What’s Tony Drinking? Hitting the Road for Cocktail Crawls and Vintage Sips in Stunning Settings
24 Hours (and almost as many cocktails) in Providence
It was one of the odder invites I’d ever gotten — how would I like to do an overnighter in Providence, Rhode Island and experience their fine assortment of speakeasies and craft cocktail bars? I mean, I guess at this point every city has a speakeasy/cocktail scene, but I had no idea that Providence’s stood out, if in fact it did. But it’s a nice Amtrak ride from NYC, I’d never been, and it sounded fun. So I said yes please and thank you. 24 hours, it turns out, wasn’t nearly enough time to hit every cool looking place in town, but I can confirm that the food and drink there are pretty spectacular.
The night — and next morning — are a bit of a blur in retrospect, but places that stood out include the Dean Bar, located in the basement of the retro-hip (or is it hipster-retro?) Dean Hotel. The cocktail menu was created by Michael Silva of BĀSPVD, who sampled us on a couple of spectacular drinks, including the Mango Caipirinha, with mezcal and Tropicana Grog (aka grogue) rum from Cabo Verde, where his parents are from. The bar itself is beautiful — dark and mysterious and small and hidden away. The hit of the night was Marcelino’s Boutique Bar, which looked like a generic Italian restaurant from the outside but is in fact a jaw-dropping bar/resto co-owned by Marcelino Abou-Ali, a witty and convivial Lebanese expat whose goal is to create a bar worthy of the 50 Best Bars accolade. If you ask me, he’s already pretty close. It’s a gorgeous room with beautiful, creative, and slightly off-the-wall cocktails that are complex without tasting fussy, like the one with fat-washed, baklava-spiced Monkey Shoulder blended Scotch, and another one with watermelon and bergamot whose specs I can’t remember because, hey, it was our fifth bar of the night… I think. But I’m ready to hop on an Amtrak just to try some more of the menu, as well as the food, which looked delish but we were too full to eat.
The next morning, we staggered over to the Industrious Spirit Company, Providence’s only currently-active distillery (I think — let me know if I’m wrong) and, you guessed it, the city’s first since Prohibition. Located on the site of a former industrial mill, ISCO has been in business since 2016, and makes some damn fine spirits, including one of the more delicious gins I’ve had recently (also available in bourbon barrel-finished form) and Ostreida, a vodka that’s distilled with fresh, unshucked local oysters (they do open up during the process). It’s not a gimmick, or rather, if it is a gimmick, it’s still a beautiful finished product, with salinity, minerality, and a hint of brine, straight from the source. They also do a limited edition bourbon distilled entirely from blue corn. Even at a tender age of less than two years, it’s good stuff, but I can’t wait to try it once it’s had a chance to hang out in the barrel a while longer.
Glenmardbegie? Ardmorangie?
Soft, sweet Speysider Glenmorangie and big, smoky, peaty Ardbeg from Islay could hardly be more different, single malt-wise, but they’re both overseen by the same man, the legendary mad scientist of Scotch whisky, Dr. Bill Lumsden. And they’re both repped by legendary Global Brand Ambassador David Blackmore. So when you taste one, odds are you’re going to taste both. Which I and some of my favorite boozehounds did, on successive nights. First up was Glenmo’s 1998 Grand Vintage Malt, aged in ex-bourbon, Oloroso sherry, and — wait for it — virgin charred oak. That virgin oak gave it powerful vanilla and spicy notes, which were tempered by sweet, fruity hints of mango, orange, and papaya. We also got to try their 26 year old Truffle Oak Reserve, which is “finished,” if you can call it that, for 16 years in oak from Germany’s fabled Black Forest. Bottled at a powerful 55.7% ABV, it’s dry, earthy, and oaky, but with a lot of fruitiness too, led by concentrated raspberry and peach notes (yes, it’s a little like a Peach Melba). The 1998 is on swankier shelves now; the Truffle Oak Reserve is said to be pretty hard to find, but if you’ve got the loot, it’s certainly worth it.
Ardbeg took center stage the next night, with the star of the show being of the 19 year old Traigh Bahn, Batch 4 expression, named for and inspired the local beach near Ardbeg’s Islay distillery (if you know Islay, you know to take the word “beach” with a grain of salt). I haven’t tried Batches 1-3, but Number 4 is pretty terrific — kind of a melange of several different Ardbeg expressions. Round, a little sweet, full-bodied, a touch fruity, and of course smoky and peaty, but in a restrained, balanced way. Would I drink it again? Absolutely. Will it sell out before I get the chance? I hope not.
Hard Sell? Not Hardly
When you have a tasting of a bunch of rare and expensive tequilas, hosted by an establishment that sells said tequilas, you figure you’re going to be told how excellent they all are, right? Not in the case of The Ultimate Tequila Dinner, hosted by Ethan Kelley of NYC’s famed Acker Wines. Over a scrumptious and gut-busting dinner at Cosmé, one of the finest Mexican restaurants and New York and, hell, the whole world, we sampled ten tequilas, of all ages and styles, including some high-profile but decidedly lackluster brands like Michael Jordan’s Cincoro, which tasted to us like treated sugar water, and Elon Musk’s own Tesla Tequila (not to be confused with adult film star Tila Tequila), whose bottle was far more interesting than the liquid inside. Ethan’s message was that expensive doesn’t necessarily equal good, to which I say BRAVO, man. The second half of the meal was when we tasted the really good stuff, like Fuenteseca’s 15 year old (!) extra (extra-extra) añejo, Siembra Valles’ Ancestral blanco, a wild, smoky and citric beast that straddled the worlds of tequila and mezcal; and not one but two Clase Azuls, one of which was their new and sought-after Dia de los Muertos expression. I stayed far later and ate and drank far more than I’d intended, but it was totally worth feeling sluggish and bloated the next morning.
Whisky by Day, Whisk(e)y by Night
For drinks writers, Labor Day through Christmas means nonstop events, parties, tastings, boozy “experiences,” bottles sent in the mail… and I for one am not complaining. But one’s liver does tend to get pulled in multiple directions at once, and daytime events followed immediately by nighttime soirees become a regular occurrence. Such was the case one Wednesday not long ago, when, right after breakfast, I got a lift out to New Canaan, CT in a new 2023 Aston Martin SUV so I could drink a $75,000 Bowmore single malt and eat steak in famed architect Philip Johnson’s Glass House. You see, Bowmore and Aston Martin have joined forces to bottle some incredible whiskies (Bowmore’s) in opulent and innovative packages (Aston Martin’s). As long as it’s not the other way around, I have no problem with it. And in this case the whisky, distilled in 1968 and aged for 52 years in American and European oak, is beyond incredible into the stratosphere of “oh my gosh [faints].” Bowmore is an Islay distillery, but the peaty smokiness of its whiskies is more subtle compared to behemoths like Octomore or Laphroaig. Their 1960s whiskies, the last of which have been getting bottled for the last several years, are astonishing, with wisps of smoke and salty sea air mingling with intense fruitiness. The 1966, which I’ve described as “grilled pineapples on the beach by a campfire at sunset,” may be the best single malt I’ve ever had. The ARC 52, as this one is pithily known, has that same vibe, only replace the pineapple with pear, along with hints of apricot. Its bottle, which looks a little like a helmet worn by someone in one of the early Star Wars movies, is a work of art in its own right. Anyone have $75 grand to spare?
Too Much Steak and Whiskey is Never Enough
Once I got dropped off at home (in the Aston Martin again — not that I know anything about cars, but this was a pretty nifty one), I had an hour or so to get ready for event #2. The evening festivities were hosted The Last Drop Distillers, who were debuting their latest bottling at the Polo Bar… where I ate another steak. How I still fit into my clothes at the end of the night I know not. At least I was able to burn a few calories by walking over — no Aston Martin this time.
The Last Drop started out in 2008 as industry veterans seeking out ultra-rare casks of whisky and cognac, packaging them impeccably, and selling them for a pretty fair chunk of change. As of late, however, under the leadership of the brilliant Rebecca Jago, they’ve expanded their reach to other spirits, and are also creating their own blends. The latest is a melange of American whiskeys created by master blender Drew Mayville of Buffalo Trace fame, using special batches that he’d squirreled away over the years to use on a project… well, like this one. It’s a damn near perfect combo of vanilla, dark fruit (love that dried fig), caramel, honey, and peppery spice both from the rye in the blend and the oak. And compared to what I drank earlier, it’s a relative bargain at $3,000 and change. We also got to sample one of TLD’s earlier releases, a pair of beautiful tawny ports made by the same family, 100 years apart (1870 and 1970). We got to enjoy the company of the always-delightful Rebecca Jago. And, eventually, we got to go home and go to bed, for which I was very grateful.