I’m on leave for six weeks and in my absence, the young squire of the Rustic Bar Program, Angel, has taken over. To be honest, I find it amazing he’s so good at what he does at his age, my first bartending gig was at the age of 31 and I didn’t know shit from shinola as the old saying goes. He’s younger than that and knows more than I do, I’ve just got more tricks up my sleeve. It’s a bit like that old adage where the daddy bull and the young bull stand on a hilltop looking down at a group of cows and the young bull says, “Hey dad, let’s run down there and fuck one of those cows,” and the daddy bull looks at his son and says, “Let’s walk down there and fuck them all.” Crude yes, but applicable in all sorts of situations. I guess the PG version would be about square dancing.

When Angel came up with this one, I asked him what the deal was with the odd moniker. It might be the first name he’s come up with for one of his cocktails. He usually just tells me “Whatever” when I ask him what he wants to call his newest creation, so this is another new angle for him. “It just sounded good,” he said. All right, his call. It makes me curious and has a good ring to it. Reminds me of those guys who run onto the field during games and then get absolutely smashed by the rent a cop security guards who are just looking to pulverize some idiot who comes down onto the field. It’s a bonus when they’re naked. Most times it’s also the most entertaining part about the game itself. Sorry sports fans, but most of the time playing sports = fun, watching them = lame.

Ballpark Hero

2 oz. Gin

.75 oz. Oro Blanco Sherbet

.5 oz. Fresh Lime Juice

.25 oz. Campari

.25 oz. Lacto Raz Syrup

.25 oz. Fresh Lemon Juice

.25 oz. Fresh Grapefruit Juice

2 Dashes Peychaud’s

Shake, strain over BFR.

The Lacto Raz Syrup is born to be with Campari. It’s salty and overpowers anything else for the most part. It’s well known in the culinary arena that you add salt to temper bitterness (broccoli rabe anyone?).