Much as I admire Bernard DeVoto on the subject of
antebellum America (a far too neglected period), and recognizing that doctrinaire pronouncements on cocktail propriety are mostly tongue in cheek, still... this is giving the back of the hand to one of America's richest and noblest fields of invention. The science of mixology is artful and subtle and at its pre-Prohibition peak in America was surely as refined a field as Austrian dessert-making or French pate-making or any of the other glories of cuisine. Indeed, it was quite possibly the first culinary area in which Americans notably distinguished themselves on the international scene.
As it happens I went to The Violet Hour last night. My reaction was very much like others' here-- it is very hard not to laugh at first, the seriousness with which you are greeted by young people in suits and neckties (a trend
endorsed by the Times today) would make a funeral parlor seem pixieish (I very nearly snorted when the second room was described as "Salon B"). Actually, you know what the whole secret entrance, no signage, guy who greets you and tells you the rules thing reminded me of? That silly Spy Bar in Milwaukee. I about expected to enter through a revolving bookcase and see a light go on whenever someone went in the bathroom. And considering that the space has previously held two of the most enjoyably overdesigned restaurant
environments in Chicago-- Mod and Del Toro-- the austerely square rooms and highback chairs seem a little randomly placed, almost temporary; it takes keeping the rooms at a level of lighting just above "underwater cave" to give these simple rooms a mood worthy of the evocative name.
The first thing that began to turn my attitude around was when the bartender opened one of his little refrigerators and I saw an assortment of herbs growing in little cartons inside. I suppose that's not unique to them, but it opened my eyes to how much
stuff there was around the bar. A bar full of unusual bottles is not that unusual, but a bar stocked with four dozen spices and a couple of dozen tinctures in eye-dropper bottles is. And this is where you start to see that, despite the uberhip atmosphere, despite the menu (which you can't read in this light) of cutely named house creations... you've been drinking stuff all poured together in a glass until now. Really, you read people using words like "balance" and "counterpoint" in regards to cocktails and it's like "structure" in regards to wine, bullshit words thrown out there because there just aren't that many ways to talk about liquids. Except, whoops, you just tasted it for real, so it wasn't bullshit after all. It was just hard to deliver on.
What I had:
"Autumn Sazerac"-- rendered autumnal by Apfel Korn, an apple-ish liqueur. I thought a version of the original cocktail would be a good place to start, but it seemed a bit tame next to some of what followed.
"Golden Age"-- Brugal Anejo rum, cherry Heering, and egg white (I think, although
Sula says yolk)-- I ordered this after a taste of someone's Dark and Stormy and was impressed by the balance of rum, lime and aromatically fresh-tasting ginger syrup, and wanted something similarly concocted and multidimensional.
Chartreuse drink invented by Kyle, our bartender-- after two rounds from the menu (which between three of us meant we'd tasted close to half of it) we asked Kyle, with whom we'd chatted extensively by that point, if he had drinks of his own that he would like to make. He did, and matched them to us based on the preferences we'd shown to that point. I got one consisting of chartreuse, simple syrup, Peychaud bitters, a gin and tonic on top of that, and Angostura bitters on top. It was terrific, and I was more impressed with it after he poured us samples of three different chartreuses, all of which, even the very expensive one, were just too lighter-fluidy sipped straight for my drinking preference. But subsumed into the cocktail he'd made, it was sublime. (We also had a tasting of cherry-flavored liqueurs-- the cherry Heering was syrupy, too sweet to drink on its own, but two Italian maraschino liqueurs were quite interesting.)
We also ordered a couple of things off the small menu to help soak up our $11 cocktails-- the deep-fried pickles are really, really good, in the best scarfable bar snack way, as a deviled egg non-fan I was impressed that I liked the deviled egg (curried yolk, bit of porkbelly, ie., bacon), and although the sliced bread was noncanonical and the price would buy you a feast at any good Cuban joint in town, the Cuban sandwich was pretty tasty too. The Violet Hour isn't even a restaurant and it's a better restaurant than the
last place in this space.
In short, The Violet Hour is a wow, an impressive addition to the local drinking and dining scene, a serious place that will raise the standards locally for other places that want to be taken seriously-- and yet for all that it seems from the outside like the kind of place that would want nothing to do with
you, a small amount of knowledge and effort put into talking to your bartender will, at least in Kyle's case, richly repay you with an introduction to the wonders behind the bar and the skills displayed by its staff of young but highly learned and artful mixologists.
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