If bright and airy brunches are what you know about South Bay, you may be surprised to see how dim and dusky the place can get for after-dinner drinks. Even so, last night’s easy vibe and upbeat loungey playlist reminded me in flashes of day-drinking on a patio, which to be clear is a good thing.
After considering the lengthy cocktail menu, I went with the recommendation of my friendly and attentive bartender, Stephanie Velázquez: the Fever Margarita ($15), a pink-looking but somehow yellow-photographing pool of house-infused jalapeño tequila, lavender syrup, cream of coconut, triple sec, lime juice and Aperol. An edible, skin-on, dried-to-a-crisp lemon disc floated on top and carried shreds of coconut. The aromatics rising around it melded into a beautifully tart, fruity, lightly floral vanilla, with a tiny hint of heat to prepare me for the spice of the first sip: assertive but well-balanced against all the notes that I’m glad stayed over from the nose. A rim of tajín was delicately applied but still too much, simply because for me the drink was already nearly perfect. So I stuck to drinking it through the straw. A small but potent bite of the lemon disc blossomed from fruity to sour to bitter to candied, lingering through my next sip and making it even more delicious.
Reluctantly moving on, my next choice was the V.I.P. ($14), a handsome cocktail served in a foppishly tall highball with a curly straw-paper feather stuck in its hat. Poised on a bed of light but sturdy foam, a dried orange half-moon leaned against the rim. Meanwhile, a yellow aquifer of pineapple-infused vodka, coconut rum and pineapple juice turned slowly pale green from a finishing splash of blue curaçao. On the nose, a smooth blend of pineapple, coconut and sweet orange (from the curaçao) was a timeless delight. To taste, the pineapple kept dancing as the coconut and orange quickly went somewhere more private, leaving the party feeling a little empty. A shade of booziness lent some welcome complication, but before long, the melt of the ice chips, which I’d leave out next time, sent that note away, too.
I finished with a seasonal special: the Winter Old Fashioned ($16.50), featuring bourbon, clove/cinnamon/cranberry syrup, a hit of cranberry juice, a sphere of ice and a cinnamon stick garnish Velázquez lit like a cigar. (Feeling a little heady, and as a bourbon snob with biases, I substituted Michter’s bourbon for the house-recipe Bulleit, though in hindsight I’m sure it made little difference.) The cinnamon smoke mingled with the notes of sweet caramel and slightly bitter orange coming off the drink, which, on first sip, tasted an awful lot like a traditional old fashioned. But I was happy when, after taking a few more, the cinnamon, clove and cranberry began to assert themselves and shift things in exciting directions. The drink then never stopped evolving nor changed the gentle pace with which it did so—surely the glacial melt of the ice sphere at work. Halfway through, I found myself thinking not of an old fashioned but rather a spiked mulled cider, thanks to a stewed apple note that later flirted with pear and played as well as you’d expect with the caramel, the cinnamon, the orange.
A drink that morphs from one winter classic to another and beyond? In January, staring down the barrel of February: Yes, please.
Written and photographed by Dan Mims. Image 1 features the Winter Old Fashioned. Image 2 features the Fever Margarita. Image 3 features the V.I.P.
