Normally I will finish any cocktail set down in front of me, but there have been two exceptions.
One was a “dirty martini”. The bartender simply poured all of the juices from the garnish tray into a shaker with gin. Believe me, you’ve never had anything like it.
The other was at an upscale “Vegas” style place that unsurprisingly is now out of business. They had what was called a Parmegiano Martini. The gin had been fat washed with Parmegian cheese. I’ve never had such a salty cocktail in my life. Luckily, they switched it out for me at no cost with a more typical Old-Fashioned.
That would be an example of something I do not go to bars for. Or anywhere else. You imply that you at least sampled the drink, which is one big step further than I would have gone. I probably would have walked out and never returned after witnessing such a stunt.
I’ve rarely returned a drink, but I’ve left quite a few drinks unfinished. I’m there to enjoy a drink, not to gross myself out, ingest superfluous alcohol, or worry about hurting someone’s feelings. I would like to think a conscientious bartender would correctly interpret an unfinished drink—and that has happened—but generally, conscientious bartenders serve delicious drinks in the first place.
Merely fat washing a gin with Parm probably wouldn’t have made it unbearably salty on its own, but perhaps they found a way? At least they acknowledged that their little experiment had to be provisional on the customer enjoying it, and then did the right thing when you found it undrinkable. Presumably this drink was on a menu, which leads us back to the fundamental questions of why bars feel obliged to create weird drinks and why this practice is—in some sense—working at all?
Santiago Policastro inadvertently (?) captures something of the temptation to boundless novelty in mixology by placing this cartoon from “an admirer” after (or perhaps within?) a section entitled Difficult drinks and liquors:
The figure at top right is saying “Here, it’s a question of diving without a diving suit”.
The recipe is, approximately (my translation is probably imperfect and will be corrected below):
In a wide-open gulf, place
4 or 5 icebergs, then add:
1 ocean of sea water
100 g seaweed
100 g coral juice
1 dozen pearls
10 drops of mermaid tail essence
Shake well during stormy weather and serve in a calm bay, placing Neptune’s trident as a bridge. Add ten drops of the Black Sea and 5 drops of the Red Sea.
