When I plan a trip to the movie theater I know the cost to sit in a reclining red chair with popcorn scattered around my feet and my eyes fixated on an over-sized screen is going to be abhorrent. This is something I have learned to accept*. So, although I know I am overpaying for the experience, I enjoy it anyway. My fancy night out would not be complete without gourmet artificially-processed candies and popcorn. It’s all part of the experience. I mostly do it because there is something magical about the combination of sweet and salty that I never tire of interchanging.

Enter Night of the Hunter, stage right. This martini outperforms any other cocktail and is the main attraction of Johnny’s collection. One should never judge a book by it’s cover, a movie by it’s trailer or a drink by it’s appearance. Very unsuspecting and basic in presentation, this drink may not appear to be anything special, but believe me when I tell you it is. This martini brings to life the true concept of sweet and salty. One sip and you will be delighted with a perfectly subtle sweet caramel performance which, when paired with a hint of salt, deserves a standing ovation. A delicate trace of nutty vanilla is introduced by Licor 43. It is garnished with marcona** stuffed olives. Request extra olives. You will thank me later.

If you still are not convinced, I formulated a cost analysis comparison.

* Much like that I always have one orphan sock when I do a load of laundry. I seriously do not get that, but I accept that.

** Large almonds that are flat, crunchier and more flavorful than the standard almond you are used to. They are smoother and juicier with an incomparably sweet delicate taste.

Lush Marie

Though the inordinate amount of time I spend at the LBV bar might lead you to believe that my culinary skills top out somewhere between pre-heating the oven for a frozen pizza and microwaving the occasional Lean Cuisine, I am actually quite at home in a kitchen and consider myself a fairly proficient cook as well as a skilled baker. And though I love to bake cakes and scones and bread, I’ve never been terribly into pies. It’s not the pie crust that trips me up (baby, please), it’s that making a pie seems like such a waste of good fruit. Doing anything with summer’s perfectly ripe raspberries and strawberries other than eating them whole, as is, seems the epitome of gilding the lily.

So when I ordered the Strawberry Blonde off the summer cocktail menu, I didn’t have great expectations. I expected it to taste about as much like strawberries as a watermelon martini tastes like watermelon (in other words, not at all). But the drink was new, it was summer and I was thirsty, so I ordered it.

But unlike the fruit-based cocktails served elsewhere that taste more like the Jolly Rancher version of the same flavor than like the fruit itself (apple-tini anyone?), this drink is pure strawberry. It isn’t like strawberries, it is strawberries. I know there’s something else in there, alcohol presumably being that it is a bar, but it tastes so fresh, so pure, so summer. It’s like sitting at the bar with a pint of berries from the farmer’s market and getting a buzz to boot. I almost never share my drinks at LBV, other than the polite “would you like to try it” that by now Marie knows better than to accept, but I was forcing people to taste this drink, wanting everyone to know the joy of perfect summer strawberries. It is delicious. When fall comes, the Strawberry Blonde will join sweet corn, bare feet and lazy afternoons on the deck as things I miss about summer.

Lush Jen

The Charles Bronson consists of rye whiskey and maraschino dry cherry brandy with three types of bitters, garnished with small dried plums on a stick. Given the spelling of whiskey, I have to assume it is American in nature as opposed to Canadian, which is spelled sans the “e”. This is good because, by law, American whiskey must contain at least 51% rye. Canadians aren’t quite as strict with their laws regarding distilled spirits. Canadian rye whisky simply has to “possess the aroma, taste and character generally attributed to Canadian whisky”. Seriously folks, that’s the language of the law.

Rye imparts a peppery flavor to the whiskey, along with a slightly bitter quality. This peppery bitterness is balanced exceptionally well with the cherry brandy without being cloyingly sweet.

So why call it the Charles Bronson? Having not asked Johnny, I can only conjecture. Is it that the rye whiskey, with its bitter quality, is a parallelism to Charles Bronson’s bitter vigilante characters in movies such as Death Wish? Or do the bitters themselves represent his acrid onscreen personality? One reason is unquestionable: the dried plum garnish symbolizes Charles Bronson’s visage. One film critic described his rugged looks as “a Clark Gable who had been left out in the sun too long”.

Regardless of the origin of Johnny’s nomenclature, the Charles Bronson is a harmonious blend and I would highly recommend it, especially to anyone of Canadian descent.

guest drinker Dean

If I didn’t know any better I could have sworn I was eating raw cantaloupe melon balls from a freshly prepared summer fruit salad. Maybe the balls of muskmelon first had a few quick spins in an electric food processor or juicer to explain it’s liquid state, but it’s clear this refreshing cocktail is 100% real cantaloupe, no artificial flavorings, no chemicals, no trans fats, nada. The alcohol so easily blends with the cantaloupe that even an intermediate drinker could easily be mislead. Insider Expert Lush Tip: Alcohol is definitely present.

I witness an imported winter wheat vodka and it’s citron flavored twin merging together to form the base of the drink. Next, from a mysterious bottle appears a pale orange concoction which is added to the mixture. This curious fluid is Johnny’s ingenious cantaloupe infused vodka. Add some ice, shake extra hard and done. The cocktail is garnished with 2 olives, both of which are stuffed with healthy portions of prosciutto. This is the best drink I have had at La Belle Vie for quite some time. I have my favorite stand-bys like the Nachito Mojito, Night of the Hunter and The Bad Lieutenant, but I am elated that I am officially adding the Parma to my personal list of choice cocktails. It is the predominating cantaloupe flavor that wins me over… but it doesn’t stop there. Johnny really outdoes himself – he’s also thinking of the health of his drinking patrons. There is an entire 4 servings of real fruit in this drink: 1 whole cantaloupe (this estimate is very scientific and is based on taste alone) and approximately 2 olives. The small portion of meat is a bonus. With the plethora of misleading advertising in the our media today, “low fat”, “no sugar added”, “contains whole grains”, it’s hard to make the right choice. It is refreshing that the Parma does not stray from delivering what it promises. My official recommendation: skip the farmer’s market for your fix of fruit this week and get yourself a Parma.

Lush Marie

So Michael Jackson is dead. Even though I haven’t been a fan of Michael Jackson since about the 5th grade (when I took down my MJ posters and replaced them with pictures of Duran Duran I’d cut out of Teen Beat magazine), the significance of his death is not lost on me. Despite that, as I watch the world lose it’s collective head over the news, I am left shaking my own head at some of the ways people are reacting. A hundred stuffed animals crammed into the chain link fence surrounding a house in Gary, Indiana makes no sense to me. Nor can I understand my co-worker who called in sick in order to watch hours of funeral coverage on TV.

However, some tributes I can totally get behind. The impromptu jailhouse moonwalk? Love it. It’s original, it’s relevant, it’s thoughtful. Another tribute I can get behind is The Thriller cocktail on the LBV drink menu. The Thriller is, at it’s core, a Long Island Iced Tea. And holy crap is that drink strong (if Johnny had made one for Michael Jackson, he probably wouldn’t have needed all that Diprivan to pass out.) But it was also delicious. I haven’t had a Long Island Iced Tea in years, but tasting The Thriller that night I was left wondering why I don’t order them more often (much like listening to the endless MJ songs on the radio left me wondering why I don’t listen to “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” more often.) I don’t know how long The Thriller will be on the LBV drink menu. Perhaps about the same time that the last stuffed animal in that chain link fence gives up its cotton/poly filling to the elements the drink will be gone as well, so you should get one now. The way Johnny makes it can thrill you more than any ghost who would dare to try.

Lush Jen

Let me start by saying that this beverage is served on an unique beverage napkin. It is a black and white photocopy of Banksy’s Fallen Angel. If you take a closer look at the actual piece of art you will notice the angel is stooped over smoking a cigarette with a bottle of booze at his feet – my kind of angel, sans cigarette (note for the gentleman: smoking is the biggest turnoff ever).

The ingredients of this drink are unconventional: red wine, coca-cola, grape brandy and strangely a bitter Italian digestif. Is it the unusual union of red wine and coca-cola that make this drink wrong? No. How about the subtle promotion of digestion? Hell no. I appreciate it actually. Then what is it? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I have narrowed it down to a case of the new kid on the block. There always is an outsider that is ridiculed and bullied for no damn good reason. I have recollection of harsh name-callings including but not limited to: four eyes, flat-chested and mama’s boy (no, that last one was not directed at me- I wish I could say the same about the others). It takes a lot of guts to take a risk, stand out and not be average. Clearly this drink is different, it does not follow the typical cocktail formula, but really this is a good different. I have never tasted anything like it before, I can best describe it as a spicy sangria of sorts. Something that I must sip repeatedly in order to analyze over and over again. But that alone is no reason for it to be judged and shunned from the norms of the alcoholic beverage community. Fallen Angel, I promise to pick you up, to drink you, and to open the gates that lead to my thirsty belly.

Lush Marie

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