Side Car (Revisited)

The last time Autumn and I were here we attempted to put the Side Car and the Bourbon Crusta on the done list. We didn't do well.

Here I am again, giving it another go for posterity's sake and not my own.

The lounge is quiet today. 1:57pm, Tuesday March 10th. Next week the two-month barrage of Spring Break begins, and the crowds will grow intolerable. Best to get some time in while the getting's good. 

So, the Side Car:

Hennesy V.S Cogna, Cointreau, fresh Lemon Juice, and Agave Nectar with a Lemon Peel and a Sugar Rim.

When last we tried this it was on an insert - now it's printed in the regular lounge menu. 

This drink has a sugar rim for a reason: it is quite tart. And the agave stands out to me because it tastes similar to tequila, which causes my taste buds to trigger a Pavlovian concern in my head. Whenever my brain detects something that resembles tequila bells go off: Whoah! What's going on?! Do you know what you're doing right now?

Answer: I'm waiting for my Fastpass to Star Tours to become valid and then checking to see if my favorite Jedi is working today. 

I will concede that, like the Tequila Daisy, this drink becomes more and more friendly the closer to the bottom of the glass you get. 

P.S. No one working the floor or behind the bar is someone I recognize. Life has its turnovers.

P.P.S. As of this writing the Lounge has changed their artifact window display to a fantastic collection of articles from the film "The Reluctant Dragon," an all but forgotten feature that starred Robert Benchley as he takes a meandering tour of the Walt Disney Studios in Burbank circa 1941. When last I checked you could watch this video on Netflix streaming. It's worth it just to see the collar of Walt's shirt overlapping his coat. I was delighted to see the film because of my affection for the legendary Algonquin Round Table of which Benchley was a paramount member and icon.

Catal

Today may be the day I say goodbye to Catal. One more gin martini with flecks of ice floating at the top seems called for.

This bar and I go way back. Back to when Downtown Disney opened.

I recall lost afternoons on Bats Days when I would meet friends here for immature drinking choices like tequila shots.

I will always ruefully remember their fra mani italian sausage with potatoes, peppers, blistered tomatoes and salsa verde. When I lived in Anaheim I would come here twice a week for dinner so I could eat this while reading; I probably read a third of Jonathan Strange by Susanna Clarke while eating this dish. It went off the menu probably a year after it appeared and never returned. As I've said before, my favorite dish is always the first to disappear from any menu. I've made my own attempts and challenged chefs and cooks I know to replicate it based on description - nothing has come close. I still mourn that plate's passing. 

I remember the part this bar played in shaping my life... have I never told you how I met my better half?

This isn't a short story but it's a good one.

I once hosted a college radio show called The Necrobotic Dance Party. We played industrial and experimental music Saturday nights on 88.9fm. My co-host was my friend Kim, her DJ handle being Pandora Killjoy.

One night she couldn't make it and I was hosting alone. Being non-commcercial radio, I was a bonafide Disc Jockey who played whatever I liked and said anything I liked. I could ever say that I was alone in the studio and solicitous of company. Someone called and took me up on the offer: a guy named Dan.

He called the request line and said "hey, could me and a couple people come hang out?" "Sure," I said. Two guys and one girl showed up. After a couple minutes sitting in Studio A I realized that Dan, the guy who called me, was someone I used to spend Friday nights at Disneyland with back when we were both gothic teenagers. (Annual Passes were dirt cheap back then.) I hadn't recognized Dan at first sight because in our misspent youth he had long hair. He looked like a polite version of Marilyn Manson.

Fast forward to 2005. Bats Day. Dan's friend and roommate, Silvia, had decided that she was "too good to be single." Dan therefore elected to be her walking personal ad. There was a sign pinned to his back which read:

S.W.F.

Looking For:

Single
Intelligent
Spooky Guys

If interested speak/inquire

(Must have knowledge or appreciation of molecular biology)

She elected Bats Day as the day Dan would wear this sign as she preferred to date someone who was both spooky and amiable towards Disneyland (if not an outright Disneyphile).

I was walking through Downtown Disney with the intention of reaching The Lost Bar - it no longer exists, but it was a bar at the hotel where Cast Members went for a drink after their shift. Eyes naturally scanning for spooky people, Dan and I happened to notice each other as I was passing Catal. 

Recognizing me, he waved me over: "Oh, Zoe! You'll do."

Once I acquiesced to being beckoned he confided to the chicanery. I was resistant to the idea of meeting whoever he wanted to set me up with. Why would I want to try to parlay with someone audacious enough to have a friend of theirs walk around as a living advertisement for them? Surely I would fall short of their lofty expectations.

Dan shrugged this off. "Don't worry about it."

Dan happened to introduce me to his friend at the traditional 8pm Haunted Mansion meetup. I was drunk.

I got a second chance with her weeks later at El Chambre, or "El Taco Industriale," as we called the local Mexican goth club in Anaheim which was a restaurant by day. The second floor was regional music - bandas y accordiones - that kind of stuff. I was drunk again this time. It was a club, after all.

The third time I met Silvia was at her house in Anaheim. At that point, on this occasion, I ended up staying for a few days. The rest is history.

A decade later, here we are.

Tariquet

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."

...

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."

The Cicada Club

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.

I'm looking forward to our next visit.

Spicy Chicken Roll

It may have been a mistake, but I introduced my father to the Carthay Lounge. He's been illustrating my initial enamoration all over again.

As previously stated, I don't generally go in for rolls. He does. So he wanted to try the "Spicy Chicken Roll - with Cilantro, Cucumber and Lettuce."

This is better than I expected, particularly because of the sauce which I can't remember the name of. It's not soy sauce, it's sweeter and much more viscous.

The picture my father took with his phone is giving me Carthay cravings, actually. I'd much rather be there right now than in this office. Working in a cubicle is life's way of saying "go sit in the corner and think about what you did."

My father is retired, though, and a creature of habit, so he needn't wait long for the time of day he calls "martini-thirty." On a good day that's around the time the Lounge opens. For me, today, that won't be until around 4pm. I just have to hope the old man is living it up in my stead.

I suddenly recall Sam Elliot in The Big Lebowski: "The Dude abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there. The Dude. Takin' 'er easy for all us sinners."

Scotch Whisky Flight

Sometimes you need a session of day drinking with J-Bomb; particularly when your head has been wrapped around trying to create the puzzle for Potter Day.

Look, you try crafting a puzzle designed to keep 400 geeks busy for 6 hours - even when they're working together - and tell me you won't need a day of bacchanalian unwinding.

See the shirt she's wearing? It once enabled us to skip the line for Space Mountain. This was ages ago, before my girlfriend had gotten me into Doctor Who, before the first thing you saw when you stepped into Hot Topic was Tardis-themed merchandise, when Whovians could still be all hipster about it. A sympathetic Cast Member saw her shirt and said "Alons-y" and handed her a pass that enabled us to skip the Space Mountain queue.

Today I checked off the Scotch Whisky Flight. J-Bomb happened to know that if it's Scotch you don't put the letter 'e' in whisky; and she doesn't even drink it.

The word whisky comes from the gaelic "uisce beatha" which means "water of life."

Carthay's Scotch Whisky flight consists of the following:

1. Johnnie Walker Green Blended Malt.

2. Oban 14 Yr Old Single Malt.

3. The Glenlivet 19 Yr Old Single Malt.

Whisky flights come with a glass of water. Our host on this day was under the impression it merely acts as a palette cleanser. A previous host - the one who served me my first flight ages ago - suggested that if one adds drops of water to the whisky it "opens it up" and broadens the flavor. In sampling this flight I acted upon the assumption that adding dihydrogen monoxide drops after the first sip adds texture to the experience.

I scribbled things in an attempt to create what passes, in my imagination, for tasting notes. Transcribed in all their horrific verbatim they read:

1. Peaty. Not too much burn. Gentle heat. Drops: take the edge off the peatiness. 

2. This one immediately makes me smile. Balance and smoothness.

3. Very smooth, nothing to complain about, but not as much luster and spirit as the Oban.

Carthay Club Mojito

My friend Darcy had just finished her shift. I was at the Park doing recon and solicited her company for post-work libations.

This is what Darcy looks like when she doesn't know I'm taking her picture.

But she likes having her picture taken, so here's what she looks like when she notices I'm trying to take candid photos.

Sharing our table (owing to crowded conditions) was a woman from Utah who invited us to join her and swore she wouldn't make a peep or bother us. She then proceeded to interrupt each and every statement that escaped from our mouths and would not shut up until I politely elected we change venues. Per my notes she suggested that if ever we're in Utah we should visit something called the Red Iguana.

But anyway... Darcy had a Carthay Martini. She commented that she wonders if the reason why she enjoys martinis is not as much for the gin as for the fancy olives.

I decided to cross the Carthay Club Mojito off the list: Bacardi Superior Rum, Organic Mint from nearby farms, fresh Lime Juice, and Organic Agave Nectar topped with locally sourced Purified Sparkling Water served over Crushed Ice.

I'm usually not fond of mojitos; I find that they taste immature. They taste viscous and tawdry and cheap. Not this one, though, and I assume that's due to a higher than average integrity of ingredients. The Carthay Mojito doesn't taste like it's made of silly syrups, it is crisp and refreshing. On a warm summer day I might be tempted to revisit it; and I don't even like mint, generally.

Darcy ordered a snack I wouldn't normally be drawn to, a roll. I failed to take note of which it was, and I'm not sure it's even still on the current menu. I could be wrong about that. The one thing I really liked about this snack - its one highlight in my mind - is the coating of roe. I love roe. I love all kinds of roe. In the case of this roll it adds a wonderful pungency.

Next time you're at your favorite sushi place, step outside your comfort zone and try some flying fish roe.