The Aging Bartender

When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Strawberry Campari

Sometimes the old tricks are the best ones, that’s why they’re old. They’ve been around the block. They’re tried and true. Call ’em all the names you want, but they last because they still work despite how decrepit they are. Hey, kind of like me. One of the big ones on the block is the

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  • When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Strawberry Campari

    Sometimes the old tricks are the best ones, that’s why they’re old. They’ve been around the block. They’re tried and true. Call ’em all the names you want, but they last because they still work despite how decrepit they are. Hey, kind of like me. One of the big ones on the block is the…

  • Restaurant Review: Maple Block Meat Co.

    We traipse along in our mundane, but necessary, routines and every so often there’s a glimpse of sunshine in the form of a loved one’s smile, the simplicity of a child’s innocent love, or surprising and delicious morsels of food. The latter occurred last night. A moment of bliss in the early evening. After a…

  • Death of a Cocktail

    Adios, El Negroni. You were good. Yes, there comes a time when the old death shroud must be pulled over the big favorites. This was a forced demise, which for better or worse, pushes me to have to come up with new shit. I’ve thought about this for a little while now. We’ve got the…

  • New Cocktail: Schnucki Putzi

    Schnuckiputzi, our first $100 cocktail is going to the top of the seasonal menu today. I’ll admit, it took more technical know how than I had at my disposal. We sought out only the world’s finest for this one. Three consultants: Nico DeSoto, Jillian Vose, and the magnificent Phil Ward. They owed us a favor…

  • The Florida Stint: Part Seven

    Continued from Part Six. My time at B. Merrel’s was limited, temporary. I knew that walking in. Minimum wage at the time was $5.15 an hour. After a month or so, I began looking for better opportunities. After scanning the local newspaper, The Tallahassee Democrat, I found something a little closer to my wheelhouse, a…

  • The Florida Stint: Part Six

    Continued from Part Five. The wing shack, B. Merrel’s, was run by this guy named Marv, a short, jacked older white guy with a crazy jagged scar across his forehead and a lazy eye. Maybe the two were related, maybe not. After the interview we shook hands and he took me through the kitchen to…

  • The Florida Stint: Part Five

    Continued from Part Four. After a few drunken days with the boys in Maryland, I said my silent goodbyes (they were asleep) and drove to Tallahassee in one big go, about 14 or 15 hours of straight driving. The old gold Golf held true. Route I-95 the whole way until Jacksonville, then a big right…

  • Restaurant Review: Taste of Tehran

    Until I wrote this blog post, I had no idea what Persian meant. I always thought it was a blanket term for anyone from that part of the world. Nope. The word describes the ethnic group of people and their language who come from ancient or modern Iran. That’s all. I drive through this section…

  • The Florida Stint: Part Four

    Continued from Part Three. Yeti emerged from his slumber around noon, disheveled and confused. A mass of man, chin, and fur. “When did you get here?” He said. “You let me in.” “Oh.” The first floor apartment was small and dim. I sat up in the wan light and pushed aside space for my feet.…

  • The Florida Stint: Part Three

    Continued from Part Two. The next blizzard started as soon as I hit Western Massachusetts. This one was a complete whiteout. Big, dry walls of snowflakes opposite from the heavy, wet, slick dump that occurred in Northern Vermont two days previous. The throttle on the old Golf held true and didn’t stick, although it was…

  • New Cocktail: End Zone

    It’s not going on the menu (no seasonal ingredients) but it was approved by the J&L duo last night. Sort of just came to me after getting pounded mercilessly in the well for four hours straight. It was National Cocktail Day yesterday. Not sure what that means. I wanted to call this the widowmaker but…

  • The Florida Stint: Part Two

    Continued from Part One. I woke and went to the mechanic early to get a jump on the day, eager to get some miles behind me. Ah, there she was in the parking lot. My magnificent steed! The little trusty gold five speed VW Golf. A triumph of German engineering from the late eighties. Dull…