Cocktail Hour: Drinking Sazeracs for St. Patty's in Cincinnati
Plus a speakeasy five floors underground, the #bougiebull dresses up, a most perfect meal at Nolia, unforgettable black garlic hummus, the places that save us and how to love winter.
Happy Friday, y’all.
We made it to Cocktail Hour! And to St. Patrick’s Day! So let’s start this letter off right by celebrating with our weekly cute critter: Lincoln The #bougiebull all dressed up for the occasion.
He always looks slightly worried in his daycare photos. And yet, I’m a sucker every time. Canine to Five is smart with their upsell. I’ll be dropping him off, all frazzled, and they’re like, You want a cute holiday pic of him, doncha? And, of course, I’m like a deer in headlights, What holiday? What’s happening? Sure, of course I do? And, yes, of course, he needs the special holiday Kong treat. Oh, and a salmon protein bowl? I mean, he might get hungry. Sure.
Parents, is this what it’s like for 18 years? I don’t know how you do it. I would clearly be a terrible pushover parent.
I’m already a pushover dog mom and auntie.
You don’t even want to know what my Spotify recommendations look like these days. You see, my 9-year-old (almost 10!) niece and nephew have taken over music selection in the car. They know my password and open my phone at will. So now my playlist is one long string of songs from kid-horror video games like Rainbow Friends and Five Nights at Freddy’s. So now I get in the car and suddenly rap-electronica starts bumping instead of some old school country. But then, occasionally, the algo will cue one of my songs and the kids are like, “Auntie Amy! What is this! Turn it off!”
And I’m like, Children, let me introduce you to the powers of C.W. McCall and his greatest hit, “Convoy”!
We have found middle ground with Hole and some 90s alt-rock and riot grrl bands, though my niece cannot abide The Cranberries. My nephew is pretty into “Oh! Pretty Woman” by Roy Orbison, which he calls that “suss song” because, well, the lyrics are sort of suspect in 2023. We had to have the talk about how you probably shouldn’t walk down the street and tell some pretty woman (or man or trans or nonbinary person!) to give you their smile and stay with you. It’s just a bad look.
So, yeah, afternoon pick-up time is filled with teaching moments, for me and them. Just ask me anything about Huggy Wuggy or Orange Friend and their backstories and why they all seem to be living in some dystopian hellscape. I promise, I can tell you; the kids have learned me up right.
Anyway, all that to say…Lovey was a bit befuddled when the radio first came on during our road trip to Cincinnati last week. But we quickly righted the situation with a long playlist of Fleetwood Mac. It’s only a four hour drive, which is easy-peasy for us. (I’m a truck driver’s daughter; just point me down the road.)
Unexpected discovery of the week: Cincinnati is fucking beautiful. Like so beautiful, I have to swear.
Their art deco Union Station is epic – and the inspiration for the Super Friends’ Hall of Justice. Can you see it?
Washington Park, near our Airbnb, had such a good dog park that I think the #bougiebull wants to live in Cincy. He was *very* into getting to go for a walk three times a day to play with his friends at the park. Sadly, he played a little too rough and popped out his back knee. The vet was able to manipulate it back into place, but he has loose patella tendons so this may be a recurring issue that requires surgery to fix. Joy.
We had delicious, and interesting, food everywhere we went. The chefs weren’t all doing the same New American with a twist that seems to be the only thing opening in Detroit lately. The neighborhood diner, Sacred Beast, had kimchi ketchup with their hashbrowns. (Delish!) The fried chicken at The Eagle bar was epic. (Detroit friends: This is what Gold Cash Gold wished it could do – for half the price.) The stuffed piquillo peppers and black garlic hummus at Mita’s will be forever at the top of my “great meals” list.
Our entire experience at Nolia was *chef’s kiss*. We had 9 p.m. reservations, which gave us a relaxed, last-seating vibe. Chef Jeff Harris came out and talked with us about learning to cook from his great grandmother and growing up in New Orleans. We begged him to open a location in Detroit so we could have his potato gnocchi with braised goat and mustard greens andy goddamned time we please. I mean, I can’t even describe to you how good that dish was. It was spicy and rich and deep and soul-satisfying.
And I really hate goat.
The last time I ate goat was 20 years ago when I lived in a homeless tent city in Portland, Oregon, for a week while reporting a story. I lived like the residents, so we ate what we could make on the big communal fire or what was brought in by local service agencies. A nearby mosque cooked huge platters of goat for us. While it was so kind of them – literally, beggars can’t be choosers –I could not stomach the gameyness.
So I was really surprised that the goat gnocchi at Nolia was the standout dish of the weekend. All I can say is Harris can burn. Nolia opened just last year, but it absolutely deserves to be a semifinalist for the James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant in the country. Hopefully Harris makes it all the way!
The city’s cocktail game, however, was so-so. We had some perfectly fine drinks, but nothing that wowed except the Sazerac at Nolia. (As you’d expect, since the Sazerac is the official drink of NOLA.) Still, some of the bars themselves were epic. I particularly loved Low Spark’s 70s dive bar vibe with a giant fish tank in the center. They even name their drinks after the fish, including the “Steve or Larry,” so named because they can’t remember which fish is Steve and which one is Larry.
We caught some late-afternoon blues from a father-son duo at Japps, a former wig store that opened in 1879 and is now a women-owned classic cocktails joint. If I lived in Cincy, I would definitely be there on the regular.
The stunner, however, was Ghost Baby – a speakeasy five floors underground. There is no sign outside – just two purple lights – and Big T watching the door. He’s 6’9” in an impeccable suit, and if there’s space available he’ll call you in and send you on down. But he definitely recommends a reservation.
Luckily, Lovey and I popped by before the crowds arrived, so Big T ushered us inside. “First timers always take the stairs,” he called as we stepped into the dim light.
When we finally hit the bottom and pushed back the black curtains, we found ourselves standing in 0ne of the city’s lager cellars, which were dug by hand in the 1800s as a place to ferment beer and keep it cool. The cellars had been long abandoned (yay electricity and refrigeration!) but the Ghost Baby brought this one back to life with a “Babylon Berlin–feeling nightclub,” as Esquire described it on its Best Bars 2022 list.
The drinks were strong, befitting a speakeasy 49 feet underground, and the vibe was hot. Pink fringed lamps lined the barrel-shaped room; giant chandeliers hunt from the vaulted ceiling; and beautiful staff, some with Afros some transgender, glided through the room. It was definitely a place for “grown and sexy folk,” as the singer on the stage explained.
We had one drink – mine was a riff on a smoky Manhattan; Lovey had an Old Fashioned with a duck fat rinse on the glass – and took the elevator back up to the surface, where Big T ushered us out into the misty Cincinnati twilight.
And so I, too, shall leave you now, friends. But I send you off with three great reads and a recipe for a Sazerac, in honor of the one perfect drink we had all weekend. Plus, it has absinthe, which is green, so that counts for St. Patty’s Day.
Cheers!
3 Things I’m Reading on the Interwebz
“Newcomers Head to Climate-Proof Duluth” by Debra Kamin in The New York Times
“The Secret to Loving Winter” by Taylor Kay Phillips in The Atlantic
Hint from Lovey: Call snow “romance from the sky”
“The Places that Save Us” by Caroline Cala Donofrio in
What I’m Drinking: Sazerac
Ingredients:
2 oz rye whiskey
1 sugar cube or 1/2 oz. simple syrup
3 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
1/4 oz. Absinthe or Herbsaint
Lemon twist
Instructions: Place a sugar cube and bitters (Peychaud’s is traditional, but you can use Angostura) in an glass. Crush the two together. (Alternately, add the simple syrup and bitters and mix.) Add the rye and ice to the glass. Stir, stir, stir until cold (~20 seconds).
Coat a chilled glass with the Absinthe or Hersaint. I have an atomizer, so I spray the liqueur onto my glass. But you can just swirl it around the glass and dump the excess. Strain the sugar, rye and bitters mixture into the coated glass. Express a lemon peel over the drink and then use it as a garnish.
My city crush on Cincinnati is ardent af. Soo beautiful!
Thanks for another great Friday read. The piece on places that sustain us reminded me that I've been wanting to send along a picture of a drawing I saw at a local library exhibit of Belle Isle by a local artist. Knowing that Belle Isle is a place you've mentioned as being important to you, I thought you might enjoy. Couldn't figure out how to share the pic other than with a link so here 'tis: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Tm48xQskmvMhdrXj6