Drink 8: The Murdered Moose (Part 2)

The Name: The Murdered Moose                                                                            

The Bar: N/A

The Story Behind The Name: This is a continuation of previous entry, so feel free to read Part 1, which contains the story behind the name.

Ordering The Drink: After leaving the bar where I ordered the Murdered Moose, I was informed of a number of parties happening on campus the next day, which I was of course invited to. One such party was being held by my friend Jane. Jane is quite the mixologist who throws elaborate themed parties, and invents cocktails to match the theme. These parties started after I had already graduated from Kenyon, but I had heard about them and was eager to go to one. The theme of this party was "from the back of my closet," so party-goers were invited to wear something from their closet that they wouldn't wear otherwise (lots of costumes, novelty items, and fancy clothes). Jane's drink menu for the night all featured the alcohol from her liquor cabinet that she uses the least.

As I came to the party and looked at the drink menu, however, I saw that there was one particular drink included on the menu-- one which Jane had added to the menu after the events of the night before.

This drink was, of course, The Murdered Moose.

 

The Drink:

The Murdered Moose, as it appeared on Jane's exhaustive drink menu

Assessment of Drink:

The Murdered Moose

 This one really has a kick. It's a strong drink and not for the weak of heart. Now, I'm guessing many are probably confused about the ingredient "Thu'um," which is listed in the ingredients. Well, video gamers might recognize the name as being the name of a dragon in the game Skyrim. Thu'um is not a commercially available alcohol-- it's a custom-made liquor that Jane's uncle made. Because Jane's passion for going above and beyond with mixed drinks clearly runs in the family (I should mention that Jane also made her own banana liquor which was featured in several other drinks on the menu that night). So, what is thu'um? It's a vodka infused with, I believe, three different varieties of pepper. Really spicy stuff.

Because of the Thu'um, it reminded me of the very first drink I had for this blog. In that drink, the spiciness was really overpowering, but in The Murdered Moose, the spice was really more of an accent. The spice was definitely there (and was not at all a drink you could have quickly-- you had to sip) but was muted somewhat by the other flavors in the drink. My guess is the sweetness of the apricot brandy might have helped.

Christine and Rosie-- who were two of the hardworking stage hands during Moose Murders, pose with Murdered Moose in hand.

This is one of the strongest drinks I've had in pursuit of this blog, and some of those who tasted it found it too powerful (notably, J.P. who actually played the moose in the production, was sent into a coughing fit after taking a sip) but I was definitely a major fan. It had spice, it had sweetness, and it had bitter-- and all of this complimented the bourbon beautifully. Having tried it, I understand Jane's reputation as a mixologist. And I'm honored that she's the first non-bartender to tackle one of these drinks on her own.

I wanted a picture of Jane at work during the party. And I chose the absolute wrong time to take it (she's grabbing an ingredient from a low cabinet).

Does It Live Up To The Name: Jane explained that the drink stems from an actual cocktail-- The Moose, which consists of Bourbon, Apricot Brandy, and Angostura Bitters. So, her only addition to this cocktail was the Thu'um. And given the distinct and powerful flavor of the Thu'um, it completely changes the drink. We already have The Moose, given the inspiration for this drink, and I firmly believe that the Thu'um would be enough to kill any moose. It really does pack quite the punch.

And then there's the brown moose-like color, which just feels right. Really, every way I look at it, this drink fits its name perfectly. It has the moose, and it has the murder present due to Jane's addition of the peppery vodka. Given the success of other bartenders who have used another cocktail as inspiration for their new drink, it seems like that's a great way to go to make a successful and applicable name. Or, you know, just add lots and lots of bourbon. 

I'm unsurprised that Jane knocked this one out of the park. And if she has thoughts on this drink, I highly encourage her to comment with more detail. It's great to know that I got to try a successful Murdered Moose. And, in some ways, it's rather fitting that the unsuccessful one exists too. Given where the inspiration for the name comes from, it just seems right that way.

I pose with my Murdered Moose.

Drink 8: The Murdered Moose (Part 1)

The Name: The Murdered Moose                                                                                 

The Bar: The Village Inn (102 Gaskin Ave., Gambier, OH)

The Story Behind The Name: I'm a connoisseur of bad movies. They're not for everybody, but there's something fun about watching a really really really bad film. From The Room to Manos: The Hands of Fate to every Syfy Original Movie ever, there's a treasure trove of bad cinema out there for people to enjoy. This so-bad-it's-good quality extends to other media as well. Think about how many tv shows we consider "guilty pleasures." One could say the popularity of the Dadaist movement is an example of this in art. Even in music, we have examples. Remember when William Hung was given a record deal? And then there was the popularity of Florence Foster Jenkins.

But it's rare for this quality to be found in the world of theater. Perhaps because theater has to be performed continuously, it's rare for theater to be so absurdly ridiculous that it's good-- unless such a quality is done intentionally (like in one of my favorite shows, Bat Boy: The Musical). There are, of course, bad shows, but while bad movies that bomb at the box office are still preserved to be found later, if a play is really really bad, it tends to close before many people get a chance to see it.

But there is one play that lives on in infamy as probably the worst play ever made. That play is Moose Murders by Arthur Bicknell. Inexplicably premiering on Broadway, it ran a total of one performance, not counting previews, and is considered by many the true standard for bad theater, and while other shows have closed soon after or on their opening night, Moose Murders is by far the most infamous, and is the show by which all other bad plays are judged. The show was so bad that the lead actress, Eve Arden-- who would have been making her first appearance on Broadway in 40 years-- dropped out after the first preview. Legendarily negative New York Magazine critic John Simon began his review by stating that "Selective patrons cannot even imagine what horrors reviewers are exposed to, night after nightmarish night." But the most outspoken critic was Frank Rich, who then worked for the New York Times. In his review, he said:

"From now on there will always be two groups of theatergoers in this world: those who have seen Moose Murders and those who have not. Those of us who witnessed the play that opened at the Eugene O'Neill Theater last night will undoubtedly hold periodic reunions, in the noble tradition of survivors of the Titanic. Tears and booze will flow in equal measure, and there will be a prize awarded to the bearer of the most outstanding antlers. As for those theatergoers who miss Moose Murders-- well, they just don't rate. A visit to Moose Murders is what will separate the connoisseurs of Broadway disaster from mere dilettantes for many moons to come...The worst play I've ever seen."

Rich later expanded on his sentiment saying that the single worst moment of theater he had ever seen was from Moose Murders-- specifically "watching the mummified Sidney rise from his wheelchair to kick an intruder, unaccountably dressed in a moose costume, in the groin."

And while many theater buffs know of the terrible wonder that is Moose Murders, very few have actually taken it upon themselves to read it. But, out of morbid curiosity, I purchased the play and read it, and I can assure you that it lives up to its reputation. There is nothing good about this play. The jokes are bad, the characters are the bad side of ridiculous, the dialogue is bizarre, and the plot makes absolutely no sense. It's a murder mystery story, and Bicknell seems to really like red herrings-- so he has added about fifty of them and they all contradict each other. One character schemes with pretty much every other character in the play, to the point that you wonder what advantage this could possibly give him. In the intermission between Act I and Act II, one character just inexplicably goes missing without any explanation (that character being a five year old girl who is the most annoying character ever written-- to the point that you're kind of rooting for her to be the next one killed). And then, of course, there's the stage direction "Hedda enters with a knife in her side," but then a second later she's completely fine, was never stabbed, and no one mentions it (although a character who was not stabbed dies in the same exact scene without any cause). 

But my favorite weird red herring involves the moose itself. Starting in the second act, a moose appears and runs around chasing people with a croquet mallet. Obviously, this is the killer...except that we find out later that the person dressed as the moose was actually trying to help the protagonists by telling them the identity of the real killer. Except that it's never explained how he finds out the killer's identity, and it's never explained why he thinks the best way to convey this to them is to chase them in a moose costume while holding a croquet mallet. Oh, and also the person he identifies (in a strange scene that involves a can of soup and a hula hoop in pivotal roles...not even kidding) turns out to not even be the killer after all because it's another red herring. 

Not to mention how offensive the play can be. One character named Howie exists solely because Arthur Bicknell wanted to make a lot of jokes about blind people. Basically, the show sucks and should never see the light of day.

So I decided to do a production of it at Kenyon. But, as Moose Murders demands, this couldn't be any production.

I call the production an "improvised staged reading." The actors had not read the script before the show and had never rehearsed it. Instead, they were given their scripts right as the show began and basically had to figure it out as they went along (They knew all of the character names and where the entrances and exits were). To make it even harder, they were given what are known as "cue scripts," where they really only had their own lines and stage directions, with just a few lines of cue so they know when to speak/move. Basically, they had only the bare minimum of what they needed to get through the show.

The cast before the show, before they really know what they're getting into.

Given all of this, the show could have easily been a complete disaster. But it was really amazing. Thanks to the willingness of the cast, the hard work of the backstage crew, and the enthusiasm of the audience, the show came together beautifully, and I think of it as a highlight of my theatrical career. I'd go into more detail, but I think the easiest way to understand is to watch the production, and it happens to be on youtube! Feel free to check it out-- and bask in the glory of just how awful this play really is.

A picture of some of the cast as I make them pledge in front of the audience that they've never read the play before.

I now love this play, not just because if it's ridiculously low quality and hilarious reception, but also because of the wonderful memories of the production and the many amazing people involved.

Two of the brave actors-- J.P. and Charles-- show off some of the more ridiculous costumes they had to wear in the show.

Ordering The Drink: This past weekend I went back to Kenyon to visit. As so many of the stories on this blog have originated from Kenyon, I felt that it would only be right to order a drink at one of the college bars, and settled on my personal favorite, The Village Inn. Knowing it had to be a Kenyon-related name, I settled on The Murdered Moose as the name of the cocktail.

Many of my friends currently at Kenyon were there to watch the drink-ordering in action. As I went up to the bar, I had a rather large posse of friends behind me, watching. Lurking. It must have been rather perplexing for the bartender.

Their lurking skills are superior to my picture-taking skills.

I ordered the drink and explained the rules to the bartender and, rather than saying yes or no or asking any questions, he just wordlessly went off and started to craft the drink. Which has never happened before. No hesitation, no confusion, just all business. While I talked with friends as the drink being made and didn't see the full list of ingredients, there was an exciting flourish as grenadine was poured in and formed a nice, bloodlike pool at the bottom of the glass (hence the murder). We oohed and aahed at the nice touch. The bartender then added a spray of soda water and handed off the drink.

The Murdered Moose-- note the grenadine at the bottom.

As I thanked the bartender, I went onto the next step of the process and asked the bartender if I could know what's in the drink. But, then, something unusual happened.

He said no.

At first, we all thought he was joking and laughed. But...he was not. He was deadly serious about not telling us what was in the drink. I prefer to think of this as playful and not an indication of him being irritated, as when I asked how much the drink was, he jokingly said "18,000 dollars. Just kidding, it's four bucks."

As I type the words "It's four bucks" I realize that this is officially the first drink for this blog which has been ordered outside of New York City. Things are much cheaper everywhere else.

My entourage of lurkers and I headed back to our table and tried the much-anticipated drink.

The Drink:
Vodka
Orange Juice
Grenadine
Soda Water
Orange Garnish 

J.P., who played the moose who got murdered in the show, holds The Murdered Moose

Assessment of Drink: I know what you're thinking. How could there be ingredients listed under the drink when we weren't told what was in it? Because upon tasting the drink, it became immediately clear what the ingredients were.  Now, of course, there might be something else in this drink that was added, but if there was, it really didn't come through. Everyone tried the drink, and even the most discerning palates seemed to be in agreement. Orange juice, grenadine, and vodka. And the soda water that we saw the bartender spray in.

And, like, it tasted good. This is already a classic cocktail-- a Vodka Sunrise-- and one that most college students are familiar with, as orange juice and grenadine are typically readily available as mixers at a party (although most, including myself, prefer the version made with tequila). So, I've had this drink before and have enjoyed it. It's nothing groundbreaking, but was enjoyable. I imagine most people have tried this drink a few times.

Does It Live Up To The Name: As mentioned before, the grenadine was a nice touch, as that splash of red can definitely capture the "murdered" part. And, whether intentional or not, perhaps not mentioning the ingredients was the bartender's way of adding some sort of mystery element? Like a murder mystery, but...involving drink ingredients instead of murder? Maybe I'm giving the bartender too much benefit of the doubt there, but it's possible.

But the moose is completely missing. And as exciting as murder is, I think the moose plays a pretty big role in this drink's name. I mean, it's a pretty specific animal. And there could have been ways to convey it-- even if the drink had just been brown in color instead of orange, it would have been something. Or even if he had put two orange garnishes on the drink-- one on each side-- maybe it could have represented the antlers? My friend Perry jokingly suggested that perhaps the bartender was familiar with the show and decided that-- just like in the show-- the moose should be completely irrelevant to everything and had no place being there.

I was thinking about how I'd make the drink, and thought of making a sweet drink. Maybe combine Bailey's and creme de cacao to simulate a chocolate mousse. And then, to steal this bartender's technique with the grenadine, add some chambord to pool at the bottom to represent blood. Not only would that be more applicable for the name, in my opinion, but it would taste absolutely delicious.

And, even if this cocktail had fit the name perfectly, I think I would have found it a bit disappointing because this drink already has a well-known name. I don't blame the bartender-- the bar was busy and he was working hard to please a bustling college campus on a Friday night. Making a fancy customized drink for some alum with a creepy gang of students watching him is probably not high on his list of priorities. The disappointment of the drink hardly ruined the evening-- at least it tasted good, and the drink was really secondary to the evening's enjoyment. It was great seeing friends and getting to catch up.

Perry was the only one prepared for this photo.

Even though this wasn't the best drink, I was so glad that my old college bar was going to be featured on the blog and left for the evening happy with the outcome. But, little did I know that I was far from done with The Murdered Moose.

The story of this drink is to be continued with Part II...coming soon!

Edit: and here is Part II!

Drink 7: Five Pencils

The Name: The Five Pencils                                                                            

The Bar: The Pony Bar (637 10th Avenue on 45th street, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: I've already ordered a drink in honor of one of my drama professors from college, but now it's time to honor a different professor. It's fair to say that this professor was not as inspiring as the other professor I've written about, but he certainly left as big of an impression.

This professor is named Hugh, and he was a visiting professor at Kenyon for three and a half years. I was only there for his last year. As I, a young aspiring drama major, looked through my course options for the second semester, I saw one that covered a field I had never tried, but knew would be a useful skill. It was a class simply titled "The Stage Manager," taught by Hugh.  A technical professor and remarkable designer who has had quite a career, Hugh certainly knows his stuff, so I was looking forward to the class. I had no idea how much it would change my life.

At this point, I feel like it's necessary to show you what Hugh looks like. But I don't want to put a picture of him on the blog without his permission, so here is an artist's rendering.

Also, he sounded like Tom Waits crossed with a grizzly bear. Got the mental picture? Good.

If you're familiar at all with the job of a stage manager in theater, you know that it is the most important job in the whole show. They basically oversee everything and make sure that the show happens. This is a job that they do while receiving little to no credit, but anyone who is smart thanks their stage managers on a regular basis. Seriously, without the stage manager, the show does not happen.

But as crucial as a stage manager is, it's not really something you can teach in a class-- you kind of have to learn it hands on. Combine this with the fact that it was Hugh's last semester before retiring, and the class was a wonderful and absurd experience. This was one of our first lessons:

"You need five pencils. Because if you don't have five pencils then...you don't have enough pencils. But if you have more than five pencils, you might be taking up room for something like a pen."

Please remember to read these lines in a gravelly Tom Waits/bear voice.

Or then there was the time that we were told:

"The most important thing a stage manager can have at any rehearsal is a BIG BOWL OF CANDY! Because everyone loves candy, and even if they don't eat it, they love it. But at big rehearsals, like the first rehearsal and the tech rehearsals, you need not only the big bowl of candy, you also need...a box of donuts. But, this is important, the types of donuts that you choose because if you get the jelly donuts or the cream-filled donuts, then those are messy. And the actors eat them, their hands get sticky, they touch the props and the whole show is ruined."

Hugh also had a tendency to interrupt himself with complete non sequiturs while speaking. So, he'd be teaching the lesson, and stop in the middle of a sentence.

"So, you can see that Tom enters on this page, so you make this mark on the entrance sheet and I went to the zoo on Saturday and I saw bats that were THIS BIG. But I didn't see the baby elephants. So now that you've marked it you know that Tom enters there. Any questions?"

 

A Scene from The Glass Menagerie, I'm assuming.

And then there's the time that he had a thermos while teaching one of his classes and told them:

"You think this is coffee. It's not. It's straight gin."

It might have been a joke. It could have very well been true. We will never know.

There are countless of other stories about Hugh, but I think you get the idea based on these anecdotes. Where is Hugh now? Well, as he said one day "I'm going to go to Mexico to grow vegetables on my rooftop garden and drink tequila." I have every reason to believe this is what he's actually doing. And although no current student at Kenyon ever met him, his legacy still lives on. To my friends, he became a figure of legend, and we began to imagine increasingly elaborate things about his life. At one point, we became absolutely convinced that Hugh was still living on campus in the church belltower, training an army of giant bats to rain jelly donut bullets down on the campus.

Ordering The Drink: I was out to drink with a group of friends to celebrate my friend Kayleigh's birthday. Kayleigh is a fantastic designer, and worked one-on-one with Hugh throughout her college career. One time, she saw him standing alone in the middle of a stage, balancing a giant wooden two-by-four on his chin. When he heard her come in, he gracefully let the two-by-four fall, caught it, looked at her, said "Hello," and walked away. 

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Hugh was in the circus when he was younger. Because of course he was.

Since Kayleigh knew Hugh well, we decided that we had to get a drink in his honor that night. Although, we debated names like "The Baby Elephant," and "The Big Bowl of Candy," we ultimately settled on "The Five Pencils," to honor one of  the first lessons he ever taught me.

We were at The Pony Bar, a fun place with a great selection of craft beer. As it's known more for its beer than its mixed drinks, I didn't fully know what to expect, but the bartender accepted the challenge without hesitation. Although, after taking the order, he did have to think for quite a while before coming up with an idea. To be fair, pencils don't really translate well into drink form, so this was a tough name to assign.

The Pony Bar. J.J. Abrams would be proud of the lens flare in this picture.

But, soon enough, I had my Five Pencils in hand, and was therefore ready to stage manage.

Kayleigh poses with the Five Pencils

The Drink:

Lemon Vodka (Stolichnaya)

Orange Vodka (Stolichnaya)

Triple Sec

Lemon Juice

Lime Juice

Sugar

At this point, I finally realized I should turn the flash on.

Assessment of Drink: This drink wasn't much to look at. It was kind of a watery yellow in color. But the drink tasted good. A little sweet, but not terribly so, it tasted kind of like hard lemonade. Or, more accurately, like a lemon drop candy in drink form, as someone at the table suggested. That's kind of the perfect way to describe it. A nice, pleasant, and refreshing drink-- sweet without being cloying.

I could nitpick, and say that it might have been nice to have something that complimented the citrus, but I had every reason to be happy with this drink. I enjoyed drinking it, and that's the most important thing of all (although, after this drink, I started on their great beer menu and much preferred that. It really is the highlight of the bar).

Does It Live Up To The Name: This is where the drink kind of loses me. I didn't ask the bartender for an explanation, and he didn't offer one in return, so I'm not really sure what his thought process was.

The most obvious thing here is the number "Five." Five pencils, five citruses in the drink. I feel like he took the lemon and orange vodkas and used that as a starting point. Then he found the triple sec because that's also citrusy. And then he couldn't find two other citrus alcohols, so he just went with regular lemon and lime juice. The drink certainly tasted good, but the theme was kind of missing. The use of the number five was tenuous, but if that's what the bartender was indeed going for, I'll give him that. But, pencils? What do pencils have to do with citrus? Nothing. Pencils have nothing to do with citrus.

But, to be fair, I don't know how one would communicate the idea of pencils into a drink. And I appreciate that my drink did not have any graphite in it. Maybe the bartender was going for a yellow color? But the drink was hardly yellow at all. Maybe a drink with yellow chartreuse could have been good, and have conveyed a pencil's bright signature yellow. 

Why this drink conveyed "pencils" to the bartender will always be a mystery. But it was a great drink, and a really fun night. And nobody had any jelly donuts, so the show was not ruined.

I know I said I'd not put any actual pictures of Hugh here. But...this is not a picture of Hugh. I'm pretty sure this is the same garden gnome picture from before. But with a different hat.