I mentioned when outlining my 'back to basics' pledge at the beginning of the month that I would be getting off to a poor start by allowing myself a major exception right at the outset, on June 2nd.
The pretext for this early derailment was an expedition to find and try out one of these fabled 'whiskey bars' (almost always Japanese-owned, always in the most obscure locations - and advertised little, if at all: strictly a word-of-mouth thing). I was particularly intrigued by Er because it was reputed to have much the best selection of American whiskeys in town, and this is a corner of the whiskey universe about which I would like to know more (and I was especially keen to sample some J.T.S. Brown, Fast Eddie's habitual tipple in The Hustler).
And I had for some time been planning this expedition in conjunction with a number of bourbon-interested friends (including a rather lovely young lady whom The Weeble disparages as my "fake date"/"fake girlfriend" - a lady who is so ridiculously busy that this was her only 'free night' in about two months!). Thus, when the plan finally came together, it came together rather outside of my control - and force of circumstance committed me to accepting this date, and thus sullying the purity of my intentions to have a month of no posh bars.
What of the night, then? How did this 'exception' turn out? Was it worth the compromise of noble principle? Well, the "fake date" was as lovely as ever - she alone ensured it would be an enjoyable evening. Although she had brought along a posse of her friends to ensure the fakeness of the 'date'. I had also been intending to come with a select group of 'wingmen' - but they all ducked out on me (yes, Weeble, I bear a grudge; Dapper Dan had an excuse, but you were just being a Feeble Weeble). Well, all except Mad Dog Greg, a recent temporary drinking companion (he was only in town for a month, but became quite a regular partner-in-crime during that time) - who's a fascinating chap, but.... well, he doesn't really understand the concept of flying in formation. No matter. It was a very jolly night.
But horrendously expensive - including the warm-up drinks beforehand, a couple of taxi rides, and a nightcap at Amilana afterwards, I blew nearly 500 kuai. Ouch! I think that might very well be my record for a single evening's splurge, and I am in no hurry to repeat it.
Our high expectations of the bourbon selection led to a certain disappointment: they in fact only have a dozen or so, and no J.T.S. Brown (though I did form an immediate attachment to the Ezra Brooks; and the "fake date" was happy to see her favourite, Basil Hayden's, on the list).
I was also a bit disappointed by the Sazerac there (not least because it set me back 100 kuai!). Yes, they have 'Sazerac' brand rye whiskey (although that's a bit of a marketing gimmick, and not, I think, a particularly good whiskey), and genuine Peychaud's bitters - direct from New Orleans. But they use pastis rather than absinthe (boo!); and they mix it in with the rye, rather than just pre-rinsing the glass with it, so the aniseed flavour is a bit overpowering; and they shake it with ice (what the fuck?! I don't like any whisky cocktails shaken...); and they go wildly overboard with the Peychaud's (a bit of a New Orleans vice, I'm afraid), so the drink ends up a lurid crimson colour. This is not how I feel a Sazerac should be.
The name of the bar is offputtingly silly, too. Er??!! Is it supposed to be the Chinese number '2'? Or is it meant to be the abbreviation for Emergency Room? Or were they thinking of setting up a sister bar called Um?? Probably, we shall never know.
In fact, I believe it's under the same ownership as Ichikura, the impossible-to-find and irritatingly up-its-bum whisky bar I slagged off in the supplementary discussion to my Bar Awards last year. However, I found it a much more amenable place than its sibling. Maybe it was just the company that night. Maybe it was the fact that there happened to be a large and lively crowd (the couple of times I've been to Ichi, it's had the atmosphere of a funeral parlour). Maybe it's down to the cheerful persona of the dashingly handsome head barman Daisuke (a Japanese Brit!). But it seems cosier, livelier, and less pretentious.
Still sodding expensive, though. It's going to be a once or twice-a-year special night out venue rather than a regular haunt.
2 comments:
I had a perfectly good excuse -- you didn't tell me when you were going, or where the place was! I sent you a couple of text messages and got no reply until you were on your way out of the place.
Also, I didn't realize it was a bourbon bar. I do not dig on bourbon.
Oh, poppycock! I had told you that it was out on the East 3rd Ring, and it was obvious that you weren't going to be enticed that far out of your home range.
And when Greg and I invited you to join us for a warm-up drink and food, your suggestion of going to Amilal (no food, and in completely the wrong direction from where we were, where we were headed) could not be interpreted as anything other than a piss-take.
They have other whiskies too. Very fine ones. And cocktails. And free bar snacks. And pretty maidens.
And Jim Boyce lurking in the shadows with his webcam.
But once you were in Amilal, it was obvious that you would cleave to the place like a limpet.... so we treated your much later, obviously half-hearted "Well, I might join you" messages with the scorn they deserved.
And once Herself had shown up, your participation in the evening became a very low priority for me. Sorry.
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