What’s Tony Drinking? African Gin & the Best Gibson, to Tropical Banana & Pineapple Tipples
Whip it Good
Whatever room the legendary Brother Cleve is spotted in, he’s usually the coolest guy there. He’s made a name for himself over the last few decades both as a musician (most notably as a member of the swingin’ ‘90s combo Combustible Edison) and as one of the forefathers of the Boston cocktail scene, with a specialty in tiki/tropical drinks. And I’m not even gonna get into his vast and impossibly cool record collection. The man was playing punk rock and drinking Manhattans long before most of today’s cocktail hipsters were but a gleam in their pappies’ eyes. That includes Harrison Snow and Jake Hodas, the baby-faced owners of Lullaby, which opened in March on New York’s Lower East Side at the former site of dearly departed bars including Nitecap and 151. Improbably, Snow and Hodas corralled Brother Cleve to partner with them — it’s his long-awaited and long-overdue NYC debut. He’ll be DJ-ing and slinging drinks on a regular basis while Snow and Hodas do the day-to-day stuff. I tried several drinks at the opening, but the highlight was the latest “it” drink in town, the Dole Whip. Yes, it’s quite similar to the one you’ll find at Disney World, but rather than simply spike it with vodka, they use Smith & Cross overproof Jamaican pot still rum, which adds a whole lot of delightful funk to the flavor. It’s a must-try. The other drinks were good too, but I must confess I was so starstruck hanging out with Brother Cleve that I wasn’t really paying attention. I’ll have to go back and revisit. And for all you tiki fans out there, the great Brian Miller (of The Polynesian fame) has been spotted behind the bar doing his thing. An embarrassment of riches!
A Mean, Mean Man & His Very Nice New Gin
Guy Brennan recently swept into town from Kenya with, from what I could tell, two missions — to spread the word about his new gin, Procera, and to obliterate the livers of some of New York’s finest booze writers. I was among the victims, spending a couple of hours one recent Saturday afternoon drinking way too many Procera-based cocktails at the legendary Bemelmans Bar in the Carlyle Hotel. One potent Bemelmans martini is pretty much my limit, but Guy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and the gin was delicious. It’s made with fresh, locally sourced juniper berries (along with other African botanicals) rather than the dried ones that are used in virtually every other gin. The result? The piney scent and flavor you’ll find in a typical London Dry is noticeably toned down, replaced by mellow, earthy, slightly savory notes. It’s delicious, and the fact that it’s on the menu at Bemelmans is proof enough that this is a serious gin contender. My memories of what happened post-martini are pretty hazy. I did make it home in one piece, though I don’t remember telling my daughter that Mr. Brennan is “a mean, mean man” before settling in for a late-afternoon nap — she refreshed my memory the next day. Procera may be tough to find even if your local liquor store carries it, because there’s no name on the wide, squat bottle, just a blue dot. If you spy it, by all means give it a try, but please, do so in moderation.
Gibsons, Not Gimlets
I joined my wife for a much more sedate gin-drinking experience at the venerable Dear Irving, which she’d inexplicably never visited. It had been a while for me too, I must confess, though I’ve hit Dear Irving On Hudson, its scenic Times Square younger sibling, more recently. But it was great to be back at the original — located, of course, on Irving Place in Manhattan. The missus has been on a Gibson kick lately, although for some reason she often slips and mistakenly asks for a gimlet when we’re out at a bar. Fortunately, she enjoys gimlets as well, but when you’re expecting a martini with pearl onions and you get gin with sweetened lime juice, it can be a bit disappointing. Anyway, I’ve been telling her literally for years that she needs to try the best Gibson in New York, which Dear Irving has laid claim to since it opened in 2014. My failure to take her until now was a black mark on my spousal record, but hey, better late than never.
Dear Irving’s Gibson, with Tanqueray No. Ten gin, Carpano Bianco vermouth, and large and insanely delicious housemade pickled onions, was a little on the sweet side for Mrs. Sachs, who claims to actually prefer the ones I make at home with Beefeater, Dolin Dry, and Tipsy Onions out of a jar. I’m flattered, and I don’t want to contradict her, but I’m sorry, Dear Irving’s Gibson is still the standard by which all other Gibsons must be judged. At least in this town.
Martinis and Clam Sandwiches in the Subway
Speaking of my wife… she refuses to go to the Grand Central Oyster Bar in bustling Grand Central Station because, and I quote, “I don’t want to eat in the subway.” Now, just because it’s located in an enormous complex that happens to have a subway station does not mean you eat your oyster stew on the tracks in between the 7 trains roaring by. But I respect her sentiments, misguided though they may be, and try to hit the Oyster Bar with other folks instead. Such as What’s Tony Drinking? stalwart Philip Duff, who came over to sample me on some top-secret, super-classified hooch whose identity I shall not reveal… at least for a little while. After that we tried Hercules Mulligan, the new fancy-shmancy bottled cocktail that’s a rum-rye mix, along with ginger and bitters. Bottled at 43% ABV — more a sipping spirit strength — it’s quite delicious, even in the opinion of this snob who almost never does the ready-to-drink thing. Just add ice and you’re good to go. And after that easy-peasy libation, go we did, to lunch at The Saloon, a room off the Oyster Bar proper with a more relaxed and more sophisticated vibe than the cavernous main room. If sitting at the bar watching cocktails being prepared rather than oysters being shucked is your vibe, then the Saloon is your spot.
Plymouth martini at the Saloon in the Oyster Bar
One Plymouth gin martini and fried Ipswich clam sandwich later, I was ready to face the rest of the day… after a quick nap, of course.
Going Bananas For “Whisquiris”
When I’m not out drinking these days, I’m giving my bottle of Giffard Banane du Bresil banana liqueur a workout, making banana daiquiri variations inspired by — one might even say stolen from — my friend Justin Lavenue, who owns the Roosevelt Room in Austin. He hipped me to making the daiquiris with various whiskies instead of rum, and while I’m a huge rum fan, I can’t get enough of these, um, whisquiris. A light, mellow Japanese whisky works very well, but I started making them with Irish whiskey for St. Patrick’s Day, and I haven’t really stopped since. They’re easy to make, too — 2 oz. whiskey, .75 oz. banana liqueur, 1 oz. fresh-squeezed lime juice, .25 oz. simple syrup, though I like to do a simple syrup/falernum combo, to give it a little more, I don’t know, pizazz. Shake well with ice, strain into a coupe, and you’re good to go. Elegant, tasty as hell, and nobody will know how little work it took. Does it work with all kinds of whisk(e)y? There’s only one way to find out, so hop to it and report back.