Bottoms...away!

Elise and I met up for cocktails and a healthy dinner. I planned to get a glass of red wine and a big salad.

Planned.

This was the kind of place that had a multi-page binder for their martini menu. For those of you who think a martini is just one drink, this place is not for you. Salty D. Who only wants gin and vermouth in a martini glass.

I, however, am expansively-minded enough to accept that anything served in a martini glass can be a martini. Gazpacho martini. Shrimp martini. Organic Lowfat Milkshake martini.

The problem with this place was that all the menu pages were just lists of names of the martinis, no fancy descriptions of muddling and mixologizing, and no pictures. They said it was because the ingredients were proprietary. From the list of drink names one can choose*: 

"Jake-n-Bake"

"Crispy Possum"

"Electrical Banana"

"Smashed Potato"

"Monkey Junk Punch"

"Brain Flipper"

I was pretty sure I didn't want any of these, regardless of their ingredients. I think it's a safe bet that the Crispy Possum martini did not have St. Germain in it. 

In the menu was a note that you should just ask your server to recommend something.

I was finding this to be kind of high maintenance, kind of a gamble, and too dependent upon someone else to tell me what to drink. But I didn't see a wine list, so...

"Hey Chuck, I'd like a vodka-based martini, with some kind of nutty flavor and chocolatey flavor thrown in."  Chuck knew exactly what to get me.

Elise definitively picked out her martini by name only, "Chuck, I want the French Toast martini."

"Well just so you know," warned Chuck, "it doesn't taste anything like French toast."

Elise replied, "Good, because I hate French toast."

Um...I was all, wha-?

Why would you order a French toast martini by name if you don't like French toast? Elise had no logical answer for me. That's why I love her.

Our martinis arrived.  The French toast martini tasted like ass. They can't have an Ass Martini on the menu so they called it French toast instead?

Mine was delicious. I think there was Bailey's in it with the vodka and something else. I started chugging it. "What's this one called, Chuck?"

"The Skull Crusher."

Great.

So much for salads. Elise and I decided to order homemade potato chips with bleu cheese and buffalo sauce on top. Holy shit. I'm pretty sure I gained back whatever poundage I had lost. The skull crusher was gone so I ordered another, something different, with suburban speedball qualities. This time I said, "Chuck? Ummmmmmmmmm yeah I would like a vodka-based thing with some espresso? Ok thanksh"  Halfway through the second martini I thought about how I was going to get home. I called Chuck over again. Am I the biggest pain in the ass?

"Chuck. May I please have a cup of coffee?" 

No, I could not, because the restaurant had run out of coffee filters nor did they have espresso. I looked at my so-called espresso martini and realized there was no espresso in it at all.

Lucky for me they had tea and I got home safely. No more mystery martinis for this lightweight. Well, I say that now, of course.

* yeah I made up those names, they're my proprietary thing.

Comments

[SALTY D]

THAT'S WHY MARTINI'S ARE LIKE BREASTS, ONE'S NOT ENOUGH AND THREE'S TOO MANY

[lg]

I want to have sex with those chips.

I had a wonderful martini at the ski resort last weekend -- oddly named though I can't remember what it was called -- it tasted like a melted pina colada combined with a White Russian.

[KtP]

I LOL'd at Salty.