Next time you need a mental-health day, skip the road trip and head instead to the nearest bar. Call me irresponsible, but to my mind, a day spent drinking from sun-up to sundown, breakfast to bedtime, is a much-earned vacation. The key to this round (-the-clock) trip is variety; guzzling beer nonstop when hour-appropriate cocktails are there for the asking is the equivalent of boarding a bus to Lubbock, Texas, when you could be jetting to Rio.
True adventure-seekers, of course, can always embark on a bar crawl, hopping from booth to booth in search of the perfect libation. Godspeed to those who have their own map at the ready — or are boldly prepared to go without — but for those who could use a few pointers, the drinks below should send you on your way without reeling (we hope).
Wake-up calls
Boston Harbor Lights at the Salty Dog ($5.50). Make the refreshing step from the corporate-run funhouse of Faneuil Hall into the more authentic chaos that is the Salty Dog. It's a cramped and almost painfully rustic space located below ground level in the central wing of the marketplace — the kind of space in which a Sox game always seems to be on even when there’s no Sox game on. It also features garish turquoise trim and at least one bald, beefy cook. The Salty Dog is at its salty best at brunch, when stacks of hotcakes hang 10 over the edges of their plates and orders of spicy fried calamari go like, well, hotcakes. Now’s the time to try a smooth and funky Boston Harbor Lights.
Though the drink’s listed as a specialty, the affable yet harried bartender may never have heard of it. But once it’s made, it proves worth the wait. There’s no skimping on the rum, which is blended with orange juice and Chambord, a raspberry liqueur that tastes cream-based but isn’t. The overall effect isn’t unlike the milk-and-OJ combo you used to whip up for yourself as a child — but much, much better.
Grapefruit mimosa at Metropolis Café ($6.95). One of two classic brunch cocktails, the mimosa is a simple yet floral combination of Champagne and orange juice. More vivid, however, is the version served at the Metropolis Café — a tight little butterscotch-colored squeeze of a neighborhood place sprinkled with starburst lanterns. First off, Champagne gets the boot — in the form of the Italian peninsula, from whence comes prosecco, the less refined but sunnier sparkling wine that forms the basis for the drink. Second, the OJ, though allowed to remain, receives sass lessons from a new citrus addition, grapefruit juice. The result is a little dry and a lot tart, and makes a spunky complement to thick-cut cinnamon-brioche French toast.
Bloody Mary bar at Tonic ($4.75–$7.75). The other classic brunch cocktail, the Bloody Mary, needs no introduction, but at the suave new Allston lounge Tonic, it receives all the fanfare of an ice-cream sundae. On Sundays, Tonic sets up a make-your-own Bloody Mary bar, providing your choice of vodka (hence the drink’s price range) in a pint glass with ice, then sending you over to a counter laden with multiple mixes of varying spiciness; tomato and Clamato juices; an array of flavored hot sauces, such as horseradish and garlic; and a spread of condiments from olives and lemon slices to celery stalks. What, no chocolate sprinkles?
Pick-me-ups
Creamsicle at the White Star Tavern ($7). As warm weather approaches and all the kids go sallying up to the ice-cream truck for orange-vanilla pops, we adults can sally up to the breezy White Star bar in the afternoons for an even better Creamsicle — one with alcohol. Here mingle Stoli Vanil, Cointreau, and orange juice; the result is as cool, creamy, and sweet as your typical frozen treat, but with a swift kick no Eskimo Pie ever delivered.
Down the Hatch at the Parish Café ($6.95). Like the White Star, the Parish Café has a patio that's crammed all spring and summer, as Back Bay denizens and tourists alike unwind over all manner of frothy happy-hour concoctions. The Parish is an agelessly popular upscale sandwich joint whose oddly successful gimmick is appropriation — that is, its menu is composed of items created by chefs and bartenders from other restaurants; Atina Hatch’s potent " lemonade " is a stellar example. Citron vodka is the starting point from which limoncello (a Southern Italian specialty liqueur), sour mix, and a final " secret ingredient " all take off at a sweet-tart clip; of course, when your gullet is the finish line, it doesn’t much matter how they place, so long as they’re putting forth that burst of lemon energy.
Parrot Juice at the Coolidge Corner Clubhouse ($6.50). It’s probably best not to ask about the name: the answer’s undoubtedly that this drink is strong enough to make you squawk for more, or some such indignity. Rum provides the base; Midori, peach schnapps, and pineapple juice top it off with an acid-neon flourish; and the whole makes for a tropical transport from the definitively domestic domain that is a pennants-and-posters sports bar like the Clubhouse.
Nightcaps
Guilty Pleasure et al. at the Coolidge Corner Clubhouse ($7.50). If we stay put as the evening wears on — and we just may, considering the allure and enormity of the CCC’s cocktail list — we’re likely to develop a craving for something sweet, smooth, and soothing. Clearly someone at the Clubhouse shares our tastes, for the selection of after-dinner drinks is super-size. Someone, in fact, seems obsessed with getting dessert into a glass, given just how many drink descriptions read like candy-bar wrappers or cookie boxes — from the smooth rum/Bailey’s/Frangelico blend called (somewhat inexplicably, since Frangelico is hazelnut-flavored) the Almond Joy to the even smoother Biscotti, made of Stoli Vanil, white crème de cacao, and amaretto (which is almond-flavored). Also not to be missed is the smoothest-of-all Double Fudge, which candy-coats plain vodka with crème de cacao and coffee schnapps. And then there’s the Guilty Pleasure — a martini that takes a decidedly odd but refreshing turn off the road to pure sweetness (what with coffee liqueur and butterscotch schnapps) and heads instead straight into sour territory (via apple schnapps).
Rich’s chocolate martini at the Good Life ($9). Not all after-dinner drinks are so complicated. The mixture of vanilla vodka and light crème de cacao that constitutes the Good Life’s chocolate martini is simple yet rich (making the name of its inventor particularly apt). What sets this drink apart, however, is the garnish — a single chocolate-covered cherry. It’s the ultimate expression of girl-drinkhood and a fittingly campy gesture for a place that revels in camp, given its whole circa-’50s red-leatherette roadhouse vibe. In such a place, over such a drink, a gal can’t help but feel a little bratty; and any guy with a sweet tooth can expect to get in touch with that side of himself as well.
The Fichitini at Parish Café and Bar ($8.50). Back at the Parish, the antithesis of the girl drink awaits — a unisexy nightcap called the Fichitini, created by Al Stankus. Fico means " fig " in Italian (fichi is the plural form); together with vodka, fig essence (actually purée) has an ambrosial, fertile character — so that, graced with a slice of candied fig, the drink has all the makings of an aphrodisiac. Which, in turn, has all the makings of the perfect finale to a thoroughly decadent day.
Ruth Tobias can be reached at ruthiet@bu.edu
