First Call: The Capitol Club

A weekly Voracious feature in which our writers walk into a bar and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Locale: The Capitol Club, 414 E. Pine St., CAPITOL HILL

Bartender: Joshua Parshall

Serving Seattleites Since: 1999

Parshall is enthusiastic when we explain the rules for First Call and serves up a ruby-colored drink he invented that recently debuted on the bar’s cocktail menu as “The Hello Kitty.”

C’mon now—what’s with the name?
[Laughs] I actually didn’t come up with it. One of our regulars called it a “Hello Kitty” and the owner let out a squeal because she loves Hello Kitty. The name sort of stuck. Unfortunately, it’s alienated quite a few of the guys.

That’s too bad, because it tastes incredible. What’s in it?
It depends on whether you order it as a cocktail or a shot. The ingredients are Finlandia grapefruit vodka, pomegranate syrup, a splash of cranberry juice, and muddled lemon. I won't muddle the lemon in the shot version though, so that it’s easier to shoot. It’s become a favorite with the bachelorette parties that come through here. We see a lot of boobies each week, which wasn’t the case when I was working in Red Lodge, Montana.

What’s bartending like in Red Lodge versus Seattle?
The hardest drink I ever had to make in Montana was a margarita. I poured a lot of beers. I made plenty of rum and Cokes, Duck Farts, and Jager Bombs. People there don’t want anything cucumber infused. In Seattle, people have a wider knowledge of what can be done with their drinks. The muddled limes, basil, hibiscus—they want to try all of that.

Yeesh. We sound totally high maintenance.
It’s actually fun and I think it’s a great way to become a better bartender. It’s kind of like if you’re at a nice restaurant and you ask the waiter how the lamb is. He’s either going to give you a very generic “Oh, it’s wonderful” or he’ll be able to really describe the flavor. The latter is the way it should be for cocktailing. If I’m at the front of the house interacting with people, I want to know my shit.

That you do, Joshua. Have you had any slip-ups along the way?
A couple weeks ago I actually ended up at the emergency room. I was pulling a Stella glass in the dishwasher and somebody distracted me. I dropped the glass and looked down just in time to get nicked in the eye. I got pretty scared because I thought a piece was embedded in my eye. Luckily, it was just a small scratch. If you work with glass and knives, I guess something like that is bound to happen at some point.

Did you have to spend an entire evening at Harborview?
I don’t know why everybody keeps asking me that! I actually went to Swedish and was in and out of there in 45 minutes, tops.

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First Call in Black: Canlis

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar unannounced and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

First come the royal purple, flowing short pants with gold pinstriping—too trendy. Next it’s the pink capris, babydoll tank and black heels with the effect of looking like I should be hostessing at the joint, not drinking there. Then I remember the suit. A sleek black number with silk pinstripes an old flame gave me when I finished graduate school so I could interview at reputable news outlets. I ended up here and never even took the tags off—I throw on the pants, a purple peasant frock, black jacket and favorite red suede stilettos—necessary because the legs are too long and I haven’t made it to a tailor. I dig out my silver hoop earrings, smudge a little charcoal around the eyes and hunt down a full-length mirror.

Shazam!

I’ve just gone from dorky, awkward, dive-bar boozing, alt weekly writer to Seattle sophisticate.

This rare transformation is the result of a trip to Canlis—Seattle’s answer to everyone who complains that khakis have gained far too much acceptance in this town. It features one of the most elegant, delicious, and expensive menus in the city and the patrons dress to match. Since we’re going for some East Coast swank, my friend Kimberly and I agree to meet at a New Yorkish 9 p.m. for cocktails and lounge music.

She arrives in a black wrap dress and striking boots—borrowed from a friend after a similar bout of wardrobe agony.

Kimberly and I go back to elementary school. We grew up on the same street. Our birthdays are two days apart. Other than that, we’re kind of a yin and yang pair, but starting in junior high we would meet for raspberry iced teas at a trendy Spokane bistro to dish, dream and feel like grownups. Getting to do it in striking black ensemble with fully loaded cocktails—we've really come full circle.

Anyshoe (and they were great shoes) enough about me. “Barkeep, bring me your best!”

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First Call: West 5 in the Afternoon

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar unannounced and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Locale: West 5, 4539 California Ave. S.W. Dark and cozy, with a little vintage bowling alley flare, ten steps in to this bar and you can’t tell the time of day. West 5 serves as a neighborhood meet up with a stellar booze selection, and their happy hour is full most every day of the week.

Bartender: JoAnn is the day bartender at West 5, and has been a beloved bar maven in these parts for many years. Barkeeps take note: I asked JoAnn for her favorite drink, and without any further questioning or qualification, she went straight into action. “OK, well, my favorite thing to drink is amaretto & soda; so I’ll make it exactly how I like to drink it,” she says.

The drink: A healthy pour of DiSaronno in a pint glass full of ice, topped with soda. The verdict: It’s the adult version of an almond/hazelnut Italian soda. It’s rainy and clammy outside, and the mood is just right for this. It would never occur to me to order amaretto, but I will buy whatever JoAnn’s selling.

JoAnn says, “I never liked whiskey. About 10 years ago I started drinking this because I need a little of that sweet. You know what else is good? A blueberry tea, with amaretto, Grand Marnier, and hot black tea.”

The West 5 has it’s share of after work regulars that start to roll in around 3pm, and JoAnn knows them all. She gets them started, then makes the rounds to say her goodbyes after she does her books. When JoAnn finishes her shift, she relaxes on my side of the bar with a snifter of the above. I love a bartender who practices what they preach.

So, also I cheated. I went for my first call as JoAnn was giving her last call and the night bartender Mike was starting his shift. First call perfecta! When I ask Mike for his favorite drink, he answers, “Are you sure?” “Yep, you can’t hurt me,” I say, wondering why so many bartenders answer our question with another question. You’re choosing my drink, not my health care plan. (Are people really that uptight? Oh, wait…yes.) Then he asks me if I like gin and Chartreuse. Yes and hell yes.

The drink: gin and lime juice on the rocks with a splash of Chartreuse. The verdict: This drink is the imaginary intersection of a Venn diagram containing the subsets: gin & tonic, rickey, and mojito. Mike tells me someone from the Weekly came in a while back but didn’t care for a similar drink that he made. Well Mike, you got a do-over and I declare your drink simple and effing delicious.

**Next time you’re in West 5, check out the bottom shelf, far right, where the Chartreuse lives. It’s a bitters and aquavit chorus line.

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First Call: Vessel

Locale: Vessel, 1312 5th Ave., 652-0521. Airy and modern, complete with a lime-green staircase, and a reputation as an 'it' place for the discerning drinker.

Guide: Jim Romdall. Jim took over at Vessel in May after the departure of popular mixologist Jamie Boudreau, who left, in his words, because of money and ownership issues. Romdall acknowledges that Boudreau's shoes have been hard to fill, but he seems to be slipping into them just fine. He's confident, but earnest. "Listen," he says with a smile, "I don't want to be the guy who ruins Vessel."

Romdall appears to have stuck to the strengths of this shi-shi bar and built upon them. Since talking over, he's doubled the drink menu to include more classics and originals, all carefully concocted in a way that befits a place that boasts "liquid elegance."

Beverage: After asking a few questions about my preferences, (yes I like whiskey), Romdall made me the Esquire, created in honor of the magazine of the same name that included Vessel on its annual best bars list in May. The Esquire— made from rye, Amer Picon (a bitter made in France from oranges), Cynar (an Italian bitter made from artichoke and other herbs) and Yellow Chartreuse— was one of Romdall's first additions to Vessel's menu. He finishes it by searing orange zest over the top to give it a slightly smoldering flavor. It was delightfully complex and tasty, though it made me wish there was a nip in the air and snow in the forecast instead of sun streaming through Vessel's two-story windows.

A must: Pulled pork sliders, $5 before 6 p.m. A surprisingly good mix with a good, strong drink.

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First Call: Tulio

Bartender Lannie Tunstone at Tulio. (1100 5th Ave., 624-5500)

Where: Tulio, the Italian restaurant’s wood-paneled bar, featuring summer sidewalk seating, quiet jazz from the speakers, and a marble clock above the bottles that looks like a tombstone and is always set to happy hour.

Who: Lannie Tunstone, who’s been a bartender for over twenty years, including in the Columbia Tower’s private club, where celebrities would go to avoid the paparazzi while drinking.

Do celebrities drink differently from the rest of us? “All I can say is that Walter Kronkite loves his Johnny Walker Red.”

Any celebrties at Tulio? “We had Loni Andersen (of WKRP of Cincinnatti and formerly married to Burt Reynolds fame) in the other day. And Mike Piazza (baseball catcher) likes to come by when he’s in town.”

The usual clientele: “It varies quite a bit, but it's generally upscale. Because we’re attached to the hotel (Hotel Vintage Park), we get a lot of people who are in from out of town, the 5th Avenue theater crowd, (restaurant and bar) industry people. Over the weekend, we had a lot of New Yorkers; they were in town for the baseball series. They’d come in and ask for pizza. We have pizza, but not what they were looking for.” (The bar offers an assortment of tasty-sounding whole pizzas—margherita, pancetta, prosciutto—but not your classic NYC by-the-slice.)

The vibe: “You won’t find a TV or loud music in here. That’s deliberate. We’re reviving the lost art of conversation.”

Lannie’s drink: The Courvasier Sidecar: Courvasier, cointreau, freshly muddled orange, lemon juice, and a rim crusted with finely granulated sugar and dried grapefruit. It’s refreshing, sweet without the unpleasant aftertaste.

Why? “It’s fun to revisit the old staples. We do a lot of those, things like sidecars, gin rickeys, instead of going with the cranberry juice and the flavored vodkas.”

Those are too sweet? “That stuff...that’s why we have Applebees and Red Robins. The old-time cocktails from the thirties and forties...I don’t want to say people were alcoholic, but they took care of business. Now, the days of the three-martini lunch are pretty much done.”

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First Call: The Central Saloon

A weekly Voracious feature in which our writers walk into a bar and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Watering Hole: The Central Saloon, 207 1st Ave S., PIONEER SQUARE

Bartender: Brian Green

Green immediately conjures up a unnamed shot for me. It tastes like a Starburst exploded in my mouth. The ingredients: Cranberry juice, Rock Star energy drink, muddled lemon, and strawberry vodka.

Bull shit. I don’t believe that this is your favorite drink.
It’s good though, right?

You just brought me the girliest drink ever.
You don’t want my favorite drink. It’s a shot called a Chemical Warfare.

Sounds potent.
It’s equal parts Jose Cuervo, Jack Daniels and 151.

Green is right. I don’t want his favorite drink. The last time I drank 151 was in college. That, plus a couple of giant bong hits later resulted in... well, to tell you the truth, I haven't a clue. (In my defense, it was freshman year.)

Um… I guess I want that. Easy on the 151 though.
Really?! I’ll bring you a chaser.

Within a few moments, I’ve got a Chemical Warfare in front of me. I tentatively sniff the shot, regret it, then just gulp it down to get it over with.

GROSS.
Yeah, but you only need two. It’s my favorite drink because it’s cheap and effective… too effective.

Out of nowhere some dude appears beside us at the bar. He grins and pulls an empty plastic bag out of his coat pocket, which I’m going to assume used to have something in it. And it probably wasn't a sandwich. Random dude twists the bag into two triangles and announces, “Look! A bowtie.”

You must see some pretty crazy stuff working at a bar in Pioneer Square.
You’d think so, but the main thing really is people running out on their tabs. The other day some guy’s credit card got declined so I told him he could leave his ID with me and go get cash. He bolted. Some of the patrons chased him down though.

Did he pay his tab?
No. But his ID is around here somewhere. I don’t want to sound like a jack ass… I just appreciate it when people pay for their drinks."

Understandable. Hmmm... what else happens around here? Is there anything else you'd like to tell me before I leave?
Yeah. You sound like a cop.

. . . Damn, that last bit did make me sound like a cop. My apologies, Brian.

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First Call: Sunshine in South Park

A weekly Voracious feature in which our writers walk into a bar and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Friendly, Neighborhood Watering Hold: Loretta's Northwesterner, 8617 14th Ave S, South Park

Friendly, Neighborhood Barkeep: Maria Porco, with an assist with manager Steve.

Pick Your Friendly Neighborhood Poison: Maria was a little intimidated by the whole premise and asked for an assist from Steve, who was busy frying up my $3 tavern burger.

"We're not really a cocktail bar," Steve says. "We're more a beer and whiskey bar. We were going to have a signature drink called the The Green River Killer because Gary Ridgeway used to live in the area and came in here." It turned out he still had family in the neighborhood so Steve put the kibosh on the drink.

None of this was much help to Maria so she turned back to the bar: "Alright well I'll start something and we'll see where it goes."

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First Call: The Kingfish Cafe

A weekly Voracious feature in which our writers walk into a bar and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Place: The Kingfish Cafe, 602 19th Ave. E., CAPITOL HILL

The Kingfish is a rare kind of neighborhood joint because it combines that everybody-knows-your-name feel with a celebratory atmosphere that also makes you feel like you're at an "it" place . . . in a much larger city. Eat there during dinner hours on just about any night and you've likely stood at the bar to pass the time waiting for a table. But the towering wooden bar and its Southern-inspired cocktails are worth checking out as a destination in themselves. On this day it's early. Otis Redding croons in the background to a bar full of empty chairs.

Barkeep: Kammeron Brown, a cocktail alchemist who's worked at the Kingfish since February.

Beverage: The Harlem Palmer. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" says Brown. He says he created the drink on a hot day, while messing around with some bourbon. (The genesis of all great ideas.) As you might suspect, it includes lemonade and ice tea, just like that golfer-inspired summer classic, the Arnold Palmer. But Brown's concoction — in addition to the fact that the lemonade's made from scratch with lemon, simple syrup and bitters — has a generous helping of Maker's Mark, a splash of Mandarine Napoleon, and a spiral orange rind. It's tasty. Tart, but with a sweet kiss at the end.

The Harlem Palmer's not on the menu, but if you catch Brown behind the bar, he'd be happy to make you one. That, or ask him for another of his inspired (and unadvertised) bourbon specialties. Or try one of the other creatively named cocktails on the menu like Harlin's Back Room Jick (Absolute Mandarin and cranberry juice, with lime, and a splash of tonic), or Kenyetta's Dirty Little Secret (Grey Goose vodka, a dash of bitters, and three olives).

Brown comes back after I've taken a few sips to pour the remaining splash from the nearly empty Maker's bottle into my glass. "Ah, sweet mother's milk," he says. "Waste not, want not."

Couldn't agree more.

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Pickle Juice Is the Chaser of Choice at Jules Maes Saloon

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar unannounced and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink

Establishment: Jules Maes, 5919 Airport Way. GEORGETOWN.

Barkeep: Hefe – pronounced like “jefe,” or “boss” in Spanish. And Hefe, by any measure, is boss.

After hearing the First Call rules, Hefe needs a clarification: "So, do you want whatever I want to pour?"

Not exactly, if you were sitting here, what would you order? "Ah." She leaves and comes back toting an armful of shot glasses.

Liquid Courage: "You guys are lucky," she tells our group, "I was gonna bring you Olys — easy to pour and no dishes. But this is what you get — Hornitos and pickle juice."

Jeez-US, Hefe. Pickle juice? Are you serious? I feel the same way about pickle juice the way most people feel about in-laws. "I used to drink it with pineapple, but I drank a lot of tequila when I was a kid" (She says this with zero irony) "and I got tired of it. So pickle juice it is."

Siiiiiiiiiggghhh

So, once again: Cheers! Down the hatch, stick out the tongue, and throw down the pickle juice. And just like that, it’s over. The pickle juice cuts the tequila like a junky cuts lines, and before I know it, the tequila is gone. Then, for good measure, Hefe serves up a round of Olys, so we sip and look.

Jules Maes is just across the street from the Georgetown Brewery and try as I might, I just can’t ever see Georgetown becoming the next “it” ‘hood. Its architecture’s too gritty, its collar too blue. Here, at the Jules Maes on a Tuesday, the clientele looks the part. Regulars hunched over personalized bar stools, all of whom are on a first-name basis with Hefe. This, however, isn’t saying much. Hefe’s first interaction with us — after checking our IDs of course — is to shake hands and ask us our names. She is by far one of the coolest bartenders I’ve encountered in the First Call line of work. Badass in that don’t-flip-me-any-shit-or-I’ll-curb-stomp-your-skull-in vein; she’s still super friendly. The rest of the bar feels the same way: a pair of mannequin legs over the bar, a skull on the tap, a buffalo on the wall, and no music, although a portrait of Johnny Cash flipping the bird hangs prominently behind the till.

I have to say, I'm impressed with the selection, although I still hate pickle juice. My Dad owned a pickle farm when I was a kid. My first tattoo was a pickle. Wanna see?

Absolutely. Can I take a picture of your pickle? Only if I can take a picture of your pickle.

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Sambar's Jay Kuehner Can't Pick Just One Favorite Drink

Every week, a Weekly staffer walks into a bar and asks the bartender to make us his or her favorite cocktail.

The place: Sambar, 5416 Sixth Ave. N.W., BALLARD.

The barkeep: Jay Kuehner.

My order is your favorite drink: "Oh I see. Well, what's your favorite drink?"

That's so not the point! You're a cheater! Jay acknowledges my accusation with a slightly sheepish dip of his head. "Well, I can't choose. You're gonna get a couple different options."

Whatever floats your boat, I guess, Jay. What's up first? "This one helps if you have fresh tomatoes," he begins, slicing into one of the aforementioned fruits. After a great deal of shaking, chopping, and assorted similar tasks, he presents me with Sangrita and tequila.

So, all that looked pretty complicated. What's actually in this? "Fresh mashed tomato, a little Tabasco, a dash of lime juice, some orange, a dash of cinnamon, a dash of cayenne, a dash of raspberry, some smoky paprika sometimes is really good, and unfermented grape juice." All of this is served in a shot glass with a shot of tequila. You sip the tequila, then sip the Sangrita to get the flavors blending. "I gave you a nice, minerally silver tequila, too," he says. "Cazadores Blanco."

Oh my. Well, let's see if all that work is worth it. After a sip, I'd say yes. The ingredients list sounds to me like Jay has given me the bastard child of a Bloody Mary, a Margarita, and a tequila shot, but that isn't quite how it tastes. The hot sauce/cayenne/paprika means it all makes my tongue tingle. There are so many flavors in this one and they all blend so well that it's hard to pin down any dominant one. Complicated, but a good choice as long as I don't have to make it.

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First Call: The Maharaja at The Maharaja

Photo by 'Lil Scoop

The bar: The Maharaja, 4542 California Ave., 935-9443 West Seattle Junction

The drink: The Maharaja (vodka with mango and cranberry juice)

The bartender: Don Bogie, pictured above with his signature drink.

The scene: Don Bogie's first name is Don, but everyone calls him Bogie. He's tended bar at the Maharaja (not to be confused with other Indian-bent venues of the same name in other parts of the city, like Capitol Hill) for a decade or so, and is the creator of the house drink, also called the Maharaja. Simply put, it's a vodka-cran with a splash of mango. It's one of those drinks that tastes too good; it'd be very easy to suck down a dozen in the span of an hour and end up taking an all-night nap in the Dumpster out back. But so long as you limit yourself to one or two before moving on to tougher stuff — beer, whiskey, whatever — it's the perfect summer cooler.

With nary a twentysomething to be found in the back bar on a recent Thirstday night, the Maharaja's clientele is mainly composed of professional drinkers — i.e., service industry and leather livered types who are in for the long haul (our table cleaned the Maha out of its entire inventory of Taj Mahal beer, for instance). This is the sort of group that requires a speedy, professional bartender, and Bogie is just that. He doesn't talk much, covers each table in a packed bar as though it's the only one in the house, remembers your preferred libation even if you've only been in once before, and somehow maintains an utterly pleasant disposition amidst all degrees of nuttiness. For this, it could be argued that he's the best bartender in town. In fact, we'll be arguing about that next week.

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First Call: High Dive - One Reason Fremont Doesn't Suck

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar unannounced and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Pull up a stool: High Dive, 513 N. 36th, Fremont

Pouring pints: Darren Mohr

Wet your whistle: “I believe if you’re out drinking, you should have a beer and a shot.”

I want to interject here and point out that this is the third time a first call target has done this since the column debuted and the second in a week. Come to think of it, the original confusion that bartenders expressed after hearing the First Call rules was also conspicuously absent when we showed up. Barkeeps of Seattle, are we getting a gander at this little Weekly feature and taking notes? Sure, we’ve been a little head-over-heels for shameless barkeeps who shirk the traditional citrus and vodka safetini but I also want to see what you can do—seduce me Tom Cruise Cocktail-style.

That said the way to this girl’s heart is a slow-sipping Jameson, which is exactly what Mohr pulled from the shelf, so all was pretty quickly forgiven.

We now resume your regularly scheduled First Call:

Wet your whistle: A shot of Jameson and a pint of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Another shot and a beer guy, why do you eschew the froofinis? “I’m the manager here, and I’m proud to say that I came up with the special. (points to board—the very First Call combo I’m now sipping.) I would’ve said a margarita ‘cause I make a great one, but on a day like today, ehh (shrugs).”

It is a little grey and chilly for the ‘ritas. So my drinking buddy slammed the shot, a bit of a Jameson disgrace if I say so myself, how do you consume your Irish whiskey? “It depends on my mood. If I’m having it neat like that it’s a good two sips.”

I’ve been seeing “Fremont Sucks Now” bumper stickers in the neighborhood, does it indeed suck? “I’ve bar tended in Fremont the past six years. I can see their point ‘cause it’s getting all condoed out. But I have fun. One nice thing as a live music venue is we keep a lot of the idiot crowd out.”

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First Call: Lava Lounge

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar unannounced and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Establishment: The Lava Lounge, 2226 Second Ave.

Barkeep: Zack or EZ, whatever you want to call him.

Liquid Courage: A Rainier and a shot of Cazadores

Holy shit, EZ, you don’t mess around: Well, you asked me what I would get if I were you, so here it is.

When you ask a bartender to make his or her favorite drink, they usually try to show off and the result is lots fruity syrup. EZ, on the other hand, doesn’t stray from his ideals, but doesn’t kick out the creativity either. He took this tried-and-true drinking man’s combo and made it his own. The key? The orange covered with cinnamon in place of the lime and salt.

Listen boss, I appreciate you forgoing the fruity-ass foofoo drinks here but I’m a bit skeptical of oranges and cinnamon: I hate limes and salt. Try it, you’ll like it.

So, down the hatch with the tequila, control the gag reflex, and chomp down on the orange and cinnamon. This is usually the part where I’d suck in a bunch of air, stick out my tongue and holler, God DAMN! But the orange and cinnamon take care of business and just like that, the bite’s gone. And unlike salt and lime, it actually tastes good. So now, it’s time to bump elbows with the regulars, sip the Rainier, and take it all in.

The Lava Lounge is one of the last holdouts of old Belltown. As my buddy puts it, “It’s the last place in Belltown that doesn’t suck,” which, in my opinion, is quite true. You’ve seen Belltown: all trendy furniture and dress to impress, fake hair and fake bank accounts. EZ on the other hand, with his cue-ball cranium, beard, chopper T-shirt, and tat sleeves, wouldn’t fit in anywhere else in this neighborhood. The Lava Lounge is metal, both on the stereo and in the air. It’s darkly lit and what’s visible is vaguely Tiki — torches, boats and the like — but plenty of gnar and dark colors to keep the place Seattle. The rest of it, like EZ, doesn’t fit in Belltown either: wooden tables polished smooth by years of elbows and bathrooms labeled "guns" (guys) and "roses" (girls). Then there’s EZ, and his tats.

What’s on your arms? Skulls and shit. Why skulls? I got lots of flowers and stuff all over the rest of my body. I wanted something mean.

Skulls, Cazadores, and Rainier, huh? I think you got plenty of mean, brother. Yup, you want another one?

Topics: First Call

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First Call: Neighbours

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar, unannounced, and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

The place: Neighbours, 1509 Broadway, CAPITOL HILL.

The barkeep: Larence, "the one that looks like a Ken doll."

My order is your favorite drink: "I am so excited because you're just going to love this," Larence says once I've explained the rules to him. After a few minutes with a cocktail shaker I have before me a Golden Apple.

Larence is called away to attend to the line that formed while he was talking to me, so I start sipping. The drink definitely has apple in it — it reminds me a little of apple juice, except apple juice doesn't go to my head like that.

Interesting. What's in this thing? Larence finally has a moment and he tries to answer me, but I have unwittingly wandered into Capitol Hill's favorite gay bar on the night of Drag Idol and so I only catch part of the recipe over a man in a leotard and an afro wig belting out an old soul tune. There are four different liqueurs — two of which are pineapple and pomegranate schnapps, I think — and Washington apple. If you really want to know specifics, stop by and ask Larence. From what I can tell, he's more than willing to help out, and takes pardonable pride in his bartending abilities.

Do I like it? Considering I'm not usually a fan of sweet drinks, I think I just might. While I can't really taste the alcohol, it avoids the hallmark sticky sweetness that usually signifies, and the flavors blend nicely. I don't know that I'd order it on my own, but I'm not sorry to have had this one.

Later in the night he insists on making me his specialty, a Cosmopolitan. Again, a drink normally too sweet for me, but this one, well shaken and infused with lime, is damn tasty. Gold star for the barkeep on that one.

Nice work, Larence "Refreshing, isn't it?" he says enthusiastically. "When I worked in Vegas, the showgirls used to just love my Cosmopolitans." Turns out along with being a Vegas bartender, he also worked as a model and a dancer.

So what brings you up here? "People are always so surprised I moved, because of the rain and all, but that's what I love about it. It's so romantic and tranquil, you know?"

Well I never thought I'd say it, but hooray for the rain!

Topics: First Call

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First Call: Ozzie's

A weekly Voracious feature in which we walk into a bar unannounced and ask the bartender to make us his or her favorite drink.

Watering Hole: Ozzie's Restaurant and Lounge on 105 W. Mercer St.
Bartender helping Seatteites get drunk since . . . 2000
Name: Darrick Bourgeois
Wait a sec. That is not your name.
I fucking swear. No Proletarians in my family. It’s all bourgeois—like the upper-class of France. We made that shit.
Where did you enjoy this privileged upbringing?
Laughs. Federal Way.
That doesn’t sound very bourgeois.
I know. I actually owned a house there and was commuting to work until last weekend. I just got an apartment in upper Queen Anne, so now I’m from Seattle. I couldn’t keep commuting with the price of gas.
I’ll drink to that. Let’s get started.
I’ve got the perfect summer drink. My preference changes according to the season. When it gets warm out, I have a Caipiroska.
Can you spell that?
No, but I can Google it.
What’s in it?
Muddled lime, simple soda, and plum vodka. In Brazil they drink a cocktail called Caipirinha with a rum-like liquor. This is made with vodka instead. So it's Caipiroska, the Russian cousin.
It’s delicious. Do you down a couple of these before you sing? (Ozzie’s is a karaoke bar.)
Oh, I don’t sing. The last time I went up there on a really slow night. It was six months ago.
Fine. If you got sloshed enough, what would you sing?
Probably Billy Joel’s "For the Longest Time.” Or Stevie Wonder's “I Just Called to Say I Love You.”
I bet you've seen heard interesting song renditions while you've been here... any advice you've got for drunks who step up to the mic?
Oh man. There was this one guy who used to come in here every week and sing Billy Paul’s “Me and Mrs. Jones.” He was so good. I loved hearing him sing. But then there’s the 10 people a night who sing “Sweet Caroline.” It makes me wanna shit. Nobody ever seems to get that one right. Find another song, people.

Topics: First Call

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