I am predictable. I always show up five minutes early. I never have cash. I always order the risotto. Sometimes I think of this predictability as a curse. I want to be more spontaneous, to be mysterious, to keep people guessing. But I can’t help it. So even though I knew I was being very predictable by choosing yet another brown liquor based cocktail at La Belle Vie, I decided to embrace my predictability and ordered the Horse’s Neck anyway.

The Horse’s Neck is not just any brown liquor cocktail. There are two kinds of brown liquor – brandy AND bourbon. It is topped off with ginger brew and something else (my notes get fuzzy here, something about Tycho Brahe’s exploding bladder that hardly seems relevant to the Horse’s Neck.) Regardless of what else is in there, the best part of the drink, yes dear reader, even better than the brandy and bourbon, is the orange peel that it is garnished with. It is not just any orange peel garnish. Johnny masterfully peels the orange without breaking the peel so that the garnish is at least a foot long. He then ties a little knot at the end so that it resembles the rein around a horse’s neck.

I love that orange peel garnish. I believe that peeling an orange in one fell swoop is one of life’s great joys. I’ve successfully done it on several occasions (once at the office where my great accomplishment was sorely underappreciated) and it never fails to make me smile. I always thought the love of a peel-in-one was just another one of my quirks. But a few months ago when I offered to peel an orange for my dad I realized that I was not alone.

“Are you kidding me,” he said, taking the orange out of my hands. “The best part about eating oranges is trying to get the peel off in one piece.” I looked at him dumbly for a while, stunned to discover that my orange peeling fetish had been inherited from my father. But then we began sharing our tips for getting the peel off without breaking the skin.

“Roll it around on the counter first,” he advised me.

“And room temp is better than straight from the fridge,” I offered.

Then we each carefully began to peel our oranges. Neither of us got a peel-in-one that day, but it was still a good day. Finding that we shared something as silly as a love of peeling oranges made me feel a connection to my dad that I would need in the upcoming weeks as he got sicker and then passed away. I never peel an orange without thinking of him. So seeing that extra long orange peel in my Horse’s Neck made me smile and remember that even though he is gone, I am still my father’s daughter.

p.s. Turns out that my dad and I are not alone either. #908 on this list of 1,000 Awesome Things is peeling an orange in one shot.

Lush Jen

It’s fitting I should order A Boy Named Sue. From about the age of 6 until about the age of 14 I was often mistaken for a boy. Life wasn’t easy for a girl named Marie.

I was pretty excited about ordering this drink, much like the summer nights I spent with the neighborhood boys playing outside blowing shit up. I was not a typical girl, I have come to terms with this.

This drink is a perfect reflection of me. The foundation of the drink is Woodford Reserve bourbon – dark and dirty in appearance much like me through my youth. It’s dashed with a bit of Johnny Cash tobacco peach bitters – a reminder of that time I tried chewing tobacco to fit in with the boys, only to become reacquainted with my lunch a few moments later. The drink is dressed with sliced nectarines, similar to the fallen fruits we stole from a neighbor’s yard and used as ammo. A touch of lemon, reminiscent of the days we sat at our stand trying to sell lemonade for a hefty 10 cents. (Note: the stand was at the end of a dead end street, not the most intelligent business plan.) You will even find, once gorgeous, now wilted flowers floating throughout various levels of the beverage. A perfect reminder of the special occasions when my mother forced me to wear a dress. Usually the most girly, flowery dress imaginable. Sometimes with ruffles or maybe even extra large polka dots. Don’t think I didn’t hear the snickers or notice the stares; people wondering what a boy was doing in a dress.

Seriously, the best part of this drink is the beef stick. Johnny had these specially crafted for him at Clancey’s meat market and boy was that a smart move, they are amazing. I’m sorry, for now I must let you down. I know you’re eagerly anticipating a story about a “beef stick”. I know you want to hear something twisted and perverted, but the fact of the matter is, I am a lady. Although sometimes rough around the edges, now less so than before, I did read that book of etiquette my mother gifted me soon after I left the nest. I am even happy to report that I do in fact take pleasure in wearing dresses now, although I still avoid polka dots like the plague.

I am certain this drink will appeal to everyone: boys, girls and anything and everything in-between.

Lush Marie

Half of the fun of a La Booze Vie excursion (well….maybe 10%) is looking through the long drink list and reading the cocktail menu.  It’s easy to get caught up in the fun names (e.g., Almost Last Call, The Mama Wong Experience) and the curious descriptions (e.g., served with a bansky wet-nap, garnished with a Dunhill cigarette).  Many times I head straight for the expanded menu just for the sheer joy of reading it, and overlook the basic cocktail menu that has been pared down to only a handful of drinks for those who don’t have the inclination to sort through the plethora of cocktails on the other list.

But this night I decided to go for one of La Belle Vie’s signature cocktails:  the Prince Albert.  This is the cocktail that landed our own Johnny Michaels in the pages of GQ magazine last fall as the winner of the Bombay Sapphire Most Inspired Bartender contest.  Sipping it that night, it was easy to see why.

It is made of gin infused with Earl Grey which, truthfully, I never drink (the Earl Grey part that is, obviously I dabble in gin) so I wasn’t sure what flavors were due to the juniper-y gin, and which were owed to the Earl Grey.  Regardless, the cocktail, which is topped off with sweet & sour and soda, is a very easy drink.  This is the kind of drink that could get you into trouble, as it is so unassuming that you could very well believe that there is no alcohol in it.  But there is.  Trust me.  There is.

I can see why this drink, despite being refreshing and made for sipping on a hot summer day, stays on the menu all through the depths of Minnesota’s long, cold winter.  And yet, I’ve no clue why it’s called Prince Albert.  Could it be as simple as Prince Albert having an affinity for Earl Grey tea?  Or maybe it has something to do with Prince Albert’s three children, all born “out of wedlock”, which is exactly the kind of thing that this cocktail could lead you to, if you don’t heed my warning above.  Your guess is as good as mine.

Lush Jen

Mike eagerly greets us at the bar with a cheerful smile. Quickly, he offers his drink suggestions before we even have a chance to look over the menus in their entirety. It appears I am having the Faberge, sounds like a lovely affair.

I am so relieved to be sitting at a bar right now,  it’s been a rough week. Jen and I are a full two sentences into our first conversation before we are rudely interrupted by my cellphone ringing. I begrudgingly answer for the off chance that someone is calling about renting my now vacant duplex. Sure enough that is the motive of this call. I really don’t want to talk to this person, at all. I listen involuntarily as the gentleman explains his situation. Wait, what is that? From across the length of the dimly lit bar I catch a glimpse of a well groomed martini, very well groomed. Eye contact is made – I hold it for 1, 2 and 3 seconds before I break gaze. Trust me, I know how these things work. A few moments later, from the corner of my eye, I can’t help but notice that said beverage has now started moving in my direction (obviously toward me). I refocus on the subject now that there is confirmation of a successful execution of hook, line and sinker. Who is this jerk on the phone? He is totally distracting me and ruining my moment. Mr. Lovely Cocktail suggestively takes a seat right in front of me. I watch as he carefully accessorizes his lavender-tinted surface with flecks of magical gold. The gold shimmers at me. I wink back. My phone conversation has come to an abrupt end. Could this be love at first sight?

My first sips go down easy, but not too easy, I don’t want to give away too much on our first contact. His subtle trace of violet hints at his soft gentle side. Yet, I am intrigued by his forward sweet and sour lemon foundation which not only awakens but excites my taste buds. What a lovely affair indeed, I would love to see you again.

Afterthought: I never got the name of the person calling about the duplex. Perhaps there is a reason WHY I haven’t successfully located replacement renters.

Lush Marie

Last fall I went out with a guy, Casey, who, for all intents and purposes, was a great guy. He was smart, had a good job, was tall, attractive, fit, funny, well dressed. All of the things I look for in a guy. But there was something missing. I couldn’t exactly say what it was that wasn’t there, it was just that elusive chemistry that I wasn’t feeling. So after a few dates I ended things with Casey, unable to explain any better than that I didn’t feel a connection.

That is how I feel about the City Of Light. Like Casey, it is attractive, served with a piece of star anise floating on top that tumbles around like a watermill as the bartender carefully pours the drink into the glass and then garnishes with a curlycue of lemon zest. And like Casey, The City Of Light has its shit together, all of the flavors blend well, it’s not too sweet, not too anise-y; it is a well-dressed drink that can carry a conversation. But also like Casey, there is something missing for me, though I can’t quite put my finger on what. Certainly any girl would be lucky to have this drink in her hand, but at the end of our evening together I told The City Of Light what a lovely time I’d had, knowing full well that we would not see each other again.

I am certain there is someone out there who is going to take one sip of the City and fall completely, madly in love. But it’s just not me.

Lush Jen