Hickory daiquiri doc

Wait, did you say national daiquiri day, Desi?

I've been to Asheville about half a dozen times and never knew the Thirsty Monk had a sassy side! For members...which my lovely companion, Jane, of course is one...you may order an amazing cocktail in which EVERYTHING (that's right, tonic, grenadine, cola, you name it) except the booze is made in house. Spectacularly made, by people who take pains to ensure balance and pleasure for you. Plus the view is outrageous overlooking the mountains and there is an herb garden wafting aromatics at you on the deck. Seriously, I will go here every time I am in Asheville from now on...NC's own PDT.

When our darling bartender, Desi, said, "it's national daiquiri day!" I was surprised by her sheer joy, not to mention skeptical...I can now see my ignorance soaking me like a cartoon rain cloud hovering overhead. She gestured to the sketched chalkboard menu nestled between towering shelves of bottles looking every bit the star in this intentionally designed space.  And then the lesson began. Any drink with three specific components can be a daiquiri! It takes a spirit (typically rum), a citrus, and a sweetening agent (and a skilled hand) to create the proportions that craft the perfect cocktaill shake it with ice, strain and serve up. All along I thought that was a martini - foolishness.  I think I need to change the blog to Charlotte Daiquiri...ok not yet. But this may have been the best cocktail I've had since the last time I was in Asheville (see 18 Lex).

The Hemingway (she had my pompous literary side right there) contained rum, some puckering agent, and something just barely sweet enough to set the whole thing in full tilt. Garnished by a stunning grapefruit twist and just a hint of luxardo to tint it pale green, it was beautiful. And delicious.

The atmosphere was the deliberate mix of luxury hotel bar and scandalous speakeasy. Desi's passion for her art absolutely MADE this experience.

Hemingway - 9

Yes you can can

I have enjoyed several memorable Bastille days in the past decade, from French teacher hosted fêtes and International House gatherings to Paris fireworks at the Eiffel Tower and champagne at my dining room table with my girlfriends. But this year was the first time I'd gone to Georges Brasserie to celebrate. They had the entire place bedecked with blue, red, black, and white feathers.  All the servers were dressed like Paris in the early 1900s.   

And instead of a Kir Royale or a French 75 I opted for my old standby...Hendricks and cucumber, up. Cassandra had the best hair in the whole place, all waves and summeryness; and she did French us up a little bit with a 1668 (French beer). We reminisced about our months in France and dancing on the tables at Cheyenne when toutes suite there was a hush in the dining room and women in dancing clothes from a Toulouse Latrec painting appeared.  And seriously, they danced the can can all around the bar! Food was exquisite (if you haven't looked at their happy hour menu GET ON IT!). 

Martini - 8
Experience - 9

Blue Martini

This post is belated, but I'm a bit slow recently.  A few Friday nights ago I was feeding some melancholy by wandering out into a sultry, firefly filled dusk walk.  I meandered past the food truck lot and the drum line, pausing to feel the beat penetrate the pavement and align with my heart before pressing on towards the skyline. Construction on the light rail sidewalk made me take a perilous detour through dirt and building materials, but eventually I made it downtown and into Blue.  It was about 9:30 and the jazz quartet was already feeling it, but only a few people were in the lounge.  Seemed appropriate.

I ordered a cocktail from the list - can't remember the name - but it was St. Germain, Hendricks Gin, and cucumber.  A little sweet, but refreshing after the hot walk. The music was more contemporary jazz than I prefer, but it's all Charlotte has to offer most of the time unless you hit the double door on Tuesday for the Bill Hannah Jazz Jam. To temper my melancholy my far away lover shared snippets of his afternoon and a few reminiscences through bursts of text messages and photos.

Round 2 added some lemon to the standard recipe to cut the sweet, and it was much better.  The band took a break, I requested some standards, and was greeted with "easy like Sunday morning" when they retook the instruments.  Melancholy quickly translated into a brief recording and I succumbed to a streams of tears. This thoroughly freaked out the bartender so I pulled myself together, paid the tab, and forewent an exquisite walk home in favor of a safe uber ride. 

Drink - 4
Scratching the melancholy itch - 7