EMBURY COCKTAILS

Friday Night Cocktails: Jonny Sweat

After making cocktails at a party at the Joseph Abboud showroom the other night I came home quite knackered. When my friend who'd worked the party with me demanded I make him a drink I went with what was simple and on hand. We had some Basil Hayden's bourbon left over from the event, and some Meyer Lemons. I poured a healthy 2 oz. of BH over ice in a large rocks glass, then topped with about 1 1/2 oz of soda (from my beloved Sodastream, which is great for making non-cloying or syrupy soda water).  The Meyer was a bit overripe--too far gone to go into our bitters--but its richness suited the occasion, and a substantial section was squeezed over the drink and then dropped in. Apparently Basil Hayden's and Meyer Lemons are a perfect complement, with the rich brioche-y, white flower notes of the bourbon dovetailing beautifully with the opulent creaminess of the Meyers. A perfect 2-ingredients-and-a-garnish drink, simple as hell and the perfect salve for a sweaty summer night in New York City. 

The next night I tried it again on another friend who was so enraptured he dubbed it "Jonny Sweat". Whence the name? He described the drink as being "what you wring out of Jon Hamm's t-shirt after he's mowed the lawn in the hot sun."  Quite an image! And quite a drink. Best one I've come up with in quite a while. J.R.

Mad Men Watch: Dublin House

On a recent episode of "Mad Men" (# 306), Joan's surgeon husband Greg stays out late after he's passed over for Chief Resident and unceremonioulsly informed that he has "no brains in his hands." After stumbling into the apartment he shamefacedly tells Joan the bad news. The winning candidate and his colleagues had gone out for drinks to celebrate.  Greg says "I couldn't bring myself to go--I spent all night at the Dublin House." I flashed immediately on a mental image of the bar's sign on West 79th Street, a neon sign, with a green harp and the bar's name in red. I'd logged a few hours in the dark, friendly-but-not-too-friendly joint back in the 80s and in my memory of the place it was a perfect spot to spend a few morose hours mourning your dashed dreams over some scotch on the rocks.

I jumped  on the 1 train and headed up to the Upper West Side to see how the bar looked today. Remarkably unchanged from the 80s, and I'd guess from 1963 when the episode takes place. An gracious, attractive woman who runs the bar's Facebook page introduced herself (79 people are fans of  I'd rather be at the Dublin House]. She knew the bar had been mentioned on the show but not in what context--when I explained she laughed. "There are a few television personalities who live in the neighborhood who've gotten in big trouble with their wives after staying here very late when they had to be up really early the next morning." It's nice to see that some things don't change, and a friendly neighborhood bar that's there for some unrepentant drinking is always welcome. It's clearly a neighborhood spot with no pretensions on either side of the bar, which is refreshing in contrast to the ever- increasingly slick, overly polished  York bar scene. J.R.