Drink 18: Don't Look Left

The Name: Don't Look Left                                                                                 

The Bar: The Lantern's Keep at The Iroquois Hotel (49 West 44th Street, between 5th and 6th avenue, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: This story has to do with the time that I had jury duty. Now, jury duty is often considered one of the worst possible things one could be subjected to. Receiving a summons for jury duty is like being told that you need a root canal, or that you have been randomly selected to file the rare SUPERTAXES this year which are like filing regular taxes but so much worse. So, hearing that this story has to do with jury duty, you must be imagining some horrifying yet in hindsight hilarious thing that I must have been subjected to during my time at jury duty...but, you'd be wrong. See, when I had jury duty, I actually had a really great time. And it was hilarious both in hindsight and in regular sight.

I think the reason jury duty has such a bad reputation is that most people who are summoned don't actually do anything. If you're not called to potentially sit in on a case, then you just sit in a waiting room for two days with absolutely nothing to do. And, I have to admit, the waiting room at the courthouse is pretty soulless. When I served, they started the morning by playing us a video about the importance of the jury system. This video included a reenactment of how they used to drown people to see if they were witches, and posited that the jury system was an improvement on such a system. Which is a bold statement to make.

The reason I found jury duty interesting is that, rather than wait in the depressing room for two days, I was called to actually be on a case. And what a case it was. This was in a civil court, and to keep track of the various trials, they are referred to using the plaintiff's surname. So, if I were to sue someone, they would refer to it as The Purinton Case. The plaintiff in this situation had the last name "Beube." The thing is that nobody at the court knew exactly how to pronounce this, so they went with their best guess. This is how our trial became known as "The Booby Case."

It's funny because it sounds like the name of a blue-footed bird native to the Galapagos, right?

Eventually, they realized that the guy's last name was actually pronounced "Byoob," with a "y" sound in there. But, to be fair, anyone who laughed at the word "Booby," is probably still going to laugh at the word "Byoob."

I run a quality blog.

But the case only got more and more silly from here. Once the potential jurors for the Beube case were ushered into a private room, we got to meet the lawyers. And they were certainly a pair. The plaintiff's lawyer was named Corey, and if he had not become an attorney, he probably would have been a used car salesman. He was clearly very good at his job, and had that kind of smarmy air about him where he could be very nice and personable, but you also knew that you could not trust him at all. Basically, imagine any "big city lawyer" from any movie or tv show and that is the level on which Corey was operating. He was very slick, and eerily good at lawyering. Below is an artist's rendering of Corey.

That's right. He looked EXACTLY like Mr. Clean (minus the earring and plus a neatly tailored suit). Also, he spoke with a very thick Bronx accent. I hope that all of this gives you a vivid and thoroughly perplexing mental image of what this lawyer was like.

Mr. Beube and his lawyer Mr. Clean were suing the city of New York, and representing the city was an attorney named Tanisha. Now, in the world of popular culture, you are probably familiar with the trope of the "sassy black woman." This is an incredibly overused trope, and while this character can sometimes be handled successfully, the trope is highly problematic. But I mention this because Tanisha was the real-life embodiment of the sassy black woman trope. If the Beube case was a movie, she would have been played by Wanda Sykes. Every time Corey tried to use lawyer talk and charm the jury, Tanisha would roll her eyes or make a snide comment and it ALWAYS gloriously caught him off guard. The two of them were a hilarious combination. I would totally watch an Odd Couple-type sitcom starring the two of them as rival lawyer roommate frenemies. At one point during the trial, they were blatantly passively aggressively bickering throughout one witness' testimony by constantly objecting to trivial things, and the judge had to have a sidebar with them where she loudly instructed them to knock it off. She then smiled at the jury and said that we were to disregard anything we heard during the sidebar. Yeah, the judge was great too.

The case involved a bicycle accident. Mr. Beube had been riding his bicycle, when he was knocked over by a double parked car which had opened its door. To complicate matters, Mr. Beube is a sculptor, and the resulting arm injuries prevented him from completing his work. To complicate matters even further, the double parked car was a cop car (hence why Beube was suing the city of New York). With the exception of Mr. Beube, all of the testimony came from doctors who had examined Mr. Beube-- some saying his injuries were serious, some saying they were not. In a memorable bit of testimony, one doctor called by the plaintiff claimed that Mr. Beube had contracted radiculitis, which is rather serious and is certainly no laughing matter. Which...is unfortunate, because when said aloud, it sounds like you are saying "ridiculitis," which sounds, in a word, well, ridiculous. Try it. Say it out loud. It's funny, right? It sounds like a totally made up disease. It sounds like something from a Roald Dahl book. Or maybe like a disease involving the funny bone.

The worst part is that the doctor just KEPT saying "Ridiculitis," and it just got funnier every single time. The entire jury box came down with a serious case of the church giggles and were trying so, so hard not to laugh. The judge would have chastised us, but she was trying not to laugh too. I almost lost it when the doctor said that the radiculitis had manifested itself through several "radiculopathies along the left shoulder."

This is supposedly an illustration of radiculopathies, which again, are a very serious condition which you should feel bad for laughing at, and not at all a condition that only muppets get.

But the most ridiculous (sorry, radiculous) part of it all had to do with the accident itself. Now, in any court case, jurors are forbidden from visiting the crime scene. The reason is that you are not supposed to gather any evidence not submitted during the trial, and attempting to do so is a pretty serious offense which can, supposedly, lead to a mistrial at best, and a charge of perjury at worst. The problem is that Mr. Beube's accident occurred one block to the left of the courthouse, in clear view of the courthouse steps. Therefore, once we were selected for the jury, the city official who oversees all jury selection spoke to us and explained that we were required by law to shield our eyes when entering and leaving the courthouse. We could not look left under any circumstances. If we did look left, it was under the threat of perjury. We all laughed when told this, but then it became very clear that the guy was not kidding and so we just said that we understood.

And we would, indeed, have to enter the building while shielding our eyes. Just in case somebody was watching us. Hence, the name of this drink: the Don't Look Left.

But, as amusing as this case was, the real reason I enjoyed my jury experience had everything to do with my fellow jurors. We were an eclectic lot--our jury consisted of both a rabbi and a deacon-- and I doubt that I would have met any of them under any other circumstances. But we had a lot of fun. You're only ever in the courtroom for a couple of hours during the day, so we spent a lot of time together in the jury room, just getting to know each other, and playing games (I was the undisputed jury champion of bananagrams). After the case was settled and we were dismissed, we all took a field trip to the crime scene and made a big deal about getting to finally look to the left of the courtroom. We got along so well, that we even had a reunion one month after the case. And almost everyone showed up. It was magical. And ridiculous. So ridiculous, I might come down with a case of ridiculitis.

Ordering The Drink: For this blog, I have done a bit of research on good bars in New York City. Since I often work nearby, I have looked at multiple recommendations for what are the best cocktail bars in the Times Square area, and there are two bars that are consistently mentioned more than any others: Bar 44 at the Royalton Hotel, and The Lantern's Keep at the Iroquois Hotel. I've been to Bar 44 already, and it was there that I received the best drink I've ever had for this blog (the second best drink I've had, by the way, also happened to be in the Times Square area). Given the success I found at Bar 44, I've been excited to go to The Lantern's Keep for quite some time. In my head, the two bars have a bit of a rivalry-- not only are both hotel bars competing for the title of best cocktails in Times Square, but they are LITERALLY across the street from each other. However, every time I tried to get into The Lantern's Keep, I was told that they were too crowded and didn't have space. Fans of this blog might remember that I mentioned that this is where I tried to order The Traveling Teddy Bear and was turned away. But, on my fifth attempt at getting into The Lantern's Keep, I finally made it in and took a seat at the bar. By now, I was very excited to try the cocktails at this place and to see it would live up to the hype.

It's a really cool place-- outside the hotel, there is a lantern which, when lit, signals that the bar is over. Next to the lantern is a plaque that reads "A salon devoted to the art and enjoyment of great cocktails." Cool, and promising.

Not a lantern, but the bar was adorned with some cool-looking light fixtures.

After sitting down, I realized why a seat was so difficult to come by here, as there are only four seats available at the bar itself, so I considered myself very lucky to get a seat. As I looked at the cocktail menu, I noticed that one could order what was called "Bartender's Choice," where you could request a "spirit or style" and the bartender would craft a drink for you. That this is an option certainly boded well for this drink-- and, sure enough, my bartender, Brad, didn't hesitate at my request for the Don't Look Left.

  

Brad, the guy on the left, works on the Don't Look Left.

I have to say that, while one can get the cocktails from any table in the hotel's two restaurants, I highly recommend sitting at the bar if you have the opportunity. Brad was really great to watch-- the precision that went into preparing not only my drink, but the dozens of drinks which were sent out to the tables, was really wonderful, and there was a certain grace to how Brad worked. At one point, he took out a block of ice and crushed it by hand. Now that's service.

Brad in an action shot! By which I mean, a blurry shot! It was tough to get an in focus picture of him because he was constantly moving, trying to fill the numerous drink orders for all of the restaurant's patrons.

As I waited, I took a picture of some fun-looking beakers filled with what appeared to be assorted fruit juices.

From right to left, I'm guessing that they are orange juice, pineapple juice, grapefruit juice, and some blood of the innocents.

Soon, he presented me with my drink.

The Drink:

The Don't Look Left-- served on a customized napkin.

Campari

Sweet Vermouth

Aged Rum

Mole bitters

Orange peel for garnish 

Mole bitters pronounced "mol-ay," as in the Mexican sauce. Not the animal, synonym for spy, unit of measurement in chemistry, or mark on one's skin. That word has a lot of definitions.

Assessment of Drink: What struck me first was the appearance. It was a beautiful honey brown color, and topped with a thick garnish of orange peel. Amazingly, it looked almost identical to the My Only Jacket (seriously, read my description of it because they really did look remarkably similar). Because of this, the rivalry in my head between the two bars-- which Brad the bartender was completely unaware of-- intensified. I eagerly took a sip.

The Don't Look Left, viewed from above. Not viewed from the left, because that would be perjury.

This was a remarkably well-composed drink, and was incredibly satisfying. The first thing that stuck out to me was the mole bitters, which came on incredibly strong as an aftertaste, riding on the tails of the rum and complimented by the citrus peel. Everything worked together very well. 

The success of this drink plays on contrasting combination of sweet and bitter. Campari, the mole flavorings, and to an extent the orange peel, are the bitter component, while the vermouth and the rum are generally sweeter-- so this drink is about finding balance. And, unfortunately, I have to say that this drink erred a little bit too much on the bitter side for my taste. It was certainly a tasty drink, and I would not have wanted a drink that was too cloyingly sweet, but I could have personally used a touch more of the vermouth. This is more of a personal preference than a full-on critique, however, and I would definitely order this drink again. I just feel that a bit more vermouth might have made it a little bit smoother and warmer.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Because of the bar's reputation, I had high expectations, and therefore gave Brad a name that I thought would be very challenging. As he explained the drink, he said that he was inspired by a standard cocktail called The Right Hand, which I had not heard of before. Obviously, if one does not look left, they're looking right-- therefore, The Right Hand fits. I thought this was clever, and definitely fit the difficult name.

The most in-focus picture I got of Brad while I sat at the bar...and even this one is not really in focus at all.

I had not heard of this cocktail before, and therefore thought that the Don't Look Left must have been Brad's own interpretation of this drink-- his own spin on it. But, having researched the drink after leaving the bar, I have discovered that the drink I was given was the same exact drink as The Right Hand, mole bitters and all (The Right Hand is itself a take on the Negroni cocktail). So, it wasn't as much an inspiration, as an exact copy. Which was a little disappointing-- I would have liked SOMETHING to differentiate the two drinks--maybe a different bitter instead of the campari (I imagine this might taste nice with aperol instead of campari) or, as much as I liked the mole, a different type of bitters. Just a slight change to make the Don't Look Left its own unique cocktail as opposed to a pre-existing cocktail under a different name. But, overall, I can't complain-- this was a tough name to create a drink for and Brad rose to the challenge admirably. And the bitterness that I mentioned before worked with the name well, I thought-- the nice aftertaste of the mole bitters serving as a sort of "slap on the wrist" on one's palate should they deign to look left.

It was a good drink. A very good drink. One might even say a great drink. But, I have to say, it still did not unseat the reigning champion for the best drink on this blog. My Only Jacket continues to reign supreme. But, this drink was good enough that it did make me curious to try another option from the bar, as their signature cocktail menu is extensive and intriguing. I ordered one called The Trenchtown, and it was one of the most delicious fucking things I've ever tasted in my life. Holy crap, was that good.

This was seriously an amazing drink. One of the best drinks I've ever had. I want another one now and the fact that I can't have one right this second is devastating.

After my time at The Lantern's Keep, it was clear why it's considered one of the best bars in Times Square. If you ever have a chance to stop by, I highly recommend it. If, of course, you can get a seat.

Drink 17: Jet Ease

The Name: Jet Ease                                                                       

The Bar: Jake's Dilemma (430 Amsterdam Ave., between 80th and 81st, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: There isn't much of a story behind this one. Instead, the name "Jet Ease" refers to a pre-existing product which simply strikes me as funny. This is actually how I got  the name for one of the best drinks on this blog-- the Shut The Box. But, unlike the Shut The Box, which might be a perfectly fine product that simply has a funny name, this time, it's the product itself that strikes me as ridiculous.

I first learned about Jet Ease when flying to Paris with my parents. Now, Paris time is six hours ahead of New York City, and as anyone who has undergone a long-distance flight knows, jet lag is not fun, and can be pretty disorienting. Jet Ease is a product that claims to be able to eliminate the effects of jet lag altogether. Which would be great...if it weren't pretty obviously completely bogus.

Now, in fairness, I do have a bit of a bias here. It's a homeopathic product, and while I am not a medical expert of any kind, I find it hard to take homeopathy seriously. Not to say that I think Western medicine is the only thing that can be used (I will never be convinced that chicken and matzoh ball soup does not have great remedial value), but homeopathy in particular strikes me as incredibly bizarre and untrustworthy. The brilliant James Randi (who, if you don't know about him, is one of the most fascinating people in the world and you should learn more about him) gives a great explanation as to why homeopathy is ridiculous here. If you don't want to watch Randi's admittedly long (but amusing) explanation, you can also watch this very funny sketch.

So, when my mom produced a packet of homeopathic medicine which she claimed would stop jet lag, I was skeptical. But then, I looked at the packet, and...my skepticism was 100% justified.

My mom's packet of Jet Ease, somewhat wrinkled from-- no doubt-- years of working effectively.

If you were supposed to just take one tablet and then your jet lag would be cured, that would be one thing, and I probably would have tried the Jet Ease because it wouldn't do any harm. But then I found out that this was not just a one-time deal. You were supposed to keep taking tablets every hour and a half, which strikes me as remarkably invasive and rather random for something that clearly would not work in the first place. Therefore, rather than take a Jet Ease pill, I made my skepticism known. My mom rebutted this with the fact that "The salesman told her that it worked." I should note now that my mother is a remarkably intelligent individual and I don't want it to sound like I don't trust her judgment, but...the salesperson typically has a vested interest in selling a product and therefore is not the most trustworthy of advocates for a product.

"No animals are harmed to make this, right?"
"...Nope."
"I'll take seven!"

If anyone thinks I'm being harsh on Jet Ease, well, I still haven't gotten to the most ridiculous part yet. I already mentioned that you were supposed to take a pill every ninety minutes. Unlike most medicine which tells you to take two or three tablets a day, the Jet Ease has no such notice. Instead, you are instructed to take the pills every hour and a half until you do not have jet lag anymore.

I repeat that. You're supposed to keep taking the pill until your jet lag is gone. Which could take who knows how long. If you stop taking the pills and still have jet lag, well then, it's not the product's fault because you should have taken more pills! But, the thing about jet lag is that you're always going to get accustomed to your new time zone eventually. So, you'll eventually get over the jet lag whether you take the pills or not, but this way you can misguidedly attribute this to a bullshit homeopathic remedy! Thanks, Jet Ease!

Maybe Jet Ease works. Maybe it is a complete waste of money and no one should ever buy it. I will let you decide. I don't know because I never tried it. My mother tried it for a few hours and ultimately gave up. I don't believe she has used it since. But I've been laughing at the existence of this product ever since.

Ordering The Drink: I was out having a drink with What's That Drink regular Kenny, at Jake's Dilemma. If you live on the Upper West Side and don't know about Jake's Dilemma, then you should know about it. They have some great specials every single night and on the Wednesday that I went there, drinks were $4, which made this the cheapest drink that I have ordered for this blog, which is definitely a plus. It also meant that the bar was incredibly busy, meaning that not much really happened when I ordered my drink. I simply made the request, explained the rules to the bartender, and received my drink. He told me what was in it, but I didn't have a chance to hear his reasoning for putting together this drink. And it was really loud, so if he had told me, I might not have been able to hear it at all. Anyway, got the drink, which looked pretty standard, and returned to my table.

The Drink:

The Jet Ease.

Bourbon

Ginger Ale

Lime 

House Bitters

Assessment of Drink: It was good! Nothing too complex going on in this drink, and I don't have anything too complex to say about it either. It tasted good. Bourbon and ginger ale go well together. It was a good, refreshing, simple drink.

Does It Live Up To The Name: No matter what, I can say that this drink is AS EFFECTIVE in fighting jet lag as the real Jet Ease is, so in that way it does live up to the name. But, to be fair, ANYTHING would be as effective in fighting jet lag, as long as it didn't contain Red Bull or something.

But something about this drink definitely did live up to the name. As I said, it was simple, and anything with the word "ease" in it probably should be. And, while I have no idea if this was the bartender's intention or not, the inclusion of ginger ale immediately made me think of this plane-themed comic. If the bartender was indeed referencing this, then he deserves the highest praise, and also, this drink becomes an undeniable success. So, let's just assume that's what happened here. Although, if that's the case, I don't know if it should be called the Jet Ease, or the Magic Sky Juice.

Drink 16: The Dancing Moose

The Name: The Dancing Moose                                                                                 

The Bar: Dive Bar (Amsterdam Ave btwn. 95th and 96th street, NYC)

The Story Behind The Name: So, from the title of this post, I think a lot of people might be expecting a really funny story. Perhaps it's referencing a production of The Nutcracker that I saw at a zoo once. Perhaps it has something to do with the last moose-themed drink I ordered for this blog. Regardless, it's a funny name, and one would assume that a funny story would follow. But I doubt that anyone would have guessed the real story behind this name: it has to do with Lauren Bacall and a souvenir she purchased at a museum in Sweden. Allow me to explain.

While I think most of the people who read this blog probably know me personally, it seems as if there are actually some readers who have never met me (Hi, readers, I'm Miles! I hope you're enjoying the blog). So, I should give a little background as to who I am. I was a child actor (and am now an adult actor) and have been working professionally since I was five years old. Throughout my childhood, I've had the opportunity to work with some amazing people on some incredible projects. Undoubtedly, the highest-profile role of my child acting career was in the film Dogville. If you have not heard of this movie, then you are not alone. It's an obscure, depressing, three-hour long art film which takes place on a set with no walls. Here's a birds-eye view of the set.

The entire film takes place on this set. I repeat, it is three hours long.

 The film is not everyone's cup of tea, and it is very much a film that one either loves or hates, so while it definitely has its fans, it never gained too much popularity with American audiences. But while many have not heard of the film, they have definitely heard of many of the people involved. It is directed by the always controversial Lars von Trier, and features an incredible cast which I still can't believe I was a part of. It reads like a who's-who of bona fide movie stars and well-regarded character actors who you've seen in everything. And, of course, there is absolute screen legend Lauren Bacall.

I don't think anyone would be surprised to learn that Lauren Bacall had an amazing presence. You could feel her in a room.When she spoke, you could feel everyone in the room get a little bit quieter. It was, at times, a little bit terrifying to be in a room with her, and it was always incredible. She was simply regal. And, as a little twelve-year old boy, I often found myself completely unaware of what to say to her. Nonetheless, she was always very kind to me.

Lauren Bacall and Nicole Kidman in a stillshot from Dogville, with me lurking in the background.

However, she was not kind to everyone on the set. Lauren Bacall was a bit of a diva-- this shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. Let's be honest, she deserved to be a bit demanding. When I think of Lauren Bacall, I immediately think of one of the drivers on the crew-- a lovely man named Shannon. One day, he drove Ms. Bacall from the hotel to the film set and, on the way, she decided she like him. From that day on, Shannon immediately because her personal assistant and none of us ever saw him again. Okay, that's exaggerating slightly, but not that much. Poor Shannon kind of disappeared and looked a bit more beleaguered than usual every time we saw him around. In general, Lauren Bacall knew that nobody would ever say no to her, so she could get away with anything. And, frankly, she had earned that right. And I think she found this dynamic hilarious and exploited it at every opportunity. Which brings us to the dancing moose.

Dogville was filmed in a little town called Trollhättan (literally meaning "Troll's Hat"), specifically at a film studio informally known as Trollywood, where a great number of Scandinavian films are made. It's a sweet town, but there isn't much to Trollhättan-- it's rather tiny and not exactly a bustling metropolis. One of the biggest attractions at the time was a nearby Moose Museum. Which is EXACTLY what it sounds like. It was a museum about moose. And while I hate resorting to cultural stereotypes, it is undoubtedly one of the most Swedish places to ever exist. If you think that Canadians are serious about moose, then you have never met a Swede.

My tutor, Lennart, and I at the moose museum.

Everyone involved in the film probably visited the moose museum at some point during the filming, if only because there was nothing else to do. And, when Lauren Bacall went to the museum (Shannon, of course, drove her there) she found a souvenir in the gift shop that she liked.

It was a moose stuffed animal. And when you pressed a button, it would dance and sing. Because it has been so many years, I have forgotten the song, but it was something upbeat and jaunty. In my mind, I think it might have been an Elvis Presley song, but for some reason, I'm also thinking it could have been "Jingle Bell Rock," even though it was February. I really can't say for sure. Here's an example of the type of toy I'm talking about, if you can't picture it, but it wasn't this one exactly. Although Lauren Bacall's moose definitely was also wearing sunglasses. Because dancing moose toys always come with sunglasses for some reason. I'm sorry I can't provide more details about the dancing moose, but the important thing is that Lauren Bacall bought one. And she carried it with her everywhere for a few days.

But she didn't just carry it around. She would play it. Constantly. People would come up to talk to her and she would simply press the button and stare at them while the moose sang. The message was clear: our conversation will wait until this moose is done dancing. Her expressive glance signaled that no one should dare to speak over the jaunty, upbeat moose song. There was also a young filmmaker named Sami who was making a documentary about the making of the film, and he had set up several "confession booths" where cast and crew were encouraged to sit and talk about the process. I actually held the record for the most visits to the confession booth. I would go in at least once a day and talk about how this was such a great and rewarding experience. I only appear briefly in the documentary, because there was much more dramatically interesting footage of everyone else in the cast disgruntledly going "I hate everything."

The documentary was originally going to be called Docville, but was later changed to Dogville Confessions and I'm really upset about that because the pun is so excellent.

Lauren Bacall, on the other hand, very rarely went into the booth. Sami had to beg her to go in and talk a little bit, since he would love to include her thoughts in the film. In retaliation, she allegedly went in with her moose and sat in the booth for three hours-- never speaking, but simply pressing the button and making the moose dance over and over again until the battery died. I don't know for sure if this true, but I totally believe it is. It is absolutely the type of thing she would do.

Eventually, she got bored of the moose toy and we never saw it again. But it was wonderful while it lasted, and whenever I see a similar toy, I immediately think of Lauren Bacall. Because it was absolutely wonderful to see her so amused by it. The dancing moose clearly brought her some level of joy, and that's remarkable to me. As I said before, she was always kind to me, but I was still never able to get over my sense of awe in her presence. She is truly a legend-- and I can attest that she was truly grander than life. Every moment I spent with her felt unreal, felt impossible, felt incredible. And even though I certainly did not know her well, I think that is why I was so shaken when I heard the news of her passing--a little over one day ago as of this writing. In reputation, and in reality, she seemed simply immortal. She was and is Lauren Bacall. And to see her get such enjoyment out of a, frankly, stupid little novelty toy, well, I just think that's wonderful. It makes her human.

She was an incredible person, and I am forever humbled by the time I spent with her. I have a little list of potential drink names that I might order for this blog, and "The Dancing Moose" has been on there for a while. After the news of her passing, well, it just felt appropriate.

Me with Lauren Bacall and Ben Gazzara-- another incredible (and strange) actor who passed away a couple of years ago.

Ordering The Drink: I really can't stress how stunned I was at the news of Lauren Bacall's death-- certainly more so than I thought I would be. And I thought that maybe ordering this drink would bring me some sort of closure. So I decided to go to Dive Bar-- literally the closest bar to my apartment.

"Dive Bar" might seem like an uncreative name, like if you were to go shopping at a store called "Clothes," but it's actually pretty clever. Dive Bar, which has three locations in Manhattan, employs an underwater theme. So, "dive" refers to the idea of a deep-sea diver. It's cute, and the decor is fun and fitting to the theme.

Note the diver's helmet and the mermaid bust which fit with the theme. And the disco ball which does not.

This bar is literally right down the street from me and has been around for ages. But I have somehow never gone inside before, even though I'd heard good things. So, despite the somber reasoning behind this drink's name, I was excited to try it out. I found the bar really fun, with a great crowd and a jovial waitstaff. Plus, among the aquatic decor, there was a moose head, which I thought boded well for this particular drink. Unfortunately, the moose head was in a particularly dark corner of the bar and I couldn't get a good picture.

Here's a picture I took of the moose.

And here's a picture I took of the moose but with the flash on. As you can see, no difference. Although the baseball game in the background is clearer.

But despite the fact that the moose was lurking in the shadows, I felt optimistic.

My bartender was a friendly, vikingesque man named Eric (or maybe Erik? Erich? Eryk? Eryichkc? Errichyirk9ckeryk? I'm not sure-- he didn't spell it for me) who seemed incredibly genial, and on first-name basis with most of the patrons at the bar. I made the request and he seemed kind of confused, but was still on board with it. He started typing something on his cell phone and asked me to repeat the name of the drink. I repeated "The Dancing Moose" and he typed something into his phone again. I don't have proof of this, but I'm 90% sure he was looking it up to see if it was a pre-existing drink and I was testing him. But, of course, it wasn't and he got to work assembling the drink.

This is not Erykhc the bartender. But it is a pretty fish tank-- one of several around the bar.

After not too long, Errikych set a drink down in front of me.

The Drink:

Buffalo Trace Bourbon

Canadian Club Whiskey

Pineapple Juice

Sour Mix

Cherry for Garnish

Assessment of Drink: Earyich explained the drink as he set it down.

"So, you said moose, so I put in Buffalo Trace Bourbon because it's, with moose, they..."

At this point, Earrack trailed off and ended up not finishing his sentence. It was clear to me that upon hearing "The Dancing Moose," he immediately thought of buffalo, and it was not until that very moment that he realized that buffalo and moose are not related. We both silently decided to let it slide and he moved onto the next ingredient.

"And then I thought that a lot of moose live in Canada, so I put in some Canadian Club. But then you said dancing, so I though there had to be something kinda fun, so I put in the pineapple and sour mix."

I was very happy to hear these ingredients. My typical drink of choice at a bar (when I'm not tormenting the bartenders with my customized drink requests) is a Whiskey Sour, and this drink was very similar to that. I eagerly took a sip.

And the drink was certainly fine, but I did find it a little disappointing. I do think that these ingredients themselves could make a great drink-- the pineapple juice could theoretically compliment a whiskey sour well-- but the pineapple and the sour mix didn't really come through at all, so it basically just tasted like straight whiskey. Now, some of you are probably saying "But, Miles, whiskey is great!" And, yes, it is. But if I wanted straight whiskey, then that's what I would order. The point of a mixed drink is that you have other flavors present. The reason I usually like a Whiskey Sour over straight whiskey is that I think the sour really brings out nice undertones within the whiskey and compliments it well. The benefit of a mixed drink is that you get the different flavors and how they play off each other. Here, the whiskey was just a bit too overpowering for me. Which is such a shame since, as I mentioned, I think the other ingredients could have really worked if they'd been a bit more prominent. Oh well, it's a good thing I like whiskey! Having too much whiskey in a drink is a really nitpicky criticism.

Does It Live Up To The Name: Sure. Errhiyck's attempt to tie moose and buffalo together was a bit misguided-- both are large, brown mammals which are common in North America, but they're not actually related in any way. But I can see how, in the spur of a moment, a connection could be made. I think that the use of the Canadian Club is a stronger connection. But, perhaps because I was longing for a flavor other than just whiskey, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Canada Dry ginger ale might have been a nice addition to this drink. We keep the "Canada" part, but I think the ginger could have maybe been a good bridge between the whiskey and the pineapple, since it goes with both of those flavors well. I might even try that myself sometime.

I do like that it was a stronger drink. Whether dancing or not, there is nothing graceful or refined about a moose-- they're just large and clunky creatures. And the idea of a moose dancing, while amusing, still brings to mind a burly, strong creature. 

I AM DELICATE!

So, I think the fact that it was a somewhat strong drink did make a lot of sense. I just wish that the sweetness of the pineapple had come through a bit more. That would have elevated this drink a lot for me.

I will also admit that, even though the bartender couldn't have possibly known this drink name was referencing a museum in Sweden, I kind of was hoping a Swedish alcohol like Aquavit might make an appearance. (Or schnapps. Lars von Trier loves schnapps). But, then again, if I really wanted that I wouldn't have gone to a place that is literally called "Dive Bar." The bar is exactly what it promises-- a friendly, neighborhood bar. Although the Dancing Moose was a bit of a disappointment, I am excited to return to Dive Bar. They seemed to have a solid beer selection, and I've heard their food is pretty good for a bar too. Maybe there'll even be a mooseburger on the menu. Probably not, but if there is, I'll be sure to order it.