Where Is Molecular Gastronomy Now?

I watched "cheftestant" and borderline schizophrenic, Marcel Vigneron, set the molecular gastronomy movement back ten years on this season's Top Chef All-Stars. I had hoped a sensible voice would rise up to reclaim the professionalism that made this technique a viable and exciting culinary approach. Well NPR's Marketplace stepped in and did a segment discussing former Microsoft CTO Nathan Myhrvold's six volume behemoth which mainly focuses on this fairly new scientific view and understanding of food. Stephen Dubner's analysis of the books and Myhrvold's intent is refreshing. I don't, however, find the invention of the microwave oven or canned goods as the best demonstration as to how science can improve food. 

Church & State: Gimmick Alert?

A new craft-cocktail saloon has emerged in the district. There's little doubt, after reviewing initial reports by CityStream, that the owners of this establishment have confected either an amusingly blasphemous gimmick or a murmur of ironic genius. Church & State, as it's called, serves classic cocktails the likes of which are being advocated by many of today's mixologists (with their own personal touches). CityStream profiled the new saloon this week after attending a media preview.

The article was informative and definitely worth a read. I only took issue with the writer's assertion, in an attempt at clarity, that the reader "just remember, this is an American joint, so you won't find scotch or tequila." I can only assume the staff of Church & State did not contribute to this slight mistake.

To clarify, it is true, scotch is not an American spirit and tequila is Mexican. But neither is gin (British) or vodka (Russian) which are both served in a few of the cocktails that were listed. A distinctly "American" tavern of spirits would exclusively focus on rye, bourbon, moonshine whiskies, et cetera. And that would be fine as long as one didn't consider any liquor produced in the rest of North or South America as being American. Technically, I feel these spirits are "American" but I could be simply trying to square the circle. I took no real issue with this confusion as it's quite easy to forget or be mistaken on these details.

With a menu heading like the Bill of Rights, I found myself chuckling slightly.  It is fairly usual for District of Columbia bars to allude to such political ideas as constitutional democracy, the federal system or a capitalist economy (e.g. Founding Farmers, 51st State Tavern, or Recessions). I will not lie: I fear a clumsy attempt at cleverness here. There's nothing quite as tiring as the hackneyed DC satire bar.

But the passion to charmingly poke the flanks of the perpetually offended and yet risk the chagrin of the city's moderate believers has won my interest. I'm gripped with the idea of dashing in briefly for a drink. I hope to visit the newest kid in the neighborhood and provide some insight as to the success of the place in the coming week.

Next Song for the Jukebox

Wine Josh

Friend and coworker, Josh McCarthy, has started a wine blog. He's been the source of some material that I have posted and commented on in this blog so I trust that he has got a good eye for topics related to the beer/wine/spirits industry.

Why (one might inquire internally) would someone else need to start a wine blog? Well Josh asks this question of himself with great humility and writes:

Everyone on the planet, who drinks, hates, loves or has seen wine pretty much has one. But, there is so much information out there, who has time to collect it all, organize it and get it ready for everyone to read? Apparently, I believe I'm the person who has the time.

Congratulations to Josh launching his blog. I'm eager to read his stuff and contribute to the conversation.

A Slight Digression

I'm working towards getting published. Any advice, guidance or tips are not just welcomed but encouraged. Bring on, also, any comments that you may have regarding the writing on this blog.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

"A recent visit to the quintessential contemporary cocktail den presented drinks with special touches like mint grown in the back garden, grapefruit freshly juiced by hand, and ice cubes made from pure water frozen at a special temperature to ensure slow melting...

it took longer to read all of the ingredients than to actually ingest them."

Mixology dissent in the New York Times. The first paragraph juxtaposed well against the wonderful experience I just wrote about.

(hat tip: WC)

Dutch Kills

Nicole and I were in Manhattan for New Years and stayed with a dear friend from high school named Ben Loving. I had targeted several craft-cocktail establishments to visit while in New York. But Ben insisted that we visit Dutch Kills. 

Located in Long Island City, the bar's namesake originates from its historic neighborhood which hugs the Newton Creek tributary. The kills themselves reach out to the East River and separate Queens from Brooklyn. What use to be a little Dutch hamlet eventually became part of the greatest American metropolis.

Ben recommended that we take seat at the bar. We were apparently in for a treat. He's aware of our attraction to mixology. And when one enjoys conversating about the hard stuff one finds him or herself sitting in front of the hard stuff. So each one of us plopped ourselves onto a stool and studied the cocktail menu.

The bartender's name was Matt and if the bar was a flute, he was Ian Anderson. As with many craft-cocktail saloons, Dutch Kills seems to accommodate the eccentrics that clientele have come to expect. Fresh fruit, juices, and syrups chilled in a giant tray of ice, ready for use. Matt's support helped carve a giant ice block into little crystal clear cubes.

Our barman fixed a delicious brandy cobbler, old-fashioned, mint julep and 4th regiment. After a round of drinks, we discovered to our amusement that our barkeep was himself from Washington D.C. I couldn't help but reflect on the irony. Here we venture to the big apple, expecting to enjoy hand-crafted cocktails by a local mixologist, only to find a DC native treading on the New Yorker's territory.

I snapped a few pictures of our evening for the blog. If you, dear reader, are hungry for the experience yourself and happen to be in the Queens area, visit Dutch Kills. And don't forget to fasten on your drinking shoes. 

NOTE: This post has been revised since its original publication.

"As bro as it is to be a bartender, knowing the bartender is f*cking essential"

Some perspectives from the kingdom of bro. 

It's almost as if it was written by The Situation or something (pNSFW).

(hat tip: Lawlor)  

"Drunk as a Skunk (in a Trunk)"

Jonathan "Mr. Slang" Green is the world's authority on slang in the English language.  In fact, he's the editor of a three volume dictionary titled Green's Dictionary of Slang.  Mr. Slang himself writes a quick summary for The Dabbler blog of the various terms that he's discovered for drunkenness and the drunkard.  It turns out this area of lexicography is rife with material: 

"If I do a rough count of the main themes that inform my recently published Green’s Dictionary of Slang, I find – are we surprised – that crime and criminals top the lists with just over five thousand words and phrases. But hard on their heels are drink, drinking and drunks, a solid 4,600. And of these 1200 mean simply drunk. They span the centuries and slang’s inventiveness in this ever-alluring area shows no signs of diminishing."

What you find, is a treasure chest of euphemisms.  Alcohol has had such an imprint on the psyche of the human race that it's no surprise we have come up with an army of terms surrounding it.  In many ways, we owe much of the color in language to our use of the fermentation of the grape and the grain. 

Among my favorites of which I've never heard before: "drunk as a brewer's fart," "going down with barrel fever," and "hit on the head by the tavern bitch."

(hat tip: Sullivan)   

Repeal Day Ball 2010 at the Maison Biltmore

When Nicole and I arrived at the Maison Biltmore in Adam's Morgan each window was like a diorama with imbibers bustling inside, busy looking for cocktails.  Sharp dressed men and dazzled women lined the block leading up to the entrance.  We could hardly wait to get inside of the mansion for this year's hullabaloo of hootch.

Immediately at the door, Nicole and I were greeted by photographer Jim Webb, who snapped a few flattering pictures.  Fentiman's, a UK-based botanical soda company, provided props and costume accessories.  

These cartoonish items, like a top hat or a bowler hat, were ostensibly within reach for use in the photograph.  If one were feeling particularly raunchy, a Victorian dominatrix-like woman was available to help some chap document his brief moment of indignity.  We passed on the gracious opportunity.  

Silly cards littered the classical cocktail tables up ahead.  These cards were, as my dear mother says, "fresh."  The cleft made by one's hooked pointer-finger would fill in some cheeky image of a character's bum (see top of this post for an example).  These party favors were quite immature and, thus, fantastically hilarious.

A table of punch welcomed the guests within a few yards of the entrance.  Drinkers bubbled about.  Both Nicole and I had a glass of the punch and it was clear that the sipper was a winner.  I quickly recognized the magical ingredient: bitters - a lot of delicious bitters.  We turned our attention on where were wanted to venture next in the house.

Two bartenders commanded each room dressed for the era they occupied and each served a cocktail. These cocktails essentially embodied the spirit (intentional pun) of the 1800s, 1900s, 1920s, 1940s, 1960s, 1980s, and the future. 
 

We made our way up the grand staircase passing the cocktailians who lined the walls.  My lady and I chose to move forward by beginning at the end, the future.  In this room, Gina Chersevani and Owen Thomson appeared less like they were mixing cocktails and more like they were breaking ground on cold fusion in a room that looked something like the inside of an alkaline battery.

One freezing cold apocalyptic cocktail melted in your mouth leaving a caipirinha taste.  Shrunken into candy dots were the flavors of Mojitos or Blue Hawaiians.  Attendees packed the room.

Owen brought us the startling vision of booze in a dystopian universe.  Utilizing a little spherification, he showed his guests how the drunkard overcomes his or her addiction in the future by simply reconstituting a cocktail into a slippery noodle.  In that form, it's presumed that one could barely swallow this futuristic sling fast enough to heighten his or her own blood alcohol content.  I assumed that in the future over-serving would be rendered obsolete and intoxication would simply be ballyhoo of the past.  Apocolyptic indeed!

Anyway, the following room possessed that unmistakable fedora feel.  Adam Bernbach built his guests the most handsome Sloe Gin Fizzes I think I've ever seen.  JP Fetherston fussed up 3:1 martinis (that's 3 parts gin to 1 part dry vermouth or 3 martinis to 1 lunch).  Both craftsmen toiled to occupy each drinker's hand with a tipple.

 

The irony of Fetherson's dapper profile, as he pointed out, is that the clothes he wears now (i.e. 2010) would prompt the average American from the early 1960s to think he was a some kind of communist.  On this day, however, he tranformed into a Madison Avenue capitalist draped in a Brooks Brothers suit just trying to sell you the perfect cocktail.

We moved on.

Dale Degroff's mixologist fame was born out of the work he did in the Rainbow Room during the 1980s.  I was thrilled to meet the man for the first time.  He truly oozed that legendary New Yorker swagger.  Even when it appeared as if Degroff was just tossing together a few ingredients the Cosmopolitan he assembled was balanced and sharp. 

Regrettably, I missed the opportunity to enjoy John Hogan's, Jeff "Beachbum" Berry's, Tom Brown's and others' cocktails.  We just could not consume every drink. 

As we pressed forward, exploring each room and greeting each mixologist we discovered folks we had not seen since last year's tomfoolery: Jeffrey Morganthaler, Edward Hamilton, Christian Raphael Gaal, et cetera.  We also had the pleasure of meeting for the first time Dan Searing of Room 11 and Dave Wondrich among others.

One also couldn't help but notice this time around the way that the Repeal Day Ball seems to keynote the December holiday parties.  And if one didn't notice, he or she would have immediately felt it with the duet between Degroff and Katie Nelson of The Passenger. 

In the main living room, they sang the soothing Frank Loesser holiday classic Baby, It's Cold Outside.  Both singers/bartenders naturally captured the delicate ritual of flirtation and persuation that the song reveals.  But more interestingly, the Degroff and Nelson moment was clearly the simulacrum of a craft-bartending revival that has now extended itself to a next generation.  In a way, I felt like we were witnessing and celebrating a succession. 

Nicole and I met some illustrious individuals at last year's Repeal Day Ball.  This year's adventure was no different.  It is quite a way to celebrate the bar and booze professions and with a deeper sense of history than the incorrigible Bartender's Ball (no disrespect to the other bartender-centric shit-show in DC).  Thanks to the folks in the DC Craft Bartender's Guild for putting on another dastardly good time.