot of sense. There was that nice, slight stinging in your throat while drinking any strong cocktail, which made for a more pleasant interpretation of a "tragedy." Not that I would expect any bartender to do this-- especially at a fancy establishment such as Public-- but part of me was worried I would just be given some sort of abomination in a cup and be told "Hey, you asked for a tragedy." I think the bartender at Public found a great balance between living up to the name, and making a delectable drink.

But, if he made the Third Greatest Tragedy well, then this bartender ESPECIALLY nailed Arun's drink inspired by the last day of summer.

The last day of summer in a glass.

This drink was fantastic, and consisted of gin, lemon bitters, vermouth, and aperol. What was great is that it was also a somewhat bitter drink, but the aperol provided a really sweet aftertaste. It tasted like the bitterness of autumn, but still with that memory of the sweet summer. Plus, it was light and refreshing drink, such as one might want to sip on a hot day (and as the days are getting colder, the time for light and refreshing drinks is running short).

Both drinks were very different, and both executed to a tee. I am sure that the regular cocktails at Public are great, but if you, I encourage you to take them up on their offer for a "great cocktail challenge," and let the bartender craft a one-of-a-kind creating. Judging from their successes here, I can't imagine you will be disappointed.

The two custom drinks, side by side.