BLUE OWL OR HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE MANAGED EXPECTATIONS
That platonic dinner date? The one I was supposed to go on last night? Uh, it wasn't exactly dinner. Unless three green, pit-in martini olives count as dinner. Which they don't. Maybe to an anorexic. Which I am not.
But it was fun, nonetheless. In my enthusiastic research I read some positive reviews about a new bar in my neighborhood called Blue Owl and thought it might be nice to start the evening with a cocktail. I thought that because I am sophisticated as well as socially anxious. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Blue Owl is one of those bars that has the air of a speakeasy, or at least desperately wants to. I was impressed with the abundance of seating, the lack of loud, irritating music, and a clientele that was neither too hip nor too douchey. Maybe the other patrons seemed a little bit old, but if I say that about a bar in the East Village I'm pot-kettle-blacking it.
What was most impressive about Blue Owl was their cocktail menu. Though more gin-heavy than I would prefer (my single memory of gin includes getting terrible spins in a bar bathroom and vomiting into the sink... and having my boyfriend at the time scoop out said vomit into the toilet. Thus, I do not drink gin), there were some inspired concoctions. I ordered something called Between The Sheets but not because I am slutty: because it sounded delicious. The two are not mutually exclusive.
It was a drink made with calvados (apple brandy), white rum, cointreau, and finished with a sugared rim. I LOVE A SUGARED RIM! This drink: it was delicious and dispensed with the way a man with ED dispenses with sex. I may have drunk it too quickly, but only because it was so tasty! Sorry, Between The Sheets, I swear this never happens but I can drink you again much more slowly...just give me five minutes and I'll be thirsty, I swear! You are really yummy.
Actually, I didn't drink another Between The Sheets. It was a bit sweet so I tempered it with a savory Ketel One martini, extra olives please. An almost perfect martini: smooth, not too dry, very cold, and with the slightest hint of dirtiness from the extra olives. Deeee-licious! And those olives: the first one was the appetizer, the second the entree, and the last...dessert.
And after that the sleepy feeling kicked in, and my platonic dinner date, in which no dinner was had, was over.
But it was fun, nonetheless. In my enthusiastic research I read some positive reviews about a new bar in my neighborhood called Blue Owl and thought it might be nice to start the evening with a cocktail. I thought that because I am sophisticated as well as socially anxious. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Blue Owl is one of those bars that has the air of a speakeasy, or at least desperately wants to. I was impressed with the abundance of seating, the lack of loud, irritating music, and a clientele that was neither too hip nor too douchey. Maybe the other patrons seemed a little bit old, but if I say that about a bar in the East Village I'm pot-kettle-blacking it.
What was most impressive about Blue Owl was their cocktail menu. Though more gin-heavy than I would prefer (my single memory of gin includes getting terrible spins in a bar bathroom and vomiting into the sink... and having my boyfriend at the time scoop out said vomit into the toilet. Thus, I do not drink gin), there were some inspired concoctions. I ordered something called Between The Sheets but not because I am slutty: because it sounded delicious. The two are not mutually exclusive.
It was a drink made with calvados (apple brandy), white rum, cointreau, and finished with a sugared rim. I LOVE A SUGARED RIM! This drink: it was delicious and dispensed with the way a man with ED dispenses with sex. I may have drunk it too quickly, but only because it was so tasty! Sorry, Between The Sheets, I swear this never happens but I can drink you again much more slowly...just give me five minutes and I'll be thirsty, I swear! You are really yummy.
Actually, I didn't drink another Between The Sheets. It was a bit sweet so I tempered it with a savory Ketel One martini, extra olives please. An almost perfect martini: smooth, not too dry, very cold, and with the slightest hint of dirtiness from the extra olives. Deeee-licious! And those olives: the first one was the appetizer, the second the entree, and the last...dessert.
And after that the sleepy feeling kicked in, and my platonic dinner date, in which no dinner was had, was over.
posted by Megan at 10:58 AM
2 Comments:
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