Some recent notes on drinking, fashionable and otherwise...
Over the past few months, I've been in the Friday habit of joining some of the other Parkville High School English faculty for drinks at the fine establishment known as The Firehouse, on Joppa road. The Firehouse is a bar of the old school.
For practical purposes, I hate to hear anything described as "old school," because it seems to imply that the speaker finds the subject laughably old fashioned and not necessarily good. However, rest assured that if anything is outdated, I probably like it, and it's probably better than whatever crappy little fusion joint it was that you like totally discovered in Olde Towne Alexandriae last week.
I like the Firehouse because it is full of nice normal people who simply want good drinks and bar food. I have ordered a few various cocktails there and nobody has ever batted an eyelid. Janet, the waitress who usually takes care of us, sees me coming and knows to get the bourbon-and-CocaCola right away. Also, the name of the place is not incidental; it's full of big firemen.
Thus, I was a bit surprised when my friend Christine ordered a "vodka and orange juice." I looked at her, attempting to scrape my jaw off of the floor, and asked her if that wasn't the drink known to mankind as a Screwdriver.
"Yeah," she said, with her best Long Island attitude, "but do you know how hard it is to find someone who knows what the hell you want if you ask for a screwdriver?"
I am. In fact, I recounted the incident that spawned the birth of this blog nearly five years ago. I am now contemplating the development of a new scientific theorem: the Inverse Relationship between Fashion and Cocktails. My theorem will be based upon observations gleaned primarily from public establishments, but also from private entertainment.
Case #1. The Firehouse--see above. Further, Kelly's Bar in East Baltimore; also the Quest in East Baltimore. In all of these establishments, I am a well-known fixture. None of them are considered fashionable; nor are they in stylish parts of the city. However, I have been able to obtain Manhattans, Gin Rickeys, Bronxes and Old Fashioneds in all of the above.
Case #2. The Hotel Belvedere. This is one of Baltimore's most storied and hallowed locations, and after 104 years remains THE place to see and be seen. I am also reasonably well known here. It does have a signature Manhattan, which is nectar of the immortality-enabled. Yet, with the exception of Holly--one of the bar managers and a fine lady--most of the staff remains ignorant of many basic cocktails. One, a few months ago, didn't even know the difference between Bourbon and Scotch. Worse, though it is one of the premier boozing establishments in Maryland, there is no Rye on the bar.
Case #3. Private parties, take one. Now, mind you, I'm used to fraternity parties with a couple of hundred people in attendance. Mass quantities of beer are just fine but honestly, folks, I'm way over 21 now and as a career lush, I can't get drunk on beer anymore. I just fill up and feel bloated and annoyed. Beer is something to be consumed with dinner. Tasty, yes; inebriating, no. Yet, there are a bloody lot of people out there who believe that it's just fine to have twenty people over and serve nothing but beer. Crap, y'all, the war is over--splurge and get some whiskey and gin, too!
Case #4. Private parties, take two: Reservoir Hill. Last night, I went to a small dinner party over in Reservoir Hill. The hosts had it right (as they always do) and had bourbon, scotch and gin readily available, with wine for dinner. You see, a full bar isn't even necessary really: those three liquids take care of the cocktail needs for 90% of the population.
Case studies 1 and 4 involve bars in unfashionable areas and parties at the homes of older people. Studies 2 and 3 involve fashionable places and younger people. Thus, I suppose that if I were to fit this idea into the T-proofs that my high school Geometry teacher loved so well, the statement would be "Traditional environments spawn good drinks" and the proofs would lie in the case studies.
It's become common for random causes to have a retrofitted bus cruising the city for various purposes: the Neuter Scooter for pets, the MammoVan for...well, for boobs. I think I should find an old bus myself and establish a wheeled cocktail lounge. BoozCrooz could make the world safe for the well-mixed cocktail.
Over the past few months, I've been in the Friday habit of joining some of the other Parkville High School English faculty for drinks at the fine establishment known as The Firehouse, on Joppa road. The Firehouse is a bar of the old school.
For practical purposes, I hate to hear anything described as "old school," because it seems to imply that the speaker finds the subject laughably old fashioned and not necessarily good. However, rest assured that if anything is outdated, I probably like it, and it's probably better than whatever crappy little fusion joint it was that you like totally discovered in Olde Towne Alexandriae last week.
I like the Firehouse because it is full of nice normal people who simply want good drinks and bar food. I have ordered a few various cocktails there and nobody has ever batted an eyelid. Janet, the waitress who usually takes care of us, sees me coming and knows to get the bourbon-and-CocaCola right away. Also, the name of the place is not incidental; it's full of big firemen.
Thus, I was a bit surprised when my friend Christine ordered a "vodka and orange juice." I looked at her, attempting to scrape my jaw off of the floor, and asked her if that wasn't the drink known to mankind as a Screwdriver.
"Yeah," she said, with her best Long Island attitude, "but do you know how hard it is to find someone who knows what the hell you want if you ask for a screwdriver?"
I am. In fact, I recounted the incident that spawned the birth of this blog nearly five years ago. I am now contemplating the development of a new scientific theorem: the Inverse Relationship between Fashion and Cocktails. My theorem will be based upon observations gleaned primarily from public establishments, but also from private entertainment.
Case #1. The Firehouse--see above. Further, Kelly's Bar in East Baltimore; also the Quest in East Baltimore. In all of these establishments, I am a well-known fixture. None of them are considered fashionable; nor are they in stylish parts of the city. However, I have been able to obtain Manhattans, Gin Rickeys, Bronxes and Old Fashioneds in all of the above.
Case #2. The Hotel Belvedere. This is one of Baltimore's most storied and hallowed locations, and after 104 years remains THE place to see and be seen. I am also reasonably well known here. It does have a signature Manhattan, which is nectar of the immortality-enabled. Yet, with the exception of Holly--one of the bar managers and a fine lady--most of the staff remains ignorant of many basic cocktails. One, a few months ago, didn't even know the difference between Bourbon and Scotch. Worse, though it is one of the premier boozing establishments in Maryland, there is no Rye on the bar.
Case #3. Private parties, take one. Now, mind you, I'm used to fraternity parties with a couple of hundred people in attendance. Mass quantities of beer are just fine but honestly, folks, I'm way over 21 now and as a career lush, I can't get drunk on beer anymore. I just fill up and feel bloated and annoyed. Beer is something to be consumed with dinner. Tasty, yes; inebriating, no. Yet, there are a bloody lot of people out there who believe that it's just fine to have twenty people over and serve nothing but beer. Crap, y'all, the war is over--splurge and get some whiskey and gin, too!
Case #4. Private parties, take two: Reservoir Hill. Last night, I went to a small dinner party over in Reservoir Hill. The hosts had it right (as they always do) and had bourbon, scotch and gin readily available, with wine for dinner. You see, a full bar isn't even necessary really: those three liquids take care of the cocktail needs for 90% of the population.
Case studies 1 and 4 involve bars in unfashionable areas and parties at the homes of older people. Studies 2 and 3 involve fashionable places and younger people. Thus, I suppose that if I were to fit this idea into the T-proofs that my high school Geometry teacher loved so well, the statement would be "Traditional environments spawn good drinks" and the proofs would lie in the case studies.
It's become common for random causes to have a retrofitted bus cruising the city for various purposes: the Neuter Scooter for pets, the MammoVan for...well, for boobs. I think I should find an old bus myself and establish a wheeled cocktail lounge. BoozCrooz could make the world safe for the well-mixed cocktail.
posted by Daniel | 1:30 AM
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