March 21, 2014

Wink & Nod

March 21, 2014

Since last fall, Wink & Nod has been the subject of anticipation and speculation, with local media, industry onlookers, and would-be guests clamoring for closely guarded details about the South End bar and eatery’s cocktail offerings, décor, and food menu. After a pair of soft openings earlier this week, Wink & Nod finally opened its door to the public last night. Finding that door, however, might be a challenge unto itself.

Only the number of Wink & Nod’s Appleton Street address appears above the unmarked entryway to this speakeasy-style bar. Beyond the nondescript black door is a flight of stairs leading down to a well-appointed subterranean lounge. It is both a tribute to an era when discretion was essential and a celebration of the high-quality liquor and expertly crafted cocktails that were in exceedingly short supply during the dark days of Prohibition.

Oozing style and eschewing gimmickry, Wink & Nod infuses its high-end, contemporary décor with vintage accents. The upper half of the bi-level room comprises dinner tables and a living room-type area with comfortable leather chairs.

Dark, mahogany walls, black and tan carpeting, and table lamps conspire to create an intimate atmosphere, and soft music allows for conversation. Occupying the lower level is a 15-seat, wraparound bar with a smooth wooden surface and a layer of faux red snakeskin below. Funky chandeliers and a backlit liquor shelf cast a warm glow about the entire area.

Under the guidance of general manager and veteran mixologist Curtis McMillan, Wink & Nod’s cocktail program is second to none. The drink list, printed in an old-school typewritten font, is organized by type of spirit. Nearly all of the cocktails are named for Hollywood actresses, film characters, and socialites, like Joan Collins, Halle, and Vera Prescott.

They feature once-common ingredients like sherry, sloe gin, and egg whites, along with all the fashionable mixers that make modern craft cocktails so attractive, like house-made ginger beer, fresh herbs, and wonderfully flavored bitters.

And every drink starts with a top-notch spirit – a point Curtis insists on after seeing how many bars use low-quality liquors even in high-priced drinks. “I just couldn’t sleep at night if we did that,” he says. “That’s why our well liquors are all micro. Berkshire Mountain bourbon, GrandTen, Bully Boy makes our vodka,” he says, rattling off an impressive list of Massachusetts distilleries.

That dedication to quality – along with some quick thinking – was on display in Tuesday evening’s featured cocktail, the Basil Bourbon Smash. “We ordered two pounds of mint from our supplier,” Curtis says. “When it arrived, we opened it up, and it was all basil. I said, I can work with this.” He did better than just work with it. The fresh aroma of basil and lemon preceded every sip.

It’s the sort of ingenuity that permeates the entire cocktail program. And despite Curtis’s renowned mixology skills, he employs no bar manager and leaves much of the cocktail design to his staff. “Each bartender designed a drink; their baby,” he tells me, adding “if their drink is the best-seller for a quarter, they get to pick their shift.”

That may lead to some friendly competition among the staff, but the clear winners are those of us on the other side of the bar. The Raquel, for instance, is the brainchild of Rich Fiorillo, late of Church. It combines Mount Gay Old rum, Monkey Shoulder scotch, freshly pressed apple juice, orgeat syrup, and Gran Classico. Served in a funky tiki mug, it’s a sweet cocktail with a pronounced apple flavor that’s well balanced by the scotch and the bitter Gran Classico.

The Cattrall is an even bolder blend of flavors – Montelobos mezcal, Cocchi Americano, a grapefruit cordial, fresh lime juice, and prosecco. Because the smokiness of the mezcal is so distinctive, it can be a challenging spirit to work with. Fortunately, Curtis knows a thing or two about mezcal, and the resulting cocktail is extraordinary. The smoky flavor is unmistakable but doesn’t overpower the drink, enabling the bitter, sour, and citrusy components to shine. The prosecco provides some effervescence and a little dryness.

Bartender Jason Rykiel, another Church alum, says that he found the recipe for what would become the Madonna in an old tiki cocktail book. This creamy mix of Plymouth gin, sloe gin, simple syrup, dry curacao, and egg white is smooth, sweet, and fruity, with a thick layer of foam on top.

There’s even a selection of “Shooters,” and while shots are typically just a quick and easy way to tie one on, they aren’t exempt from Wink & Nod’s high standards. The surprisingly complex Sharknado combines cranberry liqueur, fresh pineapple, blue curacao, orange bitters, and Notch Session Ale. You can throw that down in one big gulp if you so desire, but like everything else on the drink list, you’d be better served by taking it slow and appreciating the composition.

It was long considered a given that Wink & Nod would be serving exceptional craft cocktails. For months, though, the dinner menu was afforded all the secrecy of a speakeasy password. When finally unveiled, it was something of a bombshell – the menu would be handled by pop-up restaurant Whisk.

For the past several years, Whisk chefs Philip Kruta and Jeremey Kean have been showing up in restaurant kitchens throughout Boston, impressing chefs and foodies alike with their experimental but approachable recipes and use of local ingredients. They agreed to take up a permanent residence at Wink & Nod, so long as they maintained final say over their avant-garde fare. They remain independent, and the kitchen is called Whisk at Wink & Nod.

With Whisk at the helm, even the simplest of recipes are deftly handled in unexpected ways, like warm bar nuts topped with candy garlic, cilantro, and nuac cham (a Vietnamese dipping sauce).

The artfully presented scarlet butter lettuce, with stilton cheese and a farm egg, is far from your traditional salad.

Served in a miniature cast-iron skillet on a wooden board, the duck meatballs with foie gras may be the high point of the small bite menu. With black garlic and pickled blueberry on the side, they’re delicious and bursting with flavor.

But the real showstoppers are the Yakitori “in-smoke” offerings. While my words and pictures can scarcely do this dish justice, here’s how it works. Your choice of quail, short rib, or pork belly (I opted for the last) has been marinated overnight in a soy sauce blended with all manner of spicy goodness. Your skewered meat arrives at your table in a mason jar filled with smoke.

Take a good minute and enjoy the fact that you’ve got a jar of smoke in front of you, then open the lid, whereby you’ll release a plume of aromatic smoke that reaches to the ceiling.

Enjoy your brief celebrity status while everyone around you turns to gawk at the spectacle and remark on the heavenly scent of the cherry wood smoke. And the meat more than lives up to its unique presentation. The confit pork belly is fall-apart tender, and small pickled apples contribute a bit of acidic tartness.

Curtis expressed genuine disappointment that I was forgoing the signature dessert – a homemade Twinkie filled with brown butter cream – but I couldn’t resist one more cocktail. I asked Jason to recommend something, and he responded with one of his own recipes. The Susan is a mix of Brugal 1888 rum, Brugal Silver rum, Averna, simple syrup, and strawberries. In a word? Phenomenal.

I tend to think of strawberry-based cocktails as light, sweet, and unremarkable (daiquiris, margaritas, the sort of drink you sip by the pool on a summer day). The Susan, by contrast, has tremendous depth and complexity. Brugal 1888 is a serious rum aged in whiskey barrels, and the bitterness of the Averna keeps the sweetness in check. The result is a rich, balanced cocktail with a fresh, natural strawberry flavor profile. And it’s been in the works for some time. “It was a recipe I was working on at Church, but I could never get it right,” Jason says. “Even when I tried it here, something was missing. It went right down to the wire. Then the other day I turned around [to the bar], saw some black walnut bitters, and tried them. That did it.”

Whether it’s black walnut bitters to the rescue or a mint-based cocktail improvised with basil, it’s clear that the culture at Wink & Nod fosters experimentation but demands excellence. And that’s only fitting for a bar that honors the classic approach to making a good drink.

Last Call

Wink & Nod draws its name from a quote famously attributed to long-time Boston politician Martin M. Lomasney: “Never write if you can speak; never speak if you can nod; never nod if you can wink.” Sage advice on the topic of discretion from the legendary boss of Ward 8, and a prudent way to communicate about an illicit watering hole. But everything’s above the table at this below-ground bar, so you needn’t be concerned about a liquor raid. Nor do you have to worry about it being campy or high-concept; Wink & Nod is refreshingly original and devoid of Prohibition clichés. The unmarked door and the lack of windows give it a speakeasy vibe, but the elegant décor and outstanding drinks recall the golden age of cocktails, when making a drink was an art and a night of fine dining was a glamorous affair.

Although Tuesday was Wink & Nod’s first night with a crowd, everything seemed to be humming along pretty smoothly. Curtis roamed from table to table and throughout the bar area, checking on customers, telling stories, and getting people’s impressions. Service was excellent, and with three or four bartenders operating at any given time, there was never a long wait for a drink.

Speaking of long waits, Wink & Nod has been on the local radar since last October. Without question, it’s worth the wait. And while there’s no neon sign trumpeting its arrival, chances are the door will be easy to spot when there’s a line snaking around the block.

Address: 3 Appleton Street, Boston

Website:http://www.winkandnod.com/

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March 15, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

The Mad Raven

March 15, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

Given that I write about bars in a city that proudly basks in its Irish heritage, you might think I treat St. Patrick’s Day like it’s Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, my birthday, and the Super Bowl all rolled into one. A day that I mark on my calendar and count down to with breathless anticipation. I mean, it’s an unofficial drinking holiday, right? What’s not to like?

Standing in line outside a bar that would never otherwise have a line, and paying a cover charge that would never otherwise be levied, for the privilege of squeezing into an overcrowded room with revelers who’ve been at it since 11 a.m., while struggling to order a beer, not spill it, and make audible conversation with my companions. That’s what’s not to like.

Look, I’m not trying to be a wet blanket here. If you spend a few minutes perusing this site, I’m sure you’ll discover that my fondness for Boston drinking culture is beyond dispute. And if your preferred mode of celebration is to take St. Patty’s Day off from work, deck yourself out in green, strap on your drinking shoes, and wait for the bars to open, far be it from me to criticize. You have my unending support. And trust me, I understand the importance of honoring personal traditions.

The thing is, you’ll never have to twist my arm to spend a night in a warm pub chatting over shepherd’s pie and a few pints of Guinness. I don’t need a holiday or any sort of special occasion. And I don’t have to pretend to be “Irish for a day,” since I’m Irish every day. So in terms of actually celebrating St. Patty’s Day, I’ve come to see it as something of a hassle. Kind of like shopping on the day after Thanksgiving, except you’re not getting any good deals.

Which is not to say that I don’t celebrate at all. I just prefer something a bit more low-key, and I tend to stay outside the city. So this week we head out to Waltham and visit a comfortable old favorite of mine – the Mad Raven.

There’s no O’ in the name, and the walls aren’t cluttered with black-and-white photos of Irish farmers eking out a hardscrabble existence during the potato famine. But the Mad Raven is the real deal. Owner Mark McAuliffe, a native of County Cork, Ireland, and his wife Maura have run the place for nearly 15 years, and it’s everything a good Irish pub should be – casual, approachable, and familiar. A long, spacious bar with a worn, wooden surface is surrounded by 15 comfortable chairs.

Green and amber lights above the bar give things a festive, St. Patty’s Day glow. A large dining area with about 10 to 15 tables keeps the bar area from getting too cramped. Hardwood floors, exposed brick, and warm, orange-yellow walls result in a very homey feel.

And then there are the ravens.

All throughout the bar, you can find the bar’s namesake bird. Ravens behind the bar. Ravens on the walls.

Apparently there are ravens all over Ireland, too, but that’s only part of the reason behind the name. “Mark’s father was into theater and stuff in Cork,” bartender Willie Egan explains. “He liked the Edgar Allen Poe poem about the raven, thus the name.”

My sister Kelly and I stopped in on a recent Saturday for a laid-back evening of conversation, comfort food, and best of all, a few of Ireland’s famously recognizable beverages. But we started with a couple of local offerings. First up was the Harpoon’s appropriately named seasonal brew, the Long Thaw.

A beer ideally suited to the month of March, this powerful white IPA is loaded with hops, but softer notes of citrus and spice serve as a reminder that spring is (reportedly) on the way.

Sam Adams also offers a seasonal white ale, though the Cold Snap is considerably less hoppy than Harpoon’s brew. Smooth, citrusy, and highly drinkable, it’s a sturdy beer that can stand up to a long, chilly New England winter.

The Raven’s appetizer menu is stocked with standard pub fare like wings and nachos, but we opted for the evening’s special – Buffalo calamari. Topped with thinly sliced carrots, bleu cheese, and a plethora of jalepenos, it was a spicy start to the evening (for me, anyway; Kelly picked out most of the peppers) and a nice twist on traditional calamari.

The rest of the night was spent celebrating all things Irish. Starting, of course, with arguably the grandest of Ireland’s gifts to the rest of the world. What can be said about Guinness that hasn’t already been said? Even after two-plus centuries, it’s a beer that never gets old.

It’s also a beer that plays surprisingly well with others. There’s Guinness and its old English friend, Bass, making up the traditional Black and Tan.

Kelly opted for the Black Velvet, a mix of Guinness and Magners Irish cider.

The Raven’s dinner menu is heavy on comfort food, with burgers, sandwiches, and old standbys like mac and cheese. But they also throw in a few curveballs, like Creole jambalaya and blackened swordfish tacos. Kelly and I kept things traditional.

The Raven’s shepherd’s pie is stuffed with beef, carrots, corn, and a rich gravy, topped with homemade mashed potatoes. This fortifying dish is a longtime favorite at the Raven, even among the staff. “The shepherd’s pie is good, huh?” one of the bartenders asked as I dug in. “It’s good from behind the bar, too,” he added. “I can order it, and 15 minutes later, it’s still hot.”

Kelly opted for the fish and chips, a generous portion of deep fried cod and crispy golden fries.

Like any Irish pub worth its salt, the Raven hosts live music every Saturday night, and some Fridays too. As we ate our meals and sipped our Guinness, we were treated to the acoustic stylings of Dennis McCarthy, who impressed with Irish standards such as “Runnin’ Down a Dream” and “Folsom Prison Blues.”

I closed out with one of Ireland’s oldest and most distinguished exports. A Jameson on the rocks is a strong way to cap off any night, whether you’re toasting the patron saint of Ireland or just enjoying a quiet evening.

And it makes me wonder, as I do every year, how St. Patrick’s Day got so blown out of proportion. I know plenty of people still observe it as a cultural and religious holiday. But you don’t need the luck of the Irish – or even a special occasion – to find good food and beer, live music, and friendly company in the confines of a comfortable pub.

But I can’t fault anyone for getting into the spirit, and if that’s your plan this weekend, the Raven’s ready for you. In addition to regular menu items like the shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, and corned beef reuben, the weekend’s food specials will include a full Irish breakfast (served until noon), Guinness beef stew, corned beef and cabbage, and bangers and mash. Saturday night, the talented Ryan Palma will be entertaining what is sure to be a full house, and green-clad revelers will likely be out in full force all weekend.

Come Tuesday, things will get back to normal. The Raven will go back to being a relaxed, familiar neighborhood pub with plenty of Guinness, Jameson, and shepherd’s pie to go around. The regulars will congregate around the bar, watch March Madness or speculate about the upcoming Sox season, and chat with their regular bartender. “That’s what an Irish bar is all about,” Willie reminds me. “Socializing over a pint. TVs optional.”

And that’s worth a pot of gold any night of the week. Sláinte!

Address: 841 Main Street, Waltham

Website:http://www.ravenpubs.com/

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March 7, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

Sky Restaurant

March 7, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

One of my favorite things about enjoying a drink in a top-notch cocktail bar is being able to talk with the person who made it. Having the chance to hear a skilled mixologist explain why he or she uses one liquor brand over another, or what modifications they’ve made to a traditional recipe, can be fascinating. I especially enjoy those occasions when a bartender inquires after my preferred spirit and then crafts a drink based on that. Under such circumstances, I often don’t even bother looking at the drink list and instead rely on their judgment and recommendations. It doesn’t happen all the time, but with so many excellent cocktail bars in Boston, it’s not an uncommon experience.

Admittedly, it’s not a dynamic I was expecting to find 30 minutes south of the city in the town of Norwood. But then again, there’s a lot about Sky Restaurant that’s unexpected.

Most people in Massachusetts know Norwood as the home of “the automile,” a stretch of Route 1 dominated by auto dealerships and punctuated by strip malls and fast-food restaurants. There’s more to the town than that, of course, but cruising down Route 1 doesn’t usually prompt anyone to say, “Hey, we should really come here sometime for dinner and drinks.”

This monotonous landscape of commerce makes Sky stand out all the more. Endeavoring to offer upscale, city-like dining in a casual, suburban environment, Sky is a huge restaurant with two separate dining rooms and a second floor with function space. But the stylish cocktail lounge is what makes Sky a true suburban destination.

There’s a long, L-shaped bar with 15 comfortable leather seats; candles dot the polished wooden surface, casting an intimate glow. Beyond the bar is a spacious dining area with a fireplace. Dark red and mahogany colors give the lounge a traditional, conservative look, but funky, modern lighting fixtures contribute to a more casual, relaxed atmosphere.

The cocktail menu is fairly expansive, featuring original concoctions and creative twists on some of the classics. What really sets Sky apart, though, is its growing array of liquor infusions. Now, infusing alcohol is nothing new; at plenty of bars, you’ll see the obligatory glass dispenser loaded with fruit and vodka. But it’s rare that infused liquors figure prominently into a bar’s nightly offerings.

“We had a pineapple vodka infusion and a green apple one for a long time,” says Nadine, one of Sky’s four bartenders. “And we thought, what else can we do?”

Get creative, that’s what. Unsatisfied with merely soaking pineapple rings in a gallon of vodka, Sky’s bar manager, Kyle, teamed up with head chef Andy DiPace to develop infusions with greater complexity and character. They started small and played it safe, infusing vodka with a combination of golden, red, and green apples and adding cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla extract. The result was not only a better-quality infusion but a new signature cocktail – the Apple Orchard.

Representing everything that a well-conceived vodka infusion can be, the Apple Orchard quickly took off among Sky’s customers. Simple and approachable, but with complexity and balance on account of the apple blend, it’s like a fresh slice of apple pie in a glass. A cinnamon stick garnish adds a spicy aroma to every sip.

The drink’s popularity inspired further experimentation and bigger risks, like a vodka infused with poblano peppers, onions, tomato, garlic, and peppercorn, which features in the house Bloody Mary.

Emboldened by their early successes, Kyle and company then took a much more daring leap – infusing whiskey.

With even the most cursory understanding of the differences between these spirits, you can see the problem here. The best vodka is odorless and tasteless; that makes it ideal for infusing, since it easily takes on the flavors of whatever you put in there. Whiskey, with its complex flavor profile, is quite another matter. “There’s a different range of things you can put in bourbon,” Kyle says. “Things like bananas, nuts, and spices work well with it,” he explains. “Pineapple and bourbon, probably not.”

Those challenges are not lost on customers, some of whom are inclined to be skeptical. “Some people, when they hear we’re infusing whiskey, they say you just can’t do that,” Kyle admits. “But they try it, and most of them are surprised.”

It’s hard to imagine even a whiskey purist not appreciating the Maple and Rye, which infuses rye whiskey with banana, crushed candied walnuts, and Vermont maple syrup. The flavors are well balanced; the banana is prominent but not overpowering, and there’s only a touch of syrup, so the final product isn’t overly sweet.

The Bourbon Smash takes on the warm, earthy flavors of figs, apricots, golden raisins, and orange peel. Bourbon and citrus are long-time friends anyway, but the sweetness of the fruit and the depth of the bourbon make this luxuriously smooth and eminently drinkable.

“A lot of it is trial and error,” Kyle says of the whiskey infusions. “And they don’t always come out the same way, depending on the state of the fruit.” He discovered that green bananas and riper, brown bananas, for example, yield very different results in terms of both flavor and smoothness.

Not all of Sky’s drinks are infusion-based, but that same spirit of innovation and experimentation permeates the entire cocktail list. On the first of my two recent visits, Kyle asked whether there was a particular spirit I favored and seemed pleased when I mentioned bourbon. He recommended the Fashion Nut, a smart variation of an old fashioned that he devised after seeing something similar on a cooking show. Combining bourbon, brown sugar, and black walnut bitters, it’s an exceptional cocktail with a mild, molasses-like sweetness and a nutty, smoky essence from the bitters. An orange twist provides the requisite citrus.

The Lavender Honey Sidecar offers another modern interpretation of a classic. A traditional sidecar recipe made with Remy VS cognac, Cointreau, and fresh lemon juice, the addition of honey and lavender make it soft and floral, with muted sweetness and a hint of vanilla.

Even a comparatively simple drink like a margarita benefits from a couple of unique touches. A house-made sour mix cuts down on the usual sweetness, and a rim coated in black sea salt is visually striking.

It is the culture of creativity behind the bar that encourages such novelty and nuance. As explained to me by J.C., a mellifluously voiced mixologist working alongside Kyle, all four of Sky’s bartenders contribute ideas and drink recipes, thriving on the sense of friendly competition. Their passion for mixology is evident as well, especially when J.C. explains that the unusually large chunk of hand-chipped ice cooling my drink is leftover from a 300-pound ice block they used during a recent whiskey event. When I mention to Kyle a whiskey he hadn’t heard of, he pulled out a notebook and jotted it down. I have to admire anyone who keeps a whiskey notebook.

The innovative spirit that infuses the drink list extends to the food menu as well. You could probably make a meal just out of the extensive appetizer list, with items as diverse as lobster sliders, lettuce wraps, and baja egg rolls.

Deviled eggs are jazzed up with smoked bacon, blue cheese, and micro arugula. The crab cake trio is accompanied by a trio of tangy sauces – pineapple salsa, sweet chili, and a traditional remoulade.

The dinner menu is stocked with traditional Italian dishes, seafood, and a host of classic comfort foods with modern twists (I’ll admit to feeling a slight pang of regret in not trying the apple bacon pear pizza). The delicious winter vegetable spaetzel, one of several seasonal offerings, is a hearty combination of roasted brussels sprouts, kale, turnips, sweet potatoes, and heirloom carrots, topped with a rich demi glace.

Frutti del Mare, which translates to “fruits of the sea,” was one of the evening’s specials. This outstanding dish was a mix of haddock, calamari, and shrimp stuffed into fresh, house-made raviolis, tossed with sautéed spinach, and served in a sherry cream sauce.

When dinner arrived, I asked Kyle if he could suggest a cocktail that would go with my meal. Given my new appreciation for the challenges of pairing food and cocktails, I realized this was no simple request. Kyle responded admirably, though, with a drink combining Nolet’s Silver gin, St. Germain, ginger liqueur, peach bitters, and a splash of pineapple and cranberry juice. One of Nadine’s recipes, it was a vibrant drink with a sweetness that nicely complemented the creamy sauce.

It may be hard to justify dessert after two appetizers, a filling meal, and a few drinks, but Sky’s “minis” make it easy to allow for a little post-dinner sweetness. These artful, sample-size desserts made by the restaurant’s pastry chef are served in individual glasses, and a few bites of apple pie, key lime pie, and strawberry cheesecake are manageable even if you’re full.

The chocolate fondue, on the other hand, is the very epitome of decadence. If there was one thing we didn’t need right then, it was a chocolate fondue with marshmallows, cookies, and cake pieces for dipping. But one of Sky’s regular customers insisted my wife and I try it – then ordered one for us and put it on his own tab.

It was wonderfully generous, and our benefactor’s enthusiasm was entirely justified; the fondue was delicious. Granted, being rolled out to the car a few minutes later was not my most dignified exit.

Last Call

It’s tough for any suburb to compete with a city when it comes to nightlife. Boston will always have more bars and restaurants, and thus more variety, than any of its distant neighbors. But even in a city with a preponderance of cocktail bars, finding a staff with the same talent, enthusiasm, and good nature as the one at Sky is not always a given.

My visits were as illuminating as they were entertaining. The creative and competitive spirit that fuels the Sky’s cocktail menu is also evident in the animated dynamic behind the bar, with liberal amounts of witty banter, verbal jabs, and bickering over things like the proper way to arrange a place setting. It makes for a relaxed environment conducive to conversation and exploration – something I find more valuable than simply placing an order. To that end, Kyle, J.C., and Nadine seemed genuinely happy to discuss the finer points of the cocktail menu and offer helpful suggestions.

And they listen, too. Not long after Nadine and I had a chat about rum, she surprised me with a drink that she’d just made up. “It’s kind of a rum sidecar,” she explained. Combining Gosling’s rum, cognac, peach schnapps, and orange bitters, garnished with an orange twist, it was fruit-forward but with considerable depth and complexity from the cognac. I was impressed with both the cocktail and her attentiveness. “It’s not every day that someone says they like Nadine’s drinks, so it’s good for morale,” Kyle noted dryly.

As for Sky’s liquor infusions, the experiments continue. Tonight they’re unveiling a tequila infused with jalapeno peppers, avocados, and limes, which will feature in their new Angry Sombrero cocktail. That sort of inventiveness and originality makes you wonder whether city bars will start taking cues from the suburbs for a change.

Address: 1369 Providence Turnpike Highway, Norwood

Website:http://www.sky-restaurant.com/

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March 1, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

Closing the Book on Year 2

March 1, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

Dear friends, family, and readers, Today marks the two-year anniversary of Boston BarHopper’s debut. That’s two solid years of barhopping, picture snapping, note taking, late-night writing, and swearing to the heavens over infuriating technical issues.

But the purpose of today’s post is not to celebrate myself. Instead I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who’s helped make the past two years so interesting, illuminating, and wonderfully fulfilling. That means every mixologist who’s whipped up an original cocktail at my request and hasn’t minded me taking pictures while they do it.

Every bartender who’s taken a few minutes out of their busy night to answer my questions. Every manager who’s let me in their bar before it opens so I could take a few pictures.

It means every person who’s ever made a point to say “Hey, I went to this cool bar, and you should write about it.” It means complete strangers who’ve shared one of my stories on Twitter, Facebook or anywhere else. It means fellow barhoppers who’ve patiently waited to sip their drink or eat their meal so I could photograph their order.

And of course, my most heartfelt thanks goes to every person who’s spent even a minute visiting Boston BarHopper. I’d like to think I would do this even if no one ever read a word I wrote. But the truth is, connecting with people is what inspires me most. Whether I get five visitors a day or 5,000, I feel blessed whenever I see that someone’s spent a couple of minutes looking at my work. It truly means the world to me, and I hope you’ll keep coming back.

This year’s journey will bring us to some exciting new bars and plenty of Boston classics. We’ll check out some hotel bars, a Boston distillery, and a couple of suburban gems. And when this brutal winter is finally behind us, we’ll heartily celebrate warmer weather with a return to the outdoor seating series.

But for now, I just want to say thank you, again – for reading, for reaching out, for contributing in any way, obvious or subtle. I give you my word that if you’ll keep visiting, I’ll do everything I can to make the coming year of BBH the best and most entertaining one so far.

I’m looking forward to another year of exciting discoveries, interesting characters, fantastic drinks, and a lot of laughter. And as always, I’d be honored if you would join me.

Cheers,

Matt

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February 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

New Year, New You – A Cocktail Dinner

February 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Pairing food and drink is a time-honored practice, and one most closely associated with wine. In a typical wine pairing dinner, a chef prepares several courses, each accompanied by a different wine; done properly, the ingredients in your glass complement those on your plate, making the sum of your meal greater than the whole of its parts. More recently, the availability and complexity of craft beer have brought beer pairings into vogue. They may occur at gastropubs instead of five-star restaurants, but the principles are the same.

Cocktail pairings are comparatively rare. That might be surprising, especially in light of the culture and popularity of modern mixology. But matching cocktails with food presents a number of challenges. One obstacle is that the drinks themselves may already contain a complex mix of liquor, bitters, and herbs. Common mixers, such as citrus, don’t get along well with certain dishes, and some liqueurs may be so bold as to overwhelm your palate. Alcohol content poses another problem. Cocktails are by their nature more potent than beer and wine, and if you end up hammered before the second course even arrives, you’ll probably inhale your food just to soak up the booze – which defeats the purpose of eating deliberately and enjoying the flavor interactions.

Difficult though it might be, it’s no surprise that Cambridge’s Moksa would embrace the challenge of a cocktail pairing. No stranger to hosting creative events, the Central Square Pan-Asian eatery and cocktail lounge hosted a “New Year, New You Cocktail Dinner” in late January, pairing a three-course meal of small plates with cocktails designed by beverage director Noon Summers.

An intimate crowd gathered for the festivities, which began with a champagne cocktail.

Complete with a tea-smoked sugar cube, it was a light, elegant drink that lent itself to some engaging pre-dinner conversation among the dinner guests.

We also got a plate of edamame to snack on.

And with that, the pairing officially got under way. The first-course cocktail was a classic – a Martinez, made with Edinburgh gin, sweet vermouth, and allspice dram. Even by itself, the drink was outstanding. Noon described it as “food friendly,” which it certainly was.

Dry, with a hint of sweetness at the end, it matched well with the first dish – yellowtail sashimi with ginger, chive, and a sake-yuzu soy drizzle. The dry and bitter elements of the Martinez didn’t dominate the mild flavor of the fish, and the aromatics brought out the flavors of the citrusy, spicy soy sauce.

The next cocktail would warm the heart of anyone who’s endured this horrendous New England winter – a hot toddy. With distinct floral and herbal notes, Noon’s hot toddy combined whiskey, Grand Marnier, tea that she brought back from a recent trip to Thailand, and spices, including a hibiscus flower syrup. The tea flavor was strong but not overpowering, and the drink was served at the perfect temperature. “I didn’t want to overheat it,” Noon explained. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t taste the whiskey.” (This may be why every hot toddy I’ve made at home has been disappointing.)

Accompanying the hot toddy was a dish called Chow Fun – a roasted mushroom blend served with Asian greens and shrimp. As someone who doesn’t love mushrooms, I was a bit leery going into this one. But of all the evening’s pairings, this may have best demonstrated how flavors can work together to create something bigger than the individual components. The herbal flavors from the tea and hibiscus brought out the earthy essence of the mushrooms, which in turn took on the rich flavors of the vegetables and spices. The orange flavor of the Grand Marnier paired beautifully with the shrimp.

The evening ended on an appropriately sweet note. The Radiant Orchid cocktail, named for the 2014 color of the year (you’ll just have to look that up), combined Grey Goose vodka; Noon’s “farmhouse cordial,” made from freshly grown herbs; Concord grape juice; and Lambise, a cocktail beer.

Served alongside it was a smooth, creamy panna cotta made with Concord grapes. It was a simple yet masterful combination. Grape was clearly the central flavor, appearing in both the cocktail and the dish. But the tartness of the lambic and the herbs in the farmhouse cordial provided balance, resulting in a well-rounded dessert pairing that was fruity but not overly sweet.

I spent the entirety of the evening enjoying the splendid flavor combinations and happily discussing the meal with the other guests. It was only later that I came to fully appreciate the forethought and expertise that made the night so successful. There were some obvious relationships between the food and drink ingredients, like the grapes that featured in both the Radiant Orchid and the panna cotta. Other connections were more nuanced, like the spices in the Martinez accentuating the yellowtail dish. No matter how pronounced or subtle, identifying those key flavors ahead of time and knowing how they’ll behave is critical.

What’s more, Noon’s carefully selected cocktails prevented us drinking too quickly and not appreciating the accompanying dishes. One would be hard-pressed to chug a Martinez; with such dry and bitter liquors, it’s a sipping cocktail if ever there was one. Likewise, no one gulps down a warm drink like a hot toddy. The drink portions were also smaller than usual, which made them well suited to the small plates.

It seems inevitable that cocktail pairings will grow in popularity, and as “New Year, New You” demonstrated, the possibilities are enticing. But the success of such endeavors depends on the right balance of creativity, skill, and restraint. And it doesn’t hurt to have a mixologist of Noon Summers’ caliber at the helm.

This also wasn’t the last such event at Moksa. Tonight, in fact, they’re hosting a decadent chocolate-themed pairing, with items like warm cocoa nibs whiskey punch, spicy scallops with white chocolate and wasabi drizzle, and a house-made chocolate Irish cream.

Yeah, that doesn’t sound too awesome or anything.

Address: 450 Massachusetts Avenue

Website:http://www.moksarestaurant.com/

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February 14, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

Church...Revisited

February 14, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

[I'm sorry to report that Church closed. The music venue stayed open for a while after the main restaurant closed, but it's gone now.]

I remember being a little wary the first time I heard of the Fenway-area bar Church. I’d been told they had good food and creative drinks, but the name of the place threw me. Church. It sounded like a trendier-than-thou nightclub – maybe because so many of those places have one-word names. I agreed to check it out but remained skeptical; I was prepared for snobbery, a cheesy Gothic theme, and for someone going to take my table away at 10 p.m. to make room for a dance floor.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In fact, of all the places I’ve visited since I started Boston BarHopper, Church remains one of the most pleasant surprises. Where I was expecting pretension, I found a laid-back atmosphere and friendly staff. What could have been kitschy and gimmicky was instead cool and clever – like house cocktails named after the Seven Deadly Sins.

Overall, I found it to be a casual but upscale bar with good food and a warm, neighborhood vibe. And yet…something about it was still mysterious. If nothing else, it was unusual by virtue of its being near Fenway Park and not catering primarily to Sox fans. But what really made it stand out was that the restaurant and bar accounted for only half of Church – the other half was, in fact, a club.

The club shares an address with the restaurant, but the two have separate entrances, and the club usually charges a cover. And despite multiple visits to Church, I never got a look at the club side; the closest I got was when I’d walk toward the restrooms at the back of the restaurant and hear music pounding from the other side of the wall.

So with nothing to go on except my imagination, I figured that Church, the club, would have everything I once expected to find at the restaurant and bar: a rude doorman and a line to get in; overpriced drinks and crappy beer; a DJ playing thumping, repetitive house music; a dance floor awash in colored lights; and a crowd much younger than me and way better dressed.

Wrong again.

Church’s club is a small-scale venue with live music every night of the week. It draws local, national, and even international bands of all stripes and styles. “We get mostly jam bands,” says Scott, Church’s general manager, “but there’s a little bit of everything. Country, punk, heavier music.”

The setup is markedly different from that of the restaurant. The club is a long, spacious room with a stage at one end, a bar at the other, and a lot of open real estate in between. While the restaurant has the feel of a cozy, upscale lounge, with leather couches, candles, and warm colors, the club is decidedly sparse – a gray, concrete floor and black walls plastered with flyers and band posters.

Church is also atypical of other music venues in the Boston area. It’s much larger than Wally’s, the classic hole-in-the-wall jazz club, but not as big as midsize places like the Sinclair. It’s not as gritty as the Middle East, but not as lavish as the Beehive. I asked Scott how he would characterize the club, and he thought for a moment before calling it “dive bar meets upscale.” He’s right. Church is basically a no-frills bar with little in terms of décor – a couple of TVs above the bar, a splash of color from some hanging red lights, and two pool tables (which get moved aside on nights when a big crowd is expected). Yet there’s a decent-sized stage, a high-quality sound system, and cool stage lighting. It’s an approachable venue where up-and-coming acts can play, but professional enough to draw more established performers.

My friend Brian and I spent an evening at Church a few weeks back. The headliner that night was a funk/hip-hop band called Eight Feet Tall. Opening for them was a Soul Rebel Project, a local rock/reggae outfit. But Brian and I were there to see the first band of the night – Light Bright. We’d seen them play a few months at the Middle East and were eager to check them out again.

We had time to kill before the music started, which in most music venues would mean standing around drinking expensive PBR tallboys and waiting for something to happen. But Church isn’t a bad place to hang out even before the band takes the stage. There’s a comfortable bar with about a dozen seats, and unlike more traditional concert venues, it isn’t just a pit stop. In places like the House of Blues or the Paradise, no one really hangs out at the bar; you swing by, grab a beer, and squeeze back into the crowd. At Church, you can actually sit at the bar and have a few drinks. And there’s an impressive beer list, with a draft selection devoted entirely to Massachusetts brews, like this BBC Cabin Fever Winter Lager.

Brian went with the St. Botolph’s Town, a smoky dark brown ale from Pretty Things in Cambridge.

Another thing that sets Church apart from similar venues is the food – the full menu from the restaurant side is available. Scott told me that Church had hired a new chef since my last visit, resulting in some notable changes. The modern comfort food theme still prevails, but there are some welcome new additions – like poutine, that wonderful dish of French fries, gravy, and cheese curds. I told Scott that as regular visitors to Montreal, Brian and I have high standards for our poutine. “I’ll go back to the kitchen and scare the cooks,” he responded dryly. Fortunately, Church’s take on the French-Canadian staple doesn’t disappoint, with crispy fries and a flavorful beef gravy.

Despite being entirely different from the restaurant in terms of its appearance and function, the club side of Church possesses the same casual, neighborhood atmosphere. Our bartenders, Jason and Rich, happily recommended beers, talked about the bar and some of the bands that have played there, and introduced us to a few regular customers. “We’re all friends,” Rich said. “It’s like a family here.” It’s the sort of thing that could sound contrived, but he seemed entirely genuine. And while we were there, the bar staff seemed to be enjoying themselves almost as much as the crowd.

One thing you won’t find on the club side – Church’s renowned selection of house cocktails, presumably due to their labor-intensiveness and the size of the typical concert crowd. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get a good drink. I asked Jason if he could recommend something, and he offered to make me one of his own recipes – the Fhloston Paradise. Named for a holiday destination in the cult sci-fi film The Fifth Element, this was like a combination of a Mai Tai and a Moscow Mule. Made with dark rum, ginger liqueur, and pineapple juice, it was fruity and sweet up front but had a spicy ginger flavor in the back.

For dinner, Brian and I both opted for burgers. I remember the burger on Church’s previous menu being delicious but comically unmanageable, since it was about eight inches in height. This newer version, made with juicy, grass-fed beef and topped with Gouda cheese, red onion chutney, and two surprisingly thick slices of bacon, was easier to handle but no less impressive.

“This is a serious burger,” Brian solemnly declared. Indeed. The burgers came with a heaping portion of fries, which, admittedly, we didn’t really need after the poutine.

Around 9 p.m., Light Bright took the stage. An experimental band of Berklee students with a sound that blends of funk, jazz, and hip-hop, they’re an eclectic group – beyond the usual guitar, drums, and bass, there’s an alto sax, a tenor sax, a vibraphone, and two singers. That’s a lot of disparate elements, but the vibraphone ties it all together, giving their sound warmth and providing a foundation for their sometimes spacey, extended jams.

As Light Bright finished up their set, I polished off my last beer of the night – a Harpoon Boston Irish Stout. Roasted malts and a creamy texture make this stout a worthy addition to the Harpoon line.

The crowd began to swell as Soul Rebel Project got set up, and there was a noticeable following for Eight Feet Tall, which recently began a standing engagement at Church. I was curious about both bands but couldn’t stay; Church may host live music seven nights a week, but some of us have to get up for work on five of those mornings.

Last Call

Church is one of the most interesting and underrated music venues in the city. With a capacity of 225, it’s considered small as concert halls go; but it’s still a good-size space, so even when it’s full, you never feel crammed in. Plus, there’s usually plenty of room around the bar.

The club attracts a diverse set of performers, from slick cover bands to international touring acts, but there’s definitely a preference for jam bands. Some weeknights are devoted to certain genres – Monday is hip-hop night, Wednesday is typically for funk and reggae. And every Tuesday, Church hosts “Secret Sessions,” a Boston art and music event that brings together national bands and local artists. Music usually starts around 9, but that can vary.

Live music will always be the main draw here, but Church is a decent bar even before the bands plug in. The bar opens at 5 but typically doesn’t get busy until the music starts, so for at least a few hours, it’s a quiet alternative in an otherwise busy area. They’ve even started using the club space for non-music events, such as an upcoming cognac dinner.

The nightly cover charge ranges from $5 to $15, depending on who’s playing. You can avoid it if you show up early enough and avail yourself of the excellent beer selection. But even if you have to pay to get in, the fee is reasonable – and worth every penny if you see the right band.

Address: 69 Kilmarnock Street, Boston

Website: http://www.churchofboston.com/

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February 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Ward 8

February 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

In a city that has seen its share of colorful political figures, Martin M. Lomasney may lack the name recognition of a Kennedy or the notoriety of a James Michael Curley. Maybe that’s because, despite a 50-year career in which he did hold a number of public offices, his substantial political clout was largely cultivated in his unofficial capacity – as a ward boss.

A ward boss was the de facto leader of a political machine, a fixture of municipal politics in America’s Gilded Age. Political machines were organizations that influenced elections and dominated other local affairs through a system of political favors and patronage. Unsurprisingly, allegations of corruption and voter fraud were frequent and widespread.

But in a political system vulnerable to abuse, Lomasney was widely respected for his integrity and generally revered by his constituency. Unlike other ward bosses, Lomasney was quick to embrace immigrants, even greeting them on the docks upon their arrival in Boston. Granted, this was more about political expediency than genuine benevolence. But in a climate of fierce nativism, he treated immigrants in his ward the same as he did his other constituents (provided they could vote, of course).

Not that Lomasney should be considered for sainthood. Plenty of his methods were ethically questionable, and his motives may have been entirely self-serving. But the fact remains that while many political bosses were rightly accused of cronyism and graft, Lomasney is remembered for fostering a sense of community. Nowhere was this more evident than in the old West End neighborhood he presided over – known on the Boston voting map as Ward 8.

Political bosses are a thing of the past, and the boundaries of Ward 8 have been redrawn multiple times since Lomasney’s day. But more than 80 years after his death, Lomasney’s legacy of community building lives on in a new bar that honors the old name of his district.

“This area needed a neighborhood place,” owner Nick Frattaroli tells me. “So many people work around here, and you see them pouring out of their offices at 5.”

He’s right – Ward 8, which opened last December, sits on the outskirts of the North End, a block or two from the TD Garden. Populated mostly by office buildings, it’s an area people tend to pass through en route to Italian restaurants or sports pubs.

But for Nick, “neighborhood” is more about attitude than geography. “I wanted a place with neighborhood energy,” he explains. “Approachable” is a word he uses often, and his desire to engender a friendly, welcoming atmosphere is evident throughout Ward 8, from the menu to the reasonable prices – even the infrastructure. “That’s why we have a 30-seat bar,” he says of the large, wraparound rectangular bar that is the focal point of the restaurant. “People can see each other and talk; they’re not looking at bottles and labels.”

The gorgeous marble bar is a modern touch in a room that evokes vintage Boston. The hardwood floor and subway-tile columns have a throwback look, and the exposed brick wall, with “Ward 8” painted in floor-to-ceiling characters, is visually striking. A set of tables look out onto the street, and a separate dining area offers a quieter alternative to the bar.

The dim, candlelit ambience may recall intimate North End dining, while the plaid-clad staff and lively crowd give it the casual vibe of a Canal Street sports bar. But Ward 8’s menu offers thoughtful alternatives to both Italian food and typical pub fare. Described by Nick as “approachable, with a twist,” there’s a raw bar and selection of mouthwatering starters like butternut squash bisque and lamb meatballs. Comfort food staples like a burger, lobster roll, and mac and cheese are all given a modern spin by executive chef Kenny Schweizer. But the “Snacks & Sharing” menu is where you’ll find one of Ward 8’s most popular dishes – maple chili duck wings.

Delicious but absurdly messy, the wings are sweet, spicy, and tender, with meat falling right off the bone. You might want to ask for a few (hundred) extra napkins, but they’re worth the trouble.

The bacon cashew caramel corn is just as good as it sounds. Sweet, nutty, and smoky, this is pure stick-to-your-teeth decadence.

But the food menu isn’t the only thing that distinguishes Ward 8 from its nearby peers. “There aren’t a lot of places around here with this kind of cocktail program,” Nick notes.

That cocktail program is headed by bar manager Mike Wyatt, late of Eastern Standard. His drink menu is mostly arranged by type of spirit – Agave, Gin/Vodka, Rum, Whiskey, and Brandy. Beneath each heading is a mix of what Mike calls classics and modern classics. “We wanted to start with a foundation of classic drinks,” he explains. “Some places make all these crazy ‘craft cocktails’ but can’t make a Manhattan. We teach the bartenders to make the classics.”

Cocktails that date back to the Gilded Age share space with tiki drinks and more contemporary concoctions. The Corpse Reviver, a blend of cognac, Calvados apple brandy, and sweet vermouth, is strong and smooth, with a mild bitterness.

The Painkiller is fruity and potent. A mix of Pusser’s rum, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, and orange juice poured over crushed ice, it's served in a ceramic coconut cup and topped with a dusting of nutmeg.

The Maharaja’s Revenge combines Old Monk rum, Apry (an apricot brandy), and fresh lime juice. With the vanilla flavor from the rum, the apricot, and the zing from the lime, this modern tiki drink is at home among the classics.

The cocktails have their share of twists and innovations, but Mike uses Nick’s word to describe them: approachable. “It’s not like we’re making Martinezes or anything,” he says, referring to the bitter gin-based cocktail that has yet to enjoy the same resurgence in popularity as martinis and Manhattans.

And yet the biggest hits are the drinks that might be considered the most daring. “The egg drinks are flying out of here,” Mike notes with surprise, referring specifically to the Pisco Sour and the Rye Flip. The Pisco Sour seems to be increasingly in vogue in Boston bars, and it’s easy to see why. Ward 8’s version, which combines Macchu Pisco, lemon juice, sugar, and egg white, is sweet, tangy, and creamy. Angostura bitters are decoratively swirled on the foamy top.

The Rye Flip, made with Bulleit rye whiskey, a whole egg, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg, is perfect for a cold winter night. With a creamy texture from the egg, a little bite from the rye, and seasonal spices, all that’s missing is a roaring fire.

Customers’ willingness to try uncommon cocktails may be due in part to the approachability of the bar staff and the emphasis on presentation. “A lot of these drinks spark interest,” Mike says. “We use glass mixing jars, so people can see things like the egg cracking. They ask about the ingredients.”

Few drinks elicit more conversation and questions than the Oaxahan Old Fashioned, which offers an exciting twist on one of the oldest drinks in the book. Ward 8’s version, based on a recipe by Death & Co., trades whiskey for a combination of tequila and mezcal, making for a strong, smoky drink. “Some people don’t even know how to pronounce it,” Mike says. “But they ask, and it sparks conversation. People ask about the difference between mezcal and tequila. And they really like the flaming orange,” he admits, referring to the match-lit orange peel garnish, which contributes a smoky citrus essence (I lament not capturing the momentarily flaming peel, but I was too mesmerized to operate the camera).

The Moscow Mules, unfortunately, inspire not just conversation but larceny – the traditional copper cups they’re served in tend to disappear. “We got hit pretty hard last weekend,” he says with a sigh.

If you're in the market for some copper mugs, Amazon.com is a good place to start. With buying options to fit any budget, there’s no need to pilfer Ward 8’s inventory.

A small selection of House Cocktails is separate from the spirit-driven categories, but the plan is to eventually have a single, unified list. I’d say the original concoctions are already strong enough to stand alongside the traditional favorites. The Il Pompelmo is bright, tangy, and sour, with its combination of No. 3 gin, Campari, St. Germain, and grapefruit bitters.

The New England Daiquiri, as its name would suggest, interprets the traditional Caribbean cocktail with regional ingredients – Berkshire Mountain Distillers rum and Vermont maple syrup. A mere half-teaspoon of syrup means the maple flavor doesn’t dominate the rum, allowing for a fairly restrained sweetness.

And of course, no exploratory venture to Ward 8 would be complete without trying its namesake cocktail. The story behind the drink named for Lomasney’s neighborhood is a blend of history and legend, and its accuracy is subject to debate. But the generally accepted version goes something like this: on the eve of Lomasney’s 1898 election to the state legislature, his supporters, assured of their candidate’s victory, gathered at the Locke-Ober restaurant to celebrate. They asked the bartender to create a drink to commemorate the occasion. The resulting cocktail, a mix of rye whiskey, grenadine, lemon juice, and orange juice, was named for the district that ultimately tipped the election in Lomasney’s favor – Ward 8 – and was the signature cocktail of the Locke-Ober until it closed its doors in 2012.

So how does Ward 8’s version stack up to the original? Mike responds with a now familiar refrain: “It’s more approachable.” The most obvious difference is swapping out the traditional, spicy rye for the softer bourbon, but other changes are more subtle. “We use freshly squeezed juice and a house-made grenadine,” he explains. “It might not seem like a big deal, but we make [the grenadine] here and it’s not as sweet.” The result, he says, is a bit closer to a whiskey sour. “It’s fruity, not too tart. You don’t have to be a whiskey fan to enjoy it.”

That’s especially fitting for a neighborhood bar built on the concept of approachability. Inclusiveness for Martin Lomasney may have been little more than a means of shoring up votes and securing political advantage, but Nick’s intentions seem genuine. “Anyone can come here,” he proclaims. “Foodies, sports fans, cocktail drinkers. There’s something for everyone.”

Last Call

Ward 8’s excellent cocktail list is not static; I’ve seen several additions and subtractions just in the past few weeks. But if you get attached to a particular drink and it goes missing from the menu, don’t fret – Mike assures me that the small crew of well-trained bartenders can still make it for you.

If cocktails aren’t your bag, there’s also a respectable offering of microbrews on draft and more in bottles. The draft options, like this smooth Left Hand Milk Stout on nitro, are served in chilled beer steins.

And true to Nick’s word, there is indeed something for everyone.

Prices are eminently reasonable. Drinks will run you $10 to $12, which is pretty standard for craft cocktails. Entrees range between $15 and $24, and there are plenty of good deals on the Snacks & Sharing menu.

The bar can get a little loud, particularly in the after-work hours. But then again, Ward 8 is a place that’s supposed to have neighborhood energy. And who’d want to live in a dull neighborhood?

Address: 90 N. Washington Street, Boston

Website:http://www.ward8.com/

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January 17, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, BOSTON, Spirits in Focus

Downeast Cider House

January 17, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, BOSTON, Spirits in Focus

I cannot precisely recall the first time I tried apple cider, but I’m almost certain it was at a Thanksgiving dinner when I was a kid. For my family, cider was a turkey day staple, complementing the food on our table while reflecting all the wonderful flavors of autumn in New England.

The first time I tried hard cider? That I remember vividly – and not a little bit fondly.

Sometime in the late 1990s, I was introduced to Cider Jack, which at the time was one of few commercial hard ciders widely available in the United States. As a beer drinker, I was no fan of “malternatives.” But I figured, hey, it’s cider, right? How bad could it be?

Turns out, it could be pretty bad.

Cider Jack was a scratchy, artificially flavored, sharply carbonated beverage that bore scant resemblance to the thick, fresh juice that heralded the holiday season. You know how leaving the cap off a bottle of apple juice for a week or so will supposedly cause it to ferment? I imagine the result would taste something like the now defunct Cider Jack.

If there was one benefit to Cider Jack’s inexplicable popularity, it was that it helped open the door for other – and much better – hard ciders. Eventually my harsh opinion mellowed a bit; I learned to appreciate an occasional Magners and later developed a genuine fondness for Harpoon’s cider, which at least tasted like actual apples had made an appearance in the brewing process. But I never loved it, and I resigned myself to the depressing reality that the chasm between non-alcoholic apple cider and industrial hard cider would never be bridged.

And then, on a summer night in 2012, something happened that forever altered my understanding of hard cider.

I was enjoying drinks in Cambridge’s Central Square with a few fellow barhoppers, and when it came time to change locations, my friend Jen lobbied for a trip to Kendall Square’s Meadhall. Her reason? They had a cider on draft that she really liked. Now as much as I enjoy Meadhall, it hadn’t really been on that evening’s agenda; and going there specifically for a hard cider was hardly incentive. But Jen was persistent, so we headed to Kendall. Upon arriving at Meadhall, Jen ordered her precious drink – something called Downeast Cider – and offered me a sip of the much-ballyhooed beverage.

And that, dear readers, is when I first fell in love with hard cider.

If there was one obvious distinction between Downeast and every other hard cider I’d tried, it was this – Downeast resembled actual apple cider. As in, the stuff I always drank in November (but with alcohol!). Not too sweet, not overly carbonated, and – unlike every other hard cider on the market – not filtered. Whereas you could read a newspaper through a glass of most hard ciders, this unfiltered brew had a cloudy complexion, more akin to that of genuine cider – not to mention a rich, natural flavor.

After that I became something of a Downeast evangelist, talking it up to anyone who would listen and dragging people to Meadhall to try it. Not that Downeast needed my help – their cult following was quickly growing into a regional phenomenon. More bars began offering it on draft, and eventually a canned version appeared on store shelves. In February 2013, Downeast co-founders Tyler Mosher and Ross Brockman moved their operation from Leominster to Charlestown; last December, they hosted a big launch party to officially christen their Downeast Cider House and formally announce their Boston presence. And just this past month, Tyler and Ross were included on Forbes' annual “30 under 30” list. Not bad for a couple of Bates College grads with no prior brewing experience.

A few days before their launch party, I met with Tyler for a tour of the new digs and an education on all things cider.

While Downeast is the sexy choice among ciders these days, the place where the magic happens is more functional than fashionable. The Downeast Cider House, which sits in the shadow of the Tobin Bridge, is a large industrial space filled with brewing tanks, canning equipment, kegs waiting to be filled, and cases of cider ready to be shipped.

The gray, concrete floor is strewn with hoses; electrical cables hang from steel beams on the ceiling; puddles of water await a mop. The only splash of color comes from a huge apple tree painted on the back wall.

A few tables constitute a makeshift office, and that’s where Tyler, Ross, and Ross’s brother Matt deal with the business of making, selling, and distributing cider. And while those matters take up increasing amounts of their time, Tyler and Ross’s typical day is still consumed with making their cider – including the drudgery of cleaning tanks and canning their product. It’s an honest, elbow-grease approach that isn’t too far removed from their earliest days of brewing cider in the basement of their college dorm.

The Downeast story begins in Maine. Tyler and Ross became friends while attending Bates and discussed the notion of starting a business together someday. Cider wasn’t in their plans yet, but after a few overseas trips, they noticed the popularity of hard cider in other countries; the U.S. market was comparatively dry. Another thing they noticed? That most hard cider was “cider” in name only. “It was a real bummer,” Tyler says, “not finding any ciders that were made from freshly pressed apples.”

So when they graduated, they started putting their plans into action. A complete lack of cider-making experience might have given other would-be brewers pause, but Tyler and Ross were undaunted. “We were in college, and we were young and cocky,” Tyler admits with a laugh. But they had a friend whose family owned an apple orchard and an apple press, so that helped. And after eight months of trial and error, they also had a recipe. Before long, the two cider-making novices would be bringing their new product to market. “We had this blind confidence,” Tyler says. “We didn’t know how hard it could be.” They would soon find out.

Downeast set up shop in Waterville, Maine, and began distributing their cider on a relatively small scale. As Tyler recounts, “We made a few kegs, sold them locally, and thought ‘Wow, this is sweet – making and selling our own cider!’” Then a sales trip to Massachusetts resulted in five new accounts – and their first professional crisis. “We got four times the order that we were expecting. We didn’t have enough kegs, didn’t have enough cider.” It didn’t help that it was a bad year for apples, and their supplier ran out.

That led to some tough decisions. Fill the order with an inferior product? Call their new customers back and say “uh, sorry, we’re out of cider”? Of course not. Tyler and Ross ultimately managed to find a new supplier, but it meant moving their home base to Leominster, Massachusetts. Their departure from Maine may have been unceremonious, but it was clear, even then, that the pair were unwilling to compromise the integrity of their product. That “no shortcuts” philosophy remains central to their current vision – and the outcome is a consistently enjoyable craft hard cider.

As we toured the facility, Tyler expounded on what distinguishes Downeast from so many other brands. The cider is made with locally grown, freshly pressed apples – a blend of Red Delicious, McIntosh, Cortland, and Gala. The velvety consistency comes from the type of yeast. “Ale yeast gives it that smoothness,” he explains. “Most ciders use champagne or white wine yeast.” Tannins, known more commonly for their use in wine, provide mouthfeel and body. (In an episode I won’t soon forget, Tyler encouraged me try some dry tannins – which taste roughly like cigarette ash. Apparently something good happens once they make it into the brew. Gentleman that he is, Tyler also submitted to tasting the tannins to share in my misery.)

But if there’s one thing that people immediately notice about Downeast, it’s that the cider is unfiltered. Compared to most commercial hard ciders, Downeast has a darker, richer complexion. “It’s hard to do,” Tyler admits. “When we started, everyone told us we had to filter it.” But filtering affects more than just the cider’s appearance. “We tried a filtered version, but it just stripped all the taste away. We said, ‘we can’t do this to our cider.’”

The process may be more complicated, but the result is a cider with a full-bodied flavor and smooth texture, free of concentrated juices and artificial sweeteners. Other ciders literally pale by comparison.

My tour of the Cider House is illuminating, and not just because of the glimpse at how cider is made. Seeing a business that’s still evolving is just as fascinating. Clearly visible are the vestiges of a young company accustomed to operating on a shoestring budget. There’s the Chinese-made canner Tyler and Ross bought because it was cheap; it didn’t work and they ended up having to buy another one. There’s the pasteurizer that they built themselves, because commercial ones are so expensive.

Tyler still seems astonished by the cost of kegs. And the Downeast workforce is little more than a skeleton crew; aside from Tyler, Ross, and Matt, there are two sales reps and a couple of guys who help with the packing and kegging.

It’s a small operation, but it’s easy to see that bigger things are on the way. Their cider is in ever-increasing demand, and their product line is expanding. Downeast already offers a cranberry cider, an alternative to their original blend. A bit more risky are a couple of non-cider products slated to hit the shelves this year. Tyler seems a tad uncertain about how customers will react to Downeast branching out – a far cry from the “blind confidence” that fueled his and Ross’s earlier ambitions. I’d say there’s little cause for concern; as long as they maintain their dedication to quality and a “no shortcuts” mantra, it’s hard to imagine any of Downeast’s offerings falling flat.

But Downeast’s expansion plans are unlikely to distract Tyler and Ross from their flagship product. And that’s a good thing, because their success is bound to spawn imitators. You can be sure that the market is well aware of Downeast’s popularity, and it’s only a matter of time before an upstart brewery – or even one of the big guys – comes out with their own unfiltered craft cider. It’s a likelihood Tyler is well aware of. “The only way to avoid competition hindering our business is to stay ahead of it.”

I’d say they’ve got a pretty good head start.

******

If you’re a Downeast devotee and are looking to visit the command center, be patient – the Downeast Cider House isn’t officially open for tours yet. That will be changing, though, possibly as soon as next month. In the meantime, to learn more about the cider, check out the website. You’ll find plenty of amusing stories about Tyler, Ross, and the whole Downeast crew. They even offer cider-based cocktail recipes; I found the recipe for “Downeast on the Rocks” particularly compelling.

Website:http://www.downeastcider.com/

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December 23, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

The Second Annual Boston BarHopper Christmas Special

December 23, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

This is the season of special occasions.

This is the time for sentimental old films, songs you only listen to once a year, and claymation TV specials that offer a portal to your childhood. It’s a time when the very landscape is transformed – from the snow that blankets the ground to the lights, wreaths, and bright red bows that adorn street lamps and shop windows.

It’s the time of year when we gleefully endure subzero temperatures so we can stroll through a colorfully illuminated city.

If you’ve been watching your waistline all year, this is when you look the other way. This is the month for wearing comically garish sweaters. It’s a time for decorating trees, attending parties, and taking a chance under the mistletoe.

This is the most wonderful time of the year. And while it’s famous for flying reindeer and brown paper packages tied up with string, the holiday season also brings out some of the best cocktails known to man. The winter weather inspires all manner of fortifying beverages, but holiday-themed drinks occupy a special class all to themselves.

A cup of cheer can be very simple – just dust off that rarely used bottle of peppermint schnapps, pour some in a mug of hot cocoa, and you’ll be rockin’ around the Christmas tree in no time at all. It’s also possible to go overboard, and I’ve had holiday cocktails made with unnaturally sweet spirits, dyed with artificial coloring, ornamented with candy canes and chocolates, and served in brightly tinted glasses.

But like a carefully decorated house that you make a point to drive by when the calendar turns to December, the best yuletide drinks are artful, well thought out, and beautifully presented. They call for more effort than spiking some store-bought eggnog with whiskey or rum, but they’re also not overdone to Griswoldian proportions. These libations may reflect the colors of the season, but more importantly, they evoke its essence. They capture the aromas of an all-day baking session, the warmth of an open fire, the coziness of a snowy night. They are an annual indulgence as unique as the season itself.

With that in mind, I asked three of Boston’s top mixologists if they’d be each willing to devise an original cocktail for this year’s Boston BarHopper Christmas Special. The drinks they responded with were festive, imaginative, and fully imbued with the holiday spirit.

Our first stop is in Somerville, where Union Square is tastefully lit up and decked out for the holidays. Not that the extra lighting makes Backbar any easier to find. This hidden bar might be a tad challenging to locate if you don’t know where to look, but for some of the best cocktails in the Boston area, it’s worth a little confusion.

Principal bartender Joe Cammarata has been working at Backbar since it opened two years ago. I met him during my first visit a few months back and was immediately impressed with the way he went about his work. No matter how crowded the bar got – and this small space can get busy – Joe never seemed frazzled, making drinks according to his own unflappable tempo. He always found time to inquire about his customers’ spirit preferences, offer suggestions, and explain the nuances of a recipe – all while consistently mixing up the sort of top-notch drinks that have made Backbar such a renowned destination for cocktail enthusiasts.

I stopped by on a recent Saturday evening, and before Joe unveiled his yuletide concoction, he presented me with a fun Backbar original – a Root Beer Float Milk Punch.

The flavors of root beer and ice cream may seem best suited to summer, but this milk punch, made with rum, amaretto, and citrus falernum, had a creamy texture and notes of vanilla that were right at home on a cold winter’s night. And yet this was only a prelude to the main event.

“When you emailed me,” Joe said, “the first thing I thought of was turning a Mai Tai into an eggnog.”

I was stunned. Mai Tai? Eggnog? These are a few of my favorite things, but the citrusy sweetness of a Mai Tai and the rich, dairy base of eggnog sounded even less compatible than the Snow Miser and Heat Miser. What I didn’t realize, though, is that the drinks have more than just rum in common.

“There are a lot of spices in tiki drinks that remind me of Christmas,” Joe explained, as he began making a cocktail that combined the best of two very different worlds. He started by shaking a whole egg and heavy cream before adding a couple of house-made syrups – orgeat and falernum. Then came the booze – orange liqueur, Clément VSOP rum, and Bacardi 8-year rum.

“It wouldn’t be eggnog without nutmeg,” he said, grating a fresh clove of nutmeg over the creamy concoction. “And it wouldn’t be a Mai Tai without a little bit of lime.”

The Nog Mai Tai – a working title, Joe said at the time – was a unique, masterful mix of ingredients that evoked snowy days and tropical nights in equal measure. The almond flavor of the orgeat syrup, an essential component of a genuine Mai Tai, is exactly the sort of warm nuttiness found in all manner of holiday treats. Likewise, the falernum syrup, common to many tiki drinks, combines the flavors you might find in Christmas cookies and pumpkin pies – cloves, ginger, allspice, and vanilla. The Clément added a touch of coconut and caramel.

This was fantastic – clever, unexpected, and representative of the innovative spirit that gives Backbar its impeccable reputation. With notes of molasses and vanilla, balanced by hints of lime and coconut, this full-flavored cocktail conjured the odd image of sipping a cold-weather classic in the land where palm trees sway.

For our second drink we head into downtown Boston, where Boston Common and the Public Garden both sparkle with holiday splendor. The huge Christmas tree, a gift from our friends in Nova Scotia, is celebrated with an annual lighting ceremony that officially ushers in the holiday season.

An illuminated footbridge offers a majestic path through the Public Garden.

Trees all throughout the Common are adorned with festive lights. If you don’t mind the cold, strap on some skates and take a whirl on the Frog Pond.

But when Jack Frost starts nipping at your nose, there’s no better place to warm up than at nearby Stoddard’s.

With an excellent beer selection, a universally lauded Moscow Mule, and an impressive list of old-school craft cocktails, it’s no wonder Stoddard’s is one of Boston’s most popular drinking establishments. It draws a strong after-work crowd that’s never in a hurry to leave, and if you score a seat at the bar before 7 p.m., consider yourself lucky. But no matter how busy or noisy Stoddard’s gets, you’ll probably hear the voice of Jamie Walsh above the din.

As Stoddard’s’ drink coordinator and bar manager, “Walshie” usually looks pretty busy, bouncing between the main bar and a second one downstairs. But he still finds time to mix up a few drinks while talking and laughing with customers.

My first meeting with Jamie was a memorable one. I was at Stoddard’s on a rare quiet evening, working on a piece about the bar. Jamie introduced himself and offered me a sample of Founders Breakfast Stout, an imperial stout that he characterized as “a mouthful of awesomeness.” He immediately struck me as a good-natured fellow whose knowledge of his craft was exceeded only by his enthusiasm.

For the BBH Christmas Special, Jamie offered Stoddard’s’ Downtown Flip. “It’s our play on an eggnog,” he told me. This was a more traditional eggnog than the one I had at Backbar – no lime zest or falernum here – but it was no less inventive and complex. Jamie adds a whole egg, Old Monk 7-year rum, Drambuie, a house-made cinnamon syrup, and Aztec chocolate bitters to a shaker. “This is called a ‘dry’ shake and will help incorporate all the ingredients,” he explained. “It also helps make a more frothy drink.” After that he adds ice, shakes it again, and strains it into a coupe glass.

With a thick consistency akin to that of a milk shake, and tiny shards of ice that added texture and a deep chill, this exquisite drink paid tribute to the holiday season’s quintessential beverage while giving it a few creative, modern twists. The flavor from the chocolate bitters was subtle but unmistakable, while the cinnamon syrup blended with the honey and spices of the Drambuie to create a beverage worthy of being sipped in front of a roaring fire.

When I asked Walshie if he had anything else of the seasonal variety, he responded with a drink called Paradise and Purgatory. This variation of a Manhattan combined rye whiskey, Benedictine, green chartreuse, absinthe, and three dashes of Fernet Branca.

With all those bitter ingredients, I was expecting the cocktail equivalent of coal in my stocking. But I was surprised by the complex, herbal base, and none of individual components were overly assertive. The Paradise and Purgatory isn’t necessarily a holiday drink, but it will surely surely reinvigorate you after hours of walking in a winter wonderland.

Our final stop is in Central Square. Gritty, Bohemian, and alternative as it may be, this Cambridge neighborhood still dons its gay apparel in December.

Now if you’re a regular reader of mine, you could be forgiven for wondering whether I’m secretly on Moksa’s payroll. True, this Pan-Asian restaurant and cocktail bar has featured prominently in my 2013 posts, from bartender battles to evenings spent watching the Three Amigos. But Moksa regularly hosts fun, creative events; and when Noon Summers’ cocktails are at the center of them, I find it hard to stay away.

Noon is the beverage coordinator at Moksa and a brilliant mixologist. She’s had her work featured in Imbibe magazine, has designed cocktails for numerous events around the city, and makes a mean Manischewitz punch.

For this project, Noon came up with a fresh, highly original cocktail called a Holiday Collins. Made entirely with local ingredients, it’s versatile enough to accompany any holiday dinner.

“Collins” might make you think of gin, but the base liquor in Noon’s cocktail is Bully Boy whiskey.

In place of soda water, she uses Lambise – a Champagne-like “cocktail beer” produced in Belgium and currently sold only in Boston.

To that she adds lemon juice and a special house cordial made from herbs given to her by the guys from the Bully Boy, who grew them right on their own farm. “I call it a farmhouse cordial,” she told me. “It works well with the lambic, which is known as a farmhouse beer.”

Finally, this beauty was ornamented with a sprig of sage (also from the Bully Boy farm), an orange twist, and a playfully festive straw.

Strong, complex, but mellow overall, this was an easy-drinking cocktail designed to complement a winter feast. “It’s food-friendly,” Noon explained. “There’s so much food on your table at the holidays; what goes with it all?” She’s right; think of all the strong flavors competing for your attention on Christmas Day – roasted turkey, ham, cranberries, figgy pudding. “You need an aromatic cocktail, something easy to drink.”

Potent but smooth, and not overpowering, the Holiday Collins was a pleasure to drink. As soon as I lifted the glass, I was met with the unmistakable scent of sage. The Lambise provided effervescence and a subtle tartness. But the farmhouse cordial, a blend of sage, thyme, rosemary, and two types of basil, was the most dramatic component. “You find all these herbs on your table,” Noon noted, “and this drink goes with all of them.”

For me, the flavor brought back one of my most visceral holiday memories: stepping into my aunt and uncle’s house on Christmas Day and being greeted with the savory aromas of fresh herbs and spices wafting toward me from the kitchen.

Before I left, Noon’s bar manager, Tyler, offered me one more surprise – a sip of candy-cane-infused rum. Colorful and sweet, it tasted exactly like a liquid, adults-only candy cane.

Since I’m pretty certain they made this by soaking candy canes in a bottle of Bacardi, it was an ironic follow-up to the artistry of Joe’s Nog Mai Tai, Jamie’s Downtown Flip, and Noon’s own Holiday Collins.

“We were just having fun there,” Noon confessed, a little sheepishly.

But its sweetness and simplicity evoked the holiday season in a different and no less poignant way. Our ability to appreciate the depth and complexity of a well-crafted cocktail is a product of the same maturity and sense of awareness that inevitably diminishes the mystery and majesty of the holiday season.

Now we know how the presents got under the tree and how much they cost. We understand that glowing lights and cheerful songs can make some people feel terribly lonely.

We realize that spending the holiday with our loved ones is a blessing, and yet our hearts note the absence of those who are missing from our celebration. That’s all on top of crowded malls, complicated logistics, and family politics.

We are far removed from the days when our year-end responsibilities included drafting a letter to Santa and trying to evade the naughty list. But sometimes all it takes is the flavor of a candy cane – whether it’s wrapped in plastic or soaking in rum – to bring back the thrill of running downstairs on Christmas morning. And if that renews your ability to believe in magic, even for a moment, then this will always be the most wonderful time of the year.

******

The holiday season is hurtling toward its epic conclusion, but there’s still plenty of time for a cup of cheer. Check out these fine establishments when you need a break from last-minute shopping or are just looking to celebrate the season:

Backbar: 7 Sanborn Court, Union Square, Somerville

http://backbarunion.com/

Stoddard’s: 48 Temple Place, Boston

http://stoddardsfoodandale.com/

Moksa: 450 Massachusetts Avenue, Central Square, Cambridge

http://www.moksarestaurant.com/

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December 13, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Somerville, Spirits in Focus, Events

An Evening With Montelobos Mezcal...and the Three Amigos

December 13, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Somerville, Spirits in Focus, Events

The year is 1916. The rural village of Santo Poco, Mexico, is being extorted by a cruel bandit and his obsequious cohorts. The people of the village have long since abandoned hope and resigned themselves to their plight. But when one of the villagers, a young woman named Carmen, sees a silent film depicting the exploits of three wealthy Spanish landowners who fight for justice and the good of the common man, she hatches a desperate plot to save Santo Poco. Unaware that the on-screen heroes are merely actors, not true crusaders, Carmen dispatches a telegram requesting their help and promising a handsome reward. The telegram reaches the actors, who have recently been fired by their studio over a salary dispute. Interpreting the telegram as an invitation to stage a performance, the three eagerly accept and head to Santo Poco – not realizing they are walking into a real-life battle with a group of ruthless thugs led by the notorious outlaw El Guapo.

This, my friends, is the premise for that enduring classic of 1980s cinema, the ¡Three Amigos!, a film I was fortunate to become reacquainted with last week when Cambridge’s Moksa screened it as part of a promotional event for Montelobos Mezcal. And while it would be difficult to upstage the hijinks and heroics of Lucky Day (Steve Martin), Dusty Bottoms (Chevy Chase), and Ned Nederlander (Martin Short), the true stars of the evening were bartenders Curtis McMillan, Brian Mantz, and Tyler Wolters.

First, a few words about mezcal. Just as the Amigos are wrongly perceived as valiant crusaders, mezcal often suffers from a case of mistaken identity. Many people think the spirit is a type of tequila, when in fact, tequila is a type of mezcal. True, both are made in Mexico and originate from the agave plant, but the similarities end there. For starters, they are largely produced in different regions of Mexico. And tequila, by law, is made solely from the blue agave plant, while mezcal can be made from a plethora of agave plants.

But the most obvious difference between the two spirits is the flavor profile. Mezcal is famous – or infamous – for its distinctive smoky essence. This comes from roasting the piña, which is the heart of the agave plant. The traditional production method involves roasting the piñas in an underground pit lined with volcanic rock and wood, covered with earth and logs. The piñas get smoked over the course of a few days before being mashed, fermented, and distilled. It’s a process that has been industrialized over the years, but smaller, craft distilleries, like Montelobos, have returned to this time-honored, handcrafted approach.

The result is a spirit that nicely balances bitter and sweet flavors, with notes of vanilla, pepper, agave, even citrus. The signature smoky essence is milder and more natural than I’ve encountered in other mezcals; not harsh or overpowering.

Although mezcal is typically consumed neat in Mexico, mixed drinks were the order of the night at Moksa. Each of the three featured cocktails, with names inspired by the evening’s film, was designed by one of the sombrero- and poncho-clad amigos working behind the bar.

First up was “Son of a Motherless Goat,” made by Moksa’s bar manager, Tyler Wolters. This mix of Montelobos, Byrrh (a quinine-flavored, fortified wine), Montenegro, maraschino liqueur, and coffee bitters, finished with a twist of orange, was like a spicy, smoky Manhattan. The coffee bitters added a subtle anise flavor, while the orange peel contributed some bitterness and citrus notes.

Brian Mantz is the bar manager at Carrie Nation, and his “Plethora of Piñatas” combined Montelobos, Lillet Blanc, a grapefruit cordial, and lime. Light and refreshing, it was like a lemonade with a subtle, smoky bite.

As Vice President at the Boston chapter of the United States Bartending Guild, you could say Curtis McMillan knows a thing or two about cocktails. This whole event, incidentally, was his brainchild, part of the local launch for Montelobos. Curtis’s “Invisible Swordsman” cocktail may have been the most complex of the night, with Montelobos, Cherry Heering, Solerno blood orange liqueur, grapefruit, agave, and allspice. Despite combining so many boldly flavored ingredients, it was well balanced, with a big sweetness up front.

While the hombres behind the bar whipped up some potent bebidas, the rest of us watched the tense drama unfold on screen. When the Three Amigos ride into Santo Poco, the villagers aren’t sure what to make of their flashy, would-be saviors. But the trio is lionized after an apparent victory over El Guapo’s bemused minions, and a night-long fiesta ensues. The celebration is short-lived, however, and so is the villagers’ adulation. El Guapo himself arrives the next day; unmoved by the Amigos’ histrionics, he exposes the heroes as frauds, sacks Santo Poco, and kidnaps the beautiful Carmen.

Disgraced, the Amigos are met with a choice – return to Hollywood and try to win back their acting jobs; or, in a richly ironic example of life imitating art, become the valiant crusaders they once portrayed. Facing impossible odds, and hampered by their own bumbling ineptitude and dearth of real-life combat skills, the Amigos make a pact to rescue the girl, save the village, and restore their lost dignity.

No Mexican-themed event would be complete without the spicy food for which our neighbor to the south is so well known, and Moksa’s menu consisted of a few small plates of traditional Mexican cuisine with an Asian flair. First up was a delicious tamale stuffed with ground pork and kimchi, topped with Kochujang, a Korean pepper sauce.

Even the Three Amigos never got tacos like this – spicy tuna, served in nori (seaweed) chips and topped with guacamole and a tangy mango salsa.

Rice and beans are traditional staples of Mexican cuisine, but Moksa’s version spiced them up with curry.

There was even dessert – a bite-size hors d’oeuvre of pineapple, cherry, and cheese, three elements that worked surprisingly well together.

You know what else works well together? Comedy and alcohol (who knew?). I hadn’t seen the ¡Three Amigos! in years, but I think it holds up pretty well. Whether the drinks colored my opinion at all, I can’t say.

And while I was pleased to revisit this classic 80s farce, I was happier still to discover the merits of an artisinal mezcal. I confess, I’d always thought of mezcal as liquefied smoke that may or may not have a worm floating around in it (that’s a whole other topic; and no, you definitely won’t find one in Montelobos). But each of the evening’s cocktails was distinct in its flavor and complexity, and together they demonstrated mezcal’s surprising versatility.

Mezcal has a long way to go before it approaches anything close to the popularity of its distant cousin, tequila. But as Lucky Day wisely explained to the Santo Pocoans, “All of us have an El Guapo to face.” Small-batch mezcals like Montelobos are helping the spirit gain new respect and broader recognition; the support of a major distributor like William Grant & Sons doesn’t hurt, either. It’s already becoming a chic alternative to tequila, and as mezcal finds its way into well-conceived cocktails, its appeal may become as strong as its legendary smoky flavor.

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December 3, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Carrie Nation Cocktail Club

December 3, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

She was about the last person you’d ever want to see walking toward your bar. An anti-booze crusader with a hatchet in hand and the Lord at her side (or so she insisted), Carrie Nation made a fearsome name for herself in the early 20th century by terrorizing saloon owners and promoting the message of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union through high-profile acts of vandalism and at least 30 arrests.

From about 1900 to 1910, this imposing, six-foot-tall Kansas woman brought the temperance movement to violent, radical heights by storming into bars and smashing fixtures and liquor bottles with a hatchet. Her initial targets were saloons that violated local laws prohibiting the sale of alcohol, but Carrie’s “hatchetations” expanded to any establishment selling liquor, legally or not.

She might not seem like the most obvious figure to name your bar after. But apparently the Carrie Nation Cocktail Club appreciates history and irony in equal measure.

Having opened in Beacon Hill this past spring, Carrie Nation (the bar) is everything that Carrie Nation (the person) would have abhorred. With its flapper-era drink list and opulent décor, Carrie Nation is a modern-day tribute to the 1920s – an era that would have inspired both celebration and consternation in its namesake.

No doubt, Carrie would have applauded the ratification of the 18th Amendment, had she lived to see the day (she died 9 years before Prohibition went into effect). But there weren’t enough hatchets in the world to destroy all the illegal bars that sprung up in its wake. And not even Carrie herself possessed enough self-righteousness to shame all the cops who accepted bribes that allowed such establishments to operate, or the judges and politicians who benefited by looking the other way.

Carrie sells a would-be drinker on the merits of an ice cream cone.

But Carrie Nation isn’t just another Prohibition-themed bar serving up old-school cocktails. It captures the Roaring Twenties in all its glitz, glamour, and legendary style.

The notion of drinking in the 1920s may provoke images of makeshift, backroom speakeasies, but Carrie Nation, with its mammoth size, evokes the palatial luxury hotels and dining establishments that reflected the decade’s gaudy extravagance.

There’s a large, open dining room with round tables and comfortable leather booths.

Long, red velvet drapes and a handsome dark brown and cream color scheme hearkens back to a time when people donned their finest duds for a civilized night out on the town. Ornate hanging lamps cast a warm glow over the whole area.

The Beacon Room, a second dining area, is separate and smaller, but still spacious and grand.

A long, beautiful bar – an improbable sight in the 1920s – seats 17, while five tables round out the bar area.

While the décor offers a glimpse of the gleaming luxury of the Jazz Age, Carrie Nation’s cocktail list largely recalls the unsavory side of the 1920s. The drinks are categorized under headings like Drys & Wets, Politicians & Power, and Enforcers & Instigators, conjuring images of Treasury raids, gangland hits, and crooked cops. Yet Carrie Nation’s cocktails are garnished with a distinct local flair – many are named for early 20th-century-era Boston icons, and drinking your way through the list is like stumbling into the grittier corners of the city’s history.

And Boston certainly had its share of drink-worthy figures, as I discovered a few weeks back when I stopped into Carrie Nation with a handful of coworkers. With me were my friends Andy, Jen, Keena, Jen, John, Katie, and a few others (there won’t be a quiz).

In the annals of Boston history, it would be difficult to find a more colorful and controversial character than four-term mayor and one-term governor James Michael Curley. Few Boston politicians are so equally identified for their popularity and corruption – he even won an election while serving a prison term. Curley was known as the Rascal King, and the drink bearing his unflattering epithet combined spiced rum, brandy, peach schnapps, and lemon. Peach was the dominant flavor in this one, but the brandy gave it depth and the rum provided some bite.

Martin Michael Lomasney didn’t have Curley’s reputation for graft, but his political clout remains unrivaled in Boston politics. The boss of Boston’s Ward 8 for nearly 50 years, Lomasney was nicknamed “the mahatma” for his influence over all matters affecting the old West End. The Boston Mahatma is Carrie Nation’s take on a Rob Roy, combining Glenfiddich, Punt e Mes, Maraschino liqueur, and Angostura bitters. A little heavy on the Punt e Mes, this one was too bitter for my liking.

Of course, politicians weren’t the only public figures known to loosely interpret or even outright break the law. Boston police officer Oliver Garrett, whose lavish lifestyle far exceeded his $40 a week salary, was known as the Million Dollar Cop. Garrett was widely suspected of padding his regular income by accepting bribes from the speakeasies and brothels he was supposed to be shutting down, though he was never charged with a crime. Katie ordered the drink named in his honor, a mix of Hendrick’s gin, lemon, Chambord, egg, raspberries, and champagne.

By far the prettiest drink of the night, the Million Dollar Cop was rich in its own way – bursting with raspberry flavor, the egg gave it a creamy texture, and the bubbles added a sense of luxury that Garrett no doubt would have appreciated.

Al Capone was the most notorious gangster of the 1920s, and even now, his name is synonymous with organized crime. But Boston had its own big-time mob boss – Charles “King” Solomon. A prominent nightclub owner, Solomon was also a racketeer who controlled bootlegging, gambling, and narcotics rings in and around the city. Carrie Nation’s King Solomon, ordered by Andy, was a vibrant mix of barrel-aged tequila, house-made limoncello, mint, and ginger.

With an up-front honey essence and a strong tequila bite, Andy described it as “explosive,” which seems appropriate for a drink named after a mob kingpin.

Tempting as it might be condemn the actions of an underworld boss, we all know who keeps those guys in business – and in the 1920s, that was anyone wanting a drink. We were, as historian Ken Burns noted in his PBS Prohibition series, a “Nation of Scofflaws.” The term scofflaw, incidentally, was coined after the Boston Herald sponsored a contest to give a name to this new class of common criminal (two Boston residents came up with “scofflaw” and split the $200 prize). The Nation of Scofflaws cocktail combined rye whiskey, Lillet Blanc, pomegranate grenadine, and lemon. The pomegranate grenadine was a little intense, but it was good overall.

While the 18th Amendment banned the production and sale of intoxicating liquors, it was the Volstead Act that specified which liquors would be prohibited, which would be allowed, and how the law would be enforced. How appropriate, then, that the Volstead cocktail was difficult to swallow. Made with extra dry rum, yellow chartreuse, maraschino, a house lemon cordial, and grapefruit bitters, it was dry and sour – a lot like Prohibition. The bitters doubled down on the grapefruit, making this one a little tough on the palate.

Not all of Carrie Nation’s drinks are inspired by those who flouted the law. The Archers Evening Law, in contrast, pays tribute to the founder of nearby Suffolk Law School. When Gleason Archer, Sr., opened Suffolk in 1906, it was one of the only law schools in the country to offer night classes. Jen ordered the drink named in his honor, a fresh and fruity mix of blueberry vodka and a house lemon cordial, garnished with a fragrant leaf of basil.

Along with their many thematic concoctions, Carrie Nation also has a selection of straightforward, time-honored cocktails. John opted for the “Old Fashioned, Old Fashion.” The name might seem redundant, but considering the ghastly incarnations this poor drink has suffered through, it’s worth pointing out that this is a traditional recipe – rye whiskey, bitters, simple syrup, and a lemon peel. No splash of soda, no graveyard of muddled fruit; just a faithful rendering of one of the oldest cocktails on record.

Keena kept the classics going with a vodka Martini. She reveled in the three huge olives while I averted my eyes (I despise olives).

While the Old Fashioned and the Martini can trace their origins to the 19th century, the Orange Blossom was actually a product of Prohibition. That’s when bartenders started employing heavier mixers to mask the horrendous taste of poor-quality, homemade spirits. Though typically made with gin, orange juice, and sweet vermouth, Carrie Nation’s Orange Blossom uses Ketel One Oranje in place of the gin and Punt e Mes for the vermouth. This one was a bit challenging; I think the orange-flavored vodka was overkill.

If none of the 20 offerings on the cocktail list appeal to you, the bartenders seem more than capable of whipping up something on the spot. One of the best drinks of the night arrived when Katie asked for advice on what to order. After inquiring about Katie’s preferred spirits, our bartender served up an excellent drink made with Hendrick’s gin, Prosecco, St. Germain, and lemon, with a cucumber garnish.

An elegant conclusion to the evening, Katie’s drink was a combination of elements you’d be hard-pressed to find in the 1920s – legal, top-shelf liquor, made with fresh ingredients by a knowledgeable bartender. It is a stunning irony that an era flush with exciting new freedoms – the mobility afforded by automobiles, the luxury of hearing a baseball game on the radio, the purchasing power of the average citizen – is remembered more for what you could not do. Big cities pulsated with dazzling sights, sounds, and diversions, and yet Americans were forced underground – often into basements and stockrooms – if they wanted a beer.

This paradox was not overlooked by the people at Carrie Nation.

While the main room is awash in Gatsby-esque splendor, you only need to turn the corner and head toward the long, burgundy curtains at the end of the hall if you want to immerse yourself in the boozy underside of the Roaring Twenties. And you don’t even need a password to get in.

Carrie Nation’s backroom “Cocktail Club” has all the glamour we associate with a speakeasy and, thankfully, little of the reality – no sawdust on the floor, no bathtub gin, no chance of getting busted.

Still, it exudes that shadowy sense of intrigue that we associate with an illicit bar, and it stands as much in contrast to the main restaurant as the illegal bars of the 20s did to their glittering surroundings. Considerably darker and more intimate than the main area, the windowless speakeasy is dimly lit with antique, tassled lamps.

There’s a smaller bar with 13 plush, burgundy chairs.

Ten stools sit opposite the bar, with plenty of shelving for your drinks if you’re hanging around and chewing the fat. Beyond that are large but cozy seating areas, handsomely outfitted with leather couches, loveseats, and chairs.

There are even two pool tables.

Slinking into the speakeasy about a week after my visit to the front room with my coworkers, I grabbed a seat at the bar and was immediately struck by the more casual, laid-back atmosphere. The old-school jazz playing in the dining room gave way to a playlist of 80s music, signaling a shift from the buttoned-down formality of an upscale eatery to the nonchalance of a neighborhood tavern. Case in point – when I declined a food menu, the bartender, Kristina, responded “Just drinks? Good; I like that.”

I could tell right away I was in good hands back here.

Returning to the “Classics” section of the cocktail list, I opted for a drink that dates back to at least 1916 – the Aviation.

"I’ve been drinking those a lot lately,” Kristina mentioned.

I was encouraged to hear this.

Even better – when I said I’d never tried one before, her response was swift and confident: “Ohhhh, I’ll make you a good one.” And that she did.

This mix of Beefeater gin, Maraschino liqueur, crème de violette, and lemon was fantastic. The crème de violette, difficult to find and thus often omitted from modern versions of the drink, was smooth and subtle, lending it a floral essence and a pale blue complexion.

I requested Kristina’s counsel on what I should order next, and she recommended one of the oldest drinks in the book – a Gin Fizz. Made with Tanqueray gin, simple syrup, lime, egg white, and soda, this was a worthy follow-up to the Aviation. The egg white gave it a creamy texture, but the soda countered with a pleasant crispness. A Luxardo cherry served as a classy garnish.

A visit to the speakeasy was the perfect way to round out my Carrie Nation experience. I’d been finding the cocktails a little uneven up until that point; some were really good, while others focused too heavily on bitter ingredients (though in all fairness, I should probably just stop ordering drinks with chartreuse and Punt E Mes, since my reaction is nearly always the same). But the best cocktails were the oldest ones; the no-frills Old Fashioned, along with the Aviation and the Gin Fizz deftly made by Kristina, prove that no matter how dizzying the heights of modern mixology, the classics are sturdy enough to endure anything – Constitutional amendments, passing fads, evolving tastes, the general passage of time.

Even hatchets.

Address: 11 Beacon Street, Boston

Website:http://www.carrienationcocktailclub.com/

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November 27, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Thanksgivukkah – Showdown at Sundown

November 27, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

It is a holiday dilemma that no one in our lifetime has ever had to grapple with. At sundown on November 28, 2013, Hanukkah begins – right around the time most of us are loosening our belts after Thanksgiving dinner and eyeing the dessert table. This phenomenon, the outcome of a rare, cataclysmic convergence of the Hebrew and Gregorian calendars, has been dubbed Thanksgivukkah. And if you’re a Jewish American who observes both holidays, you’re going to have your hands full. It’s been 125 years since this last happened, so there’s really no template for how to celebrate. What’s it going to be – a long day of devouring turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie, followed by a night of lighting candles, spinning dreidels, and eating latkes? All while in a tryptophan-induced haze? That’s a whole lotta food, fun, and family time in one day, if you ask me.

But a double holiday doesn’t have to mean double stress; in fact, many people have embraced the idea of Thanksgivukkah, finding fun ways to combine elements of two holidays centered on reflection and giving thanks.

Of course, if you find yourself lacking the celebratory fortitude to observe two holidays at once, you can always add alcohol. And for that, you might take a page from the book of Moksa. This past Monday, the Cambridge bar and restaurant hosted Gobble Shalom, a lighthearted mashup of Thanksgiving and Hanukkah. It was an evening of seasonal small plates, holiday-inspired cocktails, and lots of people wearing sweaters.

The Thanksgivukkah mood was festive and irreverent. The bar in Moksa’s back room was decorated with grains and pumpkins, chocolates, and a mammoth dreidel full of whiskey.

OK, it's a top, not a dreidel; but you get the idea.

Guests were invited to participate in an ugly sweater contest and encouraged to drop off unwanted clothing (ugly or not) in a bin to be donated later that night. And sweater donation wasn’t the only good cause of the evening. Moksa was hosting Opus Affair, a community of local artists that occasionally sponsors fundraising events for arts-related causes with its Punch Bowl Fund. A $5 donation scored you a drink ticket, which could be redeemed for a glass of punch.

Guests could then vote to determine which of three local arts organizations – the Bridge Repertory Theater of Boston, Boston Early Music Festival, or New Center NOW – got to take home the whole pot.

The 100 or so guests seemed more than willing to drink for charity, even if the punch ingredients were a little…unorthodox. The deep purple concoction was made with Manischewitz wine, gin, and a Bonal aperitif.

Now as you are probably aware, Manischewitz doesn’t enjoy the best reputation as far as wines go. Few drink this kosher yet notoriously sweet vintage on occasions other than Jewish holidays. Using it as the base for a punch is best left to the professionals – like Noon Summers, one of Boston’s top mixologists and Moksa’s beverage director. The result was surprisingly good; the gin and aperitif dialed back the sweetness, and the result was kind of like a Hanukkah sangria, bizarre as that may sound. “I wanted something that would preserve the flavor of the Manischewitz,” Noon explained to me, with an ironic smile.

The punch was accompanied by several other cocktails that paid tribute to Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and the fall season. First up was the Modesty “Tznius,” a mix of date-infused rye whiskey, Palm wine, and vermouth. The date flavor added a rich sweetness to this Manhattan-like cocktail, while a star anise fruit topped it off with a touch of bitterness.

The Purple Maize combined bourbon and blueberry beer, and was garnished with a kernel of purple corn. The blueberry flavor was prominent but not overpowering, making for a sweet but earthy drink.

The most intense cocktail of the night was the spicy Fire Water. Aguardiente contributed a mild anise essence to this bloody Mary, while a green chile brought the heat. Housemade cornbread croutons served as a tasty garnish.

Of course, holidays with the family are about more than just drinking.

[I’ll pause here and let you wipe up the coffee you just spat all over your screen.]

Sharing a feast is an essential part of almost any holiday, and Thanksgiving and Hanukkah are culinary heavy hitters. Moksa’s Thanksgivukkah celebration didn’t feature a full spread of food, but a small menu of bar bites cleverly combined the flavors of the season.

Thanksgiving means turkey, obviously, and these turkey lettuce wraps were topped with a delicious, spicy cranberry sauce.

Crispy potato fritters made with cottage cheese, green peas, and coated in lots of spices were a nod to traditional latkes. A rich, creamy pumpkin chutney gave them an autumnal twist.

Eventually the two punch bowls were drained, which signaled the closing of the polls that would determine which local arts organization would take home a cash prize. Emerging victorious was the Bridge Repertory Theatre. A theatre group seeking to find new ways to connect with audiences through innovative productions, the Bridge Rep will surely put its donation to good use.

As with other events Moksa has hosted, Gobble Shalom was playful and refreshingly devoid of cliché – no shots of Wild Turkey, no Adam Sandler holiday songs playing on a loop. It was an opportunity to learn about three local arts groups, eat some good food, and raise a glass to a once-in-a-lifetime holiday crossover.

But the star of the show was mixology extraordinaire Noon Summers, whose cocktails were as creative as they were drinkable. I was skeptical of combinations like bourbon and blueberry beer, but I kept coming away impressed. And it takes equal parts nerve and talent to make a respectable tasting punch out of Manischewitz wine, but she more than managed.

Whether you’re celebrating Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, or both this year, I hope it’s safe and happy. And if you are going all out and hosting Thanksgivukkah, have fun and make the most of it – the next one isn’t for another 79,000 years.

Shalom!

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November 13, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events, Spirits in Focus

Novo Fogo Cachaça

November 13, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events, Spirits in Focus

Cachaça.

It’s an odd-looking word. Most people’s first question is, How do you pronounce it? A common second question is, What is it?

The first question has an easy answer – it’s pronounced ka-SHA-sa.

The answer to the second question has long been a topic of contentious international debate that recently led to a modification of the U.S. government’s regulations concerning the import of this distilled spirit.

So what’s all the fuss about?

Cachaça is a liquor made from fermented sugar cane juice and produced exclusively in Brazil. It is best known as the key ingredient in a Caipirinha, the national cocktail of Brazil and a drink enjoyed around the globe.

It would be difficult to overstate the popularity of cachaça in Brazil; with 400 years of history, a National Cachaça Day (June 12), and upwards of 30,000 different producers of the spirit (many of whom are unlicensed), it’s safe to call cachaça the national liquor of South America’s most populous country.

Just don’t call it rum.

See, that’s where things get a little sticky. In accordance with a litany of complicated trade regulations, the U.S. government has long classified cachaça as rum; or more specifically, a “Brazilian rum.” It’s understandable, at least in the sense that both spirits are derived from sugar cane. But whereas rum is made from processed sugar cane – aka molasses – cachaça is made from fresh cane juice. The result is a spirit that might be considered a cousin of rum, but is less sweet, with a more herbal, grassy freshness.

For many years, though, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB) refused to acknowledge such nuance. A spirit made with sugar cane? That’s rum. What has this meant for most of us? Honestly…not much – mainly, that bottles of cachaça had to have “rum” somewhere on the label and, in compliance with the TTB’s definition of rum, had to be at least 40% ABV (whereas cachaça is traditionally 38% ABV). But what was a low-level item of arcane federal bureaucracy for the majority of American consumers became a cause célèbre among cachaça purists.

And so in 2009, a grass-roots group launched a national campaign to persuade the TTB to amend its regulations…which, surprisingly, it did. As of February 2013, the U.S. government classifies cachaça as a unique Brazilian distilled spirit – still a subclass of rum, to the continued chagrin of the devout, but no longer requiring the word rum on the label (the same way cognac doesn’t have to identify itself as brandy). Of course it’s a little more complicated and political than all that, but you get the idea.

While cachaça’s never enjoyed widespread popularity here in the United States, it hasn’t exactly been obscure. If you’ve ever had a Caipirinha, of course, you’ve probably had it. Sometimes you’ll see it in a variation of mojito.

But one by-product of this formal shift in cachaça’s designation is that the spirit has enjoyed an uptick in publicity – and yes, the reclassification campaign was driven by a cachaça distiller that sponsored promotional events all over the country. And as its popularity continues to rise here in the U.S., so does the quality of the cachaça that reaches our shores. Despite widespread production in Brazil, very little cachaça gets exported (which is a whole other story), and the brands that do are typically industrial-produced in factory-like settings. But with our ever-growing taste for small-batch spirits, craft-made cachaça is making inroads into in the U.S. market. And with that, I give you Novo Fogo.

Novo Fogo (which translates to “new fire” in Portuguese) is a microdistillery in Morretes, Brazil, with a presence in Bellevue, Washington. Their focus is on making a small-batch, organic cachaça in an environmentally friendly manner. Every step of the production process in their zero-waste facility is done by hand – from the sugar cane that they cut with machetes to the unique, handcrafted bottles, made from recycled glass, that hold the final product.

Swiped from Novo Fogo's Facebook page, entirely without permission.

The Novo Fogo folks recently stopped by Cambridge’s Moksa as part of its Bars on Fire tour to whip up cocktails and educate us on all things cachaça. I’ve had a few Caipirinhas in my day, but this was my first opportunity to get up close and personal with their key ingredient. Unlike most industrial-produced cachaça, Novo Fogo’s varieties – silver and barrel-aged – are clean, smooth, and can be easily enjoyed neat. Even with one sip of the darker, barrel-aged variety, I could see why purists would bristle at this being so crudely classified as rum. Yes, it did have a rum-like quality on account of the sugar cane, but warm notes of oak and vanilla were just as prominent. That makes sense, since it’s aged in small oak barrels, and the resulting elixir seems to have more in common with a good bourbon than rum.

Introductions aside, it was time to see how the spirit fared in cocktails.

First up, appropriately, was the standard – a Caipirinha. This was a traditional recipe made with silver cachaça, muddled limes, and sugar. Even with the mercury gradually falling outside, this tropical classic was refreshing. As a special bonus, it was “served in a mason jar so you can shake it yourself.” Wow. I mean…wow.

Next up was presumably a Novo Fogo original – the cleverly named Bossa Novo, combining silver cachaça, apricot, lime juice, and bitters. The scent of apricot was apparent even before the first sip, and it was prominent in the flavor as well. I have no doubt that my mason jar shaking added a customized dimension to this strong and fruity beverage.

I was excited about the Rio Punch because it gave me a chance to try barrel-aged cachaça in a drink, mixed with Sorel (a hibiscus-infused liqueur with hints of clove, cinnamon, and other spices), coconut water, and most intriguingly, grilled pineapple. This one didn’t quite live up to the exciting ingredients. The smoky sweetness from the grilled pineapples was pleasant, but the coconut water didn’t contribute much flavor, and even the cachaça didn’t stand out. And weirdly, there was an inexplicable bubble gum-like flavor. I didn’t see a Hubba Bubba “floater” or anything, but I’ll give them a mulligan on this one.

Things improved with the Maine Kimura, which boldly combined silver cachaça, brown butter and maple syrup, blueberry preserves, lemon juice, and “bubbles.” This one had a thick texture, almost like a smoothie. The maple and butter flavors were appropriately autumnal, and the preserves gave it a rich sweetness. It was smooth and satisfying, though I detected no bubbles.

Now what goes best with Brazilian cocktails? Why, Asian food, of course! As part of the event, Moksa was offering a menu of $1 and $2 appetizers.

First up was delicious, tender pork belly served in a soft, doughy steam bun.

I followed that with the baby back rib, which was superb. The juicy meat practically fell off the bone.

This tuna dumpling tasted as good as it looked.

My only prior visit to Moksa was for a bartender blood feud earlier this year; if this is representative of their food menu, I’ll be making a return trip.

My final drink of the night, the Prata Bolo, was also the most surprising. Made with barrel-aged cachaça, banana milk, lime juice, and nutmeg, this creamy concoction reminded me of eggnog, despite there being no egg. Maybe the dusting of nutmeg on the top was putting me in an early holiday mood. While the banana flavor was surprisingly mild, the lime added a tangy sweetness. It was one of the simplest yet most effective cocktails of the evening.

Overall, it was a fun, informative evening. It was cool to learn about cachaça’s interesting history and its versatility. But if I have one complaint, it’s that a night devoted to the national spirit of Brazil didn’t have enough…well…Brazilian spirit. Sure, a soundtrack of samba music lent a festive air, but when I think about the breadth and diversity of Brazilian culture, it seems that an event like this offers an opportunity for international cuisine, live performances, colorful costumes, that sort of thing. Maybe I’ve been spoiled byalcoholic spectacle lately, but I feel like the evening could have been infused with the Carnival-esque sounds, sights, and energy we associate with our neighbors to the south.

Granted, I don’t foot the bill for these things, I just show up and drink.

Saúde!

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October 25, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Spirits in Focus

Hendrick's Voyages Into the Unusual

October 25, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Spirits in Focus

Looking back, I suppose I could have taken a few seconds and read the entire invitation instead of skipping ahead to what I thought was the most important part.

Let me back up a bit. Late last year, I attended a promotional event sponsored by Hendrick’s Gin. Called the “Delightfully Peculiar Cocktail Academy,” it was an opportunity to learn about Hendrick’s, how the spirit is made, and what distinguishes it from other types of gin. About 20 people attended, and it was held in a midsize function room at a Cambridge bar. Under the watchful eye of Brand Ambassador Jim Ryan, we learned a few cocktail recipes and made some excellent Hendrick’s-based drinks.

Overall, it was a fun, engaging, but fairly low-key evening.

So a few weeks ago, I got invited to another Hendrick’s affair. Now whereas it’s customary to familiarize oneself with the pertinent details of an event upon receiving an invitation, I just figured “free gin!”, and enthusiastically confirmed my attendance with the organizers. I assumed it was another cocktail-making class, something like that.

It wasn’t.

As soon as I stepped into the Revere Hotel’s enormous function room, known cryptically as Space 57, I realized this would be no quiet evening of cocktail instruction. But even if I’d studied every last letter of the invite, there’s no way I could have known what awaited me at the Hendrick’s “Voyages Into the Unusual.”

It was like stepping through a turnstile and into a late-19th-century traveling carnival. And not a carnival with cotton candy or ring-toss games, mind you, but the kind that mysteriously appears in an empty field overnight, unannounced. Think Something Wicked This Way Comes or The Night Circus.

No, there wasn’t anything sinister, like a supernatural carousel or a malevolent ringmaster. But there was a 20-foot-tall woman – a larger-than-life harbinger of the bizarre night that was about to ensue.

I arrived to find a troupe of costumed characters, dancers, and musicians buzzing around a gantlet of Hendrick’s-themed attractions. Some were instructive, like the botanist discussing the 11 botanicals that give Hendrick’s gin its unique flavor profile.

But the rest of it was straight out of a sideshow – two-headed skeletons, stuffed animals in glass specimen jars, and a slew of suspicious-looking apothecary bottles (the sort you’d find on the shelves of a creepy pharmacist who secretly dabbles in the occult).

On stage was a band called the White Ghost Shivers, a Vaudeville-themed septet whose mix of bluegrass, jazz, ragtime, and country music provided the score for an eerie yet upbeat atmosphere.

And eerie it was – the room was mostly dark, pierced by white spotlights that cast long, harsh shadows on the walls and floor. Seeming to have pulled into town just in time for the Halloween season, this was a spectacle bathed in the macabre.

While I never anticipated something on this scale, I was right about one thing – free drinks. Before a crowd of several hundred guests started oozing in, I was kindly handed a Hendrick’s and tonic. Even amid the spectacular scenery and a lineup of thoughtfully crafted cocktails, a standard like this is never dull.

Standing at an open table in the middle of the room, I sipped my drink and watched the dark carnival came to life. I wasn’t quite sure what to check out first: the hot air balloon with the acrobatic aviator?

The Wall of Curiosities, from which a hand would unexpectedly emerge and give you a cocktail book or a Hendrick’s newspaper?

Ultimately, I figured I’d start at the one spot where, in any environment, I can make myself at home.

The bar was called the Explorer’s Lounge, appropriately enough. I polished off my gin and tonic and moved on to the evening’s featured cocktails. First up was “On This Harvest Mule.” With crisp, autumnal flavors and a name inspired by a classic Neil Young song, this bold mix of Hendrick’s gin, pear liqueur, fresh lemon juice, ginger syrup, apple shrub, and pear-apple cider was ideally suited to the season.

I ventured away from the Explorer’s Lounge and headed over to the fearsome-looking Monster’s Box. This large, wooden crate, strewn with chains, was guarded by a keeper who, upon my arrival, knocked loudly on the front of the box. Out slithered two gray, scaly hands with long fingers and black nails – not to snatch passersby, thankfully, but to hand out drinks.

In this case it was the Traveler’s Testament – Hendrick’s, rooibos tea, lime juice, raspberry syrup, and sparkling water, deliciously topped with toasted coconut flakes. The tea was prominent but didn’t overwhelm the other ingredients, and its nutty, herbal flavor offered a contrast to the fruity elements.

From there I made my way to the Apothecary, which is a key element of Hendrick’s lore. In a nod to the days when gin was used medicinally, the distinctive Hendrick’s bottle is modeled after an old apothecary jar. There were many such jars at the Apothecary station, where the drink of choice was the Cucumber Blood Cocktail. This luminescent green potion was concocted with lemon verbena-infused gin, cucumber juice, simple syrup, and a dash of green chartreuse.

This one was a little too intense for me. I found the taste to be kind of medicinal – which, I now realize, was fairly appropriate, given that it was poured at the Apothecary. But despite the up-front cucumber flavor, which usually mellows things out, the lemon infusion was a bit much. I’m also not a big chartreuse fan, and that may have thrown the taste off for me.

It was around then that I crossed paths with Jim Ryan, the amiable Brand Ambassador who taught the cocktail class I attended last year. I asked him what his favorite drink of the night was, and he proceeded to mention every drink that included Hendrick’s. When pressed, he expressed a particular fondness for the Traveling Punch – which just so happened to be my next stop.

Hendrick’s loves its punches, as I learned at the Cocktail Academy. What we think of today as a cloyingly sweet yet economical way to get your party guests hammered on cheap vodka, punches were a centuries-old predecessor to the single-serving cocktail. Hendrick’s likes to hearken back to respectable, well-made punches, the kind that engendered a communal drinking experience.

The Traveling Punch was a robust combination of flavors meant to reflect New England’s most renowned season. It was a spicy, aromatic cocktail that conjured a vision of sitting on porch on a brisk October evening, wrapped in a blanket, sipping this mix of Hendrick’s gin, fruit tisane tea, cranberry liqueur, lemon/orange oleo-saccharum (a lemon-orange oil and sugar syrup), sparkling water, and Angostura bitters

I rounded back to the Explorer’s Lounge and ordered up the last of the evening’s featured cocktails – the Night of the Iguana. This one was pretty involved – gin, celery juice, cucumber juice, fresh lemon juice, simple syrup, a cucumber wheel, ground sea salt, and ground cubeb berry.

For all its components, it was a surprisingly mellow cocktail, softer than some of its spicy predecessors. The cubeb berry gave it a bright, peppery flavor, but a prominent cucumber essence kept all the ingredients balanced.

Having exhausted the lineup of Hendrick’s drinks, only one objective remained – get into the skirt of that really tall woman. No, I wasn’t drunk or hallucinating. There really was a 20-foot-tall woman, attended by two little fellows with beak-like masks who would choose people from the crowd and escort them through the folds of her dress. What was beyond that silk barrier? No one knew, but it was a mystery I was determined to penetrate.

Getting in would prove to be a bit of a challenge, though. Only three or four people were admitted at one time, and pretty much everyone wanted in. And the guardians, though diminutive in stature, acted as judge, jury, and bouncer – no one got by without their say-so.

Fortunately, I was among the chosen few (how that happened is another story; many thanks to those involved, you know who you are). As I slipped through the thick folds of the skirt, I suppose I shouldn’t have been entirely surprised to find a cozy living room inside.

Enveloped by the skirt’s black fabric, the room felt like a fort made of pillows and bed sheets, though it was comfortably furnished with a table, four chairs, and a tasteful area rug. Small servers doled out more Traveling Punch from a bowl perched atop a black trunk, while candles and a decorative human skull provided some ambience.

Drinking a gin-based punch served by very short men beneath the dress of a very tall woman while a string band outside plays songs in a minor key is a good place to pause and reflect on the bizarre nature of this affair.

While only the latest chapter of an innovative marketing campaign known for colorful characters, eccentric taglines, and elaborate events, “Voyages” is easily the most extravagant. The production has been traveling to major U.S. cities for the past year and a half, entertaining and educating thousands of guests and leaving them with a message that, above the din of the bells and whistles, is abundantly clear – Hendrick’s is peculiar.

The relentlessness with which Hendrick’s tries to assert its uniqueness is almost as bewildering as one of these carnival-esque events. It makes me wonder whether the folks from Beefeater or Tanqueray occasionally prank-call an overly sensitive executive at the Hendrick’s distillery and say “Uh, why is your gin so boring?”, prompting him or her to exclaim “Boring? I’ll show you...somebody get Marketing on the phone, NOW!”

Perhaps not. But the irony here is that no one needs to be persuaded that Hendrick’s is an unusual gin. The signature flavors of cucumber and rose are hard to miss, and they make for a spirit that is at once accessible and complex. In my opinion, its quality requires little fanfare (this may be one reason why I don’t work in marketing).

But hey, if Hendrick’s wants to keep hosting offbeat events like this to notify, assure, and reassure the world that its gin is unusual, then I’ll gladly keep attending.

Next time I might even read the invitation.

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October 9, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Out of State

One for the Road – Adventures in Key West

October 9, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Out of State

Shortly after my brother Andrew announced his engagement this past spring, I asked him a question that was sure to elicit a zinger. “Have you been thinking about what you want to do for your bachelor party?”

He didn’t disappoint.

“Yeah, since I was about 14.”

If you know my brother at all, you realize he wasn’t exaggerating.

So what was the outcome of his approximately 19 years’ worth of planning? A weekend of drunken debauchery in one of the most popular destinations in the world – Key West.

Known for its tolerant, easygoing island culture, Key West has been called home by the likes of Ernest Hemingway, whose spirit still looms large over the island, and Jimmy Buffett, who made a career and a fortune by singing about its boozy, laid-back lifestyle. A favored destination of presidents and celebrities of all stripes, the southernmost city in the United States has a lot going for it – fun tourist attractions, a long and colorful history, unique architecture, breathtaking sunsets.

At least, that’s what I hear.

My brother didn’t choose Key West for its sightseeing opportunities (actually...eh, never mind). No, this was a drinking trip, and the city’s (in)famous Duval Street boasts one of the more impressive concentration of bars in the country. The bars open early and close late, and there’s a lax open container law – meaning you can roam the streets with a drink in your hand. In Andrew’s words, “it’s like Bourbon Street in New Orleans, but clean.”

So a bunch of us piled into a van and made the four-hour trek from my brother’s place in Pompano Beach to Key West. There won’t be a quiz or anything, but just for archival purposes, the crew ultimately consisted of the following characters: Andrew and myself; our friend Paul, who was celebrating his own bachelor party; my cousins Adam and John; and Mickey, Kenny, Mike, Gary, Steve, Ryan, Kevin, Powell, and “Mayday” Malone.

What followed were two days and nights packed with all the shenanigans, nonsense, and sophomoric humor you’d expect of a proper bachelor party. We made no friends and possibly a few enemies. There were exhilarating highs and embarrassing lows (the nadir coming when one member of our group emptied a bar of its customers with his flatulence, drawing a stern reprimand from the bartender). There were also plenty of bars, needless to say, and since there’s no point in mentioning every one we hit, I thought I’d pick a couple to focus on. The two we’ll look at are complete opposites, in many respects; but both are steeped in local history, and each offers a different perspective on drinking in this splendid, quirky city.

Opinions may differ on which Key West bars are considered “must visit,” but given the illustrious clientele that Captain Tony’s Saloon has entertained over the years, you’d be hard pressed to pass this one up. More importantly, this is a bar that truly epitomizes the character of Key West – a kaleidoscopic mix of history, legend, charm, and delightful eccentricity.

Captain Tony’s is named for its longtime owner, the late Tony Tarracino. Even in a city known for its colorful characters, Tony was truly larger than life. Born in New Jersey, Tony dropped out of high school and made money as a bootlegger during Prohibition. He later graduated to gambling, but when one of his schemes burned the Mafia, the mob took him to a New Jersey dump, beat him within inches of his life, and left him for dead. He survived, though, and fled to Key West in 1948.

You might say life improved a bit for Tony upon his relocation. After a series of odd jobs such as a charter boat captain, a shrimper, and a gunrunner smuggling weapons and mercenaries to Cuba, Tony purchased the bar that still bears his name. He owned it until 1989 – when he was elected mayor. Universally lauded as one of the most popular citizens of Key West, Tony died in 2008 at the age of 92. But his legacy lives on at his namesake bar.

It seems only fitting that the history of this bar is as long and peculiar as that of its legendary owner. The building itself dates back to 1851, when it served as a morgue. In subsequent decades it became the site of a telegraph station, a cigar factory, a brothel, and during Prohibition, a series of speakeasies. It began legally serving drinks in 1933 as Sloppy Joe’s, which later moved down the street and still operates today.

Varied and unusual as the building’s past may be, the present-day incarnation is infinitely more bizarre.

Captain Tony’s is without doubt one of the strangest bars I’ve ever set foot in. The walls and ceiling are almost completely plastered with business cards, dollar bills signed by patrons, license plates from all over the country, and a collection of bras that would rival the inventory of Victoria’s Secret.

And that’s just the beginning.

You can’t help but notice the 200-year-old tree growing from beneath the floor and through the ceiling. This is known as the hanging tree – because it was used for hanging people in the 19th century. Apparently 17 people got the noose here: 16 pirates, and one local woman who murdered her family…and is rumored to haunt the bar to this day.

Indeed, there are plenty of creepy accounts of paranormal activity in the bar. And while there may or may not be a ghost in Captain Tony’s, there most certainly is a corpse.

I thought this “grave” was just for effect, but no – the remains of an actual person are under there.

The fire hydrant almost seems passé by comparison.

The rest of the décor is less grim but no less fascinating. A gallery of framed photos, news clippings, and paintings of the Captain adorn whatever wall space isn’t already occupied by dollar bills and undergarments.

There’s a good-size pool room. Right off of the pool room (you’ll need to step over the grave) is another room with a foosball table and an old Ms. Pacman arcade game.

There’s a stage in the back, which is where Jimmy Buffett got his start as a performer (he immortalized the bar and Tony in his song “Last Mango in Paris”).

And speaking of famous, check out the barstools. Each is painted with the name of a celebrity who’s visited the bar. Actors, musicians, authors, politicians, presidents, athletes; you’re drinking in pretty good company here. (I assume the owners got started on the Boston BarHopper stool shortly after I left.)

In addition to serving as a monument to its former owner, a depository of random mementos, a de facto museum of local artifacts, and a resting place for the dead and undead, Captain Tony’s also serves drinks. The beer selection is pretty standard, but the drink of choice here is the Pirate’s Punch. The recipe is a secret but, like most Key West drinks, contains plenty of rum. You get a generous portion in a commemorative cup for $7.99.

For all the things that make Captain Tony’s unusual, it is in many respects typical of the bars in the vicinity – dark, divey, and well worn. You can enjoy a mellow afternoon with some light beer, listening to the singer/guitarist as he customizes songs for the sparsely populated crowd.

By nightfall the crowd will have swelled, you’ll have downed some frozen drinks and maybe a couple of shots, and you’ll be screaming along while the cover band plays “Don’t Stop Believin’” or some other crowd-pleasing staple.

This is not, by any stretch, a bad thing.

At the same time, you can be forgiven for wanting a change of pace. While plenty of the bars on and near Duval Street cater to revelers in search of a quick and easy buzz, there are options for the more discerning cocktail crowd. And for that we head a mile or so down the road.

What is now known as the Speakeasy Inn was once the home of Raul Vasquez, another favorite son of Key West. Vasquez worked in the cigar industry until 1920, which is when Prohibition went into effect. Recognizing the entrepreneurial opportunities associated with the 18th Amendment, Vasquez set up a speakeasy behind his house and became a rumrunner, making frequent trips to Cuba to stock his illicit bar.

Of course, one of the challenges of running a hidden bar is that it’s difficult for customers to find; and you can’t exactly put up a big sign advertising your illegal products and services. Vasquez found a clever way around that problem. On one of his trips to Cuba, he purchased some elaborately carved balustrades for his house.

Tasteful and decorative, yes they are; but a closer inspection reveals liquor bottles, hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades carved into the woodwork. These shapes served as a subtle hint to those in the know that liquor and card games could be found in the club behind the main property.

The balustrades still exist, as you can see, and the Speakeasy Inn is now a Key West landmark. It is one of the only buildings in Key West with a basement – which, of course, was used for hiding liquor. But the booze doesn’t need to be hidden anymore, and neither does the bar, which has moved to the front of the building and is now known as the Rum Bar.

This refurbished building truly feels like an old but well-maintained home. Small and cozy, its creaky hardwood flooring, wooden walls, and crown molding make for a comfortable, intimate atmosphere (though I suppose the bras in Captain Tony’s evoked a sort of intimacy in their own right). There’s an L-shaped bar with about 11 seats, and a few tables in the corners. Windows on all sides of the room let in ample sunlight, further contrasting the Rum Bar with some of the darker dives we’d been inhabiting up until that point.

It was fairly early on Saturday (“early” being a relative term at this point) when I stopped in with Andrew and Paul. The Rum Bar is, unsurprisingly, known for its expansive selection of rums, which find their way into some of the best drinks on the island thanks to the cocktail sage behind the bar – “Bahama” Bob Leonard.

I’d first heard about Bob from my brother, who makes the occasional trip to Key West even when he’s not having a bachelor party (ah, the benefits of living in South Florida). Andrew would often tell me about the great drinks he was having at the Rum Bar, urged me to follow Bob’s blog, and even sent me an autographed copy of Bob’s book of cocktail recipes and island tales (autographed by Bob, not by Andrew).

So here I was, at long last, face to face with the man, the myth, the mixologist, Bahama Bob…and I suddenly realized I needed to order something. So of course I was like….”ohhh, uhhhh, I don’t know…rum and Coke maybe?” Thankfully Paul stepped in and recommended I try one of Bob’s many specialties – the Papa Dobles. Also known as the Hemingway Daiquiri, the Papa Dobles is made to the late author’s specifications – no sugar and double the rum (hence the name, which roughly translates to “Papa’s double”). Hemingway liked his drinks strong and not too sweet, and this mix of white rum, grapefruit juice, lime juice, and Luxardo maraschino liqueur was almost like a dry daiquiri. The grapefruit added a pleasant sour essence.

With that we settled in for a round of classic island drinks. Now let’s face it – there are few scenarios in which you can order a Pina Colada at a bachelor party without enduring some heavy taunts from the rest of the group; fortunately, drinking at a rum bar in Key West is one of them. Paul took advantage of the setting and began with an exceptional Pina Colada.

Andrew went with another regional favorite in the Rum Runner. A mix of light rum, dark rum, banana, blackberry, and fruit juices, it was strong and bursting with flavor.

Next up for me was the Pain Killer – Pusser’s rum, cream of coconut, orange juice, and pineapple juice. Pusser’s rum differs from most other rums in that it’s distilled in a wooden pot still instead of a metal one, with no flavoring agents or sugars added after distillation. Rich and dark, it made for a strong, naturally sweet cocktail with a distinct rum flavor that didn’t get buried beneath the juices.

As much as we were enjoying our drinks, it was Andrew’s next choice that demonstrated what a unique place the Rum Bar can be to drink. The “Bark” and Stormy is a variation of the well-known Dark and Stormy, swapping out dark rum with something called “Bahama Bob’s Bark Juice.”

Intrigued, I had a sip of Andrew’s drink. Yes, it was reminiscent of a Dark and Stormy, but the mysterious bark juice gave it a smoother, more vibrant freshness.

The bark juice is Bob’s own innovation, and as the name suggests, it involves tree bark. In short, Bob takes different types of bark from all around the Caribbean – Key West (of course), Barbados, Antigua, St. Lucia, the Virgin Islands, and more – and infuses them with white wine and honey. After a couple of weeks he strains the mixture and adds 151-proof rum, letting the barks soak for a few more weeks.

The resulting elixir is positively exquisite. I quaffed down a generous shot, expecting the familiar burn that accompanies any straight alcohol. But this was smooth as silk – not bite whatsoever. The earthy, woodsy, herby freshness made me wish I had sipped it slowly to savor the spirit as well as the moment.

In addition to being a highly skilled mixologist, Bob is quite the genial character. As he whipped up complex cocktails for an ever-expanding crowd, he regaled us with stories about his drinks, his travels, and the island he calls home, never missing a beat or anybody’s order.

Eventually the rest of our group started trickling in, and we began discussing our next move. I opted for one more round, knowing that my chances of finding cocktails this good anywhere else on our journey were pretty slim. My final choice was the Goombay Smash – a potent mix of light rum, coconut rum, peach schnapps, orange juice, and pineapple juice.

Strong and fruity, with a prominent peach flavor, it was a satisfying conclusion to my long-awaited visit to the Rum Bar and set the tone for the rest of the day.

Which included a rum-induced nap.

Last Call

No, I didn’t make it to the Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum. Nor did I witness one of the island’s majestic sunset celebrations in Mallory Square. I didn’t smoke a cigar, eat Cuban food, or get a picture of myself at the concrete buoy marking the southernmost point in the continental United States. Not that I feel like I missed out; I just have a lot of reasons to go back.

Besides – who among a group of 14 dudes in various states of inebriation and rowdiness is going to say “Hey guys, let’s go watch the sunset!”

Local attractions or no, I definitely soaked up the Key West drinking experience. I’m sorry I don’t have a full report on bars like the Lazy Gecko (known as the nation’s southernmost Red Sox bar), Irish Kevin’s, the Green Parrot, or anywhere else we stumbled into. They all have their own style and character, but the scene is similar to what I described at Captain Tony’s – a laid-back vibe, live music, cheap drinks and lots of happy people throwing them back.

At the risk of unfairly painting all those bars with one brush stroke, I’d say they’re more about quantity than quality when it comes to drinks. Almost everywhere you look, you’ll see happy hour specials, cheap beer in plastic cups, and very basic, island-themed mixed drinks. There’s nothing wrong with a $6 cup of some brightly colored, cloyingly sweet concoction, but they can be hit or miss.

I'm pretty sure this "Mai Tai" was mostly grenadine with a splash of rum. Still, I drank it.

Fortunately, quality drinks are available if you know where to look. The Rum Bar certainly isn’t the only place where you can get expertly crafted cocktails, but with “bark juice” and a slew of house-made syrups, you’re getting original creations that you won’t find anywhere else on the island.

So whether it’s a quiet afternoon of craft cocktails with Bahama Bob or a booze-fueled Duval Street bar crawl – or both – there’s more than one way to enjoy yourself in Key West.

Finally, I’d like to congratulate my brother, who gets married next month, and Paul, who gets hitched in February.

They orchestrated an incredible weekend for 14 people, and in the haze of it all, it was sometimes easy to forget that they were the guests of honor.

Then again, on a weekend like this, it was easy to forget a lot of things.

Captain Tony’s Saloon: 428 Greene Street, Key West, Florida

Website: http://www.capttonyssaloon.com/

The Rum Bar at the Speakeasy Inn: 1117 Duval Street, Key West, Florida

Website: http://www.speakeasyinn.com/

Bahama Bob’s Rumstyles:http://bahamabobsrumstyles.blogspot.com/

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August 30, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

Centre Street Sanctuary

August 30, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

[Note: I'm sorry to say that Centre Street Sanctuary has closed its doors. I'm even more sorry to say that I never made it back for their brunch, which sounded incredible.] Adam Rutstein is grinning, and it’s understandable why. Emerging from the Centre Street Sanctuary’s kitchen on a recent Saturday morning, he’s been testing an updated version of one of the signature items on the brunch menu – the Elvis. The grilled peanut butter, bacon, and banana sandwich already sounds decadently delicious, but Rutstein isn’t entirely satisfied. “We use Teddie peanut butter, and it’s a little dry,” he explains, “so we added bourbon maple vanilla syrup.”

Syrup is only the latest in a long line of creative solutions Rutstein has employed in making his unique bar a reality. Wanting to open a restaurant in Jamaica Plain focused on small-plate comfort food, Rutstein shopped around for properties and found an affordable option in an unlikely spot – the former rectory of the Blessed Sacrament Church, which closed its doors in the mid-2000s.

A church rectory might not be the most conventional of settings for a bar and restaurant, but a good deal is a good deal. And instead of distancing his new venture from the building’s previous function, Rutstein doubled down – he decided to outfit his new bar with reclaimed wood and used furniture from area churches.

So where does one look for used church fixtures? The internet, of course. And in further proof that there’s a market (and a website) for everything, Rutstein found a site called usedpews.org, which connects sellers of used church furniture with prospective buyers (keep this in mind the next time you need an altar for…whatever). Thus began a months-long crusade in which he accumulated pews, stained glass, and a host of other relics from independent sellers throughout the state.

The church pews now serve as benches in the dining area.

Stained glass windows from various local churches flank the bar area. Cabinetry from a church in Charlestown was re-cut and used as shelving in and around the bar.

An old pulpit doubles as the hostess desk.

Only one thing was missing – the bar. And since most churches don’t have bars, finding one that fit the theme wasn’t an option. But in a true case of thinking “outside the box,” Rutstein’s architect spotted a choir box on one of their pilgrimages and said “there’s the bottom of your bar.” With a bit of creative carpentry, it became exactly that.

The wood from the choir box was cut into the bottom portion of the bar, complete with an angular curve that makes for a classic L-shape. For the surface of the bar, they used a couple of 800-pound oak doors found at a lumberyard. The wood was so thick, it had to be cut with a saw normally reserved for slicing cement. Wood leftover from the doors was then used for some of the tables in the bar area.

Although cobbled together from disparate parts, the resulting décor is cohesive, tied together by gleaming hardwood floors and warm, orange-brown walls. It’s an inviting atmosphere; and even though there are no confessionals, you might find yourself opening up after a few strong drinks.

The night before I met with Rutstein, I visited Centre Street Sanctuary with a good-sized crew – my sister Kelly, my cousin Adam and his girlfriend Danielle, and later my other cousin John and his friend Vanessa. We perused the cocktail menu and enjoyed a complimentary bowl of crispy, hand-cut chips.

Centre Street’s drink list is divided into three sections – Sangrias, Drinks, and Martinis and Manhattans. Danielle and Kelly began with two of the sangria options. Danielle’s Nectar of Life was made with white wine, rum, jasmine liqueur, mango puree, orange juice, cranberry juice, and ginger beer. The mango puree stole the show and lent the drink a deep yellow hue.

Kelly’s appropriately named “Short but Sweet” combined port wine, blood orange liqueur, and ginger beer. The port made it a little sweeter than your average sangria, but it was the ginger beer that gave it a truly unusual dimension.

Adam opted for the Mug o’ Grog from the Drinks section – rum, fresh lemon and lime juice, St. Germaine, peach bitters, orange juice, grapefruit juice, and soda water. The citrus components seemed to elevate the already prominent rum flavor, while the St. Germaine softened the drink and lent it a floral essence.

I, of course, headed right for the Martinis and Manhattans and ordered the one with the best moniker – the Drink From the Grave. Presumably named for its blood-like hue, this lugubrious drink was made with Angelica liqueur, Maurin Quina, brandy, triple sec, lemon juice, and bitters. The flavor was deep and complex, with forward notes of cherry and cinnamon from the Maurin and Angelica, respectively.

With the chips long gone and the alcohol gradually making its presence known, we needed a little food while we waited for John and Vanessa. First up was the modestly named “Fries and Gravy.” I say modest because Centre Street should call this what it is – poutine.

Now I don’t use that term lightly or inaccurately, especially given the many poutine imposters served throughout the Boston area. (If someone gives you “poutine” with melted cheese instead of cheese curds, you need to walk away.) But as a veteran of 15 Montreal Jazz Festivals, I feel qualified to call this version authentic. Maybe a strict poutine-ist would quibble with the bacon, but this mix of French fries, brown gravy, cheese curds, and scallions is the real deal. No need to be humble, Centre Street Sanctuary. Your poutine holds its own against the best.

As we devoured the poutine (there, I said it again), we were joined by John and Vanessa. John dove in with the boldly named Drink’s Boss – a mix of amaretto, Kina L’avoin d’or, Cynar, port, cherry bitters, and cola. Led by a powerful punch of amaretto and cherry, it was eerily reminiscent of a Dr. Pepper. A highly potent Dr. Pepper, that is.

Vanessa opted for the Hyde Square Shandy, a seasonally appropriate blend of Sam Summer, lemonade, pomegranate juice, St. Germaine, and grapefruit bitters. Perfect for a summer evening.

Finally, with all of us pew-ed up, it was time for dinner. Centre Street Sanctuary’s food menu features mostly small plates, though there are also steaks and a handful of other entrées, highlighted by a tempting seafood etouffee. Adam and Kelly went the entrée route, with Adam opting for the delicious hand-rolled gnocchi.

Continuing her uneasy truce with seafood, Kelly ordered the fish and chips, which she described as flaky and mild (she meant that as a compliment, though it sounds weak now that I’m writing it).

The rest of us stuck to the small plates. Danielle chose the rather substantial stuffed pepper, filled with quinoa, cheddar, and tomato fondue.

John got three impressive looking sliders, topped with muenster cheese and house-made bacon.

Vanessa got curried mussels, topped with peppers and onions, spiced up with cilantro and coconut milk. A slice of grilled bread on the side added a little crunch.

I went with the duck spring rolls. These were fantastic – crispy on the outside, filled with duck confit, cabbage, onion, and shaved carrot. A spicy Asian BBQ dipping sauce put it over the top.

We wrapped up dinner and ordered another round of drinks. Like Vanessa, Kelly got the Hyde Square Shandy, which was quickly emerging as the hit of the night. Danielle went with the Honey Pot Smash – honey tea bourbon, mint tea simple syrup, lemon juice, and soda water. She found it a little too sweet; no surprise, given her notoriously sour demeanor.

I closed out with the Ward 10 Manhattan – rum, Punt E Mes, simple syrup, chocolate mole bitters, and cherry bitters (they seem uncommonly fond of cherry-infused drinks here). I’d always been curious about rum-based Manhattans, and this was intense and slow-sippin’. While nothing tops a traditional Manhattan for me, I liked this as a change of pace. The chocolate mole bitters worked especially well with the rich sweetness of the rum.

When the check came, I almost expected it to show up on a collection plate. It might have been funny if it had, but one of the things I like about this place is that they don’t beat you over the head with the motif. The focus remains not on the décor but on the food and drink, as it should. I guess even an owner who’s willing to build his own bar out of a choir box knows when something is just good enough.

Closing Hymn

When I think of Jamaica Plain bars, I think small, cozy, and a little quirky. Places like Brandon Behan’s, the Haven, and Tres Gatos come to mind. Even newer entries tend to have a well-worn, neighborhood kind of feel. Centre Street Sanctuary, by contrast, is big, shiny, and new, but owner Adam Rutstein understands the essence of Jamaica Plain establishments. “We just want to be a neighborhood restaurant,” he tells me. “People might look in and think it’s pretentious. It’s not,” he insists. “There’s something on the menu for everybody.”

He’s right. Centre Street Sanctuary feels right at home in JP – good service, good food, and good prices. And any bar with church pews for seating fulfills the quirk quotient.

The drinks were pretty good, though none elicited a Hallelujah chorus. Some of them just had a little too much going on in them. But the Shandy was a favorite among the table, and my Ward 10 Manhattan was complex and intense.

It’s too bad we didn’t avail ourselves of the beer selection, because it’s excellent. There are a dozen draft options, plus many more in bottles, cans, and even “22-Ounce Bombers.” It’s a broad, varied mix of local favorites and microbrews from around the country.

Prices are definitely reasonable. Cocktails ranged from $8 to $10, which is pretty standard. The small plates averaged about $10, and the portions were fairly generous. The entrées were in the $12 to $13 range, which is also not bad.

Oh, and the brunch menu looks fantastic. I don’t typically do brunch reviews (though that’s in the works), but there’s a slew of bloody marys and other tempting brunch cocktails.

Uh, can I get an amen?

Address: 365 Centre Street, Jamaica Plain

Website: http://centrestreetsanctuary.com/

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August 16, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Somerville

Backbar

August 16, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Somerville

Sometimes you walk by a bar, peer into its big, picture windows, and think “Oooh, that place looks cool; I should check it out sometime.”

You will never have this experience with Somerville’s Backbar.

Backbar isn’t the sort of establishment one simply happens upon. Even if you’re looking for it, finding Backbar can be a little tricky. You arrive at the address, which is down an alley-like side street in Union Square. The entrance is almost completely unmarked, save for a small, plain sign; if it were any subtler, the owners would have jotted “Backbar” down on a Post-it note and stuck it on the door.

So you spend a minute or two looking around, perplexed, wondering whether you’re in the right place. Finally you pull open the unmarked door, hoping nobody yells “hey dumbass, that’s the service entrance, go around front!”

You then walk down a long, featureless hallway that gives you the impression you’re heading to the HVAC room of an industrial building. At the end of the hallway is a heavy, steel door with a helpfully illuminated “Backbar” sign, so at least you know you’re headed the right way. Still, the door offers no clues as to what lies beyond. Is the place busy? Is it even open? Is it a room full of plumbing and heating equipment?

Rest assured, there is indeed a bar on the other side. But while the interior isn’t nearly as drab as the entrance, it’s not exactly like stepping into Oz, either. Beyond the door is a small, sparsely appointed room with concrete flooring and walls. There’s a small bar with a black surface and eight chairs. Long sectional couches with thin, gray cushions and red pillows surround plain iron tables anchored by blocks of wood.

There are no windows; the only natural light comes in from the glass panels on the ceiling above the bar, and they’re partially painted over. Caged lights hanging from angular metal fixtures add to the industrial effect.

Some cool artwork on the walls and a huge black-and-white mural make the space feel a bit like one of those buildings in South Boston that house art studios.

Honestly, part of me was expecting the owner of the building to storm in, discover that someone had set up a bar in the basement of his property, and say “What the hell is going on in here?”

All told, it’s is a decidedly modest setting for one of the very best cocktail lounges in the Boston area. And whether its minimalism is by design or dictated by the existing space, the scant décor keeps your focus right where it should be – on the drinks.

Backbar’s been concocting some of the finest cocktails in the city since December 2011. I finally got to sample their wares a couple of weeks ago with my sister, Kelly. We arrived early on a Saturday evening, before the small room got packed, and grabbed a couple of seats at the bar. We were treated to a complimentary bowl of Backbar’s signature spicy caramel popcorn, which we promptly devoured while perusing the drink list.

Backbar displays creativity and agility with a cocktail menu that offers modern renderings of lost classics, original creations, and a few rotating specials: a drink of the day, a drink of the week, and a milk punch (!) of the season. And if you’re feeling a little adventurous, there’s the “bartender’s choice” – tell them your spirit and fruit of choice, and they’ll whip up something special just for you.

Our guide for the evening was Joe, a soft-spoken mixologist who, despite making complex drinks for a gradually swelling crowd, managed to find time to explain the composition of each cocktail and offer suggestions if we needed them. Behind him was a collection of potted plants and herbs, from which he’d occasionally pluck leaves for muddling or garnishing drinks. Fresh ingredients are essential to craft cocktails, and it doesn’t get much fresher than that.

Kelly inquired about the drink of the week, which turned out to be something called the Dino’s Downfall. An update of a cocktail known as the Missionary’s Downfall, it was made with pineapple-infused rum, apricot-infused brandy, lime juice, and mint syrup, and gets its “Dino” moniker from the enormous mint leaf used as a garnish. It was a pleasantly fruity drink, tempered by the brandy, with an overall sense of freshness from the mint.

I began with the Barrel-Aged Palmetto. A comparatively simpler drink, Backbar calls this mix of white rum, vermouth, and bitters “a rich, old, rum Manhattan.” Served in a chilled glass, it made for a cool, slow-sippin’ start to the evening.

With Round 1 in the books, Kelly turned next to one of Backbar’s “modern inspirations” – the Pavlovian Response. This mix of Bison Grass vodka, fresh lemon, caraway-infused honey, and muddled Russian sage made for a fresh, herbal cocktail that was most certainly worth drooling over (Pavlov would approve). The caraway contributed an anise-like bitterness that was nicely balanced by the sweet honey. The glass was beautifully garnished with flowers of the Russian sage plant, which added a pleasant, lavender-like aroma.

My next move was the milk punch. Now there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of milk punch before, and an even better chance that you just read those words and said “GROSS” to yourself. I only became aware of it when a mixologist-pal of mine posted a fairly detailed milk punch tutorial on her Instagram account. I’ve been curious about it ever since.

It’s an odd drink, and an old one – there are even recipes proffered by the likes of Ben Franklin. In a nutshell, you make milk punch by heating milk until it curdles and then combining it with liquor and spices; after straining the curds, the resulting mixture barely resembles milk.

While milk punch is enjoying a resurgence among the local cocktail cognoscenti, it’s still a fairly obscure drink…so of course Backbar not only has one on the menu, but even has a rotating milk punch of the season.

Despite all this buildup, I didn’t really love the milk punch. Made with cherry-orange shrubb, bourbon, and lemon juice, it certainly had some bold flavors. But I found it a little too sour for my liking, probably on account of the vinegary shrubb. I’ll give it another shot, though. And since Joe told me the milk punch “of the season” is really more like a milk punch “of the month,” given how quickly they go through the stuff, I’ll soon have another chance.

Now that we were a couple of drinks in, Kelly and I were ready for something a little more substantive than our long-since-exhausted bowl of popcorn. Backbar’s food menu is a lot like the bar’s décor – minimal. No entrees or sandwiches here, just a few snacks, small plates, and some platters, like charcuterie.

The servings are enough to sustain you on your cocktail journey, but they won’t necessarily fill you up. Kelly and I split two small plates. First up was the “Pig & Fig” jam, made with pureed figs and bacon, served with crispy, house-made crackers. The earthy sweetness of the fig paired well with the smoky awesomeness of the bacon, and the seasoned crackers contributed a savory touch.

We followed that with Pork Buns – tender pork belly, topped with daikon slaw (made from a type of Asian radish), wrapped in a soft, doughy, steamed bun. It’s the sort of dish that’s hard to ask for without giggling, but it’s worth it. Sweet, smoky, and spicy, these babies were phenomenal.

Finally it was on to the last round of the evening, and needless to say, we both opted for the bartender’s choice. Joe dutifully inquired about our respective liquors of choice and any types of fruit we favored (or reviled). Kelly expressed a fondness for St. Germaine cocktails, and Joe made her a drink called A Whole New Word – a mix of St. Germaine and jasmine tea-infused gin, served in a chilled glass. (There’s a reason why it was a called Whole New Word instead of Whole New World, but I forget what it was.) Neither Kelly nor I have ever been big fans of tea-infused cocktails; personally, I feel like the tea often dominates the other ingredients. But this was perfectly blended – the tea flavor was delicately balanced with the St. Germaine and the gin.

I told Joe that I’m traditionally a whiskey guy but have been on a rum kick as of late. I didn’t have a strong preference in this case, but I trusted his judgment. He gave it a little thought, cracked some ice, and started mixing and vigorously shaking the mystery ingredients. Then, much to my delight, he retrieved one of the funky ceramic parrots I’d been eyeing all night and presented me with a drink called the Jungle Bird.

This classic Tiki drink combined Jamaican rum, Campari, pineapple juice, lime juice, and sugar. The natural sweetness of the rum and the fruit juices was kept in check by the bitterness of the Campari, making for a refreshing, well-balanced drink. For me, the Jungle Bird was the high point of the night. Then again, anything served in that colorful, bird-shaped cup would have made me pretty happy.

Last Call

As Stephanie Schorow describes in her excellent book Drinking Boston, the local craft cocktail movement didn’t begin in a big, fancy bar in the middle of the city. It started at the now-defunct B-Side Lounge in Cambridge; and before that, in the apartments of a circle of friends who experimented with classic recipes, updated them with the freshest ingredients, and sampled and refined their work until they got it just right.

Nowadays, nearly every bar in the city has a “craft cocktail” menu. And that’s to say nothing of the sleek new cocktail lounges that have opened in recent years, some of which are long on style but short on substance.

In that sense, Backbar recalls those early, formative days of modern craft cocktails, when the whole thing was a smaller, more personal affair. New bars keep increasing in size and grandeur, yet Backbar maintains a humble, unassuming atmosphere. And in an age of relentless marketing and promotion, Backbar is more of a word-of-mouth kind of place. I find this deeply refreshing.

People’s willingness to seek out places like Backbar tells me that whether you run the fanciest bar in Boston or one built in unused basement space, what matters most is the quality of the drinks and the skill of the people making them. There’s no gimmickry here – just an appreciation, shared by staff and discerning patrons, for top-notch, innovative drinks.

Our cocktails were all $10 or $11, which is pretty typical. The Pig & Fig jam was $4, and the Pork Buns (hee hee) were $8; pretty reasonable. You can get a full order of the spicy popcorn for $3 ($8 if you want to add bacon), and the platters, if you’re sharing with a few people, range from $15 to $18. Most enticingly, there are house-made ice cream sandwiches for dessert; regrettably, we passed on those.

Like the ingredients kept behind the bar, the drink list stays very fresh. Even the non-rotating options have changed since I was there, and that was just a couple of weeks ago. But if you have your heart set on drink that isn’t on the list, I’m sure someone can whip it up for you anyway. After all, Backbar is one of those rare establishments where the people behind the bar seem as excited about making cocktails as you are to drink them.

Address: 7 Sanborn Court, Union Square, Somerville

Website: http://backbarunion.com/

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August 6, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Out of State

One for the Road – The Tobacco Company Restaurant

August 6, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Out of State

I recently found myself passing through Richmond, Virginia, the day after a family wedding. Locating a bar to write about was the last thing on my mind. It was a hot, humid Sunday afternoon; I was in a car with Melissa and her parents, Clarke and Linda, while her sister Emily and boyfriend Curtis were in another car; and we all had a long drive ahead of us. Plus, the wedding had had an open bar, so…suffice to say, I had no burning desire to seek out more alcohol the very next day.

I did, however, require some lunch, and after a few hours on the road, I was not alone in that. Nobody knew the area all that well, but Curtis mentioned there was a place nearby that had $2 burgers on Sundays. I was on board immediately, though I don’t think the two vegetarians in our crew fully appreciated the merits of this intersection between value and gluttony. Nor do I think the name of the place – the Tobacco Company – instilled a ton of confidence in anybody. I immediately pictured a smoke shop whose owner was enterprising enough to set up a grill out back. But Curtis spoke glowingly of the place, which he knew from having played there with his band. He described it as a refurbished historical building and assured us that it sold food and drink, not cigars and cigarettes, and that those who don’t love burgers would still find something to their liking.

So at 2:45 p.m. we pulled into downtown Richmond, and sure enough, there was no sign of a shack selling cartons of smokes. Quite the opposite, in fact – housed in a classic-looking brick building, the Tobacco Company is a longtime resident of the Shockoe Slip neighborhood. An area rich in Southern history, Shockoe Slip has seen 40 years’ worth of growth and revitalization. As soon as we stepped out of the car, we found plenty to like – historical buildings, a plethora of modern bars and restaurants…everything except the sign on the door at the Tobacco Company, which said it didn’t open until 5:30 on Sundays.

You might say there was a little frustration at this point.

But Curtis poked his head in and emerged a few minutes later with good news – they actually open at 3 – followed by some better news – they were happy to let us in early for a cold drink. Pretty nice, given how hot it was outside.

I was so hungry at this point, I was ready to eat my shirt; picture- and note-taking was still not on the agenda. But I stepped inside and was floored – the beauty, enormity, and historical glamour of the Tobacco Company were positively striking. Dark hardwood floors, stained glass windows, candles set on black tables, and copper and brass fixtures recalled the high style of a day gone by.

It was like walking into a larger-than-life montage of early 20th century Southern hospitality and upper crust distinction – the kind of stately restaurant you’d picture captains of industry dining at.

As its name suggests, the Tobacco Company operates in a building that once served as a tobacco warehouse. There are four stories, including a basement-level club, and each has its own distinct atmosphere. On the main floor is a large, rectangular bar, manned by nattily attired bartenders and surrounded by about 16 old-fashioned barstools. Stained glass lamps hanging above the bar add a touch of old-school class.

But the highlight of the first floor is the seating area in the massive atrium. With a ceiling that must be 50 or 60 feet high, and glass panels that let in natural light, you almost feel like you’re sitting outside. Tall potted trees, colorful flower arrangements, and green plants hanging throughout the atrium add to the “indoor al fresco” effect.

Enclosing the atrium is a wall of exposed brick, reaching all the way up to the glass ceiling and decorated with vintage tobacco ads.

Beyond the brick wall is a Victorian-era cocktail lounge, outfitted with a gas fireplace, more lush plant life, and funky leopard-print couches and chairs.

We took a table in the middle of the first-floor seating area, directly beneath a huge, ornate chandelier. We were greeted by our waitress, Maria, who just charmed us to pieces with her dry humor and what I’d call a charismatic sense of irony. The kitchen wasn’t in full swing yet, but I happily got a beer while I waited. I love trying local beers whenever I’m traveling, and I went with a St. George’s Pilsner, brewed in Hampton, Virginia. Crisp, hoppy, and light, it was perfect for such a steaming hot day.

Clarke wanted me to mention that he got a Bud Light, which I neglected to photograph. Please enjoy this stock photo of a Bud Light. His looked just like it.

We sipped our beers and looked over the menu, which consisted mostly of traditional American fare – burgers and sandwiches, steaks and seafood, and more than a few Southern classics. I gave the options little more than a cursory glance; along with Curtis and Clarke, I was there for the burgers. Now despite my enthusiasm, I kept my expectations in check. As much as I appreciate a burger with a $2 price tag, I figured I’d be getting a quarter-inch patty on a day-old roll, or maybe a slider. But no! These were full-fledged, 8-ounce burgers, which you can customize to your heart’s content by choosing from a broad selection of toppings, ranging from your basic ketchup and mustard to horseradish slaw and roasted red pepper coulis.

The burger itself is pretty straightforward, but I’d consider it merely a canvas for your most daring condiment artistry. I loaded mine up with Cajun horseradish, Swiss cheese, and of course, bacon, and thought it was delicious. Curtis and Clarke seemed pleased with their own creations.

Our orders were split along gender lines – burgers for the guys, and an edamame hummus platter for the ladies. Spiced up with garlic, coriander, cumin, and lemon zest, it made for a refreshing summertime lunch (or so I heard; I was busy inhaling my burger).

Maria, our waitress, passionately implored us to get a side of sweet potato waffle fries, which she swore were the best on the planet. Her plea was heartfelt and sincere, but unnecessary – I love sweet potato fries and probably would have gotten them with my burger anyway (though she may have persuaded Emily, Melissa, and Linda to split an order). Best ever? I can’t say. But they were crispy and satisfying, enhanced by a dash of cinnamon in the recipe.

I followed the pilsner with a Legend Brown Ale. This excellent dark brew was smooth, malty, and full-bodied, and about as local as you can get – the Legend brewery is just a few streets away from the restaurant.

As we rounded out our meal, Maria asked if we were interested in dessert; but she urged us to “search our souls” before answering, and teased that some Key lime pie and a butter cake had already been earmarked for us. We agreed to do a little soul searching as well as some digesting, and Curtis took the opportunity to show me the upper floors in the meantime.

While the main level feels like an upscale but mostly casual barroom, the upper levels are almost exclusively devoted to dining. The second floor looks like where you’d take a date for a nicer dinner; white tablecloths and black furniture contribute to a dignified air.

The black and white theme continues on the third floor, but some zebra-print chairs and another bar keep the mood from getting too serious.

There are also a few tables tucked away in alcoves along the perimeter of the third floor, which is pretty smart – they allow for a more intimate dining experience, even on a crowded night.

Daunted by the prospect of climbing two whole flights of stairs when your table’s ready? No worries – just use the vintage hydraulic elevator. Easily one of the coolest features of the Tobacco Company, riding in this classic caged elevator, with its manual door and brass parts, made me feel like I was in a fancy hotel back in the 1920s.

After some sightseeing and soul searching, we decided to close out with some dessert. First up was a big, decadent piece of Key lime pie. The filling was rich and thick, almost the consistency of cheesecake, and it was served in a crust of pecan, gingersnap, graham cracker, and coconut, topped with fresh whipped cream and drizzled with raspberry sauce.

Along with that, we got the Tobacco Company’s signature dessert – butter cake, with fresh whipped cream, strawberries, and chocolate sauce. I’m not sure what exactly constitutes a butter cake (and probably don’t want to), but it was sweet, surprisingly light, and bursting with flavor.

As we enjoyed our desserts, Maria regaled us with the history of the building and its antique touches. She professed herself a “history nerd,” seeming almost apologetic about her enthusiasm. Of course, she was talking to a table full of nerds, so we were enthralled. A few elements of the original tobacco warehouse remain, but most of the accoutrements were bought at auctions around the country to complete the vintage look and feel.

The beautiful exposed brick wall is part of the original masonry from the old warehouse, though the signs and mirrors that adorn it were purchased from antique dealers. The eye-catching chandelier once hung in the Federal Reserve Bank in Cincinnati.

The hostess desk on the main floor had a previous life as a ticket booth in a train station.

The old-school elevator, one of only three remaining in the country, was built for the Con Edison building in New York, though the elevator shaft is a holdover from the warehouse.

I couldn’t possibly jot down everything Maria said; this seems like the kind of place that has a conversation piece in every corner. But the historical flair of the Tobacco Company is reflective of the area as a whole. As Maria told us more about the sights, museums, and history of Shockoe Slip, I found myself wishing we could stay longer to explore the neighborhood. It seemed like it had taken us all day to get there, but when it was time to go, I was sorry to leave.

Last Call, Y'all

I realize this is an unusual post. Ordinarily I’d report on a couple of cocktails and maybe a few more beers. But not everyone was imbibing, which would have left the heavy lifting to me (and getting hammered in front of the in-laws is never prudent).

Honestly, though, this is the kind of place I could just sit in for hours and admire the attention to detail. Someone went to painstaking lengths to create the look and feel of a Victorian-era restaurant, hearkening back to the days when hotels and restaurants were the embodiment of elegance and class, and the tobacco industry was Richmond’s lifeblood (you know, before we realized how horrible it was for us).

It’s still a bar, though, and there’s plenty to enjoy, even if the décor doesn’t do it for you. The draft beer selection is small but well chosen, favoring local brews, and there’s a pretty respectable array of bottled options. I do wish I could have sampled the cocktails. Appropriately, the classics are well represented – Mai Tais, Sidecars, Mint Juleps, and so on. Drinking one of those amid such old-school surroundings would have been pretty cool. Perhaps another time.

Prices don’t seem so bad, at least not for burgers. On Sundays from 3 to 9 p.m. they’re $2 with the purchase of a bar beverage. Many of the toppings are free, but some are an additional cost. Even with a few toppings, my burger came to a modest $6. The edamame hummus was $6.95. My beers were $6 each, which is standard for craft brews (in Boston, anyway). The desserts came with the generous compliments of the Tobacco Company staff.

From what I hear, the place gets packed on weekend nights, when there’s live music on the main floor. As I mentioned, my friend Curtis plays there occasionally, and if you live in Virginia, you should check out his band, the Audio Affair (good band, aside from the drummer). Weekend nights are also when the downstairs “Tobacco Club” is open. I didn’t get a look at it when I was there, but I guess that’s just one more reason to return someday.

Address: 1201 East Cary Street, Richmond, Virginia

Website:http://www.thetobaccocompany.com/

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July 1, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, BBH at Home, Cocktail Recipes

The Lyrical Gangster – A Refreshing Yet Absurdly Named Summer Cocktail

July 1, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, BBH at Home, Cocktail Recipes

Well here we are, just about midway through the year, and I hope 2013 has been treating you well. Sorry if my posts have been a little sporadic as of late. I’ll blame it on the Bruins and their penchant for overtime games. I hope to be returning to the regular Friday posting schedule shortly, and there are some fun bar reviews on the horizon. A couple places in Jamaica Plain have beckoning to me, and I also need to pay a visit to the recently opened, Prohibition-themed Carrie Nation.

You can expect a few new entries in the outdoor seating series, as well.

This week, though, I’ll be making my annual trip to the Montreal Jazz Festival, so…no bar review. But I thought I’d take this time to share a semi-original drink recipe with you. This spiked blackberry sage lemonade is a welcome treat on the hot, humid days and nights we’ve been having, and it’ll go especially well with your Fourth of July celebrations.

Eager as I am to share the recipe, I’m mortified to admit that it’s called the “Lyrical Gangster,” a ridiculous name borrowed from a 90s hip hop song that I take no joy in being associated with. How it got attached to my drink, I’ll explain later in the program. For now, here’s how to make this wonderfully refreshing summertime beverage.

At its core, this drink is a blackberry lemonade. You can find multiple recipes on the web, but the one I use is from http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/blackberry-lemonade. My version includes a couple of modifications, including doubling the recipe. I usually make it for a group or a party, and it tends to disappear quickly.

You will need:

8 cups of water, divided.

2 cups of sugar.

2 cups of blackberries.

2 cups of lemon juice – which, as I’ve learned the hard way, is a staggering 12 to 14 lemons.

2 tablespoons of lemon zest.

Fresh sage leaves.

Vodka (or your spirit of choice).

Start with the lemon zest. It’ll take 3 to 4 lemons to yield 2 tablespoons of grated peel. If you have a Microplane grater, this should go pretty quickly.

What never seems to go quickly is squeezing the lemons. I strongly recommend using a citrus squeezer; if you don’t have one, you’re in for a very long afternoon. I did this by hand once before – as in, just squeezing the lemons over a measuring cup – and it’s exhausting. Even with the citrus squeezer, it takes a little while. Be patient; your hard work will pay off.

Once you’ve got those ingredients ready, bring 4 cups of water and the sugar to a boil in a large sauce pan or Dutch oven (hee hee). Let it boil for about 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat. Stir in the lemon juice, zest, and the remaining 4 cups of water. Let it cool for a bit; about 10 minutes.

In a blender, combine 2 cups of your newly made lemon mixture with the blackberries. Cover that bad boy tightly and blend for a minute or so.

Next up, strain the blackberry seeds and discard them. (This is easily the stickiest and messiest part of the process, no matter how you do it; consider yourself warned.) Pour the thick, concentrated, blackberry/lemon combo into a pitcher and add the remaining lemon mixture. Put it in the fridge and let it get nice and cold.

When it’s ready to serve, find yourself a tumbler (though I suppose any type of glass will do). Put a few sage leaves in the bottom and sprinkle with just a dash of sugar.

Gently muddle the leaves with the sugar. (If you don’t have a muddler, don’t worry; the leaves just need to be bruised, and you can do that with the end of a wooden spoon. The sugar provides some coarseness to help release the fragrant oils; you can use a little simple syrup instead, but the drink doesn’t need much in terms of sweetening.) Add ice. Then pour 5 ounces or so of the blackberry lemonade. Add 1.5 ounces of vodka and gently stir.

Voila! The sweetness of the blackberries complements the tartness of the lemon, and the aromatic, earthy sage gently permeates the drink. I think the lemon pulp and zest result in a nice texture, but if you prefer a smoother drinking experience, combine the lemonade and vodka in a shaker and strain it into a glass.

The flavor of the drink is robust even before you add the vodka, which means you can barely even taste the alcohol. That, of course, is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, you can use a cheaper vodka without compromising the flavor of the drink. On the other hand, you might find yourself throwing back more than a few of these before you realize you’re hammered. Which brings me to the story of how this cocktail got stuck with such a stupid name.

I first made this at home a few summers ago; Melissa and Kelly were there, maybe a couple other people too. We were hanging out, enjoying what was then known only as blackberry lemonade with muddled sage and a shot of vodka, and listening to a 90s station that was streaming on Pandora. The drink was a big hit, and after we’d all had a few, we decided it needed a name. So I started throwing around some ideas – really inspiring stuff, like “Blackberry Showers” and “Purple Sunshine” and a few more. Nothing seemed to resonate.

After a few more hours and God knows how many more drinks, I found myself mildly frustrated that everyone was so impressed with my cocktail but didn’t appreciate the brilliance of my proposed names.

And then, it happened. Unfortunately.

The song “Here Comes the Hotstepper,” by the immortal Ini Kamoze, came on the 90s station; laughter, justifiably, ensued. If you’re unfamiliar with the song, do yourself a favor and don’t bother seeking it out (if you do know it, my apologies if I’m getting it stuck in your head). All you need to know is that in it, the singer declares himself to be, among other things, “the lyrical gangster.” It’s a curious boast for an artist whose only hit is lyrically banal and owes its refrain to the 60s song “Land of 1000 Dances.” But I digress. The point is, I held up my drink and jokingly said, “Hey, I should call it the Lyrical Gangster!”

…and of course, it stuck.

I should have known. I could see the vodka clouding everyone’s judgment except mine, the heat of the night scrambling their senses. I tried, desperately, to temper their enthusiasm, quickly suggesting a few other names and saying we’d have to revisit the matter some other time. But in my heart, I knew…my drink was going to be called the f*cking Lyrical Gangster.

I’ll acknowledge it rolls off the tongue more easily than “Blackberry Sage Lemonade With Vodka,” but had I known the name would be inspired by that night’s music, I would have piped up during “Black Hole Sun” or “Santeria,” or maybe a Weezer song. Or better yet, not been playing a 90s station in the first place.

Whatever. I suppose it’s like getting stuck with a funny but unwanted nickname that all your friends delight in using. You can fight it all you want, but they’re still going to use it. I chose to embrace the Lyrical Gangster and count my blessings that “Mambo No. 5” didn’t come on that night.

Back to the drink. While I think regular vodka works best in the Lyrical Gangster, I’m sure you can get some tasty combinations with flavored vodkas. I’ve tried it with vanilla vodka, which isn’t bad, and rum goes nicely as well; but you don’t want anything too strong that will overpower the core components.

It’s also delicious with no alcohol, so if you’re serving it at a party with some younglings or teetotalers, everyone can partake.

It can be a little cumbersome to make...

...but I hope you’ll think it’s worth it.

That’s all for me. I’m headed north to listen to jazz, eat smoked meat and poutine, and give my liver a workout for the ages. I hope everyone has a safe, fun, and happy Fourth of July. And as always, thanks for reading.

Cheers!

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June 26, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Poe's Kitchen at the Rattlesnake

June 26, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

The reviews were not exactly effusive.

“We prefer the roof deck for drinks and appatizers (sic) when it is open. Otherwise, a typical bar scene.”

“bland mexican food? find it here! great rooftop bar, especially on a cool summer night.”

“Food is ok, drinks are also decent- the roof deck makes this otherwise blah place.”

“Awful. Just plain awful. Fun for a drink.”

“The food is nothing special, but thats (sic) not why you go to Rattlesnake - you go for the drinks and the rooftop bar. So fun in the summertime!”

The above comments, which are a little more than four years old, offer a lukewarm appraisal of what was then known merely as the Rattlesnake Bar and Grill. Opinions of this Boylston Street bar may have varied, but at the time, most people agreed on a few things: it was a fairly unremarkable establishment, greatly enhanced by its having a roof deck; the margaritas were good; and the food certainly was not.

But apparently that was enough. I don’t know how many slicker, trendier bars have opened and subsequently closed their doors since the Rattlesnake slithered into town in 1990, but 23 years in business represents some impressive longevity. Not bad for such a “blah” bar.

Maybe the salient point here is that a roof deck and a liquor license will get you far in this town, especially with an address in one of Boston’s most heavily trafficked areas. The Rattlesnake probably could have maintained the status quo indefinitely – with a rooftop bar, potent margaritas, and a decent beer list, who cares whether the food is any good? That’s what makes January 2009 such a fascinating point in the Rattlesnake’s history. It was then that this fairly unremarkable bar made a fairly remarkable move – hiring a renowned chef.

As the story goes, the Rattlesnake’s owner ran into Brian Poe, then the Executive Chef and Director of Food and Beverage at Millennium Boston Hotel, and asked for his help in recruiting someone to give the maligned food menu an overhaul. Fresh off a culinary vision quest across South America in 2008, Poe picked the best man for the job – himself. He kept the Rattlesnake’s Southwestern cuisine theme intact, but infused it with Latin American flair, amid a host of other creative twists. Adios, grocery store quesadillas and nachos made with Cheez Whiz; hola, duck tacos and grilled cornbread.

The kitchen was rebranded as Poe’s Kitchen at the Rattlesnake, and the bar itself became something that its naysayers and even its most loyal customers wouldn’t have expected – a genuine destination for food.

Although the menu got an upgrade, the rest of the Rattlesnake maintains much of its pre-Poe identity. With its aging façade and plain interior, it’s not as fashionable as some of its Back Bay neighbors, nor ironic enough to attract hipsters. The downstairs area oozes early-90s charm, with a green and white tile floor and a blue-tiled wall, strung with lights, behind the bar.

There’s a long bar with about 12 seats, along with plenty of tables and booths. Large chalkboards herald the dinner and beer specials. The layout and décor might be very simple, but it’s a good-size space that can accommodate a crowd.

Now while the Rattlesnake may be famous for its margaritas, its beer list is pretty solid too. (I’ve been here a few times over the past several months, so bear with me if the beer list or food menu has changed.) The 16 beers on draft include the usual suspects, like Guinness, Sam Adams, and Harpoon, along with some rotating drafts like Lagunitas and Left Hand Brewing Company. On one of my visits a few months back, I was intrigued by the three taps devoted to Stone Brewing Company, each of which was marked with a date – 08/08/08, 09/09/09, and 11/11/11.

It was part of Stone’s Vertical Epic Ale series, a project that began in 2001, in which the company released a different Belgian-style beer every year – one year and one month from the previous release. The first beer was released on 02/02/02, the last on 12/12/12. As I have an entirely unwarranted belief that 11 is a lucky number for me, I went with the 11/11/11.

Intense and malty, with a 9.5% ABV, this bad boy had me reeling. Food was most definitely in order.

I wish I’d spent more time at the Rattlesnake back in the day so I could fully appreciate the transformation of the menu. Regardless, one look at the fusion of Latin American, Mexican, and Southwestern flavors will tell you the food is anything but ordinary. Appetizers like calamari are livened up with a dusting of chili powder, guaymas sauce, corn puree, and cilantro puree. Then there’s the taco menu, where you can get spicy cubano tacos (spicy being an understatement, take my word for it), or antelope tacos, made with duck fat infused ground antelope, topped with jalapeno bacon ranch.

Antelope may not be your typical taco filler, but if you’re familiar with Brian Poe’s post-Rattlesnake project, the Tip Tap Room, you know the man a fondness for unconventional meats. So I was pleasantly unsurprised to see that one of the Rattlesnake’s signature entrées is the wild boar burrito – chili-braised boar, Oaxaca cheese, IPA-infused refried beans, green chili puree, verde rice, boar bacon, and plantain salsa.

The result was phenomenal. And I especially appreciate that it isn’t merely a novelty item – simply using boar meat in an entrée would be enough for people to try it, out of sheer curiosity. But this went much further; the other ingredients were thoughtfully chosen, and they combined to create a unique burrito that burst with flavor. The boar bacon contributed a crispy texture, and even the flour tortilla was baked, giving the exterior a nice crunch.

I returned a month or so later, because I would be remiss if I wrote about the Rattlesnake without trying their margaritas. With a house-made mix and a plethora of tequilas to choose from, this is the drink that Rattlesnake made its name on. It’s also the only bar I know of that reportedly makes you sign a waiver if you’re daring enough to try their Ghost Chili Challenge margarita – its central ingredient being a tequila infused with the infamous ghost chili, one of the hottest peppers on the planet. As your faithful bar correspondent, I realize I should have gotten this and reported back on it. But I’ve never much loved spicy drinks, and I wasn’t paying $16 just so I could drink half of it and then spend the rest of the night praying for death.

So I kept it simple and started with the house margarita. It was pretty standard, but satisfying. It strikes me as a recipe that hasn’t changed at all – and probably doesn’t have to.

Next up was the Bostonian Margarita, made with Espolon Silver, Citronage, agave nectar, and fresh lime juice, topped with a prosecco float. This one had a slightly spicy kick, balanced nicely by the sweetness of the agave. The prosecco added complexity and gave it more texture than your average margarita.

For dinner I went with that evening’s special – crispy fried chicken skins with mango mojo and spicy guacamole. If you’re anything like me, you just read that and saw “crispy fried chicken,” then started wondering what “mango mojo” was, and then got excited about the spicy guacamole – skipping right over “skins.”

They were exactly what the name said they were – as in, roasted chicken skin, breaded and deep fried.

You know what? Hats off to whoever came up with this, whether it was Brian Poe himself or someone in his employ. Clever and absolutely delicious. It may not have been the healthiest thing I’ve consumed all year, but it was totally among the most delicious. If you’d put another plate of them in front of me when I was done, I’d have devoured them all over again, right before my heart stopped.

This particular visit to the Rattlesnake took place week or so after the Boston Marathon bombing. Thus, it was with mixed feelings that I closed out with a limited edition “26.2,” brewed by Sam Adams in advance of the marathon.

This “gose” beer was refreshing and citrusy, and probably the sort of thing you’d appreciate after running a marathon. But there was a certain wistfulness in drinking a beer that was made in anticipation of Boston’s signature event, with all the expectancy of it being a glorious day, only to have it end in tragedy. On that note, though, I recently read a story about some loyal patrons who were evacuated from the Rattlesnake when the bombs went off, but came back when it reopened a few days later to pay their tabs. Just another reminder that the good people in this world far outnumber the bad.

I wrote a piece about the Rattlesnake’s roof deck last summer, so I won’t focus too much on it here. Still, it warrants a mention.

One of the only rooftop bars in the Back Bay, the Rattlesnake roof deck draws a strong after-work crowd and can fill up quickly on the weekends. In addition to about 15 tables, the roof deck has its own bar, which makes it ideal for an outdoor drink when you’ve been cooped up in the office all day. The beer selection is not nearly as expansive as it is downstairs, but I suppose drinking on a roof deck in the summer calls for something fruity and refreshing, like a glass of sangria or the Thai mojito, made with coconut rum, lemongrass syrup, and muddled lime.

The atmosphere on the rooftop is just as casual and laid-back as it is downstairs. It’s been spruced up a bit and gotten a paint job in recent years, but for the most part, it’s the same basic, unadorned roof deck it always was. But that’s one thing about the Rattlesnake that probably never has to change. In a city that endures some pretty rough winters, it’s hard to improve upon the simple act of enjoying a drink in the warm weather.

Last Call

In the wake of such dramatic upheaval in the kitchen, it’s interesting to note what didn’t change at the Rattlesnake. Namely, everything else. A new chef and a bold, innovative menu could have brought a jarring new attitude, an entirely different look and feel. Instead, the Rattlesnake retains much of the identity that preceded the extreme makeover of its menu.

It lacks the snazzy décor of newer cocktail bars, with their modern style or their throwback themes. But the margaritas have survived martinis and mojitos and will probably make it through the craft cocktail phase unscathed. The roof deck will forever be a draw.

The enhanced menu may have resulted in some enhanced prices, but they aren’t exorbitant (especially for good food in the Back Bay). My wild boar burrito was $15.75, which makes it the most expensive burrito I’ve ever had – yet also the only one made with boar meat. Beers are about $6.50, and margaritas range from $8 to $12, or $16 if you think you’re up to the Ghost Chili Challenge.

Back in the day, the Rattlesnake Bar and Grill was a fun place to end your night. That hasn’t changed. But with one of the more creative and satisfying menus in the area, Poe’s Kitchen at the Rattlesnake is also a good place to start your evening.

Address: 384 Boylston Street, Boston

Website:http://www.rattlesnakebar.com/

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