Tuesday, October 23, 2012

One girl, forty martinis, IV

We took the whole family to Bang, which is when I ordered the "Banghattan" a drink I was dreading.  The Manhattan and I have a long, troubled relationship.  It was the preferred drink of the nuns in my family, and were in evidence at all of our parties.  To me, the name evoked sophistication, the maraschino cherry implied innocence. The preferred cocktail of nuns, I was sure it would be delicious. When I finally got my chance to sneak a taste, I was bitterly disappointed.  You won't find too many ten year old girls with a taste for whiskey.

The "Banghattan" took me straight back to that childhood taste.  I'm sure it was a competently prepared cocktail, but I am so not into that dusty thrift store dresser drawer taste.  I made Jon eat the cherry because I was afraid of a whiskey explosion.

On a different occasion, I ordered the Battletoad.  This is a bright blue tequila-based drink, garnished with a salt rim and a pink plastic toad.

I liked this drink very much, which I realize is not a very helpful assessment, but it has been awhile and I can't remember exactly what it tasted like.  If you like margaritas and brightly colored tropical drinks, you will probably like the Battletoad.

A week later, I ordered the Black Cherry Cosmo.  I wish I'd taken a picture of it, because it was a lovely shade of pink, garnished with a lime wedge.  The taste was like a cosmopolitan (duh) with an extra layer of depth and flavor from the black cherry vodka.

Then this weekend (Friday nights at Bang is becoming a thing) I had the Boutineer, Bang's version of an Old Fashioned.  I'd never had an Old Fashioned before, but people always seem to order them in old movies and novels, so I was curious.  It tastes like a Manhattan, only sweeter.  Even my ridiculously childish palate was able to swallow it without shuddering.  Or maybe I am learning to like whiskey.  One thing about the Boutineer:  it will make you very drunk--even if you nurse it over five courses of tapas.

Street theater on this night provided by the couple in the monster-sized Chevy suburban with a Romney bumpersticker.  This was no ordinary suburban.  It was some suburban XXL that I've never never seen before.  We watched them pull into the South St. parking lot and then pull out again, having failed to find a spot they could fit their car into.  Thereafter we watched them mournfully circling the streets--like you could ever parallel park a behemoth like that.  Later, we saw them park in a private lot, taking up two spaces, of COURSE.  When people buy a massive car like this, do they ever think about how they will be able to park it?


  1. In my limited experience, all of the drinks at Bang sneak up on me no matter how much food in inhale.

    Those monster SUVs are drawn to my puny 18-year old Honda no matter where I park. I can't count the number of times I've had to crawl in on my passenger side in a cloud of rage.

  2. The battletoad somehow reminds me of a lovely cocktail I found on a side street in the French Quarter of New Orleans, also fruity and tequila based, known as the Horny Gator. I am going to have to get my rear end down there and see exactly how similar they are.

    I can still barely parallel park my acura after years of driving a civic. No way could I ever attempt anything bigger.

  3. Having you taste all these different martinis for us, in selfless research, reminds me of the days when a college friend dated (it seemed then) dozens of different boys and describing each one in complete detail afterward. A vicarious thrill. Your service to others knows no bounds!

    Of course, it does make me want a martini. And tapas. And a date!