The Uncle Pat
2 oz flat beer through rusty pipes
0.5 oz grenadine
Carve a dollar sign into rind of half a lime and garnish
Served on the rocks in double old-fashioned glass.
Beer prepared by leaving out two ounces of lowest grade beer at hand (Corona) to go flat for an hour, metallic taste aided by the addition of four pennies (which hopefully also contributed the kind of gunk that doubtless clings to every inch of Pat's Tavern). Ice added first, grenadine glopped on top, which immediately sunk to bottom. Lime was initially halved, then carved into with dollar sign, then squeezed to completion (juice discarded), finally put in an toaster oven for a few minutes. Nothing was stirred.
The nose reeked of potcheen's weird melon-like funk. The first sip stung with sour and intense potcheen kick, evoking spoiled dairy and antiseptic, mellowed with the stale beer's texture of a stagnant creek. It's the kind of drink a Pat's Cavern patron would love, the punishing sort of drink that makes you feel that you *earned* your insobriety, and keeps you safe from the troubling notion that you may for a moment ever enjoy your life. The grenadine only comes into play late in the drink. At this point, all you have is the remainder of the ice, an overlarge lime rind, and the grenadine you never wanted in the first place. You indifferently try to sip it for a while, but eventually dump it out.
From rusty pipes come terrible drinks. Potcheen should not be in anything. The Uncle Pat is bad.
Big Apple Interview
0.5 oz apple juice
2 oz seltzer
Stir, serve up in oversized cocktail glass.
Garnish with atomic fireball candy, sliced if possible.
For the record, it is *not* possible to slice atomic fireball candy.
In capturing the airy lustrousness of the gray Manhattan interview rooms, Stoli was selected, which seemed to be adequately '80s glitzy. As someone who does not like vodka cocktails and does not like apple juice, it's uncanny how *good* this is―almost certainly the best drink of its kind. Both the apple juice and pernod swim faintly against the big nothingness of vodka and seltzer; strong flavors in small quantities, it gives you the impression of a noisy street-level hubbub wafting 30 floors up, at the threshold of audibility. (The apple in particular gives the drink a certain honest bulkiness.) As you make you way through, the outer layer of the atomic fireball dissolves, lending an unsubtle satire of the cutthroat business world: stick around long enough and you're ankle-deep in blood.
I don't like vodka cocktails much but this one was OK. More subtle than expected. For best results let it sit a day until the Atomic Fireball fully dissolves.
1 oz Kahlua
1 oz ouzo
1 oz creme de cacao, perfect (half white half dark)
2 oz heavy cream
First lay Twizzler, soaked in Vodka in cocktail glass.
Shake all ingredients to mix, and strain into glass.
Garnish with maraschino cherry. Also garnish with sprinkles.
In designing the perfect TGI Fridays-style cocktail, it's important to balance two necessary subcomponents: the actual cocktail itself (comprising the essential substance of the drink) and the corporate-mandated elements (comprising gimmick, spectacle, and profit). Let's quickly dispense with the former concern: the Ding-A-Ling is a solid cocktail. The hazy licorice smell initially pervades, eventually subsiding into soft cream, then souring subtly into shades of harsh coffee and sweet. Essentially a White Russian with tuned-down base spirit and tuned-up cacao and anise, the Ding-A-Ling is a can't miss sort of concoction that we knocked out of the park. Soft and spicy, rich and mysterious, I can recommend it without reservation.
Technically, the drink is something of a mess, for several reasons. Sprinkles: the sort of can't-miss gimmick that one would see everywhere in the T.G.I.sphere if they worked. They do not. For each sprinkle that successfully rests atop the cream, ten or twenty sink immediately. Sprinkles do not demonstrably add to the presentation of the drink, and they do not demonstrably add to the flavor. The gimmick with the vodka-soaked Twizzler is not worth the awkward process of the soak, and Twizzler-balancing within the cocktail glass without it buckling and collapsing into the center was an impossibility. Finally, the cherry sank like a stone, not to be seen again; simply wasted. A fair amount of work was done trying to balance the cherry against the Twizzler, but it's not doable in a reasonable amount of time, certainly not the amount of time available to a harried Friday's bartender. Upon finishing the drink, the customer is left with an unappetizing layer of gunk.
With a proper R&D budget, TGI Fridays may be able to design a proper glass to allow the ambitious vision of the Ding-A-Ling to function as intended.
At first, cream. Fluffy, creamy coffee cream. Then a brutal awakening — the violent intrusion of licorice brought by an unfortunate quantity of Ouzo.
It's fair to say there's balance here.
Pour into oversize snifter.
Garnish with orange and black sprinkles.
There's no way to happily attend the funeral of Tom Cruise, but at least one can sip the proper cocktail while weeping. This drink shares some similarities to drinking "Remy Martin, neat", with several key departures:
1) There are sprinkles floating in it
2) The glass is very big
The sprinkles, somewhat surprisingly, blossom with great majesty into an inky cloud within seconds. Not only contributing to the atmosphere of mourning, this also adds to the taste of the spicy rich deep bloomy cognac, adding a note of sour. Also, the sprinkles are chewy.
The large glass helps direct everything directly to the nose and face, targeting the mulchy spiciness into the sinuses and also presenting a miniature comfortable world to fall into, as one stares into the bottom of the very large snifter. Other see you as carrying a deep and somber reminder of loss, while you discover a deep and rich world to escape into.
Alas, Finnegan, ye shall be missed. Rémy Martin is enjoyable. Even moreso with spooky sprinkles. The large snifter really impresses upon you the alcoholic aroma of the drink. A modest effort here.
Silicon Valley Dirty Lyle
1 oz Everclear
Pour into in a pint glass. Serve lukewarm.
Yuppie Behind Bars
0.5 oz Blue Curaçao
0.5 oz Midori
0.5 oz Peach Schnapps
0.5 Rose's Lime
Shake with crushed ice, pour into tall glass.
Garnish with 5 rose petals and a faux Morning Glory.
A pretty drink for pretty yuppies; it wows upon first glance with its emerald tones and partially-plastic bouquet. Though one knows that the content will prove false―precisely the point with such a yuppie gimmick―it impresses at first, coming in smooth with clean neon edges. But as per the yuppie lifestyle, as soon as you commit to it, the harshness is upon you. Cough syrup bright, wave after aqua wave of a Sharkleberry Finn immediacy, it's really too much to stand, too ersatz to consume quickly, and quite overbearingly loud. One is quickly convinced to renounce yuppieism and plan the jailbreak. Late, late in the drink, long after reckoning and regret, the actual taste emerges: copper and grain.
This drink is a feast for the eyes, if not always the tongue. It has three phases:
1) An initial rise of tempered sweetness, not unintriguing
2) An overwhelming spike of sickening syrup
3) A mellowing out into a slightly bitter finish
The evolution of it over these phases is interesting and worth experiencing. While phase 2 does undercut the overall appeal of the drink, I found phase 1 and 3 to be pretty palatable. The peach schnapps shines throughout, making the drink a lot more approachable than it would be otherwise.
Visually, the drink is absolutely stunning.
1.0 oz lemon juice
0.25 oz grenadine
In a clear mug, add ingredients and boiling water. Add two cubes of
Garnish with cinnamon stick.
The Kokomo Brochure
juice from 1.0 whole orange
0.5 oz Cointreau
0.5 oz Grand Marnier
0.5 oz Licor 43
Orangina to fill
Shake everything but Orangina with ice. Finely filter into zombie
glass half-full with crushed ice. Fill with Orangina.
Purgatory Happy Hour
1.0 oz Donut Vodka
0.5 oz Lagavulin
0.75 oz Rose's Lime
0.5 oz Midori
0.25 oz Simple Syrup
Shake with crushed ice, pour into double old-fashioned glass.
Fight on the Beach
Fresh Ground Pepper (to taste)
2.5 oz Diet 7-Up
1.0 oz Good Gin
0.75 oz Dry Vermouth
Pour into large glass with ice. Garnish with a cocktail onion (if you
support Shue in the fight) or a lengthwise-quartered pickle (if you
support Brian Flanagan).