There will be blood
Just over a year back, we did a rundown of Bloody Marys around the edge of Waikiki comparing and contrasting the taste, presentation and prices of four establishments (Hideaway, Shorebird, Harbor Pub and Arnold’s–Hideaway won). Since that time we’re asked often why we didn’t include such-and-such place or how dare we omit fill-in-the-blank, all of which came with high recommendations.
There’s an easy answer to that. You really have to be in the mood for a Bloody Mary, unlike beer or whiskey, which pretty much serve as an all-purpose drink for any purpose. Also, it’s primarily a morning/early afternoon drink, and frankly, we don’t like to get up that early. In addition, order one Bloody Mary, and you’re bound to inspire six or seven others in the bar who remember how good a well-made version can be, and by the time they’ve all placed an order, you’ve single-handedly managed to piss off your bartender. If there’s somebody you never want to piss off, it’s your mechanic, your accountant, your lawyer, the cop that just pulled you over, the people who serve you food and your ex-wife. But above all that, you never want to piss off your bartender.
It’s also a matter of skill from the person behind the bar. Any monkey can be taught to pour a drink, and the only way to really mess up a whiskey and coke is to forget the whiskey. A well-made Bloody Mary is a thing of beauty that takes care, finesse and an intrinsic understanding of the delicate mixing of the numerous ingredients at the bartender’s disposal. More important, it takes a knowledge of how the individual prefers their drink. That’s why when we recently visited The Row Bar during one of the few times where we ventured outdoors before the sun had set and ordered a Bloody Mary, I felt obligated to provide instructions.
“Make it spicy,” I said, “right up to the point where you think to yourself, ‘My God, that’s a really fucking spicy drink.’ Then make it a little spicier.”
What I wasn’t expecting was an argument. The bartender asked if we had ever ordered one from them before, which we hadn’t. She said she was going to follow her standard recipe and began a long series of mashing and squeezing, grinding and shaking, adding more ingredients and starting over again. Minutes passed, enough to wonder if we were going to make our movie time–and we had a half-hour before showtime.
What we were presented with proved to be an expertly made drink, though I reached for the Tabasco just the same, if just to prove a point. That action got me admonished, saying the hot sauce would overpower the balance of the other ingredients.
“Hey,” I said, “don’t get me wrong, this is a damn good drink. I just enjoy it when I can give my bartender heartburn by the fumes alone.”
“Well,” she replied, “our version has won awards.”
“So did Titanic,” I said. “But I still don’t want to see it.”
If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s being told how to drink.
Still, the employees at The Row obviously know what they’re doing, and since they’re so damned cocky about their Bloody Marys, there’s no compunction in recommending them to public at large. So, order away people. Though be warned that if it’s busy enough, your order might turn out to be one of those watered-down tomato juices we spoke of earlier.
