Making of a Gin Flip

•August 14, 2007 • 4 Comments

KO Prime and the Importance of Curiosity

•August 14, 2007 • Leave a Comment

KO Prime, Boston babychef Ken Oringer’s new brain child, seemed to me to be a place where the rich and famous would gather for their 90 dollar-a-filet steaks, but unlike at Smith and Wo’s, or even Ruth’s Chris, the socialites would gladly empty their wallets in the hopes of being accepted into “foodie” circles.

So I stayed away. I read their menus and cocktail offerings, and I salivated over the idea that two of the greatest in Boston, namely Jamie Bissonnette and Josh Buehler were the real generals of the kitchen at KO.

But then last night, curiosity got the better of me and I trekked over.

A note to myself- it is WAYY up tremont. I parked next to the 4 seasons and ended up almost passing out on the walk over. But enough about being out of shape.

The entrance is very chic, and leads to a dimly lit staircase that seems to spiral into the upper atmospheres of sense and taste. The bar/lounge hits you first, of which I totally approve, and its nice. Tall tables and chairs, low, leather couches and a sparingly but tastefully appointed bar looks like it might be almost as fun to work behind as to sit at.

Alyn (thats ay-linn) greets me with a mesmerizing smile, and asks what I want. I drop my benchmark “do you have eggs behind there?” question, and while she answers in the negative, she cheerfully explains that yes, this is a restaurant, so they must have some in the kitchen. Off she goes. When she returns, she explains that she doesnt actually know what to do with them, and I offer to walk her through one of the basic, but most crucial egg-white-based drinks, the Gin Flip.

MAN! She moves through the creation of this drink like she’d done it a million times before, taking instruction, but lending her own personal touch to it. When it finally rests in the glass, the meringue glistening and lightly colored with the bitters, I could detect the air of pride in her coy smile, knowing she’d pulled off a miracle.

In case you’re wondering, it was in the top 5 Flips I’ve ever had, and that includes my own and some mixed by gods and goddesses in this world.

I moved onto Jamie and Josh’s charcuterie plate, as it was getting late and the full menu was unavailable. Delicious, as I expected, but the description of each item left me tasting as hard as I could as to be able to decipher the combinations. So, Alyn- you’re cute, mix a great drink, but PAY ATTENTION in pre-meal. You’re selling the food. Cheers.

All in all, I’ll be going back, not for dinner, but for another lesson in mixology and possibly the KO burger.

I love this town.

for all your drink recipe questions and intrigue, visit and just browse.

Hot Dogs? Yes Please…

•August 14, 2007 • 1 Comment

The new best-in-show ratings are out for our fair city, and to everyones amazement, but no one’s surprise, The Lower Depths (476 Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, MA) won out with their grilled, buttery take on the Fenway Frank. Now, if someone can explain how grilling a normal Fenway Frank along with its bun can be surpassed, I’ll eat my hat. However, I’ll wash it down with one of the aforementioned Tap Room’s 106-or-so delicious beers.

Now, I’m gonna call a spade a spade. To me, even the most maligned Schaefer 40oz can be as mouth-tantalizingly good as a well-chilled Chimay Bleu Gran Reserve. While their prices may differ by orders of magnitude, there’s a time and a place for any kind of grain and hop-related beverage. Amen to Jim, Lindsday, Chris, Jen and Steve (if i left anyone out, lemme know) for keeping their place friendly, unpretentious, and a damn good time.

I’ll take this space to let everyone know that I’m 58 beers into their 106-beer “Mug List”, which, upon completion, allows me to a 32oz draft of whatever is on tap that day, but at bargain basement prices.

Killing my liver? Draining my wallet? Tightening my waistband? All perfectly affordable consequences in the pursuit of this most holy of mugs.

New to this blogging thing, but here goes nothing…

•August 14, 2007 • Leave a Comment

If you’re reading this- Welcome. My only goal is to put forth a somewhat coherent record of my all-too-busy brain’s thoughts and feelings about life, but more specifically, food and drink in my beloved Boston.

Sitting at the bar at the Franklin Cafe (278 Shawmut Ave, Boston) last night, I couldnt help feeling calm and quiet inside, no thanks to the pumping house-cum-breakbeat jams that were pulsating through the dark, almost dungeon-like space.

Karen, an attractive blonde woman, greeted me with a smile and an air of carefree whimsy, which I took as an invitation to lay my drinking fate in her hands. I only let on that I was a Bourbon drinker, and she returned with a wonderful take on a classic, and top favorite of mine, a Sidecar. However, the brandy was replaced with Makers Mark (I would have gone a little more top-shelf for the intricacy of flavor, but thats not what I asked, so I let it go), and once I asked her for the addition of 2 or 3 dashes of Fee Brothers Orange Bitters, I was perfectly content.

I am not a sweet cocktail guy AT ALL. Or, I should say, not anymore. Since my “transformation” 8 or 9 months ago, I’ve embarked on a quest to subject my tastebuds to all things savory, bitter, salty and otherwise not of the sucretous (made up, but you get the point) persuasion. However, this drink made me feel like a vegetarian after his/her first bite of roast suckling pig.

The subtlety and sweet/tangyness of the Cointreau contrasted beautifully with the pungent and aromatic orange bitters. The bourbon did its job of staying mostly out of the way, but as I said before, a more complex spirit would have lent a little more heat, which would have been most welcomed. The lemon juice, which i might add, was being poured out of giant 2-quart containers (do they REALLY squeeze that much fresh stuff everyday? I’m skeptical.) just took the edge off with a much-needed tang.

Karen- you did me a real mitzvah (i apologize….but I’m swedish, and our only word for something that approaches that would sound like a garbage disposal going off). Skol.

Thats it for now, I’m heading to work to satiate the bellys and tastebuds of the first unlucky souls braving the fallacy that is Restaurant Week in Boston. More on that later.