The first-ever cocktail recipe was published in a newspaper in 1806, and it contained the formula for this here concoction: spirit, sugar, bitters, and water. It was also the first time the concoction was referred to as an Old Fashioned, so its true origins are likely even more ancient.
After all, it was already old-fashioned in the 19th century.
Since I tend to fancy myself an old-fashioned guy, this is the drink I almost exclusively order.
The harsh bite of the whiskey is softened by the sugar, so even though hard liquors aren't usually my forte, this amber potion goes down the hatch like butter.
And as far as the one lighting up the table in front of me is concerned - it is one of the best I've had since the bars opened back up. It's just sweet enough to enjoy and almost prickly enough to prevent me from gurgling it down like a tramp. Almost being the keyword, pretty soon the glass is empty and an embarrassing realization dawns on me:
I was needlessly rude to the barman.
I was needlessly rude to the barman.
What'd happened is that I'd flipped through the menu and seen a few too many Daiquiris and House margaritas and no trace at all of a Gin Martini or an Old Fashioned, so I'd turned to the guy diddling his phone behind the bar and said something along the lines of:
- I see you have the 15-year-old-girl demographic mostly covered, but can you handle an Old Fashioned?
You can bet he had taken it personally - which, of course, I'd known he would - even if I hadn't been trying to cause offence, strictly speaking. All I'd wanted was a well-mixed drink, and that's exactly what I ended up getting barely 3 minutes later. This same method usually brings out the best in me too.
- I see you have the 15-year-old-girl demographic mostly covered, but can you handle an Old Fashioned?
You can bet he had taken it personally - which, of course, I'd known he would - even if I hadn't been trying to cause offence, strictly speaking. All I'd wanted was a well-mixed drink, and that's exactly what I ended up getting barely 3 minutes later. This same method usually brings out the best in me too.
Now approaching the bar for the second time, I'm intent on being as friendly as possible, but apologising is entirely out of the question. Why? Part of me believes I am in the right.
Part of me always does.
- Hey, bud, can I please have a shot of espresso?
- Sure thing.
Having handed me my fix, he flashes a smile and goes back to his phone, and I go back to brooding over the bitter-sweet residue on the roof of my mouth.
Part of me always does.
- Hey, bud, can I please have a shot of espresso?
- Sure thing.
Having handed me my fix, he flashes a smile and goes back to his phone, and I go back to brooding over the bitter-sweet residue on the roof of my mouth.
