May 30, 2014

Shanghai Social Club

May 30, 2014

[Note: Shanghai Social Club has closed its doors, at least for the time being. I understand they'll reopen next year, with the same management but a "new concept."] Taking the Green Line to Allston from downtown Boston during afternoon rush hour is an exercise that would test the patience of a saint. The jerky motion and countless stops and starts can make a ride on the B branch feel like an ill-advised sailing trip on rocky seas. And that’s to say nothing of the uncomfortably close quarters – nearly 220,000 commuters squeeze into the trolleys every day, making the Green Line the busiest mode of public transportation in Boston. It can get worse, too – if the Red Sox are in town, the game-day crowd will increase your troubles tenfold.

Disembarking at the intersection of Harvard and Commonwealth would seem like a relief, but even that is not without its frustrations. Exiting the T into the gritty, densely populated neighborhood of Allston means navigating sidewalks crammed with pedestrians and streets gridlocked with cars, buses, and cabs. A perpetually busy neighborhood known for its large student population and concentration of bars and restaurants, Allston is not without its charms. But if you’re seeking a quiet refuge, it’s probably not at the top of your list.

And that’s the first thing that makes Shanghai Social Club so very un-Allston-like. Even before you peruse the impressive drink list, the first thing you notice is the absence of chaos.

“We’re the hidden gem of Allston,” general manager Farish Jenkins proudly declares. “You step out of all that and into a different realm.”

A different realm indeed. While modeling itself after “the social clubs and bars of the Bund area of Shanghai,” the calm, dimly lit setting of Shanghai Social Club fuses disparate elements from multiple eras of Asian history and culture, all filtered through an American lens that is at once kitschy and sincere. The walls are plastered with images of Chinese newspapers and vintage communist propaganda posters.

Birdcages and statuettes appear to be straight out of a Chinese street market. Candles and hanging red lanterns cast a soft glow on the Buddha statues of varying sizes that reside throughout the restaurant.

The space is surprisingly large, but smartly compartmentalized into four dining rooms, each of which feels cozy and distinct.

In the main room, a long, marble-topped bar is surrounded by about 15 chairs, while a few long tables round out the bar area.

And in the center of it all, a comfortable lounge evokes the shadowy atmosphere of an Old Shanghai opium den, with leather sofas and soft throw pillows. No one’s chasing the dragon here (presumably), but it’s perfect for conversation over potent drinks.

And there are plenty of those. Shanghai Social Club’s cocktail menu pays homage to old-school tiki styles while offering a few inventive house cocktails that stand up to the classics. And whereas so many Chinese restaurants offer a colorful array of cloyingly sweet Polynesian libations, Shanghai aims for substance and authenticity. “That’s the 1940s Trader Vic’s recipe,” Farish says of the Mai Tai.

Made with Flor de Cana Grand Reserve rum, Rhum Barbancourt, Cointreau, orgeat syrup, and lime juice, this traditional interpretation is refreshingly dry and not loaded with sugary fillers.

It’s a philosophy that informs the entire cocktail list. “All our juices are freshly made,” Farish tells me. “The only juice I have behind the bar that isn’t freshly squeezed is cranberry. We have a quality product in all our drinks.”

Like the Mai Tai, the Zombie stays true to its roots. Made with Appleton Estate Reserve rum, Brugal Extra Dry rum, orange curacao, lemon juice, grenadine, and a touch of Pernod, it’s a boozy, full-bodied cocktail with an unexpected dryness.

Sweeter and smoother, but still potent, is the Painkiller. This faithful rendering of a tropical classic combines Pusser’s Navy Rum, pineapple juice, orange juice, coconut cream, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

Shanghai’s adherence to traditional recipes for its tiki drinks is refreshing, but not restrictive. The traditional Mai Tai is joined by three colorful variations – blue, white, and orange. Each offers a subtle twist on the classic, like the coconut rum and blue curacao in the Blue Mai Tai.

Bu there’s more to the drink list than rum and Caribbean syrups. Mixing tiki influence with some Mexican inspiration, the smoky Mayahuel combines mezcal, Kahlua, orgeat syrup, and pineapple juice. The mezcal is prominent in this smoke-forward drink, but a rich, back-end sweetness makes for a smooth, complex cocktail.

Foo Dogs Barking (ordered, ironically, by my friend Kat) combines Bulleit bourbon with lime juice, falernum, and Angostura bitters.

The Mano Negra is tart, with a prominent, well-rounded spiciness. Made with aged rum, lemon, falernum, and passion fruit syrup, what puts this one over the top is Aphrodite bitters, which add notes of chocolate, red chili, and ginger.

Now there’s plenty of history and debate behind the origins of tiki drinks and how they became mainstays of American Chinese restaurants. But when it comes to cuisine, we all know there’s little room for argument – a veritable gulf exists between Americanized Chinese food and actual Chinese food. From ingredients to seasonings to presentation, most American Chinese restaurants serve food that bears little resemblance to genuine Chinese dishes. And most of us are totally fine with that – “classics” like beef with broccoli and General Gau’s chicken may not have originated in China, but who would pass up the tastiest and guiltiest of culinary pleasures in the name of authenticity?

Not I, and certainly not Shanghai Social Club. Shanghai unapologetically embraces a menu of Americanized Chinese food, including its epic centerpiece – the pu pu platter. Emanating from the fiery pot in the center of the platter are all the staples: crispy egg rolls with a peppery kick, chicken wings that pack a spicy punch, teriyaki beef, boneless and bone-in spare ribs. In terms of variety and quality, it’s pretty average; but like any pu pu platter, it sure hits the spot.

Such dishes may have little in common with traditional Chinese cooking, but Shanghai manages to elevate even the most Americanized of faux-Asian delights. The crab rangoons are made with real crab and – unlike the standard variety – contain more crab than cream cheese. And an insistence on using fresh ingredients gives all of Shanghai’s dishes a unique touch. “We make our own Sriracha sauce,” Farish tells me, adding that “we only call it ‘Sriracha’ so people will know what it’s like. It’s freshly made daily.” The same goes for their sweet, thick duck sauce, which accompanies a bowl of crunchy wonton strips.

What’s more, not all of the Chinese dishes on Shanghai’s menu would prompt an eye roll from an actual Chinese person. There’s a selection of steaming noodle bowls that seem closer to the real thing. The firecracker short ribs option is served in a piping hot broth, with rich, thick noodles and fork-tender meat. Given the incendiary title, I was anticipating something overly spicy; instead the heat is well balanced and not overpowering. The partially cooked egg resting atop the noodles was a surprise, but the bartender, Nicole, instructed me to stir it in, explaining that the heat of the broth would finish cooking the egg and thicken the broth.

I don’t know where steamed buns fall on the spectrum of Chinese authenticity, but they’re truly the highlight of Shanghai Social Club’s menu. Three soft, doughy buns are filled with your choice of meat; Nicole recommended the hoisin scallion duck. Phenomenal.

Of course, no evening of drinks at a Chinese restaurant would be complete without ordering the most conspicuous and quintessential of Polynesian libations – the Scorpion Bowl. There’s always something special about getting this communal cocktail. When you agree to share a Scorpion Bowl with someone, you’re making an unspoken pact – Yes, we’re getting drunk tonight. Of course, you’re also committing to a wretched case of gut rot. Most Scorpion Bowls do pack a boozy punch, but the abundance of sugary mixers will surely come back to haunt you.

But again, Shanghai surprises. For starters, the ingredients are simple: rum, brandy, orgeat syrup, and juices. And Shanghai’s freshly squeezed juices mean the Scorpion Bowl isn’t cloyingly sweet, and you can appreciate the natural flavors of the fruits and spirits. It’s still served in the customary ceramic volcano bowl, though, with a flaming shot of Bacardi 151 in the center. “You can let it burn off, or just blow it out and drink it,” Nicole told us.

I’m sure you can guess which option we chose.

Last Call

For decades, 1277 Commonwealth Ave was occupied by Our House. Divey, humble, quirky, and oddly lovable, Our House was the very definition of an Allston bar. Cheap beer, threadbare couches, and a selection of faded board games made it feel as much like a college student’s living room as it did a bar.

With its purposeful design and peaceful aura, Shanghai Social Club could not be more unlike its beloved former tenant.

And the bar’s cocktail program stands in sharp relief to the many beer-heavy bars that still populate Allston. Ranging from $9 to $11, the drinks are in line with most Boston prices but not out of the grasp of the student population. General manager Farish Jenkins tells me that many of the drinks were deliberately chosen to complement the food menu – no easy feat, given the many spices in Chinese cuisine (Americanized or not).

There’s still beer, of course. A few hearty local brews appear in the draft offerings, along with lighter fare that always works well with a pu pu platter and pork fried rice.

Farish even offers me a sample of a hard-to-find pineapple hard cider made by Ace, a California brewery. “It would have gone well with your soup,” he laments.

But beer aside, what distinguishes Shanghai Social Club from its neighborhood peers is its cocktail program. You can find cheap, imitation tiki drinks anywhere. But the real thing is even worth a ride on the Green Line.

Address: 1277 Commonwealth Avenue, Allston

Website: http://www.shanghaisocialclub.com/

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May 16, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Cinquecento

May 16, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

My experience of going out for Italian food in Boston typically runs something like this. Invariably, the setting is the North End; with a hundred or so Italian eateries crammed into a radius of less than half a square mile, that’s pretty much a given. A walk through the neighborhood’s narrow, bustling sidewalks is followed by dinner in a small, crowded restaurant with a menu not unlike that of every other restaurant in the area. There’s nearly always a bottle or two of robust Italian wine, but rarely cocktails. Maybe that’s because wine is such a traditional accompaniment to an Italian meal. Then again, some of those places don’t even have bars to sit at, let alone drink lists. That’s understandable – real estate is at a premium in the North End, and most eateries justifiably devote more space to their dining areas. Cinquecento refreshingly stands that model on its head.

For starters, it’s in the South End, not the North. Far from the tight confines of Boston’s oldest residential neighborhood, Cinquecento is blessed with plenty of space. (There’s even – gasp – a parking lot.) An illuminated staircase leads up to an expansive, thoughtfully arranged dining area.

There’s a mix of long, communal tables, ideal for groups, and smaller booths for a more intimate evening. Pillars throughout the dining room are decoratively lined with bottles of classic Italian aperitifs like Campari and Aperol.

Yet for all its contemporary accents, Cinquecento exudes a certain old-world charm. The rustic hardwood floors, exposed brick, and reclaimed ceiling beams project a sense of timelessness amid the fashionable modern style.

But Cinquecento’s bar area may be its most striking attribute.

The long, curvy bar is surrounded by about 20 seats. Its gorgeous surface, made from Italian marble, is lined with fresh ingredients and oversize Aperol bottles. Additional tables and booths reside beyond the bar, in front of tall picture windows.

It may be unusual to see a Boston Italian restaurant with such a prominent bar area, but it’s ideal for a place that endeavors to be not only an upscale eatery but a casual, neighborhood gathering spot. And if Italian restaurants in this city aren’t typically known for their bars, they certainly aren’t known for their cocktail menus. This might be what truly sets Cinquecento apart.

Now don’t worry – there’s plenty of wine here if you want it. Cinquecento’s extensive wine selection spans all manner of grapes, styles, and regions.

But with all due respect to vino, Cinquecento’s cocktail program is dynamic, original, and creative. The spirit of the mother country infuses the drink list, which makes liberal use of Italian liqueurs, mixers, and the fresh herbs that line the bar. There’s even a cocktail made with grappa, the most iconic and, some would say, least palatable of Italian liqueurs (I was dissuaded from ordering it by my friend Tania, who described it as “straight-up nasty pants”).

I opted for something more approachable.

“Pompelmo” is Italian for grapefruit, and this refreshingly sour Pompelmo cocktail combines grapefruit juice, tequila, rosemary, smashed cucumber, and sea salt. Softly herbal with a cool freshness from the cucumber, the tequila adds a distinctive bite.

The Whiskey Alla Moda is a bold drink with a mild sweetness, mixing Old Overholt rye with a house-made basil citrus syrup.

The Calientie Arancis is kind of like a grown-up margarita. Made with Lunazul tequila, spiced blood orange, Aperol, and smashed ginger, it’s a vibrant, fruity drink with a little kick to it. The Aperol balances out the flavors with a hint of bitterness.

As evidenced by the bottles stationed throughout the bar and restaurant, Aperol is a popular ingredient at Cinquecento, as is the similar aperitif Campari. The bitter Italian spirits factor into a number of the drinks, most notably the Negroni, a classic that originated in Florence in the early 20th centuryand has enjoyed a spectacular resurgence. Cinquecento even offers a Negroni “flight,” featuring the original Negroni and two variations.

This institutional fondness for the Negroni is something I probably should have accounted for when I asked the bartender, Phil, about the “Impazzire” option. Translating loosely to “go crazy,” this is your chance to simply rely on the bartender’s whims for a handcrafted cocktail. “How about a Negroni?” he quickly asked. Nanoseconds later he was already mixing the ingredients, leaving me no chance to politely explain that I’m not a huge fan of the immensely popular drink. But I’m glad I held my tongue. Phil put a couple of interesting twists on the classic – swapping out gin for bourbon and Campari for the less bitter Aperol. His bourbon Negroni was more in the neighborhood of a Manhattan, with a subtle orange essence from the Aperol.

Cinquecento’s dinner menu reflects that same sense of creativity and think-on-your-feet spontaneity. Led by chef Justin Winters, Cinquecento lives up to its name as a Roman “trattoria” – a restaurant focusing more on regional and local recipes than on mainstream Italian staples. In other words, it’s not as predictable as heaping portions of pasta smothered in red sauce and cheese. Among the entrées, Rigatoni Alla Norcia is made with fennel sausage and cognac cream, while a veal tenderloin is wrapped in prosciutto and served with cabbage fondue and marsala sauce.

My friend Tania and I stuck with the antipasti, and she suggested the Carciofi Alla Giudia. These fried baby artichokes, served with lemon and salsa verde, are crispy and delicious, but very garlicky. Ordering these bad boys is inadvisable if you’re on a date; better to share them with a friend (or if you need to ward off vampires).

And then, a special surprise! Executive sous chef Caleb brought us a house-made lardo, a dish he’d been trying out in the kitchen but that hasn’t made it onto the menu. Lardo, if you don’t know, is made from a layer of back fat from a pig, cured and seasoned with salt, herbs, and spices. Draped over baked bread and topped with fresh ramps and chilis, it made for a smoky, unusual, and tasty treat.

Now in the interest of full disclosure, Tania is engaged to chef Winters, so we probably got a little extra attention while we were there. I doubt the chefs typically emerge from the kitchen to share new recipes with random guests. Still, it’s kind of cool to know that they’re back there experimenting, coming up with new recipes based on the ingredients they have access to on a given day.

Now what goes best with back fat? Raw meat, obviously. So next up was the Carpaccio Carbonizatti. This phenomenal charred beef carpaccio is bursting with flavor, served with hazelnuts, parmigiano crema, and grilled bread. Perfetto!

We closed out with the evening’s antipasti special – pickled ramps and mushrooms served with a zucchini pesto. Now I’m no lover of mushrooms and wouldn’t have chosen this on my own. But for the second time that night, I was pleasantly surprised. The mushrooms absorbed the rich, earthy flavors of the zucchini pesto, and the ramps, or wild leeks, added an aromatic crispness.

When I returned a week later to round things out with another drink, I found Phil again working the bar. And while it was only my second visit to Cinquecento, I felt, oddly enough, like a regular. Phil didn’t even hand me a menu, and instead we talked about cocktails that would be suitable for that particular evening. “It’s nice out,” he noted. “Want something spring-y? Bourbon?” he asked. I readily agreed, and he proceeded to mix up an excellent drink that even caught the attention of a server passing by, who inquired as to its ingredients.

It’s a play on a Bourbon Smash,” Phil said of his elaborate drink, which combined bourbon, muddled mint, lime, Aperol (of course), and a touch of basil simple syrup, finished with a little soda and a mint leaf garnish. “The Aperol goes well with the mint,” he explained; it also brought a subtle undercurrent of bitterness to this fresh, aromatic cocktail, which was well suited to the warm, spring weather we were experiencing.

Last Call

It’s pronounced chin-kwe-CHEN-to. If that doesn’t roll off the tongue, you can call it by its English translation – 500, which also reflects the number of its Harrison Avenue address. That’s a fair distance from the city’s most famous concentration of Italian restaurants; but in terms of style, it’s about as far as you can get. I know it’s unfair to paint the entire North End with one broad stroke; there’s certainly some good Italian food and engaging dining experiences to be had there. But there’s a lot of similarity, too, and I always appreciate the chance to try something different.

Cinquecento’s cocktail program alone distinguishes it from its peers, but the improvisational spirit behind the bar begins in the kitchen. Chef Justin Winters and his team seek out seasonal ingredients for an inventive, eclectic menu imbued with a sense of authenticity not often found in Americanized Italian eateries. You can have lasagna anywhere; garganelli with red wine octopus ragu and squid ink is a bit harder to find.

An impressive bar area and selection of craft drinks are also rarities in Boston Italian restaurants, but they’re key to the neighborhood vibe that Cinquecento’s striving for. I understand it can get pretty loud in there on weekend nights, but the bar staff are friendly, attentive, and willing to make a drink according to your preferences.

And it’s helpful if you prefer Negronis.

Address: 500 Harrison Avenue, Boston

Website:http://www.cinquecentoboston.com/

May 9, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Spirits in Focus

Brugal – Rum Redefined

May 9, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Spirits in Focus

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For a rum that’s been around for 125 years, Brugal keeps a relatively low profile. There’s no swashbuckling ad campaign. No pirates. No glossy posters showing bikini-clad models doing shots of rum on the beach. But being the life of the party isn’t Brugal’s goal. The Dominican distiller has a far loftier mission: changing the way we think about – and drink – rum.

Such is the theme of Brugal’s “Rum Redefined” campaign, which rolled into Boston for three nights this past week and transformed the South End’s Cyclorama into something reminiscent of a distillery visitors’ center. Guests had a chance to learn about Brugal’s unique distillation process, sample three varieties of rum, and get a hands-on lesson in rum-based mixology.

If Brugal is outwardly distinct from other distillers in that it eschews the image of rum as an island-themed party spirit, the difference in the product itself is far more profound. As a molasses-based liquor, rum is known for its inherent sweetness. Many of the cocktails it features in are likewise sweet and tend to be made with a multitude of fruit juices. Brugal’s rums, by contrast, are uncommonly dry.

“People don’t think of drinking rum straight,” says Brian, one of the Brugal reps at the event. “We’re trying to show folks that rum isn’t something you need to cover up.”

His point is well taken – most rums aren’t made for sipping. “The difference is the way we distill our product, Brian explains. “In distillation, we remove a lot of the heavy alcohols, the banana and coconut flavors.”

But the aging process is where the real magic happens. All of Brugal’s rums are aged in white American oak casks. And Brugal takes its cask aging pretty seriously. “We use the same wood policy as the finest single malt scotch,” Brian tells me.

But while the wood policy may the same, the wood itself behaves very differently in the Dominican Republic than it does in chilly Scotland. The heat and humidity of the Dominican climate accelerate the rum’s maturation rate, meaning you don’t have to wait quite so long for the spirit’s rich character to develop. The downside of the warm weather is that Brugal loses 9% to 12% of its annual yield to evaporation. This disappearing act is charmingly known as the “angel’s share,” but angels clearly have a taste for rum – their portion translates to a staggering 25,000 barrels’ worth of lost rum every year.

But those exacting standards and devotion to aging result in a series of exceptional rums that are clean, dry, and surprisingly complex. The amber-hued Brugal Añejo has unexpected hints of caramel and chocolate.

The masterful Brugal 1888 is the first rum to be aged in two different casks – six to eight years in a whiskey cask, two to four more in a sherry cask. With a heavenly aroma and notes of toffee and licorice, it’s the sort of rum that calls for a cigar. My friend Mike, who joined me for the event, put it best: “If I brought this to a whiskey tasting, no one would guess it was rum.”

But the star of the night was Brugal’s Extra Dry offering. This triple-distilled rum is crisp, subtly fragrant, and of course, dry. And it’s still an aged rum, despite its clear complexion; charcoal filtering removes the dark color imparted by the aging process.

Like the Añejo and the 1888, the Extra Dry is good enough to drink neat or on the rocks. But its flavor profile makes it an especially intriguing choice for cocktails. “It’s versatile,” Brian says. “The Extra Dry plays well in a clean, simple cocktail, but one that you can experiment with, too.” So after sampling a few styles, our mixology lesson began, with bartenders from Eastern Standard and Lolita showing us the finer points of mixing Brugal into one of the simplest and most traditional of rum cocktails – the daiquiri.

The daiquiri is a Caribbean classic that’s been unfairly maligned over the years, victimized by artificially flavored sweeteners, mixers, and juices. Frozen daiquiris are fun by the pool, of course, but they aren’t what you’d consider a serious drink. So our cocktail-making session returned the daiquiri to its most basic, refreshing roots – rum, syrup, and fresh lime juice. That last ingredient is especially critical; the dryness and subtle profile of the Brugal accentuates the flavors of the mixers, so using fresh lime results in a naturally sweet, uncluttered cocktail.

After learning about the merits of a traditional daiquiri, we were encouraged us to branch out a bit. With various garnishes and syrups at our disposal, my friend Mike whipped up a sweet, herbal daiquiri with honey and basil.

But the pros still do it best, and the highlight of the night for me was this strawberry daiquiri with jalepeño. Along with the fresh, natural strawberry flavor was a subtle undercurrent of heat from the jalepeño, which made for a pleasant, lip-tingling finish.

Again, it’s the dryness of the Brugal that enables the other ingredients to shine. That hint of heat, and its interplay with the strawberry, is exactly the sort of nuance that would be overpowered by a sweeter rum with its own heavier flavors.

While historically one of the top selling rums in the Caribbean, Brugal has never enjoyed widespread popularity in the United States. That’s changing, though, as mixologists experiment with different brands for an American public that increasingly appreciates complexity in its cocktails. This is the market that Brugal envisions capturing with its Extra Dry variety.

The white rum represents a departure from Brugal’s other styles, but not from its standards. “They want to leave a legacy that, 125 years from now, they can still be proud of,” Brian tells me. A devotion to quality doesn’t always translate to longevity. But for Brugal, it’s a formula that’s worked pretty well since 1888.

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May 2, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Savvor

May 2, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

While sipping a drink on a quiet evening at Savvor, I noticed the bartender cracking an egg white into a shaker for a cocktail that, as far as I could tell, no one had ordered. “The other bartender and I were debating egg whites shaken with ice versus a dry shake,” she remarked offhandedly, “so we’re testing it out.” I don’t know which argument prevailed, but I do know genuine mixology nerdiness when I see it. And it usually translates into outstanding drinks.

Such is indeed the case at Savvor, which opened this past February in a little corner of town where the Financial District bumps into Chinatown – the so-called Leather District. It occupies the space once inhabited by District, and while the layout may be familiar to those who frequented the now shuttered club (which breathlessly described itself with phrases like “dangerous sensuality” and “edgy yet inviting”), the atmosphere at Savvor is decidedly more approachable.

“I wanted a nice, cool, restaurant-and-lounge feel,” owner Eddy Firmin tells me. “I want people to enjoy the atmosphere, be able to talk with friends.”

That’s not hard in Savvor’s large, open space. Exposed brick walls, dark hardwood flooring, and an unusual color scheme of slate gray and pale blue contribute to a laid-back, unpretentious look and feel.

Big blue booths and a couple of couches are ideal for sharing drinks with a small group of friends. A long dining room with a dozen or so tables offers a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

Best of all, instead of one long bar, there are two separate, eight-seat bars. “Nothing’s more annoying than having to wait for a drink,” Eddy says, reflecting what I imagine is a near-universal sentiment. “Here you’re nice and up close, you can talk to the bartender, you can see what you’re drinking,” he says, motioning to the impressive selection of craft spirits behind the bar.

Neither bar tends to get overly crowded, and each feels cozy unto itself. Commanding my chosen bar on a recent Friday evening was the witty and engaging Kellyanne. The other bar was patrolled by Lee, whose iPhone provided an upbeat soundtrack of funk, R&B, and blues.

The décor may be the most obvious difference between Savvor and District, but changes to the food menu and cocktail program are far more dramatic. Louisiana-inspired small plates with a splash of Caribbean flair dominate the dinner menu, and the drink list lovingly pays homage to the classics.

The cocktail menu is arranged by type of spirit and highlights the top-shelf brands employed in the drinks. Some of the recipes are appropriately simple and authentic. The Sazerac is a strict interpretation of the venerable New Orleans cocktail, faithfully prepared with Herbsaint, muddled sugar cubes, Peychaud’s bitters, and Michter’s rye.

The Pisco Sour is similarly straightforward. With Macchu pisco, simple syrup, lemon juice, and egg white, it’s just the right balance of sweetness, creaminess, and tang.

But the staff gets creative with other throwback cocktails. “We’re definitely trying to re-imagine things,” Eddy explains. That’s evident with the Kentucky Corpse Reviver, recommended to me by Kellyanne. “It makes me think of sitting on a big wraparound porch, talking about kids these days,” she notes wistfully. It’s an apt description for this potent, slow-sipping mix of Bulleit bourbon, Grand Marnier, and dry vermouth. A lemon twist finishes this splendid cocktail with zesty notes of citrus.

The Martinez has yet to enjoy the resurgence that similar drinks like the Negroni have experienced, but it seems poised for rediscovery. “Old Tom,” a softer, sweeter style of gin that fell out of favor in the mid-20th century, is the traditional choice for this faded classic.

Savvor uses Ransom Old Tom, a barrel-aged variety that’s noticeably darker in complexion than the typical gin. It’s surprisingly drinkable on its own, with whiskey-like notes of oak alongside the signature flavor of juniper. Combined with Punt E Mes, maraschino liqueur, and orange bitters, it’s outstanding – robust but nicely balanced, with a little citrus to smooth things out.

If egg drinks and bitter spirits aren’t your speed, more approachable options abound. In particular, Savvor’s spectacular rum selection is like a tour of the Caribbean. “If people ask us for a rum punch,” says Eddy, “we can ask ‘which island do you want to visit?’”

The more appropriate question may be, which island do you want to visit first. The Painkiller, which Lee says is one of the bar’s most popular selections, is made with Barbados’s Mount Gay Black Barrel rum, pineapple, orange juice, and a thick coconut cream. A dusting of nutmeg adds an aromatic touch.

Ti Punch is kind of like the daiquiri’s French-Caribbean cousin. Savvor’s version channels the spirit of Martinique with Clement Premiere Canne Agricole (a rum made from sugar cane juice instead of molasses), spiced sugar cane syrup, and fresh lime juice.

The Grilled Pineapple Daiquiri offers a few unexpected twists on the Cuban favorite. Locally distilled Bully Boy white rum, its principal component, is drier and more complex than most rums. Combined with lime juice, pineapple syrup, and Angostura bitters, it makes for a fruity but unusually dry tropical cocktail. A grilled pineapple garnish provides a sweet and smoky essence up front.

That island spirit extends to the dinner menu as well, with an eclectic offering of snacks and small plates that infuse southern cuisine with Caribbean flavors. It may seem like an unconventional blending of styles, but Eddy exhibits a casual approach to taking chances. “I got together with my general manager and the chef, and we figured, ‘why not?’”

Crispy plantain chips, with a sweet, earthy banana flavor, are accompanied by a rich aioli seasoned with cinnamon, coriander, and cumin.

The BBQ cracklins are easily the most novel entry on the snack menu. After being boiled and deep-fried, these slices of pork fat become airy, crunchy, and amusingly unwieldy. They’re fun to eat, though the seasoning is reminiscent of BBQ potato chips and would benefit from a little more complexity.

As conspicuous as the cracklins may be, it’s the crawfish hushpuppies that truly steal the show. Served with a delicious, spicy dip, these deep-fried balls of cornmeal are soft, savory, and perfectly crispy on the outside.

The snacks are great for sharing and come in surprisingly generous portions. And from what I can tell, the “small” plates are anything but. “From the Larder,” a glorious platter of meat, features a substantial helping of Tripp’s country ham, a smoky duck prosciutto, and goat terrine.

A salty and savory dish like that might work best with a beer, and Savvor’s draft selection is small but thoughtful. Local microbrews by Clown Shoes, Slumbrew, and Pretty Things share space with Anchor Steam and the timeless PBR. In case you’re wondering, Clown Shoes’ imperial IPA, “Galactica,” is named for its use of Galaxy hops – not for Battlestar Galactica. Apparently.

Since I was duly impressed with the drinks and found Kellyanne’s recommendations to be helpful, I couldn’t resist asking if she’d whip up something wholly original before I left. She appeared to take my request to heart, contemplating various spirits, perusing fresh ingredients and mixers, and occasionally muttering “What can I make for Matthew…” The result? A return trip to the Caribbean. Combining Haiti’s Barbancourt rum, egg white, lemon juice, and simple syrup, this rich, creamy cocktail had notes of vanilla and a hint of tartness.

Kellyanne dubbed her invention a Barbancourt Sour, and while she cautioned me that she’d never tried the recipe before, her experimentation paid off in decadent fashion. And that seems entirely befitting of Savvor’s adventurous spirit. “We’re all about taking chances,” Eddy proclaims. “Being risky.” To be sure, there’s a certain boldness to Savvor’s approach. Both the dinner menu and drink list have their share of curveballs.

The location itself is a bit of a risk. The Leather District is a fashionable neighborhood to live and work in, but it’s a little out of the way if you’re downtown and looking for a drink. And while it’s bordered by neighborhoods with no shortage of restaurants and bars, the eating and drinking options within this two-block radius are fairly limited. (As I discovered in a mercifully brief visit, the dive bar a few doors down from Savvor reeks of alcoholism and disappointment.)

But that means opportunity. The neighborhood could use a good cocktail bar, and Savvor also hosts live music four nights a week.

It might be a far cry from the “aggressive design” and “exotic tone” of District (I’m not making this up, it’s on their still-functioning website), but an approachable place with a casual vibe is a welcome addition to any neighborhood.

Address: 180 Lincoln Street, Boston

Website:http://www.savvorbostonlounge.com/

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April 18, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

The Merchant

April 18, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Aging, weathered signs atop discount jewelry shops. Narrow side streets that never see the sun. An enormous, unsightly crater where once stood a humble but iconic local institution.

Amid the budget retailers, seemingly endless construction, and a few long-vacant storefronts, it’s almost difficult to believe that Downtown Crossing was once the thriving epicenter of Bostonian commerce and culture. It’s still a bustling neighborhood, of course, full of shops, food carts, and throngs of pedestrians traipsing through brick-lined streets that are mostly closed to vehicular traffic. But these are mere vestiges of Downtown Crossing’s early 20th century heyday, when Jordan Marsh and Filene’s pioneered the concept of department store shopping and Bostonians flocked to the downtown area to eat, visit theaters, and browse the latest fashions.

The neighborhood’s popularity and prestige diminished rapidly after WWII, when the suburbs siphoned off a quarter of the city’s population and new malls pushed stand-alone department stores to the brink of obsolescence. Since then, the aspect and character of Downtown Crossing have been in a state of perpetual flux – bold store openings and quiet closings, stop-and-start efforts at revitalization, and prolonged periods of general seediness.

But downtown Boston finally started trending in the right direction when Suffolk University and Emerson College expanded their campuses into the longtime shopping district. Their presence attracted new businesses, many of which embraced the golden era of the historic neighborhood. When Stoddard’s opened in 2010, for instance, it assumed the name of the 19th century cutlery shop that once operated in its space. The long-shuttered Paramount Theater, a 1930s-era movie palace that was among the first cinemas in Boston to show “talkies,” was renovated and reopened as a modern performing arts venue.

Likewise, the newest contributor to the rebirth of the downtown area hints at the bubbling potential of this evolving neighborhood while paying homage to its storied past.

The Merchant, a self-described American brasserie, opened its doors last month on the edge of Downtown Crossing and the cusp of the Financial District. Serving an eclectic French-American menu with an emphasis on local ingredients, the large restaurant and bar evokes the sophistication of old-school Boston dining and infuses it with a modern sense of comfort and style.

A long bar with a beautiful wooden top is surrounded by 21 comfortable leather seats. The navy blue, pinstriped aprons donned by the bartenders recall an age gone by, as do the vintage-looking brass table lamps spaced along the bar’s surface.

A spacious dining area is populated by small tables and a few red leather booths. The dark wood and burgundy color scheme gives the interior a conservative, distinguished look, but globe lighting, chandeliers, and brass floor lamps give the space a warm, welcoming appearance.

“We wanted something that would stand the test of time,” co-owner Shane Smyth says of The Merchant’s look and feel. “Not something trendy, not something that might look good for 5 years and then you have to do it over again. We wanted to open a place that was classic, timeless.”

For that, they couldn’t have chosen a more auspicious location – the previous tenant, luggage retailer London Harness, occupied the space for nearly a century. “We wanted to keep some of the character, keep with the merchant theme,” he explains. They retained portions of the infrastructure as well. “We kept as much of it as we could,” Smyth says. “We were able to keep the mezzanine, the flooring, the ceiling is original.”

The notion of a brasserie originated in France and refers to an informal restaurant that serves food all day and late into the evening. It also translates to “brewery,” and while The Merchant doesn’t brew its own beer, it does boast an impressive selection. The 36 draft options span a broad range of styles and feature a number of regional offerings, like Slumbrew Happy Sol.

“Being in the Financial District and downtown, we couldn’t have all craft beer,” Smyth acknowledges. “But we want to have something for everyone, and having that many lines gives us the opportunity to change it up on a regular basis.”

A few local, limited release beer specials are posted on a chalkboard behind the bar. This farmhouse saison from Fort Point’s Trillium Brewing is crisp and fragrant.

If microbreweries are too big for you, try a beer from Boston’s only “nanobrewery.” Each batch of Everett’s Idle Hands Craft Ales is limited to five barrels, making it a pleasant surprise to find one on draft. This Belgian stout, appropriately called “Absence of Light,” has notes of chocolate and unexpected hints of fruit and spices.

That celebration of local wares and devotion to craft is especially evident in the food menu. Executive chef Matt Foley and sous chef Tim McQuinn are both alumni of the renowned Craigie on Main, so it’s fair to say they know their way around a kitchen. Their menu centers on locally sourced ingredients and caters to just about anyone who might be passing through downtown – theatergoers seeking a quick pre-meal bite, businesspeople on lunch from the adjacent Financial District, and those in search of a creative, meticulously prepared meal. The kitchen even stays open until 12 or 1 a.m., depending on the night of the week, for those working the late shift.

Traditional French items like duck l’orange and steak frites share space with steak and eggs, slow-roasted chicken breast, seafood dishes, and a raw bar. Chef Foley brings elements of Craigie on Main’s “snout to tail” approach to The Merchant, with items like the crispy pig ear on the late-night menu and the most eye-catching entry on the appetizer menu – veal sweetbread “nuggets.”

“Sweetbread,” for those of you sort of know but are afraid to know more, is a most delightful name bestowed upon the thymus or pancreas of a calf, pig, or lamb. Nothing about it is sweet and there’s usually no bread involved. I guess the term just sounds more appetizing than “organ meat.” The Merchant’s tasty version is reminiscent of a veal cutlet, but milder and with a much softer texture. Crunchy house-made chips provide a simple contrast.

More straightforward options are available too, if that’s your speed. Crispy wings are served in a sweet and sour sauce over a spicy Asian slaw.

And there’s nothing deceptive about the hot and cold crab dish, which is exactly what its name implies – a traditional, seared crab cake topped with a zesty tartar sauce, and a chilled citrus crab salad topped with a soft house-made pretzel.

Even the bar staff seem genuinely impressed with the kitchen’s efforts. Andy, a veteran bartender who’s worked at No. 9 Park and Clio, remarks that Foley always manages to get “amazing” crab. Bartender Becca calls the sweetbread “special.” Another bartender, Mike, is effusive as well. “They put more work into food preparation than I’ve seen anywhere else,” he says, noting that in addition to the chefs’ locavore tendencies, they make nearly everything from scratch and brine meat for at least 24 hours. That even goes for the phenomenal country fried chicken sandwich on the lunch menu.

Topped with a sweet, nutty Gruyère cheese and a smoked tomato aioli, the tender chicken isn’t the heavily breaded fare you might expect of a fried chicken sandwich, and the aioli gives it a mild smoky essence.

The Merchant’s appreciation for Boston history, fondness for local brands and fresh ingredients, and penchant for innovation all converge on the cocktail list.

“I’d call it ‘big tent,’” bar manager Ian says of the cocktail program and the diverse set of tastes it appeals to. “You can come here with a big group, and everyone can find something they like.”

The time-honored Old Fashioned gets a Back Bay-style makeover in the Newbury Fashion. Combining bourbon, a house-made mixed berry syrup, Angostura and orange bitters, and splash of soda, it’s a strong, sweet cocktail with a hint of spice.

That mixed berry syrup adds a rich, fruity character to the effervescent Ritz Spritz, combining with Aperol, fresh lemon, and sparkling wine.

The Boston Collins uses locally distilled Bully Boy vodka, Earl Gray syrup, fresh lemon, and soda. Sweet and light, with mild flavors of black tea and lemon, it’s a drink well suited to the gradually warming weather.

Another local distiller shines in the Violet Hour. GrandTen’s Wire Works gin combines with Crème de Violette and fresh grapefruit juice for a vibrant, floral cocktail with a pale purple complexion.

As inventive as the drink list is, there’s a certain simplicity to the offerings – and a deliberate sense of approachability. “Some places are just overreaching,” Ian says. “No one will come in here and feel like they ordered the ‘wrong’ drink.”

Speaking of which, the Negroni has never quite been the “right” drink for me. I regret to say I have an uneasy relationship with the popular aperitif Campari. So I probably wouldn’t have ordered The Merchant’s “Pegroni,” which adds Punt e Mes to the already bitter proceedings, had Ian not handed me one unsolicited.

But his interpretation is unlike any other Negroni I’ve encountered. While it maintains its trademark bite, orange-infused Cold River gin and orange bitters mellow the bitterness and give the drink a surprising citrus character. An orange twist provides an effervescent bouquet.

The drink list will change periodically, as will the food menu; the availability of local, seasonal ingredients will likely influence both. But that only means The Merchant’s offerings will remain fresh and dynamic. And for a restaurant in a neighborhood long characterized by transition, that seems entirely appropriate.

Last Call

The glory days of Downtown Crossing exist mainly in our collective memory. Faded black and white photographs attest to the neighborhood’s pre-war vibrancy, and our elders’ stories of visiting the beloved Enchanted Village, the Jordan Marsh window display that grew into an annual holiday phenomenon, offer hints of what was once its special charm.

“We felt that downtown was making a comeback,” Merchant owner Shane Smyth says. And while the 21st century iteration of Downtown Crossing might not be anchored by large department stores, the neighborhood is already growing into a contemporary entertainment district with deep historical roots. Even the notorious hole in the ground that was once Filene’s Basement, the store that popularized the concept of bargain basement shopping, is finally being filled with the foundation of the much-ballyhooed Millennium Tower.

Downtown Crossing’s identity will continue to evolve, but its geography won’t – which means it will always be a busy area. Smyth understands this, and recognizes that The Merchant’s success depends on its broad appeal. “We wanted to open a neighborhood place for a neighborhood we believe in,” he says. “Open early, open late; a focal point for people moving into the area, people who are already there, people who are shopping, tourists.”

It’s a simple vision and a laudable goal in a neighborhood poised to recapture its onetime splendor.

Address: 60 Franklin Street, Boston

Website: http://www.themerchantboston.com/

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April 11, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Spirits in Focus

Smoky Cocktails With The Black Grouse

April 11, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Spirits in Focus

Scotch has never been the most approachable of liquors. Like all whiskies, it’s an acquired taste; and while it’s certainly one worth acquiring, there are rules to heed before you even think about pouring yourself a glass. Some varieties are best enjoyed on the rocks; others must be consumed neat. A little water might open up the flavors of certain scotches – and completely ruin others. Ultimately it’s all a matter of personal preference, but scotch connoisseurs tend to be passionate – and vocal – about their customs. So if the simple act of dropping an ice cube into a glass of scotch can provoke outrage, mixing scotch into a cocktail must be on par with a capital offense, right?

Not according to the good folks at The Famous Grouse. And with more than a century’s worth of distilling experience, they’re free to keep their own counsel on the matter.

The Famous Grouse has been making blended whisky in Scotland since 1897. The smoothness, drinkability, and affordability of its flagship product have made The Famous Grouse the best-selling scotch in the land of kilts and bagpipes. But a newer addition to the Grouse’s line has rightfully earned its share of the spotlight.

The Black Grouse differs from the original blend in that it’s made with peat, which gives many scotches their signature smoky character. It’s a smooth, aromatic scotch with a long, oaky finish. The Black Grouse is exquisite on its own, and its makers do recommend consuming it neat. But they’re not terribly preachy about the best way to enjoy their scotch, even going so far as to offer cocktail recipes on their website. Of course, you wouldn’t expect pretension from a brand that named itself after a Scottish game bird similar in appearance to a chicken.

That said, the Black Grouse flew into Boston this week and teamed up with mixologists at two bars to see how its smoky scotch fared in a range of cocktails. I was fortunate to be part of a small group that took part in a scotch-themed mini bar crawl that was as enlightening as it was intoxicating.

The dark, elegant confines of the backroom bar at Carrie Nation provided an appropriately dignified atmosphere for the first two cocktails of the evening. Bartender Brian Kline explained that his first concoction, the Sweet Release, was modeled after a 1930s-era cocktail called the Remember the Maine. Combining Black Grouse, sweet vermouth, Luxardo cherry juice, Angostura bitters, and an absinthe rinse, the Sweet Release was strong, smoky, and tart. Brian noted that the cherry juice served to bring out the smokiness of the scotch, while the absinthe gave the drink a pleasantly bitter finish.

“Part of what I love about this job is coming up with drinks with ingredients that people think they don’t like,” Brian said in his introduction to the evening’s second cocktail, the Ginger Kiss. "You'll like this," he added. Made with Black Grouse, yellow chartreuse, fresh lemon juice, and ginger liqueur, plenty about this could challenge the palate of a timid drinker. But the Ginger Kiss was a vibrant, well-balanced cocktail with a smoky essence and notes of citrus. The distinctive flavor of ginger permeated the drink without overpowering it, and the chartreuse was used sparingly.

Thankfully there was some food, too, which kept us all upright while we sipped our potent libations. Hearty pulled pork sliders were a good match for the smoky notes of the Sweet Release.

Peanut Thai chicken skewers were highly addictive and paired well with the sweetness of the Ginger Kiss.

From there we headed to the cave-like, downstairs bar at Stoddard’s, where mixologist Tony Iamunno offered his take on how to employ scotch in a cocktail.

First up was Someone Else’s Girl, the name of which, Tony wistfully noted, was autobiographical. This decadent drink was a mix of Black Grouse, egg white, Crème Yvette, raspberry syrup, lemon juice, and Angostura bitters. Garnished with raspberries, this cocktail was nothing short of luxurious. The egg white gave it a creamy texture, while the Crème Yvette, a fruity, violet liqueur that reemerged in 2009 after a 40-year hiatus, provided a well-rounded sweetness. Using a smoky scotch like Black Grouse in such a sweet, velvety drink was clever and unexpected.

Coming on the heels of that soft, creamy cocktail, the final drink of the night was like a bacchanal of bitterness. The Smoky Glasgow combined Black Grouse, absinthe, and dry vermouth in a well-conceived but intense cocktail. This was a serious drinker’s drink, with a prominent licorice flavor from the absinthe and an herbal dryness from the vermouth. Both of the bitter liquors served to enhance the smoky character of the Black Grouse, and an orange peel offered just the slightest hint of citrus. A challenging combination of flavors, but well done.

All that bitterness was balanced by a plate of Stoddard’s’ chipotle citrus chicken wings, which brought some spice and a little sweetness to the party.

And as a special treat, we got an order of that timeless staple of French-Canadian cuisine, poutine. These hand-cut fries topped with melted cheese curds and a delicious duck fat gravy went well with both cocktails. Then again, poutine goes well with just about anything.

As it turns out, scotch goes well with a few things too. While there are, of course, a handful of traditional scotch-based cocktails, they have yet to enjoy a resurgence in popularity; it’s rare that I hear someone order a scotch and soda or a Rob Roy. But the drinks Brian and Tony made for us this week demonstrated an impressive range of styles for scotch drinks, from classic to indulgent to vigorously bitter.

For those of us who typically wouldn’t pair scotch with anything other than a quality cigar, the experience illustrated the benefits of experimenting with this most distinguished of liquors. Granted, making a whisky sour with an 18-year-old Macallan would be considered an alcoholic atrocity, but using a more versatile scotch like The Black Grouse in a high-end cocktail is unlikely to invite scorn. A glass of scotch served neat may forever be the pinnacle of respectability in the world of booze, but even the most stubborn whisky drinkers know when to bend the rules.

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April 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

City Bar – Westin Waterfront

April 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

The hotel bar once represented the high water mark of American drinking culture. As grand hotels became symbols of high society and economic prestige in the early 20th century, the bars and restaurants within them reflected the very same dignified air. Hotels like the Waldorf-Astoria in New York and the Lenox in Boston served not only as comfortable stopovers for business travelers but as upscale drinking and dining destinations for well-heeled locals. A clear step up from taverns and saloons, hotel bars employed master bartenders who used the freshest ingredients to craft exceptional and often experimental drinks for guests. Many of our most enduring classic cocktails, like the Sidecar and the Aviation, originated behind the bar of a hotel.

But the onset of Prohibition in 1920 dealt hotel bars a blow from which they never truly recovered. Career bartenders took their talents to Europe, and by the time Prohibition ended, the world was in the throes of the Great Depression and Americans’ drinking habits had changed. Bars in classic luxury hotels endured on the strength of name recognition and continue to thrive today, but the proliferation of chains have largely earned hotel bars a reputation for exorbitant prices and uniform mediocrity. Unless you find yourself in an area otherwise lacking in bars or are actually staying at a hotel, why would you drink at one?

“People find us almost by accident,” admits Shauna Ottina, manager of City Bar in the Westin Boston Waterfront hotel. In the ever-growing but still oddly configured Seaport District, that’s entirely plausible. It’s also easy to see why people stay.

City Bar’s comfortable, den-like atmosphere appeals to hotel guests who might prefer a quiet drink at an upscale lounge to standing in line at the hippest bar in the city. But even a seasoned local can appreciate the contemporary touches and a drink list aimed at modern customers who demand quality and creativity.

The long, sleek bar is surrounded by a dozen leather chairs. A pair of leather sofas in the center of the room set the stage for a leisurely evening of cocktails and conversation.

Candlelit tables offer a chance for a more intimate dinner. And in the middle of the bar, a bed of ice chills a few martini glasses, illuminated from below with soft blue lighting.

City Bar’s cocktail menu balances conservative and contemporary elements – a necessity, Shauna acknowledges, when one considers the sometimes conflicting forces of location and clientele. Having fashionable cocktail bars like Drink and TRADE within walking distance means you can’t get away with Captain and Coke as your signature offering. But given the varying tastes of guests from all over the country, you need to account for travelers who are uninterested in local trends and just want something straightforward and familiar.

“We try to put some of the classics on the menu,” Shauna says, “but we put some curveballs on there too.”

The classics are indeed well represented, with options like a Sazarac, a Sidecar, and a Pisco Sour.

But the “curveballs” actually take up more of the menu, with a variety of original house drinks and modern twists on old favorites.

One of the bar’s most popular items is the Mango Mai Tai. City Bar sweetens up this tiki classic by combining mango puree and pineapple juice with dark rum, light rum, and amaretto. A funky tiki mug contributes the requisite Polynesian flair. The City Stormy adds Fernet Branca for a more bitter version of a Dark and Stormy.

On the more experimental side, the Kentucky Flu combines Maker’s Mark bourbon, Licor 43, and a blend of citrus juices. This one made for an odd mix of flavors, but it grew on me. I was pleasantly surprised to see the seldom-used Licor 43 feature in a drink, but Shauna explained that City Bar encourages a spirit of imagination and exploration among its staff; the bartenders, in fact, are responsible for much of the cocktail menu. “It gets their creative juices flowing,” she said. “They’re not just selling a list.”

That immediately prompted me to ask my bartender, Heather, if she had contributed something to the menu. She told me that her creation, the Pet Dragon, was a mix of butterscotch schnapps, Irish cream, and – much to my dismay – Fireball Whiskey. This put me in a tight spot. On the one hand, I’d look like a tool if I didn’t order Heather’s drink, which I’d just inquired about; on the other hand, I long ago swore off any liquor imbued with the vile flavor of hot cinnamon (let’s just say I’m still feeling the “aftershock” of an unfortunate drinking episode dating back to my college days). Needless to say, I smiled politely and agreed to have one. Heather remarked that the drink tasted like an oatmeal cookie; I was highly skeptical.

In fact, that’s exactly what it tasted like. This wonderfully well-made drink was rich, sweet, and creamy. The Fireball Whiskey, despite my apprehension, was actually quite subtle – no heat, just a warm cinnamon essence.

City Bar’s food menu offers a fairly extensive selection of appetizers, sandwiches, and comfort food standards – calamari, burgers, steak tips, that sort of thing. But as with the drink menu, there are curveballs, too, like a flatbread pizza topped with mashed potatoes, steak tips, and bacon, and a sesame seared tuna salad. I opted for a classic.

Jazzed up with three different types of meat – chorizo, Italian sausage, and ground beef – City Bar’s meatloaf is delicious and unusually complex. Topped with mashed potatoes and a rich mushroom gravy, with a side of green beans, it’s a hearty meal and good for soaking up strong cocktails.

The cookie-esque Pet Dragon would have made for a good dessert drink, but since I’d already blown through that, I asked Heather to recommend something else to close out the evening. She directed me to City Bar’s selection of champagne cocktails and suggested the Sunday Morning, a vibrant, effervescent mix of pomegranate liqueur, blood orange liqueur, orange juice, and champagne.

This potent, spruced-up mimosa might be designed to start your Sunday morning with a bang, but it can also end your Saturday night with a flourish.

Last Call

By and large, the era of the hotel bar as both a touchstone of upper-class culture and a laboratory of cutting-edge mixology is a thing of the past. And while some of the most renowned cocktail bars in Boston are actually housed within hotels, their identities tend to be distinct – do you ever think of Eastern Standard as “the bar at Hotel Commonwealth”?

Fortunately, the days of the hotel bar being a celebration of commercial blandness, peddling overpriced food and unimaginative drinks to a captive audience, may also be coming to an end. A place like City Bar might not be setting any mixology trends, but they’re aware of a drinking public that’s come to expect at least a little ingenuity. By giving their bartenders the latitude to experiment and contribute to the drink list, City Bar observes an increasingly common practice in today’s cocktail lounges and renews a tradition that began in the celebrated hotel bars of yore.

Aside from guests staying at the Westin, City Bar’s location makes it an unlikely destination for anyone not already planning on being in the Seaport District. But in an area of Boston that continues to see tremendous growth, City Bar is an upscale, laid-back alternative to some of its more boisterous neighbors, like Atlantic Beer Garden and Whiskey Priest. As Shauna indicated, it may indeed be the kind of place that people simply happen upon. But when they inevitably return, it will be by choice.

Address: 425 Summer Street at the Westin Hotel, Boston

Website:http://waterfront.citybarboston.com/

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March 28, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Somerville

Brewery Ommegang, HBO, and Game of Thrones: Fire and Blood Launch Party

March 28, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Events, Somerville

Our present-day conception of Belgian beer has its roots in an era marked by prolonged warfare, political upheaval, ghastly torture devices, and religious zealotry – the Middle Ages. It seems fitting, then, that a modern-day brewer of Belgian-style beers would devote a line of specialty brews to a Medieval-themed fantasy epic known for bloodshed, treachery, and mysticism (not to mention a whole lotta sex).

Brewery Ommegang has teamed up with HBO to release a series of limited edition beers based on Game of Thrones, the George R.R. Martin books that the cable network has turned into a blood-soaked TV series and cultural phenomenon. The collaboration began last year with Iron Throne, a blonde ale that paid tribute to the King Joffrey, the fair-haired but vicious young ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. It continued last fall with the hearty Take the Black Stout, inspired by noble bastard Jon Snow and his brothers in the Night Watch.

Last night at Davis Square’s Saloon, Ommegang unveiled the third beer in its series – Fire and Blood. The malty brew is named for the motto of House Targaryan and the beautiful Daenerys, the young woman who, like seemingly everyone else in Westeros, lays claim to the Iron Throne. Unlike everyone else, though, Daenerys commands three fire-breathing dragons – exactly the sort of pets you want when attempting to decimate opposing armies and declare yourself ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

With its blood-red hue and spicy hop character, the latest entry certainly lives up to its name. Fire and Blood is a powerful red rye ale with a raisin-like fruitiness. Notes of licorice and star anise provide spicy depth, while ancho chilies add complexity and a mild hint of dragon fire.

Ommegang also brought along the previous beer in its Game of Thrones series. The Take the Black Stout is robust and unusually vibrant, with notes of chocolate, caramel, and coffee. A complex, hoppy beer that finishes with a surprising sweetness, it’s just the sort of brew you’d want to enjoy while standing atop a massive wall of ice and watching for an army of undead invaders.

Ommegang publicity manager Allison Capozza explains that the beers are truly a collaborative effort between the brewery and HBO. “HBO will talk to us about themes, nuances, and characters in the upcoming season. Then we think about style, color, and ingredients.” She says the reaction from the network has been overwhelmingly positive. And the beers themselves have become something of a phenomenon, as anyone who’s had trouble finding them in stores can attest. “The response was incredible,” Allison says of last year’s inaugural release. “We just had no idea how big it was going to be.”

There was no shortage of the beer at Saloon, which was decked out in its Westerosian best for the release party. Sword hilt tap handles clearly identified the honored brews of the evening.

Hors d’oeuvres such as beef skewers, chicken wings, and fig jam with goat cheese on bread would be right at home at a King’s Landing feast. And since Saloon is best known for its excellent cocktails, they didn’t miss the opportunity to whip up something special for the occasion – the Battle Axe.

A mix of brandy, honey, and lemon, with an Ommegang Witte float, its composition was appropriate for a Medieval cocktail – simple, with classic ingredients, and packing plenty of punch.

The crowd of 200+ revelers got into the spirit as well, some donning attire for spending a day at court, heading into battle, or giving birth to a murderous shadow demon.

And while there were no mock beheadings or reenactments of the Red Wedding (thankfully), Ommegang brought more than just beer.

Upstairs, at Saloon’s sister bar, Foundry, sat a full-size replica of the Iron Throne. Forged from the swords of a thousand vanquished foes, the throne, commissioned by the enigmatic king Aegon Targaryan, is a sharp and notoriously uncomfortable seat. Aegon deliberately fashioned it this way, believing that “a king should never sit easy.” The replica wasn’t quite so austere, enabling attendees to pose for pictures without incident.

Fire and Blood will be in stores starting on March 31, just in time for the April 6 premiere of Season 4 on HBO. The 750-ml bottles are sold with three different labels, each commemorating one of Daenerys’s dragons – Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. One note of caution: with an ABV of 6.8%, Fire and Blood is a potent brew. So think twice about downing one before a boar hunt.

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March 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Wink & Nod

March 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Since last fall, Wink & Nod has been the subject of anticipation and speculation, with local media, industry onlookers, and would-be guests clamoring for closely guarded details about the South End bar and eatery’s cocktail offerings, décor, and food menu. After a pair of soft openings earlier this week, Wink & Nod finally opened its door to the public last night. Finding that door, however, might be a challenge unto itself.

Only the number of Wink & Nod’s Appleton Street address appears above the unmarked entryway to this speakeasy-style bar. Beyond the nondescript black door is a flight of stairs leading down to a well-appointed subterranean lounge. It is both a tribute to an era when discretion was essential and a celebration of the high-quality liquor and expertly crafted cocktails that were in exceedingly short supply during the dark days of Prohibition.

Oozing style and eschewing gimmickry, Wink & Nod infuses its high-end, contemporary décor with vintage accents. The upper half of the bi-level room comprises dinner tables and a living room-type area with comfortable leather chairs.

Dark, mahogany walls, black and tan carpeting, and table lamps conspire to create an intimate atmosphere, and soft music allows for conversation. Occupying the lower level is a 15-seat, wraparound bar with a smooth wooden surface and a layer of faux red snakeskin below. Funky chandeliers and a backlit liquor shelf cast a warm glow about the entire area.

Under the guidance of general manager and veteran mixologist Curtis McMillan, Wink & Nod’s cocktail program is second to none. The drink list, printed in an old-school typewritten font, is organized by type of spirit. Nearly all of the cocktails are named for Hollywood actresses, film characters, and socialites, like Joan Collins, Halle, and Vera Prescott.

They feature once-common ingredients like sherry, sloe gin, and egg whites, along with all the fashionable mixers that make modern craft cocktails so attractive, like house-made ginger beer, fresh herbs, and wonderfully flavored bitters.

And every drink starts with a top-notch spirit – a point Curtis insists on after seeing how many bars use low-quality liquors even in high-priced drinks. “I just couldn’t sleep at night if we did that,” he says. “That’s why our well liquors are all micro. Berkshire Mountain bourbon, GrandTen, Bully Boy makes our vodka,” he says, rattling off an impressive list of Massachusetts distilleries.

That dedication to quality – along with some quick thinking – was on display in Tuesday evening’s featured cocktail, the Basil Bourbon Smash. “We ordered two pounds of mint from our supplier,” Curtis says. “When it arrived, we opened it up, and it was all basil. I said, I can work with this.” He did better than just work with it. The fresh aroma of basil and lemon preceded every sip.

It’s the sort of ingenuity that permeates the entire cocktail program. And despite Curtis’s renowned mixology skills, he employs no bar manager and leaves much of the cocktail design to his staff. “Each bartender designed a drink; their baby,” he tells me, adding “if their drink is the best-seller for a quarter, they get to pick their shift.”

That may lead to some friendly competition among the staff, but the clear winners are those of us on the other side of the bar. The Raquel, for instance, is the brainchild of Rich Fiorillo, late of Church. It combines Mount Gay Old rum, Monkey Shoulder scotch, freshly pressed apple juice, orgeat syrup, and Gran Classico. Served in a funky tiki mug, it’s a sweet cocktail with a pronounced apple flavor that’s well balanced by the scotch and the bitter Gran Classico.

The Cattrall is an even bolder blend of flavors – Montelobos mezcal, Cocchi Americano, a grapefruit cordial, fresh lime juice, and prosecco. Because the smokiness of the mezcal is so distinctive, it can be a challenging spirit to work with. Fortunately, Curtis knows a thing or two about mezcal, and the resulting cocktail is extraordinary. The smoky flavor is unmistakable but doesn’t overpower the drink, enabling the bitter, sour, and citrusy components to shine. The prosecco provides some effervescence and a little dryness.

Bartender Jason Rykiel, another Church alum, says that he found the recipe for what would become the Madonna in an old tiki cocktail book. This creamy mix of Plymouth gin, sloe gin, simple syrup, dry curacao, and egg white is smooth, sweet, and fruity, with a thick layer of foam on top.

There’s even a selection of “Shooters,” and while shots are typically just a quick and easy way to tie one on, they aren’t exempt from Wink & Nod’s high standards. The surprisingly complex Sharknado combines cranberry liqueur, fresh pineapple, blue curacao, orange bitters, and Notch Session Ale. You can throw that down in one big gulp if you so desire, but like everything else on the drink list, you’d be better served by taking it slow and appreciating the composition.

It was long considered a given that Wink & Nod would be serving exceptional craft cocktails. For months, though, the dinner menu was afforded all the secrecy of a speakeasy password. When finally unveiled, it was something of a bombshell – the menu would be handled by pop-up restaurant Whisk.

For the past several years, Whisk chefs Philip Kruta and Jeremey Kean have been showing up in restaurant kitchens throughout Boston, impressing chefs and foodies alike with their experimental but approachable recipes and use of local ingredients. They agreed to take up a permanent residence at Wink & Nod, so long as they maintained final say over their avant-garde fare. They remain independent, and the kitchen is called Whisk at Wink & Nod.

With Whisk at the helm, even the simplest of recipes are deftly handled in unexpected ways, like warm bar nuts topped with candy garlic, cilantro, and nuac cham (a Vietnamese dipping sauce).

The artfully presented scarlet butter lettuce, with stilton cheese and a farm egg, is far from your traditional salad.

Served in a miniature cast-iron skillet on a wooden board, the duck meatballs with foie gras may be the high point of the small bite menu. With black garlic and pickled blueberry on the side, they’re delicious and bursting with flavor.

But the real showstoppers are the Yakitori “in-smoke” offerings. While my words and pictures can scarcely do this dish justice, here’s how it works. Your choice of quail, short rib, or pork belly (I opted for the last) has been marinated overnight in a soy sauce blended with all manner of spicy goodness. Your skewered meat arrives at your table in a mason jar filled with smoke.

Take a good minute and enjoy the fact that you’ve got a jar of smoke in front of you, then open the lid, whereby you’ll release a plume of aromatic smoke that reaches to the ceiling.

Enjoy your brief celebrity status while everyone around you turns to gawk at the spectacle and remark on the heavenly scent of the cherry wood smoke. And the meat more than lives up to its unique presentation. The confit pork belly is fall-apart tender, and small pickled apples contribute a bit of acidic tartness.

Curtis expressed genuine disappointment that I was forgoing the signature dessert – a homemade Twinkie filled with brown butter cream – but I couldn’t resist one more cocktail. I asked Jason to recommend something, and he responded with one of his own recipes. The Susan is a mix of Brugal 1888 rum, Brugal Silver rum, Averna, simple syrup, and strawberries. In a word? Phenomenal.

I tend to think of strawberry-based cocktails as light, sweet, and unremarkable (daiquiris, margaritas, the sort of drink you sip by the pool on a summer day). The Susan, by contrast, has tremendous depth and complexity. Brugal 1888 is a serious rum aged in whiskey barrels, and the bitterness of the Averna keeps the sweetness in check. The result is a rich, balanced cocktail with a fresh, natural strawberry flavor profile. And it’s been in the works for some time. “It was a recipe I was working on at Church, but I could never get it right,” Jason says. “Even when I tried it here, something was missing. It went right down to the wire. Then the other day I turned around [to the bar], saw some black walnut bitters, and tried them. That did it.”

Whether it’s black walnut bitters to the rescue or a mint-based cocktail improvised with basil, it’s clear that the culture at Wink & Nod fosters experimentation but demands excellence. And that’s only fitting for a bar that honors the classic approach to making a good drink.

Last Call

Wink & Nod draws its name from a quote famously attributed to long-time Boston politician Martin M. Lomasney: “Never write if you can speak; never speak if you can nod; never nod if you can wink.” Sage advice on the topic of discretion from the legendary boss of Ward 8, and a prudent way to communicate about an illicit watering hole. But everything’s above the table at this below-ground bar, so you needn’t be concerned about a liquor raid. Nor do you have to worry about it being campy or high-concept; Wink & Nod is refreshingly original and devoid of Prohibition clichés. The unmarked door and the lack of windows give it a speakeasy vibe, but the elegant décor and outstanding drinks recall the golden age of cocktails, when making a drink was an art and a night of fine dining was a glamorous affair.

Although Tuesday was Wink & Nod’s first night with a crowd, everything seemed to be humming along pretty smoothly. Curtis roamed from table to table and throughout the bar area, checking on customers, telling stories, and getting people’s impressions. Service was excellent, and with three or four bartenders operating at any given time, there was never a long wait for a drink.

Speaking of long waits, Wink & Nod has been on the local radar since last October. Without question, it’s worth the wait. And while there’s no neon sign trumpeting its arrival, chances are the door will be easy to spot when there’s a line snaking around the block.

Address: 3 Appleton Street, Boston

Website:http://www.winkandnod.com/

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March 15, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

The Mad Raven

March 15, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

Given that I write about bars in a city that proudly basks in its Irish heritage, you might think I treat St. Patrick’s Day like it’s Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve, my birthday, and the Super Bowl all rolled into one. A day that I mark on my calendar and count down to with breathless anticipation. I mean, it’s an unofficial drinking holiday, right? What’s not to like?

Standing in line outside a bar that would never otherwise have a line, and paying a cover charge that would never otherwise be levied, for the privilege of squeezing into an overcrowded room with revelers who’ve been at it since 11 a.m., while struggling to order a beer, not spill it, and make audible conversation with my companions. That’s what’s not to like.

Look, I’m not trying to be a wet blanket here. If you spend a few minutes perusing this site, I’m sure you’ll discover that my fondness for Boston drinking culture is beyond dispute. And if your preferred mode of celebration is to take St. Patty’s Day off from work, deck yourself out in green, strap on your drinking shoes, and wait for the bars to open, far be it from me to criticize. You have my unending support. And trust me, I understand the importance of honoring personal traditions.

The thing is, you’ll never have to twist my arm to spend a night in a warm pub chatting over shepherd’s pie and a few pints of Guinness. I don’t need a holiday or any sort of special occasion. And I don’t have to pretend to be “Irish for a day,” since I’m Irish every day. So in terms of actually celebrating St. Patty’s Day, I’ve come to see it as something of a hassle. Kind of like shopping on the day after Thanksgiving, except you’re not getting any good deals.

Which is not to say that I don’t celebrate at all. I just prefer something a bit more low-key, and I tend to stay outside the city. So this week we head out to Waltham and visit a comfortable old favorite of mine – the Mad Raven.

There’s no O’ in the name, and the walls aren’t cluttered with black-and-white photos of Irish farmers eking out a hardscrabble existence during the potato famine. But the Mad Raven is the real deal. Owner Mark McAuliffe, a native of County Cork, Ireland, and his wife Maura have run the place for nearly 15 years, and it’s everything a good Irish pub should be – casual, approachable, and familiar. A long, spacious bar with a worn, wooden surface is surrounded by 15 comfortable chairs.

Green and amber lights above the bar give things a festive, St. Patty’s Day glow. A large dining area with about 10 to 15 tables keeps the bar area from getting too cramped. Hardwood floors, exposed brick, and warm, orange-yellow walls result in a very homey feel.

And then there are the ravens.

All throughout the bar, you can find the bar’s namesake bird. Ravens behind the bar. Ravens on the walls.

Apparently there are ravens all over Ireland, too, but that’s only part of the reason behind the name. “Mark’s father was into theater and stuff in Cork,” bartender Willie Egan explains. “He liked the Edgar Allen Poe poem about the raven, thus the name.”

My sister Kelly and I stopped in on a recent Saturday for a laid-back evening of conversation, comfort food, and best of all, a few of Ireland’s famously recognizable beverages. But we started with a couple of local offerings. First up was the Harpoon’s appropriately named seasonal brew, the Long Thaw.

A beer ideally suited to the month of March, this powerful white IPA is loaded with hops, but softer notes of citrus and spice serve as a reminder that spring is (reportedly) on the way.

Sam Adams also offers a seasonal white ale, though the Cold Snap is considerably less hoppy than Harpoon’s brew. Smooth, citrusy, and highly drinkable, it’s a sturdy beer that can stand up to a long, chilly New England winter.

The Raven’s appetizer menu is stocked with standard pub fare like wings and nachos, but we opted for the evening’s special – Buffalo calamari. Topped with thinly sliced carrots, bleu cheese, and a plethora of jalepenos, it was a spicy start to the evening (for me, anyway; Kelly picked out most of the peppers) and a nice twist on traditional calamari.

The rest of the night was spent celebrating all things Irish. Starting, of course, with arguably the grandest of Ireland’s gifts to the rest of the world. What can be said about Guinness that hasn’t already been said? Even after two-plus centuries, it’s a beer that never gets old.

It’s also a beer that plays surprisingly well with others. There’s Guinness and its old English friend, Bass, making up the traditional Black and Tan.

Kelly opted for the Black Velvet, a mix of Guinness and Magners Irish cider.

The Raven’s dinner menu is heavy on comfort food, with burgers, sandwiches, and old standbys like mac and cheese. But they also throw in a few curveballs, like Creole jambalaya and blackened swordfish tacos. Kelly and I kept things traditional.

The Raven’s shepherd’s pie is stuffed with beef, carrots, corn, and a rich gravy, topped with homemade mashed potatoes. This fortifying dish is a longtime favorite at the Raven, even among the staff. “The shepherd’s pie is good, huh?” one of the bartenders asked as I dug in. “It’s good from behind the bar, too,” he added. “I can order it, and 15 minutes later, it’s still hot.”

Kelly opted for the fish and chips, a generous portion of deep fried cod and crispy golden fries.

Like any Irish pub worth its salt, the Raven hosts live music every Saturday night, and some Fridays too. As we ate our meals and sipped our Guinness, we were treated to the acoustic stylings of Dennis McCarthy, who impressed with Irish standards such as “Runnin’ Down a Dream” and “Folsom Prison Blues.”

I closed out with one of Ireland’s oldest and most distinguished exports. A Jameson on the rocks is a strong way to cap off any night, whether you’re toasting the patron saint of Ireland or just enjoying a quiet evening.

And it makes me wonder, as I do every year, how St. Patrick’s Day got so blown out of proportion. I know plenty of people still observe it as a cultural and religious holiday. But you don’t need the luck of the Irish – or even a special occasion – to find good food and beer, live music, and friendly company in the confines of a comfortable pub.

But I can’t fault anyone for getting into the spirit, and if that’s your plan this weekend, the Raven’s ready for you. In addition to regular menu items like the shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, and corned beef reuben, the weekend’s food specials will include a full Irish breakfast (served until noon), Guinness beef stew, corned beef and cabbage, and bangers and mash. Saturday night, the talented Ryan Palma will be entertaining what is sure to be a full house, and green-clad revelers will likely be out in full force all weekend.

Come Tuesday, things will get back to normal. The Raven will go back to being a relaxed, familiar neighborhood pub with plenty of Guinness, Jameson, and shepherd’s pie to go around. The regulars will congregate around the bar, watch March Madness or speculate about the upcoming Sox season, and chat with their regular bartender. “That’s what an Irish bar is all about,” Willie reminds me. “Socializing over a pint. TVs optional.”

And that’s worth a pot of gold any night of the week. Sláinte!

Address: 841 Main Street, Waltham

Website:http://www.ravenpubs.com/

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March 7, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

Sky Restaurant

March 7, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

One of my favorite things about enjoying a drink in a top-notch cocktail bar is being able to talk with the person who made it. Having the chance to hear a skilled mixologist explain why he or she uses one liquor brand over another, or what modifications they’ve made to a traditional recipe, can be fascinating. I especially enjoy those occasions when a bartender inquires after my preferred spirit and then crafts a drink based on that. Under such circumstances, I often don’t even bother looking at the drink list and instead rely on their judgment and recommendations. It doesn’t happen all the time, but with so many excellent cocktail bars in Boston, it’s not an uncommon experience.

Admittedly, it’s not a dynamic I was expecting to find 30 minutes south of the city in the town of Norwood. But then again, there’s a lot about Sky Restaurant that’s unexpected.

Most people in Massachusetts know Norwood as the home of “the automile,” a stretch of Route 1 dominated by auto dealerships and punctuated by strip malls and fast-food restaurants. There’s more to the town than that, of course, but cruising down Route 1 doesn’t usually prompt anyone to say, “Hey, we should really come here sometime for dinner and drinks.”

This monotonous landscape of commerce makes Sky stand out all the more. Endeavoring to offer upscale, city-like dining in a casual, suburban environment, Sky is a huge restaurant with two separate dining rooms and a second floor with function space. But the stylish cocktail lounge is what makes Sky a true suburban destination.

There’s a long, L-shaped bar with 15 comfortable leather seats; candles dot the polished wooden surface, casting an intimate glow. Beyond the bar is a spacious dining area with a fireplace. Dark red and mahogany colors give the lounge a traditional, conservative look, but funky, modern lighting fixtures contribute to a more casual, relaxed atmosphere.

The cocktail menu is fairly expansive, featuring original concoctions and creative twists on some of the classics. What really sets Sky apart, though, is its growing array of liquor infusions. Now, infusing alcohol is nothing new; at plenty of bars, you’ll see the obligatory glass dispenser loaded with fruit and vodka. But it’s rare that infused liquors figure prominently into a bar’s nightly offerings.

“We had a pineapple vodka infusion and a green apple one for a long time,” says Nadine, one of Sky’s four bartenders. “And we thought, what else can we do?”

Get creative, that’s what. Unsatisfied with merely soaking pineapple rings in a gallon of vodka, Sky’s bar manager, Kyle, teamed up with head chef Andy DiPace to develop infusions with greater complexity and character. They started small and played it safe, infusing vodka with a combination of golden, red, and green apples and adding cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla extract. The result was not only a better-quality infusion but a new signature cocktail – the Apple Orchard.

Representing everything that a well-conceived vodka infusion can be, the Apple Orchard quickly took off among Sky’s customers. Simple and approachable, but with complexity and balance on account of the apple blend, it’s like a fresh slice of apple pie in a glass. A cinnamon stick garnish adds a spicy aroma to every sip.

The drink’s popularity inspired further experimentation and bigger risks, like a vodka infused with poblano peppers, onions, tomato, garlic, and peppercorn, which features in the house Bloody Mary.

Emboldened by their early successes, Kyle and company then took a much more daring leap – infusing whiskey.

With even the most cursory understanding of the differences between these spirits, you can see the problem here. The best vodka is odorless and tasteless; that makes it ideal for infusing, since it easily takes on the flavors of whatever you put in there. Whiskey, with its complex flavor profile, is quite another matter. “There’s a different range of things you can put in bourbon,” Kyle says. “Things like bananas, nuts, and spices work well with it,” he explains. “Pineapple and bourbon, probably not.”

Those challenges are not lost on customers, some of whom are inclined to be skeptical. “Some people, when they hear we’re infusing whiskey, they say you just can’t do that,” Kyle admits. “But they try it, and most of them are surprised.”

It’s hard to imagine even a whiskey purist not appreciating the Maple and Rye, which infuses rye whiskey with banana, crushed candied walnuts, and Vermont maple syrup. The flavors are well balanced; the banana is prominent but not overpowering, and there’s only a touch of syrup, so the final product isn’t overly sweet.

The Bourbon Smash takes on the warm, earthy flavors of figs, apricots, golden raisins, and orange peel. Bourbon and citrus are long-time friends anyway, but the sweetness of the fruit and the depth of the bourbon make this luxuriously smooth and eminently drinkable.

“A lot of it is trial and error,” Kyle says of the whiskey infusions. “And they don’t always come out the same way, depending on the state of the fruit.” He discovered that green bananas and riper, brown bananas, for example, yield very different results in terms of both flavor and smoothness.

Not all of Sky’s drinks are infusion-based, but that same spirit of innovation and experimentation permeates the entire cocktail list. On the first of my two recent visits, Kyle asked whether there was a particular spirit I favored and seemed pleased when I mentioned bourbon. He recommended the Fashion Nut, a smart variation of an old fashioned that he devised after seeing something similar on a cooking show. Combining bourbon, brown sugar, and black walnut bitters, it’s an exceptional cocktail with a mild, molasses-like sweetness and a nutty, smoky essence from the bitters. An orange twist provides the requisite citrus.

The Lavender Honey Sidecar offers another modern interpretation of a classic. A traditional sidecar recipe made with Remy VS cognac, Cointreau, and fresh lemon juice, the addition of honey and lavender make it soft and floral, with muted sweetness and a hint of vanilla.

Even a comparatively simple drink like a margarita benefits from a couple of unique touches. A house-made sour mix cuts down on the usual sweetness, and a rim coated in black sea salt is visually striking.

It is the culture of creativity behind the bar that encourages such novelty and nuance. As explained to me by J.C., a mellifluously voiced mixologist working alongside Kyle, all four of Sky’s bartenders contribute ideas and drink recipes, thriving on the sense of friendly competition. Their passion for mixology is evident as well, especially when J.C. explains that the unusually large chunk of hand-chipped ice cooling my drink is leftover from a 300-pound ice block they used during a recent whiskey event. When I mention to Kyle a whiskey he hadn’t heard of, he pulled out a notebook and jotted it down. I have to admire anyone who keeps a whiskey notebook.

The innovative spirit that infuses the drink list extends to the food menu as well. You could probably make a meal just out of the extensive appetizer list, with items as diverse as lobster sliders, lettuce wraps, and baja egg rolls.

Deviled eggs are jazzed up with smoked bacon, blue cheese, and micro arugula. The crab cake trio is accompanied by a trio of tangy sauces – pineapple salsa, sweet chili, and a traditional remoulade.

The dinner menu is stocked with traditional Italian dishes, seafood, and a host of classic comfort foods with modern twists (I’ll admit to feeling a slight pang of regret in not trying the apple bacon pear pizza). The delicious winter vegetable spaetzel, one of several seasonal offerings, is a hearty combination of roasted brussels sprouts, kale, turnips, sweet potatoes, and heirloom carrots, topped with a rich demi glace.

Frutti del Mare, which translates to “fruits of the sea,” was one of the evening’s specials. This outstanding dish was a mix of haddock, calamari, and shrimp stuffed into fresh, house-made raviolis, tossed with sautéed spinach, and served in a sherry cream sauce.

When dinner arrived, I asked Kyle if he could suggest a cocktail that would go with my meal. Given my new appreciation for the challenges of pairing food and cocktails, I realized this was no simple request. Kyle responded admirably, though, with a drink combining Nolet’s Silver gin, St. Germain, ginger liqueur, peach bitters, and a splash of pineapple and cranberry juice. One of Nadine’s recipes, it was a vibrant drink with a sweetness that nicely complemented the creamy sauce.

It may be hard to justify dessert after two appetizers, a filling meal, and a few drinks, but Sky’s “minis” make it easy to allow for a little post-dinner sweetness. These artful, sample-size desserts made by the restaurant’s pastry chef are served in individual glasses, and a few bites of apple pie, key lime pie, and strawberry cheesecake are manageable even if you’re full.

The chocolate fondue, on the other hand, is the very epitome of decadence. If there was one thing we didn’t need right then, it was a chocolate fondue with marshmallows, cookies, and cake pieces for dipping. But one of Sky’s regular customers insisted my wife and I try it – then ordered one for us and put it on his own tab.

It was wonderfully generous, and our benefactor’s enthusiasm was entirely justified; the fondue was delicious. Granted, being rolled out to the car a few minutes later was not my most dignified exit.

Last Call

It’s tough for any suburb to compete with a city when it comes to nightlife. Boston will always have more bars and restaurants, and thus more variety, than any of its distant neighbors. But even in a city with a preponderance of cocktail bars, finding a staff with the same talent, enthusiasm, and good nature as the one at Sky is not always a given.

My visits were as illuminating as they were entertaining. The creative and competitive spirit that fuels the Sky’s cocktail menu is also evident in the animated dynamic behind the bar, with liberal amounts of witty banter, verbal jabs, and bickering over things like the proper way to arrange a place setting. It makes for a relaxed environment conducive to conversation and exploration – something I find more valuable than simply placing an order. To that end, Kyle, J.C., and Nadine seemed genuinely happy to discuss the finer points of the cocktail menu and offer helpful suggestions.

And they listen, too. Not long after Nadine and I had a chat about rum, she surprised me with a drink that she’d just made up. “It’s kind of a rum sidecar,” she explained. Combining Gosling’s rum, cognac, peach schnapps, and orange bitters, garnished with an orange twist, it was fruit-forward but with considerable depth and complexity from the cognac. I was impressed with both the cocktail and her attentiveness. “It’s not every day that someone says they like Nadine’s drinks, so it’s good for morale,” Kyle noted dryly.

As for Sky’s liquor infusions, the experiments continue. Tonight they’re unveiling a tequila infused with jalapeno peppers, avocados, and limes, which will feature in their new Angry Sombrero cocktail. That sort of inventiveness and originality makes you wonder whether city bars will start taking cues from the suburbs for a change.

Address: 1369 Providence Turnpike Highway, Norwood

Website:http://www.sky-restaurant.com/

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March 1, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

Closing the Book on Year 2

March 1, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

Dear friends, family, and readers, Today marks the two-year anniversary of Boston BarHopper’s debut. That’s two solid years of barhopping, picture snapping, note taking, late-night writing, and swearing to the heavens over infuriating technical issues.

But the purpose of today’s post is not to celebrate myself. Instead I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who’s helped make the past two years so interesting, illuminating, and wonderfully fulfilling. That means every mixologist who’s whipped up an original cocktail at my request and hasn’t minded me taking pictures while they do it.

Every bartender who’s taken a few minutes out of their busy night to answer my questions. Every manager who’s let me in their bar before it opens so I could take a few pictures.

It means every person who’s ever made a point to say “Hey, I went to this cool bar, and you should write about it.” It means complete strangers who’ve shared one of my stories on Twitter, Facebook or anywhere else. It means fellow barhoppers who’ve patiently waited to sip their drink or eat their meal so I could photograph their order.

And of course, my most heartfelt thanks goes to every person who’s spent even a minute visiting Boston BarHopper. I’d like to think I would do this even if no one ever read a word I wrote. But the truth is, connecting with people is what inspires me most. Whether I get five visitors a day or 5,000, I feel blessed whenever I see that someone’s spent a couple of minutes looking at my work. It truly means the world to me, and I hope you’ll keep coming back.

This year’s journey will bring us to some exciting new bars and plenty of Boston classics. We’ll check out some hotel bars, a Boston distillery, and a couple of suburban gems. And when this brutal winter is finally behind us, we’ll heartily celebrate warmer weather with a return to the outdoor seating series.

But for now, I just want to say thank you, again – for reading, for reaching out, for contributing in any way, obvious or subtle. I give you my word that if you’ll keep visiting, I’ll do everything I can to make the coming year of BBH the best and most entertaining one so far.

I’m looking forward to another year of exciting discoveries, interesting characters, fantastic drinks, and a lot of laughter. And as always, I’d be honored if you would join me.

Cheers,

Matt

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February 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

New Year, New You – A Cocktail Dinner

February 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Pairing food and drink is a time-honored practice, and one most closely associated with wine. In a typical wine pairing dinner, a chef prepares several courses, each accompanied by a different wine; done properly, the ingredients in your glass complement those on your plate, making the sum of your meal greater than the whole of its parts. More recently, the availability and complexity of craft beer have brought beer pairings into vogue. They may occur at gastropubs instead of five-star restaurants, but the principles are the same.

Cocktail pairings are comparatively rare. That might be surprising, especially in light of the culture and popularity of modern mixology. But matching cocktails with food presents a number of challenges. One obstacle is that the drinks themselves may already contain a complex mix of liquor, bitters, and herbs. Common mixers, such as citrus, don’t get along well with certain dishes, and some liqueurs may be so bold as to overwhelm your palate. Alcohol content poses another problem. Cocktails are by their nature more potent than beer and wine, and if you end up hammered before the second course even arrives, you’ll probably inhale your food just to soak up the booze – which defeats the purpose of eating deliberately and enjoying the flavor interactions.

Difficult though it might be, it’s no surprise that Cambridge’s Moksa would embrace the challenge of a cocktail pairing. No stranger to hosting creative events, the Central Square Pan-Asian eatery and cocktail lounge hosted a “New Year, New You Cocktail Dinner” in late January, pairing a three-course meal of small plates with cocktails designed by beverage director Noon Summers.

An intimate crowd gathered for the festivities, which began with a champagne cocktail.

Complete with a tea-smoked sugar cube, it was a light, elegant drink that lent itself to some engaging pre-dinner conversation among the dinner guests.

We also got a plate of edamame to snack on.

And with that, the pairing officially got under way. The first-course cocktail was a classic – a Martinez, made with Edinburgh gin, sweet vermouth, and allspice dram. Even by itself, the drink was outstanding. Noon described it as “food friendly,” which it certainly was.

Dry, with a hint of sweetness at the end, it matched well with the first dish – yellowtail sashimi with ginger, chive, and a sake-yuzu soy drizzle. The dry and bitter elements of the Martinez didn’t dominate the mild flavor of the fish, and the aromatics brought out the flavors of the citrusy, spicy soy sauce.

The next cocktail would warm the heart of anyone who’s endured this horrendous New England winter – a hot toddy. With distinct floral and herbal notes, Noon’s hot toddy combined whiskey, Grand Marnier, tea that she brought back from a recent trip to Thailand, and spices, including a hibiscus flower syrup. The tea flavor was strong but not overpowering, and the drink was served at the perfect temperature. “I didn’t want to overheat it,” Noon explained. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t taste the whiskey.” (This may be why every hot toddy I’ve made at home has been disappointing.)

Accompanying the hot toddy was a dish called Chow Fun – a roasted mushroom blend served with Asian greens and shrimp. As someone who doesn’t love mushrooms, I was a bit leery going into this one. But of all the evening’s pairings, this may have best demonstrated how flavors can work together to create something bigger than the individual components. The herbal flavors from the tea and hibiscus brought out the earthy essence of the mushrooms, which in turn took on the rich flavors of the vegetables and spices. The orange flavor of the Grand Marnier paired beautifully with the shrimp.

The evening ended on an appropriately sweet note. The Radiant Orchid cocktail, named for the 2014 color of the year (you’ll just have to look that up), combined Grey Goose vodka; Noon’s “farmhouse cordial,” made from freshly grown herbs; Concord grape juice; and Lambise, a cocktail beer.

Served alongside it was a smooth, creamy panna cotta made with Concord grapes. It was a simple yet masterful combination. Grape was clearly the central flavor, appearing in both the cocktail and the dish. But the tartness of the lambic and the herbs in the farmhouse cordial provided balance, resulting in a well-rounded dessert pairing that was fruity but not overly sweet.

I spent the entirety of the evening enjoying the splendid flavor combinations and happily discussing the meal with the other guests. It was only later that I came to fully appreciate the forethought and expertise that made the night so successful. There were some obvious relationships between the food and drink ingredients, like the grapes that featured in both the Radiant Orchid and the panna cotta. Other connections were more nuanced, like the spices in the Martinez accentuating the yellowtail dish. No matter how pronounced or subtle, identifying those key flavors ahead of time and knowing how they’ll behave is critical.

What’s more, Noon’s carefully selected cocktails prevented us drinking too quickly and not appreciating the accompanying dishes. One would be hard-pressed to chug a Martinez; with such dry and bitter liquors, it’s a sipping cocktail if ever there was one. Likewise, no one gulps down a warm drink like a hot toddy. The drink portions were also smaller than usual, which made them well suited to the small plates.

It seems inevitable that cocktail pairings will grow in popularity, and as “New Year, New You” demonstrated, the possibilities are enticing. But the success of such endeavors depends on the right balance of creativity, skill, and restraint. And it doesn’t hurt to have a mixologist of Noon Summers’ caliber at the helm.

This also wasn’t the last such event at Moksa. Tonight, in fact, they’re hosting a decadent chocolate-themed pairing, with items like warm cocoa nibs whiskey punch, spicy scallops with white chocolate and wasabi drizzle, and a house-made chocolate Irish cream.

Yeah, that doesn’t sound too awesome or anything.

Address: 450 Massachusetts Avenue

Website:http://www.moksarestaurant.com/

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February 14, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

Church...Revisited

February 14, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

[I'm sorry to report that Church closed. The music venue stayed open for a while after the main restaurant closed, but it's gone now.]

I remember being a little wary the first time I heard of the Fenway-area bar Church. I’d been told they had good food and creative drinks, but the name of the place threw me. Church. It sounded like a trendier-than-thou nightclub – maybe because so many of those places have one-word names. I agreed to check it out but remained skeptical; I was prepared for snobbery, a cheesy Gothic theme, and for someone going to take my table away at 10 p.m. to make room for a dance floor.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In fact, of all the places I’ve visited since I started Boston BarHopper, Church remains one of the most pleasant surprises. Where I was expecting pretension, I found a laid-back atmosphere and friendly staff. What could have been kitschy and gimmicky was instead cool and clever – like house cocktails named after the Seven Deadly Sins.

Overall, I found it to be a casual but upscale bar with good food and a warm, neighborhood vibe. And yet…something about it was still mysterious. If nothing else, it was unusual by virtue of its being near Fenway Park and not catering primarily to Sox fans. But what really made it stand out was that the restaurant and bar accounted for only half of Church – the other half was, in fact, a club.

The club shares an address with the restaurant, but the two have separate entrances, and the club usually charges a cover. And despite multiple visits to Church, I never got a look at the club side; the closest I got was when I’d walk toward the restrooms at the back of the restaurant and hear music pounding from the other side of the wall.

So with nothing to go on except my imagination, I figured that Church, the club, would have everything I once expected to find at the restaurant and bar: a rude doorman and a line to get in; overpriced drinks and crappy beer; a DJ playing thumping, repetitive house music; a dance floor awash in colored lights; and a crowd much younger than me and way better dressed.

Wrong again.

Church’s club is a small-scale venue with live music every night of the week. It draws local, national, and even international bands of all stripes and styles. “We get mostly jam bands,” says Scott, Church’s general manager, “but there’s a little bit of everything. Country, punk, heavier music.”

The setup is markedly different from that of the restaurant. The club is a long, spacious room with a stage at one end, a bar at the other, and a lot of open real estate in between. While the restaurant has the feel of a cozy, upscale lounge, with leather couches, candles, and warm colors, the club is decidedly sparse – a gray, concrete floor and black walls plastered with flyers and band posters.

Church is also atypical of other music venues in the Boston area. It’s much larger than Wally’s, the classic hole-in-the-wall jazz club, but not as big as midsize places like the Sinclair. It’s not as gritty as the Middle East, but not as lavish as the Beehive. I asked Scott how he would characterize the club, and he thought for a moment before calling it “dive bar meets upscale.” He’s right. Church is basically a no-frills bar with little in terms of décor – a couple of TVs above the bar, a splash of color from some hanging red lights, and two pool tables (which get moved aside on nights when a big crowd is expected). Yet there’s a decent-sized stage, a high-quality sound system, and cool stage lighting. It’s an approachable venue where up-and-coming acts can play, but professional enough to draw more established performers.

My friend Brian and I spent an evening at Church a few weeks back. The headliner that night was a funk/hip-hop band called Eight Feet Tall. Opening for them was a Soul Rebel Project, a local rock/reggae outfit. But Brian and I were there to see the first band of the night – Light Bright. We’d seen them play a few months at the Middle East and were eager to check them out again.

We had time to kill before the music started, which in most music venues would mean standing around drinking expensive PBR tallboys and waiting for something to happen. But Church isn’t a bad place to hang out even before the band takes the stage. There’s a comfortable bar with about a dozen seats, and unlike more traditional concert venues, it isn’t just a pit stop. In places like the House of Blues or the Paradise, no one really hangs out at the bar; you swing by, grab a beer, and squeeze back into the crowd. At Church, you can actually sit at the bar and have a few drinks. And there’s an impressive beer list, with a draft selection devoted entirely to Massachusetts brews, like this BBC Cabin Fever Winter Lager.

Brian went with the St. Botolph’s Town, a smoky dark brown ale from Pretty Things in Cambridge.

Another thing that sets Church apart from similar venues is the food – the full menu from the restaurant side is available. Scott told me that Church had hired a new chef since my last visit, resulting in some notable changes. The modern comfort food theme still prevails, but there are some welcome new additions – like poutine, that wonderful dish of French fries, gravy, and cheese curds. I told Scott that as regular visitors to Montreal, Brian and I have high standards for our poutine. “I’ll go back to the kitchen and scare the cooks,” he responded dryly. Fortunately, Church’s take on the French-Canadian staple doesn’t disappoint, with crispy fries and a flavorful beef gravy.

Despite being entirely different from the restaurant in terms of its appearance and function, the club side of Church possesses the same casual, neighborhood atmosphere. Our bartenders, Jason and Rich, happily recommended beers, talked about the bar and some of the bands that have played there, and introduced us to a few regular customers. “We’re all friends,” Rich said. “It’s like a family here.” It’s the sort of thing that could sound contrived, but he seemed entirely genuine. And while we were there, the bar staff seemed to be enjoying themselves almost as much as the crowd.

One thing you won’t find on the club side – Church’s renowned selection of house cocktails, presumably due to their labor-intensiveness and the size of the typical concert crowd. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get a good drink. I asked Jason if he could recommend something, and he offered to make me one of his own recipes – the Fhloston Paradise. Named for a holiday destination in the cult sci-fi film The Fifth Element, this was like a combination of a Mai Tai and a Moscow Mule. Made with dark rum, ginger liqueur, and pineapple juice, it was fruity and sweet up front but had a spicy ginger flavor in the back.

For dinner, Brian and I both opted for burgers. I remember the burger on Church’s previous menu being delicious but comically unmanageable, since it was about eight inches in height. This newer version, made with juicy, grass-fed beef and topped with Gouda cheese, red onion chutney, and two surprisingly thick slices of bacon, was easier to handle but no less impressive.

“This is a serious burger,” Brian solemnly declared. Indeed. The burgers came with a heaping portion of fries, which, admittedly, we didn’t really need after the poutine.

Around 9 p.m., Light Bright took the stage. An experimental band of Berklee students with a sound that blends of funk, jazz, and hip-hop, they’re an eclectic group – beyond the usual guitar, drums, and bass, there’s an alto sax, a tenor sax, a vibraphone, and two singers. That’s a lot of disparate elements, but the vibraphone ties it all together, giving their sound warmth and providing a foundation for their sometimes spacey, extended jams.

As Light Bright finished up their set, I polished off my last beer of the night – a Harpoon Boston Irish Stout. Roasted malts and a creamy texture make this stout a worthy addition to the Harpoon line.

The crowd began to swell as Soul Rebel Project got set up, and there was a noticeable following for Eight Feet Tall, which recently began a standing engagement at Church. I was curious about both bands but couldn’t stay; Church may host live music seven nights a week, but some of us have to get up for work on five of those mornings.

Last Call

Church is one of the most interesting and underrated music venues in the city. With a capacity of 225, it’s considered small as concert halls go; but it’s still a good-size space, so even when it’s full, you never feel crammed in. Plus, there’s usually plenty of room around the bar.

The club attracts a diverse set of performers, from slick cover bands to international touring acts, but there’s definitely a preference for jam bands. Some weeknights are devoted to certain genres – Monday is hip-hop night, Wednesday is typically for funk and reggae. And every Tuesday, Church hosts “Secret Sessions,” a Boston art and music event that brings together national bands and local artists. Music usually starts around 9, but that can vary.

Live music will always be the main draw here, but Church is a decent bar even before the bands plug in. The bar opens at 5 but typically doesn’t get busy until the music starts, so for at least a few hours, it’s a quiet alternative in an otherwise busy area. They’ve even started using the club space for non-music events, such as an upcoming cognac dinner.

The nightly cover charge ranges from $5 to $15, depending on who’s playing. You can avoid it if you show up early enough and avail yourself of the excellent beer selection. But even if you have to pay to get in, the fee is reasonable – and worth every penny if you see the right band.

Address: 69 Kilmarnock Street, Boston

Website: http://www.churchofboston.com/

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February 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Ward 8

February 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

In a city that has seen its share of colorful political figures, Martin M. Lomasney may lack the name recognition of a Kennedy or the notoriety of a James Michael Curley. Maybe that’s because, despite a 50-year career in which he did hold a number of public offices, his substantial political clout was largely cultivated in his unofficial capacity – as a ward boss.

A ward boss was the de facto leader of a political machine, a fixture of municipal politics in America’s Gilded Age. Political machines were organizations that influenced elections and dominated other local affairs through a system of political favors and patronage. Unsurprisingly, allegations of corruption and voter fraud were frequent and widespread.

But in a political system vulnerable to abuse, Lomasney was widely respected for his integrity and generally revered by his constituency. Unlike other ward bosses, Lomasney was quick to embrace immigrants, even greeting them on the docks upon their arrival in Boston. Granted, this was more about political expediency than genuine benevolence. But in a climate of fierce nativism, he treated immigrants in his ward the same as he did his other constituents (provided they could vote, of course).

Not that Lomasney should be considered for sainthood. Plenty of his methods were ethically questionable, and his motives may have been entirely self-serving. But the fact remains that while many political bosses were rightly accused of cronyism and graft, Lomasney is remembered for fostering a sense of community. Nowhere was this more evident than in the old West End neighborhood he presided over – known on the Boston voting map as Ward 8.

Political bosses are a thing of the past, and the boundaries of Ward 8 have been redrawn multiple times since Lomasney’s day. But more than 80 years after his death, Lomasney’s legacy of community building lives on in a new bar that honors the old name of his district.

“This area needed a neighborhood place,” owner Nick Frattaroli tells me. “So many people work around here, and you see them pouring out of their offices at 5.”

He’s right – Ward 8, which opened last December, sits on the outskirts of the North End, a block or two from the TD Garden. Populated mostly by office buildings, it’s an area people tend to pass through en route to Italian restaurants or sports pubs.

But for Nick, “neighborhood” is more about attitude than geography. “I wanted a place with neighborhood energy,” he explains. “Approachable” is a word he uses often, and his desire to engender a friendly, welcoming atmosphere is evident throughout Ward 8, from the menu to the reasonable prices – even the infrastructure. “That’s why we have a 30-seat bar,” he says of the large, wraparound rectangular bar that is the focal point of the restaurant. “People can see each other and talk; they’re not looking at bottles and labels.”

The gorgeous marble bar is a modern touch in a room that evokes vintage Boston. The hardwood floor and subway-tile columns have a throwback look, and the exposed brick wall, with “Ward 8” painted in floor-to-ceiling characters, is visually striking. A set of tables look out onto the street, and a separate dining area offers a quieter alternative to the bar.

The dim, candlelit ambience may recall intimate North End dining, while the plaid-clad staff and lively crowd give it the casual vibe of a Canal Street sports bar. But Ward 8’s menu offers thoughtful alternatives to both Italian food and typical pub fare. Described by Nick as “approachable, with a twist,” there’s a raw bar and selection of mouthwatering starters like butternut squash bisque and lamb meatballs. Comfort food staples like a burger, lobster roll, and mac and cheese are all given a modern spin by executive chef Kenny Schweizer. But the “Snacks & Sharing” menu is where you’ll find one of Ward 8’s most popular dishes – maple chili duck wings.

Delicious but absurdly messy, the wings are sweet, spicy, and tender, with meat falling right off the bone. You might want to ask for a few (hundred) extra napkins, but they’re worth the trouble.

The bacon cashew caramel corn is just as good as it sounds. Sweet, nutty, and smoky, this is pure stick-to-your-teeth decadence.

But the food menu isn’t the only thing that distinguishes Ward 8 from its nearby peers. “There aren’t a lot of places around here with this kind of cocktail program,” Nick notes.

That cocktail program is headed by bar manager Mike Wyatt, late of Eastern Standard. His drink menu is mostly arranged by type of spirit – Agave, Gin/Vodka, Rum, Whiskey, and Brandy. Beneath each heading is a mix of what Mike calls classics and modern classics. “We wanted to start with a foundation of classic drinks,” he explains. “Some places make all these crazy ‘craft cocktails’ but can’t make a Manhattan. We teach the bartenders to make the classics.”

Cocktails that date back to the Gilded Age share space with tiki drinks and more contemporary concoctions. The Corpse Reviver, a blend of cognac, Calvados apple brandy, and sweet vermouth, is strong and smooth, with a mild bitterness.

The Painkiller is fruity and potent. A mix of Pusser’s rum, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, and orange juice poured over crushed ice, it's served in a ceramic coconut cup and topped with a dusting of nutmeg.

The Maharaja’s Revenge combines Old Monk rum, Apry (an apricot brandy), and fresh lime juice. With the vanilla flavor from the rum, the apricot, and the zing from the lime, this modern tiki drink is at home among the classics.

The cocktails have their share of twists and innovations, but Mike uses Nick’s word to describe them: approachable. “It’s not like we’re making Martinezes or anything,” he says, referring to the bitter gin-based cocktail that has yet to enjoy the same resurgence in popularity as martinis and Manhattans.

And yet the biggest hits are the drinks that might be considered the most daring. “The egg drinks are flying out of here,” Mike notes with surprise, referring specifically to the Pisco Sour and the Rye Flip. The Pisco Sour seems to be increasingly in vogue in Boston bars, and it’s easy to see why. Ward 8’s version, which combines Macchu Pisco, lemon juice, sugar, and egg white, is sweet, tangy, and creamy. Angostura bitters are decoratively swirled on the foamy top.

The Rye Flip, made with Bulleit rye whiskey, a whole egg, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg, is perfect for a cold winter night. With a creamy texture from the egg, a little bite from the rye, and seasonal spices, all that’s missing is a roaring fire.

Customers’ willingness to try uncommon cocktails may be due in part to the approachability of the bar staff and the emphasis on presentation. “A lot of these drinks spark interest,” Mike says. “We use glass mixing jars, so people can see things like the egg cracking. They ask about the ingredients.”

Few drinks elicit more conversation and questions than the Oaxahan Old Fashioned, which offers an exciting twist on one of the oldest drinks in the book. Ward 8’s version, based on a recipe by Death & Co., trades whiskey for a combination of tequila and mezcal, making for a strong, smoky drink. “Some people don’t even know how to pronounce it,” Mike says. “But they ask, and it sparks conversation. People ask about the difference between mezcal and tequila. And they really like the flaming orange,” he admits, referring to the match-lit orange peel garnish, which contributes a smoky citrus essence (I lament not capturing the momentarily flaming peel, but I was too mesmerized to operate the camera).

The Moscow Mules, unfortunately, inspire not just conversation but larceny – the traditional copper cups they’re served in tend to disappear. “We got hit pretty hard last weekend,” he says with a sigh.

If you're in the market for some copper mugs, Amazon.com is a good place to start. With buying options to fit any budget, there’s no need to pilfer Ward 8’s inventory.

A small selection of House Cocktails is separate from the spirit-driven categories, but the plan is to eventually have a single, unified list. I’d say the original concoctions are already strong enough to stand alongside the traditional favorites. The Il Pompelmo is bright, tangy, and sour, with its combination of No. 3 gin, Campari, St. Germain, and grapefruit bitters.

The New England Daiquiri, as its name would suggest, interprets the traditional Caribbean cocktail with regional ingredients – Berkshire Mountain Distillers rum and Vermont maple syrup. A mere half-teaspoon of syrup means the maple flavor doesn’t dominate the rum, allowing for a fairly restrained sweetness.

And of course, no exploratory venture to Ward 8 would be complete without trying its namesake cocktail. The story behind the drink named for Lomasney’s neighborhood is a blend of history and legend, and its accuracy is subject to debate. But the generally accepted version goes something like this: on the eve of Lomasney’s 1898 election to the state legislature, his supporters, assured of their candidate’s victory, gathered at the Locke-Ober restaurant to celebrate. They asked the bartender to create a drink to commemorate the occasion. The resulting cocktail, a mix of rye whiskey, grenadine, lemon juice, and orange juice, was named for the district that ultimately tipped the election in Lomasney’s favor – Ward 8 – and was the signature cocktail of the Locke-Ober until it closed its doors in 2012.

So how does Ward 8’s version stack up to the original? Mike responds with a now familiar refrain: “It’s more approachable.” The most obvious difference is swapping out the traditional, spicy rye for the softer bourbon, but other changes are more subtle. “We use freshly squeezed juice and a house-made grenadine,” he explains. “It might not seem like a big deal, but we make [the grenadine] here and it’s not as sweet.” The result, he says, is a bit closer to a whiskey sour. “It’s fruity, not too tart. You don’t have to be a whiskey fan to enjoy it.”

That’s especially fitting for a neighborhood bar built on the concept of approachability. Inclusiveness for Martin Lomasney may have been little more than a means of shoring up votes and securing political advantage, but Nick’s intentions seem genuine. “Anyone can come here,” he proclaims. “Foodies, sports fans, cocktail drinkers. There’s something for everyone.”

Last Call

Ward 8’s excellent cocktail list is not static; I’ve seen several additions and subtractions just in the past few weeks. But if you get attached to a particular drink and it goes missing from the menu, don’t fret – Mike assures me that the small crew of well-trained bartenders can still make it for you.

If cocktails aren’t your bag, there’s also a respectable offering of microbrews on draft and more in bottles. The draft options, like this smooth Left Hand Milk Stout on nitro, are served in chilled beer steins.

And true to Nick’s word, there is indeed something for everyone.

Prices are eminently reasonable. Drinks will run you $10 to $12, which is pretty standard for craft cocktails. Entrees range between $15 and $24, and there are plenty of good deals on the Snacks & Sharing menu.

The bar can get a little loud, particularly in the after-work hours. But then again, Ward 8 is a place that’s supposed to have neighborhood energy. And who’d want to live in a dull neighborhood?

Address: 90 N. Washington Street, Boston

Website:http://www.ward8.com/

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January 17, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, BOSTON, Spirits in Focus

Downeast Cider House

January 17, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, BOSTON, Spirits in Focus

I cannot precisely recall the first time I tried apple cider, but I’m almost certain it was at a Thanksgiving dinner when I was a kid. For my family, cider was a turkey day staple, complementing the food on our table while reflecting all the wonderful flavors of autumn in New England.

The first time I tried hard cider? That I remember vividly – and not a little bit fondly.

Sometime in the late 1990s, I was introduced to Cider Jack, which at the time was one of few commercial hard ciders widely available in the United States. As a beer drinker, I was no fan of “malternatives.” But I figured, hey, it’s cider, right? How bad could it be?

Turns out, it could be pretty bad.

Cider Jack was a scratchy, artificially flavored, sharply carbonated beverage that bore scant resemblance to the thick, fresh juice that heralded the holiday season. You know how leaving the cap off a bottle of apple juice for a week or so will supposedly cause it to ferment? I imagine the result would taste something like the now defunct Cider Jack.

If there was one benefit to Cider Jack’s inexplicable popularity, it was that it helped open the door for other – and much better – hard ciders. Eventually my harsh opinion mellowed a bit; I learned to appreciate an occasional Magners and later developed a genuine fondness for Harpoon’s cider, which at least tasted like actual apples had made an appearance in the brewing process. But I never loved it, and I resigned myself to the depressing reality that the chasm between non-alcoholic apple cider and industrial hard cider would never be bridged.

And then, on a summer night in 2012, something happened that forever altered my understanding of hard cider.

I was enjoying drinks in Cambridge’s Central Square with a few fellow barhoppers, and when it came time to change locations, my friend Jen lobbied for a trip to Kendall Square’s Meadhall. Her reason? They had a cider on draft that she really liked. Now as much as I enjoy Meadhall, it hadn’t really been on that evening’s agenda; and going there specifically for a hard cider was hardly incentive. But Jen was persistent, so we headed to Kendall. Upon arriving at Meadhall, Jen ordered her precious drink – something called Downeast Cider – and offered me a sip of the much-ballyhooed beverage.

And that, dear readers, is when I first fell in love with hard cider.

If there was one obvious distinction between Downeast and every other hard cider I’d tried, it was this – Downeast resembled actual apple cider. As in, the stuff I always drank in November (but with alcohol!). Not too sweet, not overly carbonated, and – unlike every other hard cider on the market – not filtered. Whereas you could read a newspaper through a glass of most hard ciders, this unfiltered brew had a cloudy complexion, more akin to that of genuine cider – not to mention a rich, natural flavor.

After that I became something of a Downeast evangelist, talking it up to anyone who would listen and dragging people to Meadhall to try it. Not that Downeast needed my help – their cult following was quickly growing into a regional phenomenon. More bars began offering it on draft, and eventually a canned version appeared on store shelves. In February 2013, Downeast co-founders Tyler Mosher and Ross Brockman moved their operation from Leominster to Charlestown; last December, they hosted a big launch party to officially christen their Downeast Cider House and formally announce their Boston presence. And just this past month, Tyler and Ross were included on Forbes' annual “30 under 30” list. Not bad for a couple of Bates College grads with no prior brewing experience.

A few days before their launch party, I met with Tyler for a tour of the new digs and an education on all things cider.

While Downeast is the sexy choice among ciders these days, the place where the magic happens is more functional than fashionable. The Downeast Cider House, which sits in the shadow of the Tobin Bridge, is a large industrial space filled with brewing tanks, canning equipment, kegs waiting to be filled, and cases of cider ready to be shipped.

The gray, concrete floor is strewn with hoses; electrical cables hang from steel beams on the ceiling; puddles of water await a mop. The only splash of color comes from a huge apple tree painted on the back wall.

A few tables constitute a makeshift office, and that’s where Tyler, Ross, and Ross’s brother Matt deal with the business of making, selling, and distributing cider. And while those matters take up increasing amounts of their time, Tyler and Ross’s typical day is still consumed with making their cider – including the drudgery of cleaning tanks and canning their product. It’s an honest, elbow-grease approach that isn’t too far removed from their earliest days of brewing cider in the basement of their college dorm.

The Downeast story begins in Maine. Tyler and Ross became friends while attending Bates and discussed the notion of starting a business together someday. Cider wasn’t in their plans yet, but after a few overseas trips, they noticed the popularity of hard cider in other countries; the U.S. market was comparatively dry. Another thing they noticed? That most hard cider was “cider” in name only. “It was a real bummer,” Tyler says, “not finding any ciders that were made from freshly pressed apples.”

So when they graduated, they started putting their plans into action. A complete lack of cider-making experience might have given other would-be brewers pause, but Tyler and Ross were undaunted. “We were in college, and we were young and cocky,” Tyler admits with a laugh. But they had a friend whose family owned an apple orchard and an apple press, so that helped. And after eight months of trial and error, they also had a recipe. Before long, the two cider-making novices would be bringing their new product to market. “We had this blind confidence,” Tyler says. “We didn’t know how hard it could be.” They would soon find out.

Downeast set up shop in Waterville, Maine, and began distributing their cider on a relatively small scale. As Tyler recounts, “We made a few kegs, sold them locally, and thought ‘Wow, this is sweet – making and selling our own cider!’” Then a sales trip to Massachusetts resulted in five new accounts – and their first professional crisis. “We got four times the order that we were expecting. We didn’t have enough kegs, didn’t have enough cider.” It didn’t help that it was a bad year for apples, and their supplier ran out.

That led to some tough decisions. Fill the order with an inferior product? Call their new customers back and say “uh, sorry, we’re out of cider”? Of course not. Tyler and Ross ultimately managed to find a new supplier, but it meant moving their home base to Leominster, Massachusetts. Their departure from Maine may have been unceremonious, but it was clear, even then, that the pair were unwilling to compromise the integrity of their product. That “no shortcuts” philosophy remains central to their current vision – and the outcome is a consistently enjoyable craft hard cider.

As we toured the facility, Tyler expounded on what distinguishes Downeast from so many other brands. The cider is made with locally grown, freshly pressed apples – a blend of Red Delicious, McIntosh, Cortland, and Gala. The velvety consistency comes from the type of yeast. “Ale yeast gives it that smoothness,” he explains. “Most ciders use champagne or white wine yeast.” Tannins, known more commonly for their use in wine, provide mouthfeel and body. (In an episode I won’t soon forget, Tyler encouraged me try some dry tannins – which taste roughly like cigarette ash. Apparently something good happens once they make it into the brew. Gentleman that he is, Tyler also submitted to tasting the tannins to share in my misery.)

But if there’s one thing that people immediately notice about Downeast, it’s that the cider is unfiltered. Compared to most commercial hard ciders, Downeast has a darker, richer complexion. “It’s hard to do,” Tyler admits. “When we started, everyone told us we had to filter it.” But filtering affects more than just the cider’s appearance. “We tried a filtered version, but it just stripped all the taste away. We said, ‘we can’t do this to our cider.’”

The process may be more complicated, but the result is a cider with a full-bodied flavor and smooth texture, free of concentrated juices and artificial sweeteners. Other ciders literally pale by comparison.

My tour of the Cider House is illuminating, and not just because of the glimpse at how cider is made. Seeing a business that’s still evolving is just as fascinating. Clearly visible are the vestiges of a young company accustomed to operating on a shoestring budget. There’s the Chinese-made canner Tyler and Ross bought because it was cheap; it didn’t work and they ended up having to buy another one. There’s the pasteurizer that they built themselves, because commercial ones are so expensive.

Tyler still seems astonished by the cost of kegs. And the Downeast workforce is little more than a skeleton crew; aside from Tyler, Ross, and Matt, there are two sales reps and a couple of guys who help with the packing and kegging.

It’s a small operation, but it’s easy to see that bigger things are on the way. Their cider is in ever-increasing demand, and their product line is expanding. Downeast already offers a cranberry cider, an alternative to their original blend. A bit more risky are a couple of non-cider products slated to hit the shelves this year. Tyler seems a tad uncertain about how customers will react to Downeast branching out – a far cry from the “blind confidence” that fueled his and Ross’s earlier ambitions. I’d say there’s little cause for concern; as long as they maintain their dedication to quality and a “no shortcuts” mantra, it’s hard to imagine any of Downeast’s offerings falling flat.

But Downeast’s expansion plans are unlikely to distract Tyler and Ross from their flagship product. And that’s a good thing, because their success is bound to spawn imitators. You can be sure that the market is well aware of Downeast’s popularity, and it’s only a matter of time before an upstart brewery – or even one of the big guys – comes out with their own unfiltered craft cider. It’s a likelihood Tyler is well aware of. “The only way to avoid competition hindering our business is to stay ahead of it.”

I’d say they’ve got a pretty good head start.

******

If you’re a Downeast devotee and are looking to visit the command center, be patient – the Downeast Cider House isn’t officially open for tours yet. That will be changing, though, possibly as soon as next month. In the meantime, to learn more about the cider, check out the website. You’ll find plenty of amusing stories about Tyler, Ross, and the whole Downeast crew. They even offer cider-based cocktail recipes; I found the recipe for “Downeast on the Rocks” particularly compelling.

Website:http://www.downeastcider.com/

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December 23, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

The Second Annual Boston BarHopper Christmas Special

December 23, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Other Stuff

This is the season of special occasions.

This is the time for sentimental old films, songs you only listen to once a year, and claymation TV specials that offer a portal to your childhood. It’s a time when the very landscape is transformed – from the snow that blankets the ground to the lights, wreaths, and bright red bows that adorn street lamps and shop windows.

It’s the time of year when we gleefully endure subzero temperatures so we can stroll through a colorfully illuminated city.

If you’ve been watching your waistline all year, this is when you look the other way. This is the month for wearing comically garish sweaters. It’s a time for decorating trees, attending parties, and taking a chance under the mistletoe.

This is the most wonderful time of the year. And while it’s famous for flying reindeer and brown paper packages tied up with string, the holiday season also brings out some of the best cocktails known to man. The winter weather inspires all manner of fortifying beverages, but holiday-themed drinks occupy a special class all to themselves.

A cup of cheer can be very simple – just dust off that rarely used bottle of peppermint schnapps, pour some in a mug of hot cocoa, and you’ll be rockin’ around the Christmas tree in no time at all. It’s also possible to go overboard, and I’ve had holiday cocktails made with unnaturally sweet spirits, dyed with artificial coloring, ornamented with candy canes and chocolates, and served in brightly tinted glasses.

But like a carefully decorated house that you make a point to drive by when the calendar turns to December, the best yuletide drinks are artful, well thought out, and beautifully presented. They call for more effort than spiking some store-bought eggnog with whiskey or rum, but they’re also not overdone to Griswoldian proportions. These libations may reflect the colors of the season, but more importantly, they evoke its essence. They capture the aromas of an all-day baking session, the warmth of an open fire, the coziness of a snowy night. They are an annual indulgence as unique as the season itself.

With that in mind, I asked three of Boston’s top mixologists if they’d be each willing to devise an original cocktail for this year’s Boston BarHopper Christmas Special. The drinks they responded with were festive, imaginative, and fully imbued with the holiday spirit.

Our first stop is in Somerville, where Union Square is tastefully lit up and decked out for the holidays. Not that the extra lighting makes Backbar any easier to find. This hidden bar might be a tad challenging to locate if you don’t know where to look, but for some of the best cocktails in the Boston area, it’s worth a little confusion.

Principal bartender Joe Cammarata has been working at Backbar since it opened two years ago. I met him during my first visit a few months back and was immediately impressed with the way he went about his work. No matter how crowded the bar got – and this small space can get busy – Joe never seemed frazzled, making drinks according to his own unflappable tempo. He always found time to inquire about his customers’ spirit preferences, offer suggestions, and explain the nuances of a recipe – all while consistently mixing up the sort of top-notch drinks that have made Backbar such a renowned destination for cocktail enthusiasts.

I stopped by on a recent Saturday evening, and before Joe unveiled his yuletide concoction, he presented me with a fun Backbar original – a Root Beer Float Milk Punch.

The flavors of root beer and ice cream may seem best suited to summer, but this milk punch, made with rum, amaretto, and citrus falernum, had a creamy texture and notes of vanilla that were right at home on a cold winter’s night. And yet this was only a prelude to the main event.

“When you emailed me,” Joe said, “the first thing I thought of was turning a Mai Tai into an eggnog.”

I was stunned. Mai Tai? Eggnog? These are a few of my favorite things, but the citrusy sweetness of a Mai Tai and the rich, dairy base of eggnog sounded even less compatible than the Snow Miser and Heat Miser. What I didn’t realize, though, is that the drinks have more than just rum in common.

“There are a lot of spices in tiki drinks that remind me of Christmas,” Joe explained, as he began making a cocktail that combined the best of two very different worlds. He started by shaking a whole egg and heavy cream before adding a couple of house-made syrups – orgeat and falernum. Then came the booze – orange liqueur, Clément VSOP rum, and Bacardi 8-year rum.

“It wouldn’t be eggnog without nutmeg,” he said, grating a fresh clove of nutmeg over the creamy concoction. “And it wouldn’t be a Mai Tai without a little bit of lime.”

The Nog Mai Tai – a working title, Joe said at the time – was a unique, masterful mix of ingredients that evoked snowy days and tropical nights in equal measure. The almond flavor of the orgeat syrup, an essential component of a genuine Mai Tai, is exactly the sort of warm nuttiness found in all manner of holiday treats. Likewise, the falernum syrup, common to many tiki drinks, combines the flavors you might find in Christmas cookies and pumpkin pies – cloves, ginger, allspice, and vanilla. The Clément added a touch of coconut and caramel.

This was fantastic – clever, unexpected, and representative of the innovative spirit that gives Backbar its impeccable reputation. With notes of molasses and vanilla, balanced by hints of lime and coconut, this full-flavored cocktail conjured the odd image of sipping a cold-weather classic in the land where palm trees sway.

For our second drink we head into downtown Boston, where Boston Common and the Public Garden both sparkle with holiday splendor. The huge Christmas tree, a gift from our friends in Nova Scotia, is celebrated with an annual lighting ceremony that officially ushers in the holiday season.

An illuminated footbridge offers a majestic path through the Public Garden.

Trees all throughout the Common are adorned with festive lights. If you don’t mind the cold, strap on some skates and take a whirl on the Frog Pond.

But when Jack Frost starts nipping at your nose, there’s no better place to warm up than at nearby Stoddard’s.

With an excellent beer selection, a universally lauded Moscow Mule, and an impressive list of old-school craft cocktails, it’s no wonder Stoddard’s is one of Boston’s most popular drinking establishments. It draws a strong after-work crowd that’s never in a hurry to leave, and if you score a seat at the bar before 7 p.m., consider yourself lucky. But no matter how busy or noisy Stoddard’s gets, you’ll probably hear the voice of Jamie Walsh above the din.

As Stoddard’s’ drink coordinator and bar manager, “Walshie” usually looks pretty busy, bouncing between the main bar and a second one downstairs. But he still finds time to mix up a few drinks while talking and laughing with customers.

My first meeting with Jamie was a memorable one. I was at Stoddard’s on a rare quiet evening, working on a piece about the bar. Jamie introduced himself and offered me a sample of Founders Breakfast Stout, an imperial stout that he characterized as “a mouthful of awesomeness.” He immediately struck me as a good-natured fellow whose knowledge of his craft was exceeded only by his enthusiasm.

For the BBH Christmas Special, Jamie offered Stoddard’s’ Downtown Flip. “It’s our play on an eggnog,” he told me. This was a more traditional eggnog than the one I had at Backbar – no lime zest or falernum here – but it was no less inventive and complex. Jamie adds a whole egg, Old Monk 7-year rum, Drambuie, a house-made cinnamon syrup, and Aztec chocolate bitters to a shaker. “This is called a ‘dry’ shake and will help incorporate all the ingredients,” he explained. “It also helps make a more frothy drink.” After that he adds ice, shakes it again, and strains it into a coupe glass.

With a thick consistency akin to that of a milk shake, and tiny shards of ice that added texture and a deep chill, this exquisite drink paid tribute to the holiday season’s quintessential beverage while giving it a few creative, modern twists. The flavor from the chocolate bitters was subtle but unmistakable, while the cinnamon syrup blended with the honey and spices of the Drambuie to create a beverage worthy of being sipped in front of a roaring fire.

When I asked Walshie if he had anything else of the seasonal variety, he responded with a drink called Paradise and Purgatory. This variation of a Manhattan combined rye whiskey, Benedictine, green chartreuse, absinthe, and three dashes of Fernet Branca.

With all those bitter ingredients, I was expecting the cocktail equivalent of coal in my stocking. But I was surprised by the complex, herbal base, and none of individual components were overly assertive. The Paradise and Purgatory isn’t necessarily a holiday drink, but it will surely surely reinvigorate you after hours of walking in a winter wonderland.

Our final stop is in Central Square. Gritty, Bohemian, and alternative as it may be, this Cambridge neighborhood still dons its gay apparel in December.

Now if you’re a regular reader of mine, you could be forgiven for wondering whether I’m secretly on Moksa’s payroll. True, this Pan-Asian restaurant and cocktail bar has featured prominently in my 2013 posts, from bartender battles to evenings spent watching the Three Amigos. But Moksa regularly hosts fun, creative events; and when Noon Summers’ cocktails are at the center of them, I find it hard to stay away.

Noon is the beverage coordinator at Moksa and a brilliant mixologist. She’s had her work featured in Imbibe magazine, has designed cocktails for numerous events around the city, and makes a mean Manischewitz punch.

For this project, Noon came up with a fresh, highly original cocktail called a Holiday Collins. Made entirely with local ingredients, it’s versatile enough to accompany any holiday dinner.

“Collins” might make you think of gin, but the base liquor in Noon’s cocktail is Bully Boy whiskey.

In place of soda water, she uses Lambise – a Champagne-like “cocktail beer” produced in Belgium and currently sold only in Boston.

To that she adds lemon juice and a special house cordial made from herbs given to her by the guys from the Bully Boy, who grew them right on their own farm. “I call it a farmhouse cordial,” she told me. “It works well with the lambic, which is known as a farmhouse beer.”

Finally, this beauty was ornamented with a sprig of sage (also from the Bully Boy farm), an orange twist, and a playfully festive straw.

Strong, complex, but mellow overall, this was an easy-drinking cocktail designed to complement a winter feast. “It’s food-friendly,” Noon explained. “There’s so much food on your table at the holidays; what goes with it all?” She’s right; think of all the strong flavors competing for your attention on Christmas Day – roasted turkey, ham, cranberries, figgy pudding. “You need an aromatic cocktail, something easy to drink.”

Potent but smooth, and not overpowering, the Holiday Collins was a pleasure to drink. As soon as I lifted the glass, I was met with the unmistakable scent of sage. The Lambise provided effervescence and a subtle tartness. But the farmhouse cordial, a blend of sage, thyme, rosemary, and two types of basil, was the most dramatic component. “You find all these herbs on your table,” Noon noted, “and this drink goes with all of them.”

For me, the flavor brought back one of my most visceral holiday memories: stepping into my aunt and uncle’s house on Christmas Day and being greeted with the savory aromas of fresh herbs and spices wafting toward me from the kitchen.

Before I left, Noon’s bar manager, Tyler, offered me one more surprise – a sip of candy-cane-infused rum. Colorful and sweet, it tasted exactly like a liquid, adults-only candy cane.

Since I’m pretty certain they made this by soaking candy canes in a bottle of Bacardi, it was an ironic follow-up to the artistry of Joe’s Nog Mai Tai, Jamie’s Downtown Flip, and Noon’s own Holiday Collins.

“We were just having fun there,” Noon confessed, a little sheepishly.

But its sweetness and simplicity evoked the holiday season in a different and no less poignant way. Our ability to appreciate the depth and complexity of a well-crafted cocktail is a product of the same maturity and sense of awareness that inevitably diminishes the mystery and majesty of the holiday season.

Now we know how the presents got under the tree and how much they cost. We understand that glowing lights and cheerful songs can make some people feel terribly lonely.

We realize that spending the holiday with our loved ones is a blessing, and yet our hearts note the absence of those who are missing from our celebration. That’s all on top of crowded malls, complicated logistics, and family politics.

We are far removed from the days when our year-end responsibilities included drafting a letter to Santa and trying to evade the naughty list. But sometimes all it takes is the flavor of a candy cane – whether it’s wrapped in plastic or soaking in rum – to bring back the thrill of running downstairs on Christmas morning. And if that renews your ability to believe in magic, even for a moment, then this will always be the most wonderful time of the year.

******

The holiday season is hurtling toward its epic conclusion, but there’s still plenty of time for a cup of cheer. Check out these fine establishments when you need a break from last-minute shopping or are just looking to celebrate the season:

Backbar: 7 Sanborn Court, Union Square, Somerville

http://backbarunion.com/

Stoddard’s: 48 Temple Place, Boston

http://stoddardsfoodandale.com/

Moksa: 450 Massachusetts Avenue, Central Square, Cambridge

http://www.moksarestaurant.com/

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December 13, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Somerville, Spirits in Focus, Events

An Evening With Montelobos Mezcal...and the Three Amigos

December 13, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Somerville, Spirits in Focus, Events

The year is 1916. The rural village of Santo Poco, Mexico, is being extorted by a cruel bandit and his obsequious cohorts. The people of the village have long since abandoned hope and resigned themselves to their plight. But when one of the villagers, a young woman named Carmen, sees a silent film depicting the exploits of three wealthy Spanish landowners who fight for justice and the good of the common man, she hatches a desperate plot to save Santo Poco. Unaware that the on-screen heroes are merely actors, not true crusaders, Carmen dispatches a telegram requesting their help and promising a handsome reward. The telegram reaches the actors, who have recently been fired by their studio over a salary dispute. Interpreting the telegram as an invitation to stage a performance, the three eagerly accept and head to Santo Poco – not realizing they are walking into a real-life battle with a group of ruthless thugs led by the notorious outlaw El Guapo.

This, my friends, is the premise for that enduring classic of 1980s cinema, the ¡Three Amigos!, a film I was fortunate to become reacquainted with last week when Cambridge’s Moksa screened it as part of a promotional event for Montelobos Mezcal. And while it would be difficult to upstage the hijinks and heroics of Lucky Day (Steve Martin), Dusty Bottoms (Chevy Chase), and Ned Nederlander (Martin Short), the true stars of the evening were bartenders Curtis McMillan, Brian Mantz, and Tyler Wolters.

First, a few words about mezcal. Just as the Amigos are wrongly perceived as valiant crusaders, mezcal often suffers from a case of mistaken identity. Many people think the spirit is a type of tequila, when in fact, tequila is a type of mezcal. True, both are made in Mexico and originate from the agave plant, but the similarities end there. For starters, they are largely produced in different regions of Mexico. And tequila, by law, is made solely from the blue agave plant, while mezcal can be made from a plethora of agave plants.

But the most obvious difference between the two spirits is the flavor profile. Mezcal is famous – or infamous – for its distinctive smoky essence. This comes from roasting the piña, which is the heart of the agave plant. The traditional production method involves roasting the piñas in an underground pit lined with volcanic rock and wood, covered with earth and logs. The piñas get smoked over the course of a few days before being mashed, fermented, and distilled. It’s a process that has been industrialized over the years, but smaller, craft distilleries, like Montelobos, have returned to this time-honored, handcrafted approach.

The result is a spirit that nicely balances bitter and sweet flavors, with notes of vanilla, pepper, agave, even citrus. The signature smoky essence is milder and more natural than I’ve encountered in other mezcals; not harsh or overpowering.

Although mezcal is typically consumed neat in Mexico, mixed drinks were the order of the night at Moksa. Each of the three featured cocktails, with names inspired by the evening’s film, was designed by one of the sombrero- and poncho-clad amigos working behind the bar.

First up was “Son of a Motherless Goat,” made by Moksa’s bar manager, Tyler Wolters. This mix of Montelobos, Byrrh (a quinine-flavored, fortified wine), Montenegro, maraschino liqueur, and coffee bitters, finished with a twist of orange, was like a spicy, smoky Manhattan. The coffee bitters added a subtle anise flavor, while the orange peel contributed some bitterness and citrus notes.

Brian Mantz is the bar manager at Carrie Nation, and his “Plethora of Piñatas” combined Montelobos, Lillet Blanc, a grapefruit cordial, and lime. Light and refreshing, it was like a lemonade with a subtle, smoky bite.

As Vice President at the Boston chapter of the United States Bartending Guild, you could say Curtis McMillan knows a thing or two about cocktails. This whole event, incidentally, was his brainchild, part of the local launch for Montelobos. Curtis’s “Invisible Swordsman” cocktail may have been the most complex of the night, with Montelobos, Cherry Heering, Solerno blood orange liqueur, grapefruit, agave, and allspice. Despite combining so many boldly flavored ingredients, it was well balanced, with a big sweetness up front.

While the hombres behind the bar whipped up some potent bebidas, the rest of us watched the tense drama unfold on screen. When the Three Amigos ride into Santo Poco, the villagers aren’t sure what to make of their flashy, would-be saviors. But the trio is lionized after an apparent victory over El Guapo’s bemused minions, and a night-long fiesta ensues. The celebration is short-lived, however, and so is the villagers’ adulation. El Guapo himself arrives the next day; unmoved by the Amigos’ histrionics, he exposes the heroes as frauds, sacks Santo Poco, and kidnaps the beautiful Carmen.

Disgraced, the Amigos are met with a choice – return to Hollywood and try to win back their acting jobs; or, in a richly ironic example of life imitating art, become the valiant crusaders they once portrayed. Facing impossible odds, and hampered by their own bumbling ineptitude and dearth of real-life combat skills, the Amigos make a pact to rescue the girl, save the village, and restore their lost dignity.

No Mexican-themed event would be complete without the spicy food for which our neighbor to the south is so well known, and Moksa’s menu consisted of a few small plates of traditional Mexican cuisine with an Asian flair. First up was a delicious tamale stuffed with ground pork and kimchi, topped with Kochujang, a Korean pepper sauce.

Even the Three Amigos never got tacos like this – spicy tuna, served in nori (seaweed) chips and topped with guacamole and a tangy mango salsa.

Rice and beans are traditional staples of Mexican cuisine, but Moksa’s version spiced them up with curry.

There was even dessert – a bite-size hors d’oeuvre of pineapple, cherry, and cheese, three elements that worked surprisingly well together.

You know what else works well together? Comedy and alcohol (who knew?). I hadn’t seen the ¡Three Amigos! in years, but I think it holds up pretty well. Whether the drinks colored my opinion at all, I can’t say.

And while I was pleased to revisit this classic 80s farce, I was happier still to discover the merits of an artisinal mezcal. I confess, I’d always thought of mezcal as liquefied smoke that may or may not have a worm floating around in it (that’s a whole other topic; and no, you definitely won’t find one in Montelobos). But each of the evening’s cocktails was distinct in its flavor and complexity, and together they demonstrated mezcal’s surprising versatility.

Mezcal has a long way to go before it approaches anything close to the popularity of its distant cousin, tequila. But as Lucky Day wisely explained to the Santo Pocoans, “All of us have an El Guapo to face.” Small-batch mezcals like Montelobos are helping the spirit gain new respect and broader recognition; the support of a major distributor like William Grant & Sons doesn’t hurt, either. It’s already becoming a chic alternative to tequila, and as mezcal finds its way into well-conceived cocktails, its appeal may become as strong as its legendary smoky flavor.

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December 3, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Carrie Nation Cocktail Club

December 3, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

She was about the last person you’d ever want to see walking toward your bar. An anti-booze crusader with a hatchet in hand and the Lord at her side (or so she insisted), Carrie Nation made a fearsome name for herself in the early 20th century by terrorizing saloon owners and promoting the message of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union through high-profile acts of vandalism and at least 30 arrests.

From about 1900 to 1910, this imposing, six-foot-tall Kansas woman brought the temperance movement to violent, radical heights by storming into bars and smashing fixtures and liquor bottles with a hatchet. Her initial targets were saloons that violated local laws prohibiting the sale of alcohol, but Carrie’s “hatchetations” expanded to any establishment selling liquor, legally or not.

She might not seem like the most obvious figure to name your bar after. But apparently the Carrie Nation Cocktail Club appreciates history and irony in equal measure.

Having opened in Beacon Hill this past spring, Carrie Nation (the bar) is everything that Carrie Nation (the person) would have abhorred. With its flapper-era drink list and opulent décor, Carrie Nation is a modern-day tribute to the 1920s – an era that would have inspired both celebration and consternation in its namesake.

No doubt, Carrie would have applauded the ratification of the 18th Amendment, had she lived to see the day (she died 9 years before Prohibition went into effect). But there weren’t enough hatchets in the world to destroy all the illegal bars that sprung up in its wake. And not even Carrie herself possessed enough self-righteousness to shame all the cops who accepted bribes that allowed such establishments to operate, or the judges and politicians who benefited by looking the other way.

Carrie sells a would-be drinker on the merits of an ice cream cone.

But Carrie Nation isn’t just another Prohibition-themed bar serving up old-school cocktails. It captures the Roaring Twenties in all its glitz, glamour, and legendary style.

The notion of drinking in the 1920s may provoke images of makeshift, backroom speakeasies, but Carrie Nation, with its mammoth size, evokes the palatial luxury hotels and dining establishments that reflected the decade’s gaudy extravagance.

There’s a large, open dining room with round tables and comfortable leather booths.

Long, red velvet drapes and a handsome dark brown and cream color scheme hearkens back to a time when people donned their finest duds for a civilized night out on the town. Ornate hanging lamps cast a warm glow over the whole area.

The Beacon Room, a second dining area, is separate and smaller, but still spacious and grand.

A long, beautiful bar – an improbable sight in the 1920s – seats 17, while five tables round out the bar area.

While the décor offers a glimpse of the gleaming luxury of the Jazz Age, Carrie Nation’s cocktail list largely recalls the unsavory side of the 1920s. The drinks are categorized under headings like Drys & Wets, Politicians & Power, and Enforcers & Instigators, conjuring images of Treasury raids, gangland hits, and crooked cops. Yet Carrie Nation’s cocktails are garnished with a distinct local flair – many are named for early 20th-century-era Boston icons, and drinking your way through the list is like stumbling into the grittier corners of the city’s history.

And Boston certainly had its share of drink-worthy figures, as I discovered a few weeks back when I stopped into Carrie Nation with a handful of coworkers. With me were my friends Andy, Jen, Keena, Jen, John, Katie, and a few others (there won’t be a quiz).

In the annals of Boston history, it would be difficult to find a more colorful and controversial character than four-term mayor and one-term governor James Michael Curley. Few Boston politicians are so equally identified for their popularity and corruption – he even won an election while serving a prison term. Curley was known as the Rascal King, and the drink bearing his unflattering epithet combined spiced rum, brandy, peach schnapps, and lemon. Peach was the dominant flavor in this one, but the brandy gave it depth and the rum provided some bite.

Martin Michael Lomasney didn’t have Curley’s reputation for graft, but his political clout remains unrivaled in Boston politics. The boss of Boston’s Ward 8 for nearly 50 years, Lomasney was nicknamed “the mahatma” for his influence over all matters affecting the old West End. The Boston Mahatma is Carrie Nation’s take on a Rob Roy, combining Glenfiddich, Punt e Mes, Maraschino liqueur, and Angostura bitters. A little heavy on the Punt e Mes, this one was too bitter for my liking.

Of course, politicians weren’t the only public figures known to loosely interpret or even outright break the law. Boston police officer Oliver Garrett, whose lavish lifestyle far exceeded his $40 a week salary, was known as the Million Dollar Cop. Garrett was widely suspected of padding his regular income by accepting bribes from the speakeasies and brothels he was supposed to be shutting down, though he was never charged with a crime. Katie ordered the drink named in his honor, a mix of Hendrick’s gin, lemon, Chambord, egg, raspberries, and champagne.

By far the prettiest drink of the night, the Million Dollar Cop was rich in its own way – bursting with raspberry flavor, the egg gave it a creamy texture, and the bubbles added a sense of luxury that Garrett no doubt would have appreciated.

Al Capone was the most notorious gangster of the 1920s, and even now, his name is synonymous with organized crime. But Boston had its own big-time mob boss – Charles “King” Solomon. A prominent nightclub owner, Solomon was also a racketeer who controlled bootlegging, gambling, and narcotics rings in and around the city. Carrie Nation’s King Solomon, ordered by Andy, was a vibrant mix of barrel-aged tequila, house-made limoncello, mint, and ginger.

With an up-front honey essence and a strong tequila bite, Andy described it as “explosive,” which seems appropriate for a drink named after a mob kingpin.

Tempting as it might be condemn the actions of an underworld boss, we all know who keeps those guys in business – and in the 1920s, that was anyone wanting a drink. We were, as historian Ken Burns noted in his PBS Prohibition series, a “Nation of Scofflaws.” The term scofflaw, incidentally, was coined after the Boston Herald sponsored a contest to give a name to this new class of common criminal (two Boston residents came up with “scofflaw” and split the $200 prize). The Nation of Scofflaws cocktail combined rye whiskey, Lillet Blanc, pomegranate grenadine, and lemon. The pomegranate grenadine was a little intense, but it was good overall.

While the 18th Amendment banned the production and sale of intoxicating liquors, it was the Volstead Act that specified which liquors would be prohibited, which would be allowed, and how the law would be enforced. How appropriate, then, that the Volstead cocktail was difficult to swallow. Made with extra dry rum, yellow chartreuse, maraschino, a house lemon cordial, and grapefruit bitters, it was dry and sour – a lot like Prohibition. The bitters doubled down on the grapefruit, making this one a little tough on the palate.

Not all of Carrie Nation’s drinks are inspired by those who flouted the law. The Archers Evening Law, in contrast, pays tribute to the founder of nearby Suffolk Law School. When Gleason Archer, Sr., opened Suffolk in 1906, it was one of the only law schools in the country to offer night classes. Jen ordered the drink named in his honor, a fresh and fruity mix of blueberry vodka and a house lemon cordial, garnished with a fragrant leaf of basil.

Along with their many thematic concoctions, Carrie Nation also has a selection of straightforward, time-honored cocktails. John opted for the “Old Fashioned, Old Fashion.” The name might seem redundant, but considering the ghastly incarnations this poor drink has suffered through, it’s worth pointing out that this is a traditional recipe – rye whiskey, bitters, simple syrup, and a lemon peel. No splash of soda, no graveyard of muddled fruit; just a faithful rendering of one of the oldest cocktails on record.

Keena kept the classics going with a vodka Martini. She reveled in the three huge olives while I averted my eyes (I despise olives).

While the Old Fashioned and the Martini can trace their origins to the 19th century, the Orange Blossom was actually a product of Prohibition. That’s when bartenders started employing heavier mixers to mask the horrendous taste of poor-quality, homemade spirits. Though typically made with gin, orange juice, and sweet vermouth, Carrie Nation’s Orange Blossom uses Ketel One Oranje in place of the gin and Punt e Mes for the vermouth. This one was a bit challenging; I think the orange-flavored vodka was overkill.

If none of the 20 offerings on the cocktail list appeal to you, the bartenders seem more than capable of whipping up something on the spot. One of the best drinks of the night arrived when Katie asked for advice on what to order. After inquiring about Katie’s preferred spirits, our bartender served up an excellent drink made with Hendrick’s gin, Prosecco, St. Germain, and lemon, with a cucumber garnish.

An elegant conclusion to the evening, Katie’s drink was a combination of elements you’d be hard-pressed to find in the 1920s – legal, top-shelf liquor, made with fresh ingredients by a knowledgeable bartender. It is a stunning irony that an era flush with exciting new freedoms – the mobility afforded by automobiles, the luxury of hearing a baseball game on the radio, the purchasing power of the average citizen – is remembered more for what you could not do. Big cities pulsated with dazzling sights, sounds, and diversions, and yet Americans were forced underground – often into basements and stockrooms – if they wanted a beer.

This paradox was not overlooked by the people at Carrie Nation.

While the main room is awash in Gatsby-esque splendor, you only need to turn the corner and head toward the long, burgundy curtains at the end of the hall if you want to immerse yourself in the boozy underside of the Roaring Twenties. And you don’t even need a password to get in.

Carrie Nation’s backroom “Cocktail Club” has all the glamour we associate with a speakeasy and, thankfully, little of the reality – no sawdust on the floor, no bathtub gin, no chance of getting busted.

Still, it exudes that shadowy sense of intrigue that we associate with an illicit bar, and it stands as much in contrast to the main restaurant as the illegal bars of the 20s did to their glittering surroundings. Considerably darker and more intimate than the main area, the windowless speakeasy is dimly lit with antique, tassled lamps.

There’s a smaller bar with 13 plush, burgundy chairs.

Ten stools sit opposite the bar, with plenty of shelving for your drinks if you’re hanging around and chewing the fat. Beyond that are large but cozy seating areas, handsomely outfitted with leather couches, loveseats, and chairs.

There are even two pool tables.

Slinking into the speakeasy about a week after my visit to the front room with my coworkers, I grabbed a seat at the bar and was immediately struck by the more casual, laid-back atmosphere. The old-school jazz playing in the dining room gave way to a playlist of 80s music, signaling a shift from the buttoned-down formality of an upscale eatery to the nonchalance of a neighborhood tavern. Case in point – when I declined a food menu, the bartender, Kristina, responded “Just drinks? Good; I like that.”

I could tell right away I was in good hands back here.

Returning to the “Classics” section of the cocktail list, I opted for a drink that dates back to at least 1916 – the Aviation.

"I’ve been drinking those a lot lately,” Kristina mentioned.

I was encouraged to hear this.

Even better – when I said I’d never tried one before, her response was swift and confident: “Ohhhh, I’ll make you a good one.” And that she did.

This mix of Beefeater gin, Maraschino liqueur, crème de violette, and lemon was fantastic. The crème de violette, difficult to find and thus often omitted from modern versions of the drink, was smooth and subtle, lending it a floral essence and a pale blue complexion.

I requested Kristina’s counsel on what I should order next, and she recommended one of the oldest drinks in the book – a Gin Fizz. Made with Tanqueray gin, simple syrup, lime, egg white, and soda, this was a worthy follow-up to the Aviation. The egg white gave it a creamy texture, but the soda countered with a pleasant crispness. A Luxardo cherry served as a classy garnish.

A visit to the speakeasy was the perfect way to round out my Carrie Nation experience. I’d been finding the cocktails a little uneven up until that point; some were really good, while others focused too heavily on bitter ingredients (though in all fairness, I should probably just stop ordering drinks with chartreuse and Punt E Mes, since my reaction is nearly always the same). But the best cocktails were the oldest ones; the no-frills Old Fashioned, along with the Aviation and the Gin Fizz deftly made by Kristina, prove that no matter how dizzying the heights of modern mixology, the classics are sturdy enough to endure anything – Constitutional amendments, passing fads, evolving tastes, the general passage of time.

Even hatchets.

Address: 11 Beacon Street, Boston

Website:http://www.carrienationcocktailclub.com/

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November 27, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Thanksgivukkah – Showdown at Sundown

November 27, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

It is a holiday dilemma that no one in our lifetime has ever had to grapple with. At sundown on November 28, 2013, Hanukkah begins – right around the time most of us are loosening our belts after Thanksgiving dinner and eyeing the dessert table. This phenomenon, the outcome of a rare, cataclysmic convergence of the Hebrew and Gregorian calendars, has been dubbed Thanksgivukkah. And if you’re a Jewish American who observes both holidays, you’re going to have your hands full. It’s been 125 years since this last happened, so there’s really no template for how to celebrate. What’s it going to be – a long day of devouring turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie, followed by a night of lighting candles, spinning dreidels, and eating latkes? All while in a tryptophan-induced haze? That’s a whole lotta food, fun, and family time in one day, if you ask me.

But a double holiday doesn’t have to mean double stress; in fact, many people have embraced the idea of Thanksgivukkah, finding fun ways to combine elements of two holidays centered on reflection and giving thanks.

Of course, if you find yourself lacking the celebratory fortitude to observe two holidays at once, you can always add alcohol. And for that, you might take a page from the book of Moksa. This past Monday, the Cambridge bar and restaurant hosted Gobble Shalom, a lighthearted mashup of Thanksgiving and Hanukkah. It was an evening of seasonal small plates, holiday-inspired cocktails, and lots of people wearing sweaters.

The Thanksgivukkah mood was festive and irreverent. The bar in Moksa’s back room was decorated with grains and pumpkins, chocolates, and a mammoth dreidel full of whiskey.

OK, it's a top, not a dreidel; but you get the idea.

Guests were invited to participate in an ugly sweater contest and encouraged to drop off unwanted clothing (ugly or not) in a bin to be donated later that night. And sweater donation wasn’t the only good cause of the evening. Moksa was hosting Opus Affair, a community of local artists that occasionally sponsors fundraising events for arts-related causes with its Punch Bowl Fund. A $5 donation scored you a drink ticket, which could be redeemed for a glass of punch.

Guests could then vote to determine which of three local arts organizations – the Bridge Repertory Theater of Boston, Boston Early Music Festival, or New Center NOW – got to take home the whole pot.

The 100 or so guests seemed more than willing to drink for charity, even if the punch ingredients were a little…unorthodox. The deep purple concoction was made with Manischewitz wine, gin, and a Bonal aperitif.

Now as you are probably aware, Manischewitz doesn’t enjoy the best reputation as far as wines go. Few drink this kosher yet notoriously sweet vintage on occasions other than Jewish holidays. Using it as the base for a punch is best left to the professionals – like Noon Summers, one of Boston’s top mixologists and Moksa’s beverage director. The result was surprisingly good; the gin and aperitif dialed back the sweetness, and the result was kind of like a Hanukkah sangria, bizarre as that may sound. “I wanted something that would preserve the flavor of the Manischewitz,” Noon explained to me, with an ironic smile.

The punch was accompanied by several other cocktails that paid tribute to Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and the fall season. First up was the Modesty “Tznius,” a mix of date-infused rye whiskey, Palm wine, and vermouth. The date flavor added a rich sweetness to this Manhattan-like cocktail, while a star anise fruit topped it off with a touch of bitterness.

The Purple Maize combined bourbon and blueberry beer, and was garnished with a kernel of purple corn. The blueberry flavor was prominent but not overpowering, making for a sweet but earthy drink.

The most intense cocktail of the night was the spicy Fire Water. Aguardiente contributed a mild anise essence to this bloody Mary, while a green chile brought the heat. Housemade cornbread croutons served as a tasty garnish.

Of course, holidays with the family are about more than just drinking.

[I’ll pause here and let you wipe up the coffee you just spat all over your screen.]

Sharing a feast is an essential part of almost any holiday, and Thanksgiving and Hanukkah are culinary heavy hitters. Moksa’s Thanksgivukkah celebration didn’t feature a full spread of food, but a small menu of bar bites cleverly combined the flavors of the season.

Thanksgiving means turkey, obviously, and these turkey lettuce wraps were topped with a delicious, spicy cranberry sauce.

Crispy potato fritters made with cottage cheese, green peas, and coated in lots of spices were a nod to traditional latkes. A rich, creamy pumpkin chutney gave them an autumnal twist.

Eventually the two punch bowls were drained, which signaled the closing of the polls that would determine which local arts organization would take home a cash prize. Emerging victorious was the Bridge Repertory Theatre. A theatre group seeking to find new ways to connect with audiences through innovative productions, the Bridge Rep will surely put its donation to good use.

As with other events Moksa has hosted, Gobble Shalom was playful and refreshingly devoid of cliché – no shots of Wild Turkey, no Adam Sandler holiday songs playing on a loop. It was an opportunity to learn about three local arts groups, eat some good food, and raise a glass to a once-in-a-lifetime holiday crossover.

But the star of the show was mixology extraordinaire Noon Summers, whose cocktails were as creative as they were drinkable. I was skeptical of combinations like bourbon and blueberry beer, but I kept coming away impressed. And it takes equal parts nerve and talent to make a respectable tasting punch out of Manischewitz wine, but she more than managed.

Whether you’re celebrating Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, or both this year, I hope it’s safe and happy. And if you are going all out and hosting Thanksgivukkah, have fun and make the most of it – the next one isn’t for another 79,000 years.

Shalom!

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