Gin Gin
The place is so crowded, I can barely hear myself think as I sit at a small table. I begin taking it apart to discover the components of its huge success.
Double height ceilings house the monstrous main bar that gives service to most customers; a secondary and more intimate bar is located at the opposite end. The walls have hand-painted illustrations that fit the theme of the place. A mixture of deep green from several trees and yellow from neon lights create a modern and distinctive atmosphere. Every once in a while, a fresh breeze comes in through the convertible roof (yes, you read correctly) that happens to be open in this fine night.
The crowd is young and attractive, same goes for the hosts that know their mixology and can recommend a savory cocktail from the bar with ease.
I feel the DJ crank the volume with upbeat mixes just in time for the off-menu drink I ordered. Gin and rosemary are definitely present, but the rest of the ingredients are undisclosed. The acidity of every sip is mouthwatering and delightful.
More and more people keep arriving and filling up every last available inch. I can see barmen running with bottles, delivering them to eager clients.
Mississippi 105-B
Feeling confused, I check my cell phone to make sure I have the right address. Is this the place? All I can see is a dimly lit grill and some tables on the street. I notice a narrow alleyway that leads to a massive door that says “HIELO” (ice). I check my surroundings to see if anyone is looking -no one-. I walk discretely, preparing for humiliation in case the door leads to an ice storage. The door is heavy and squeaks as I open it.
My intuition rejoices as I enter a dark place with red lighting and enormous paintings of legendary mobsters such as Al Capone and Lucky Luciano. Hanging from the opposing wall, is a buffalo that judges my every move. The sofas resemble royal furniture and have been intentionally worn out bestowing a vintage feel. The air is thick with incense and sways to the constant beat of obscure music. Totally submerged by the vibe, I walk towards the bar.
Drinks are taken seriously here. They refuse service to people who order Piña Coladas or any of its kind. All juices are freshly squeezed and syrups are brewed in-house daily. Each liquor is carefully selected accounting its taste and complexity.
After a pleasant conversation with Oscar, the head mixologist, I feel in good hands and ask for an off-menu drink. He tosses bottles and swiftly catches them while he describes the ingredients. This drink has no name yet as only few people have had the pleasure of enjoying it.
In front of me is a caramel colored beverage in a small frozen glass, garnished with an orange peel. There’s a bitter feeling followed by a series of pungent stings when I swallow. Before being able to process anything, a sweet aftertaste works in perfect harmony with the citrus aroma. This drink is like a slap to the face, briskly followed by a warm hug; I love it.