{"id":931,"date":"2008-01-15T15:29:56","date_gmt":"2008-01-15T15:29:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.cocktailians.com\/2008\/01\/night-and-day.html"},"modified":"2008-01-15T15:29:56","modified_gmt":"2008-01-15T15:29:56","slug":"night-and-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/cocktailians.com\/?p=931","title":{"rendered":"Night and Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’ve gone out drinking with friends twice in the past couple days, and
\nin reviewing the various evenings’ carousal, what strikes me the most
\nis the utter contrast between the two excursions.<\/p>\n

\nLet’s start with Saturday evening.  A friend from work was having a
\nparty at Jour et Nuit<\/a>, a lounge near the Plaza Hotel.  We got there at
\nabout 8:30, and the place was filling up but not packed.  It wasn’t my
\nkind of place, really; I usually find lounges to be uncomfortable
\nplaces with insipid drinks and too-loud music that prevents
\nconversation, and this wasn’t really an exception.  There were lots of
\n"beautiful" people there, or at least people who went to great trouble
\nand expense to appear beautiful to someone.  (My favorite was the Ann
\nCoulter lookalike (sans<\/em> La Coulter’s adam’s apple) with 5" heels
\nand legs so skinny that her knees looked like an ostrich’s).  And, of
\ncourse, as the night progressed, there were lots of "whoo!" girls
\ngrinding in place to the music, spilling drinks, and bumping me repeatedly with
\ntheir overstuffed shopping bags that they would not put down (or leave
\nat the coatroom, evidently.)<\/p>\n

\nBut I digress:  this is a cocktail blog, after all:  you’re wondering "How were the drinks<\/em>, man?"  Fair point.  <\/p>\n

\nThere were three bartenders working behind the stick, and they were
\npretty busy even when we got there.  I eyeballed the liquor selection
\nand the drinks that were being consumed around me — lots of Cosmos,
\nlychee martinis, and the like — and decided on something relatively
\nsimple.  I ordered it like I would in a hotel bar or similar place that
\nisn’t likely to attract cocktail geeks:  "Manhattan, up, with bitters,
\nplease."<\/p>\n

\nThe bartender rolled his eyes<\/em>.  (Bad sign.)  He then protested
\nslightly:  "Hey, you live in Manhattan, you work in Manhattan, you
\ndrink in Manhattan…why do you want to drink a Manhattan?"<\/p>\n

\nMe, not believing what I’m hearing, but nonetheless trying to keep it light:  "Well, I could order a Brooklyn<\/a> or a Bronx<\/a> — those are cocktails, too!"<\/p>\n

\nBartender:  "Ewwww, I don’t think I’d want to drink something called a Bronx."<\/p>\n

\nMe, still trying to keep it light, but wanting my damn drink already:
\n"Yeah, and I think the recipe for the Brooklyn is just water from Coney
\nIsland Creek, shaken and strained into a dirty glass."<\/p>\n

\nThe bartender laughed, and set about making my party’s drink order.  I
\nthought I saw him making a Manhattan, but he was pretty busy.  He
\nhanded me drinks for my girlfriend (a Cosmo, not bad aside from the
\nsour mix), my friend and co-author Chico (he’d ordered a Martini, he
\ngot a glass of cold gin with three olives in it), and my friend Patty
\n(who had asked him to make something with Bourbon that was on the sweet
\nside — he came up with something involving Bourbon, grenadine, sweet
\nvermouth and sour mix that she really liked).  <\/p>\n

\nNo Manhattan.<\/p>\n

\nI waited by the bar to catch the bartender’s attention, which I did
\nafter he’d made drinks for two or three other people.  He saw me
\nlooking confused and asked if he could help me.  "I ordered a
\nManhattan", I said.  <\/p>\n

\n"Didn’t I hand it to you?" he asked.  <\/p>\n

\n"Um, no, you didn’t."<\/p>\n

\n"Oh well, it’s right there, then", pointing to the drink, which was
\nsitting directly in front of a woman at the bar.  I explain to the
\nbartender that ah, I thought it was hers, we all had a little bit of an
\nawkward laugh about it, and I collected my drink.  It was one of the
\nworst Manhattans I’ve ever had.  (I’ve literally had Manhattans in diners<\/a>
\nthat were way better than this.)  I’m not sure what whiskey they were
\nusing (and I should have called one, in retrospect), but it was harsh
\nand burny.  There was little to no vermouth, and no bitters
\nwhatsoever.  I only could finish about two-thirds of it before I fished
\nthe cherry out and decided to switch to a safer, easy-to-make highball.<\/p>\n

\nBut then I couldn’t get the bartender’s attention.  Yes, he was
\nslammed.  But standing at the bar, looking awkwardly at the bartender
\nfor a full ten minutes, without even an acknowledgement that he’s busy
\nand would get to me soon, started to seem a bit fishy.  And, when he
\nlooked right through me a couple of times and then moved on to someone
\nwho hadn’t been waiting as long?  That’s downright weird.  (And bad
\neconomics:  why would a bartender want to ignore the person whose
\ncredit card anchored the tab?  Seems like he wouldn’t want to upset the
\nperson that determines his tip.)<\/p>\n

\nEventually one of the other bartenders took pity on me and asked me
\nwhat I wanted.  After letting her know that my tab was with the first
\nbartender (she just asked my name and said she’d find my tab, no big
\ndeal), I switched to gin and tonics and was fine with those.<\/p>\n

\nWhen we decided to move on, we went to Stone Rose<\/a>, which was full, but huge.  The hostess told us that it’d be
\n10-15 minutes for a table, but that we could wait in the bar (which was
\nbusy, but not so busy that there weren’t a couple stools free, with
\nsufficient space for the rest of us to stand…and they came and got us when a table was free.)  They had a better
\nselection of liquor visible, and one hard-working bartender who took our orders with
\naplomb.  (two Lillets on the rocks, two Hendrick’s and tonics.)  My
\nHendrick’s G&T was excellent, but I wasn’t sure what kind of tonic
\nthey used — it was very sweet and cloying.  The Hendrick’s is big
\nenough to make its unusual botanicals’ presence known, though, and it
\nwas ultimately a successful drink, and a nice change of pace from the
\nearlier madness.  (Going through the menu made my eyebrows shoot up, however — $17<\/strong> for Ketel One and Red Bull<\/em>?  When a buck less will get you a Champagne cocktail at the Pegu Club, or $5 less will get you a non-Champagne drink there?)  We ended up getting hungry after one drink (or less-than-one for one friend, whose Lillet got snagged off the table by a busboy before she’d even finished it), and went
\nelsewhere<\/a> for burgers and Prosecco.<\/p>\n

\nThat was Saturday.  Last night, we went to the Pegu Club<\/a>.<\/p>\n

What a difference.  I realize that we were at a trendy-ish lounge on Saturday night, versus a cocktailian temple at 5:15pm on Monday, but the contrast rests on much more than how busy the places were.  At Pegu I felt welcomed.  At Jour et Nuit, I felt like the one bartender I dealt with most didn’t want to do anything other than argue with me or make me a crummy drink.  (Even if you’re slinging sweet vodka drinks all night long and you’re incredibly busy, would it have hurt to make my drink correctly — it’s no more complicated than a Cosmo — or treated me with a shred of hospitality?)  It’s about the passion, the attitude:  the drive to do a good, professional job, versus just hustling for tips.<\/p>\n

On to the drinks!<\/p>\n