I spent yesterday afternoon at ellabess enjoying a bloody mary competition with my friends and about 100 other people, mostly hipsters (hipsters apparently have a love for the classic brunch cocktail. Who knew?). Tasting ten or so bloodies felt like the right thing for me to do given my love of brunch and given the bloody mary is best consumed at brunch. I consider myself skilled at more than a few things, but one of my most impressive life skills is brunch.
I always know what to order (at a diner I get two poached eggs, whole wheat toast and potatoes well-done; at a fancy restaurant I get eggs benedict, hold the bacon, hold the hollandaise, sub the muffin for whole wheat toast; at home I make my own poached eggs and toast. If you are paying attention you will notice I basically eat the same thing for brunch regardless where I am. Why mess with perfection?) and, I won’t name names, but I have somehow worked it so that I rarely have to wait at one of the busiest brunch spots in New York. The one part of brunch I am not expert in is the bloody mary. The reason for this relates to my preferred seating status at the unnamed brunch spot. A few years ago, I was at brunch with Todd and we wisely ordered drinks before we got to thinking about food. I had been on a long run that morning and was feeling like I needed a little protein ASAP, so I decided it made sense to order a white russian (with skim milk, of course. Didn’t want to ruin the benefits of the run). This is not the typical brunch order* and the bartender gave me a strange look before making the drink. During the course of our brunch, Todd and I happened to overhear a conversation between the bartender** and the hostess that I am not entirely comfortable repeating out loud, so there is no way I am writing it down for you. Let’s just say it would definitely make for an R-rating in a movie and I still blush when I think about it. The bartender and the hostess realized we had overheard them and we all shared a little laugh. This conversation combined with my strange drink order meant that the bartender remembered us the next time we came in. So seats were cleared for us and a white russian with skim milk was in my hands before I could really order. If I have learned anything in my life going out in New York, it is this: if a bartender remembers your drink, go with it. This may lead to a free round, but more importantly it leads to not having to wait as long as other customers for a drink. And at a crowded bar, this is really valuable. So, again, go with it. Even if the bartender remembers your drink, but it is not actually your drink, I still recommend going with it because the benefits outweigh the negative of drinking a drink you may not have wanted. In many cases, bartenders move from one great place to the next and this means you end up with status at multiple locations without even trying.
Following this rule means years and as many bartenders later, I prefer milk with a splash of kahlua and vodka – even on the days when I don’t really prefer it.
I’ll see you at brunch, just not with a bloody mary.
~Rebecca
*It really should be, milk and coffee are classics at brunch and a white russian basically looks like an iced coffee.
**Yes, we were eating at the bar. I highly recommend this for a party of two at any meal.
