By habit I refer to it as Tariquet, which is actually the name of the distiller. It is properly referred to as an Armagnac, which is a region of southwest France wherein this spirit is distilled.
It is not cloy like mass-produced brandy, and borders on being what I would call an acquired taste. I say this because those who don't know what to expect feel like they're trying to swallow motor oil or feel that, to quote Ralph Wiggum, "it tastes like burning."
Despite a noticeable viscosity it has such heat that it feels as though it evaporates before one swallows it. This is the kind of beverage I like to have drinking companions sample in order to see them make funny faces.
Physical heat is important as well. One knowledgeable Carthay bartender recently served it to me with the snifter resting at a canted angle over a glass of hot water. This smooths out the taste, texture and experience.
Not being a cocktail, there is nothing about Armagnac that makes it specific to the Carthay Lounge. But I only have it when I am there, and tend to forget it exists when I'm elsewhere, hence this entry.
Having a high tolerance for alcohol, Tariquet comes in very handy when I need something that will get the job done. "Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker."
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So then, just to make this more than a one-note entry, here's a song by my favorite band, The Vatican Cellars, about fencing. It was composed for a compilation about Olympic sports. Their assignment was fencing. I present for your enjoyment: "A Palpable Hit."
In this entry we venture away from the Carthay Lounge and visit a very special place called The Cicada Club. Silvia took me here for Valentine's Day.
Rounding 6th onto South Olive Street I find myself thinking "this city should be cleansed with fire." Then one pulls up to the valet in front of 617 and finds a miraculous oasis in a sea of depravity.
Upon entering the Oviatt Building (1928) one steps into antiquity encased in amber. The Cicada Club is a time capsule created by and for people who were raised on Turner Classic Movies and long to step into an art deco world which now exists only on celluloid; except it's still here, living and breathing, with hardly a hint of irony.
Watch any film from the 30's containing a nightclub scene. It exists in real life at the Cicada Club, replete with the original gilded ornamentation.
I didn't expect to enjoy the food. The venue's novelty caused me to expect bland mediocrity. I was pleasantly surpised by the quality of my scallop and whitefish special.
We dined upstairs, enjoying the view. Adjacent to our table was a lounge area and bar, replete with a piano that some of the evening's talent used to warm up.
Dancing to swinging tunes is a novelty in and of itself, but as an added bonus there are dancing girls.
Speaking of eye candy, look how sparkling Silvia is when she elects to "be a girl."
Add to all this a set of seasoned bartenders who know how to make a proper Old Fashioned and you create an experience I was geeking out over from the moment the doorman greeted us until staggering to the car.
And best of all: there's hardly a hipster to be found in the joint.
