Four Manhattans (and a Mini Martini) in Two Hours, a Self-Imposed Challenge Not Meant for Two Chronically Dehydrated Women
Blame it on basic human nature, a deep culture of one-upmanship, or the blindspot we have for our nation’s penchant for unbridled gluttony, but I can confidently say that it is not farmers that are the backbone of our nation, but instead food fads.
Let us not forget the moment bread bowls came into our lives and onto our thighs, shoving an entire loaf of bread down our throats, the true white knight of the bottom heavy food pyramid. How can we not mention the cultural phenomenon that is the taco salad, whose heyday glorified a horrifying mix of 1 part romaine, 7 parts Mexican cheese, a heaping pound of ground beef, and a free pour of sour cream. We found ourselves suffocated by the saccharine sunshine of omnipresent cupcake stores, channeling all of our grief in not being where we thought we’d be at our age into perfectly arranging cured meats on charcuterie boards, and shivering in sub-zero temperatures in line on a midtown sidewalk for a mediocre burger on a ramen noodle bun that was prepared in a refurbished ice cream truck. We fell out of love with air fryers (which were essentially just Easy-Bake Ovens for adults) just as quickly as we fell in love with them, their massive corpses now taking up 85% of our counter space in memoriam.
As someone who is pleasantly enjoying the current martini renaissance, I can’t help but look back fondly to darker times, those being the whiskey dynasty of the 2010s. If I put a dollar into my Roth for every time I audibly said “Jameson, please” in my 20s, I’m sure that would’ve erased some of the shame I retroactively feel for purposely seeking out pickle backs.
So to revisit those unforgettable apocalyptic hangovers after too many Manhattans, my friend Frances and I decided to take a trip down memory-less lane by going on a Manhattan crawl before dinner, which at the end of the day was just a highbrow pregame.
The Village Tavern at 46 Bedford St
This Manhattan is Big Mouth Billy Bass.
This Manhattan is finally ordering a pair of Palazzo pants you’re excited about then when they arrive realize they make you look like your recluse Aunt who lives upstate. Gayle. This Manhattan is the Tickle Me Elmo craze of 1996. This Manhattan will try to Smirnoff Ice you. This Manhattan is a Facebook status of yours from 2008 that you thought was brilliant at the time. This Manhattan has a TracFone. This Manhattan openly volunteers to others that it got its mattress on Facebook marketplace. This Manhattan is the locker room at Planet Fitness.
Grade: 1/10
Bandits at 44 Bedford St
This Manhattan is trail mix with most of the M&Ms and cashews eaten out of it. This Manhattan is when you realize at a family holiday in your 20s that no one in your family has any idea who you are or what you like. This Manhattan is that Wet Seal dress you saved up babysitting money to buy. This Manhattan is mediocre complementary bread for the table. This Manhattan is still being able to play Hot Cross Buns on a recorder but not remembering your social security number every tax season. This Manhattan still drinks cow milk. This Manhattan will probably try to grind with you at a wedding and you’re strangely not mad about it.
Grade: 6/10
Dante at 87 MacDougal St
This Manhattan does winters in West Palm Beach and you briefly question if it ultimately may be your demise but lean in because of the accoutrements. This Manhattan has suspiciously impeccable cursive. This Manhattan also has a Costco membership. This Manhattan is WordArt at its peak. This Manhattan is the ease in which no one has questioned once in the last 184 years why we have a holiday celebrating a groundhog that we have blindly declared is psychic. This Manhattan just cancelled the plans you were secretly dreading because you wanted a night in instead.
Grade: 9.5/10
Lord’s at 506 LaGuardia Place
This Manhattan kisses your forehead. This Manhattan is the day you got your braces off. This Manhattan is the sweet retribution you receive after forwarding an email you were accused of not sending. This Manhattan is the empty copier paper box you painstakingly turned into a scene depicting the penultimate battle of the Spanish-American War and got an A+ on in 5th grade. This Manhattan was the first person in your grade with a Razr flip phone. This Manhattan is the Cucumber Melon Lotion from Bath and Body Works. This Manhattan has reached self-actualization.
Grade: 10/10
The Langoustines and additional mini martini at the aforementioned Lord’s
I struggled greatly with these at the fault of no one besides myself at that point, as having to work for your food after 4 Manhattans is like giving a blind person (who is also starving and is as spatially oriented as someone who just got off the Gravitron ride at the state fair) a Rubik’s cube and telling them that they can’t eat until they figure it out. All while Gordon Ramsey is yelling at them.
Grade: I do remember the fries though which were a glowing 20/10