Dear San Diego,
Thank you, thank you, thank you. We broke $10,000 on our fundraiser to keep the Reader going while we explore a partnership that would, among other things, pave the way for a return to print. As a result, we have the wherewithal continue that exploration. Your generosity and expressions of support have been both moving and humbling, and I'm raising a glass in celebration and gratitude. And while I'm at it, here's a little something from Joseph O'Brien, longtime Reader contributor and current poetry editor, about his days on drinks duty, long before Drinks All Around writer David Kohanyi took on the job. Again, thank you!
Cheers!
Matthew Lickona
Owner/Editor
San Diego Reader
Spirits of Exploration and Adventure
The ancient fable of the City Mouse and the Country Mouse always struck me as the origin story for the expression, “Let’s just agree to disagree.” Neither side wins; neither side loses: after trying out each the other’s modus vivendi, the rodent cousins shake paws and return to their respective habitues—Country Mouse to the drafty but quiet loft of a dairy barn, and City Mouse to the noisy yet comfortable attic of a penthouse high-rise. Both little beasties must still contend with the hazards of feline prowling; but both find more than adequate compensation.
Story over.
Or is it?
Why couldn’t Country Mouse, for instance return from the Big City with a few ideas for some cocktails? Sure, the local supper club might offer some cheap shots of cheap whiskey and enough light beer to float a battleship. But what if, during his time spent with City Mouse, Country Mouse discovered an entire cocktail culture, thus changing his life forever (and for the better)?
As the columnist for “Set ‘Em Up, Joe,” I can relate. The idea for this column was as ingenious as it was simple: call up a San Diego bartender from my remote location in the wilderness, ask the mixifier about a favorite concoction, and in 400 words or less, distill the interview to the essence of what makes a good cocktail: spirit, bitter, sweet—how this venerable trinity of tippling success plays together so well that it becomes the talk of the tavern, if not the town.
But there was another ingredient to the column — really, the key that made the whole thing work. Rigorous and repeated testing through what I call the “Kitchen Proof.” The foundation for “Set ‘Em Up, Joe” was built on a single proposition: if the cocktail is as good as Bartender Bob or Bottle Service Barbara says it is, well, let’s just see…
Thus the column became more than a writerly exercise in minimalist excess; it also allowed me to import some urbanity to the rural palate. Two revelations from the column remain staples at Chez O’Brien: The Disotto Manhattan authored by Kevin Haagensen at Mia Fransceca’s (equal parts rye, amaro (!), and sweet vermouth) and The Perfect Martini, avowed to be so by its creator Anthony Schmidt over at Noble Experiment (three parts gin, one part dry vermouth and a few dashes of orange bitters, stirred not shaken, pace Mr. Bond.).
In my column for the Disotto Manhattan, I compared Haagensen’s glorious invention to a leatherbound edition of a good book. At family gatherings, as I line up cocktail glasses and pull down spirits from my bookshelf of bottles, I ask, “Who wants a Leatherbound Manhattan?” It stops conversation around the room. Everyone knows what I mean. And to this day, at dinner parties, before the main course, I zero in on guests with a known aversion to gin and ask, “Would you like to try The Perfect Martini?” More often than not, the unsuspecting souls are city folk — and also more often than not, after the first sip, the narrow doubt in the brow melts, the eyes grow wide, and the smile grows even wider.
Because, guess what? This country mouse has a few things to show them…
Dear San Diego,
Thank you, thank you, thank you. We broke $10,000 on our fundraiser to keep the Reader going while we explore a partnership that would, among other things, pave the way for a return to print. As a result, we have the wherewithal continue that exploration. Your generosity and expressions of support have been both moving and humbling, and I'm raising a glass in celebration and gratitude. And while I'm at it, here's a little something from Joseph O'Brien, longtime Reader contributor and current poetry editor, about his days on drinks duty, long before Drinks All Around writer David Kohanyi took on the job. Again, thank you!
Cheers!
Matthew Lickona
Owner/Editor
San Diego Reader
Spirits of Exploration and Adventure
The ancient fable of the City Mouse and the Country Mouse always struck me as the origin story for the expression, “Let’s just agree to disagree.” Neither side wins; neither side loses: after trying out each the other’s modus vivendi, the rodent cousins shake paws and return to their respective habitues—Country Mouse to the drafty but quiet loft of a dairy barn, and City Mouse to the noisy yet comfortable attic of a penthouse high-rise. Both little beasties must still contend with the hazards of feline prowling; but both find more than adequate compensation.
Story over.
Or is it?
Why couldn’t Country Mouse, for instance return from the Big City with a few ideas for some cocktails? Sure, the local supper club might offer some cheap shots of cheap whiskey and enough light beer to float a battleship. But what if, during his time spent with City Mouse, Country Mouse discovered an entire cocktail culture, thus changing his life forever (and for the better)?
As the columnist for “Set ‘Em Up, Joe,” I can relate. The idea for this column was as ingenious as it was simple: call up a San Diego bartender from my remote location in the wilderness, ask the mixifier about a favorite concoction, and in 400 words or less, distill the interview to the essence of what makes a good cocktail: spirit, bitter, sweet—how this venerable trinity of tippling success plays together so well that it becomes the talk of the tavern, if not the town.
But there was another ingredient to the column — really, the key that made the whole thing work. Rigorous and repeated testing through what I call the “Kitchen Proof.” The foundation for “Set ‘Em Up, Joe” was built on a single proposition: if the cocktail is as good as Bartender Bob or Bottle Service Barbara says it is, well, let’s just see…
Thus the column became more than a writerly exercise in minimalist excess; it also allowed me to import some urbanity to the rural palate. Two revelations from the column remain staples at Chez O’Brien: The Disotto Manhattan authored by Kevin Haagensen at Mia Fransceca’s (equal parts rye, amaro (!), and sweet vermouth) and The Perfect Martini, avowed to be so by its creator Anthony Schmidt over at Noble Experiment (three parts gin, one part dry vermouth and a few dashes of orange bitters, stirred not shaken, pace Mr. Bond.).
In my column for the Disotto Manhattan, I compared Haagensen’s glorious invention to a leatherbound edition of a good book. At family gatherings, as I line up cocktail glasses and pull down spirits from my bookshelf of bottles, I ask, “Who wants a Leatherbound Manhattan?” It stops conversation around the room. Everyone knows what I mean. And to this day, at dinner parties, before the main course, I zero in on guests with a known aversion to gin and ask, “Would you like to try The Perfect Martini?” More often than not, the unsuspecting souls are city folk — and also more often than not, after the first sip, the narrow doubt in the brow melts, the eyes grow wide, and the smile grows even wider.
Because, guess what? This country mouse has a few things to show them…
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