Gin gin gin

To celebrate my wife’s birthday, I took her out to dinner tonight. There’s a fun little restaurant down on 65th Street called Joli which we’ve walked past a few times before, with an enticing little menu, so tonight we went there.
To my surprise, it’s actually a gin bar with a kitchen attached, and there’s 200 different gins they have, and they have old movie posters on the walls, and they had a projector playing Live And Let Die on a constant loop – we had basically found paradise.

They have about half the gins we’ve ever drunk (it’s kind of gratifying when they describe a gin as hard to find, when you’d been knocking it back in Singapore like crazy a few years ago) and an attractive set of gin and tonics to try. I had a coffee gin, made with coffee tonic and a slice of orange. It just tasted like gin, and then after five seconds the coffee taste really kicked in, leaving me confused and surprised, and for the rest of the meal I pulled various faces. It wasn’t unpleasant, it was just very confusing. After a while it tasted more like coffee flavour than coffee, and so my mind began to disintegrate…

I had my meat of the month, sharing a steak with my wife (and French fries fried in duck fat) and because it was her celebration and I didn’t want to get distracted, I sat facing away from Live And Let Die and still could tell my wife half the (fairly worrisome, with fifty years’ distance) plot.

Then we rolled out of there and went next door for dessert, a slightly too sweet cheesecake and a creme brulee that was just ok. But oh, the gin…

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