For a first time, it’s a lifestyle post from me. This true story
came to me while I was comparing business travel tales with a colleague about
Portland. Of course, Portland is a really cool and hip city which, at the time,
I was not hip nor cool when I traveled there for the first time.
The story on why I was there is not much of an interesting
one since it was a week long session of marketing meetings about how well our group
had been doing the past year, woven in with hours of sessions on how we were
going to do better in the coming year. That is not to say that the time there
was all work. Our evenings as a group were plenty of fun as we explored the
easy going downtown streets with stops for unique dinners and samples of Oregon
beer and wine.
The group of us was very nicely accommodated at the Hotel
Vintage right downtown. It is a renovated old stone hotel done in a retro-modern
style. Every appointment in the rooms were covered including the complimentary “intimacy
kits” next to the soaps and shampoos in the bathroom. Each day after the
meetings, our group of twelve met for cocktails in the lobby before heading to
dinner. On the last evening our group was together the lobby bar was offering a
cocktail special call the Black Negrino. Myself and a couple others in the
group order the drink which I found to be quite intriguing in that it met my taste
by being a touch bitter. I had completely forgotten about the drink the next
day as I was very hung over from all the drinking that traditionally occurs on “the
last night out” with this particular (OK every) group of marketing people.
That night out with them was not my last night as I remained
in town for an additional full day of meetings. Still at the same hotel in the
city core on a Friday night I decided to explore the area on my own followed by
a late dinner. While I was out I came across a haberdashery displaying a SALE
sign in the window. In I strolled with an unusual instinct to do some shopping.
It wasn’t long before I walked out confidently with two new shirts; pressed and
ready to be worn to my dinner alone. I detoured back to my hotel room to
change. The shirt I chose was a bird’s eye weave in Persian blue and black. Of
the two shirts, it was the one that best suited my dark denim, brown belt and
chestnut wingtips.
I was charged up with the confidence that wearing a new
outfit will give you. When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, I heard the
smooth jazz stylings of a duo of electric keyboards and female vocals. The
selection was jazz standards by Sinatra and Bennett, so I slipped onto the end
stool at the bar to enjoy some lobby people watching. Before the bartender
turned to acknowledge me, I spotted that this lobby bar’s specialty was Negroni
cocktails and the small menu sign displayed “today’s special” which as not the
Black Negrino. The young, clean cut bartender made eye contact with me while
wiping the wet bar top areas around me.
“Good evening. What can I get for you?” he asked in a programed
tone
I asked if I could get the special cocktail from the night
before. He answered my question with a puzzled look as he explained this
evening was his first day back after a week off. Previously, I had not asked
for the ingredients in the drink I so enjoyed, so I used descriptive words and
hand motions to best illustrate the look and flavour of the beverage. He was
not deterred by the moments of low value miscommunication we exchanged, but
instead was inspired to discover the drink himself. It must have been my week
in the company of salesmen that made me persuasive enough for him to act.
Since I was alone at the bar that moment, he excused himself
to rush over to the restaurant to ask the bartender there if they could help us
out. I enjoyed the music by the duo who had moved forward a few decades to be
performing a rendition of Sweet Dreams by the Eurhythmics. They were not very
good. Before their tune ended I was willing to drink liquid nitrogen, but to my
rescue the bartender returned with the recipe.
“It has Old Tom Gin in it” he remarked and followed that with
an explanation that it is a sweeter, less dry, version of a London gin. There
were a few moments when his head under the bar, and the sound of rattling glassware
ended with all the bottles before him; and then began his description of the
drink as he measured. The drink was offered in a rocks glass with a large square
block of ice surrounded by the black mixture and a long lemon peel rind. I was
disappointed that this evening’s version had so much ice in it when the
previous one was well balanced. That made for longer sipping quite enjoyable. I
felt that he had put so much effort into the investigation and preparation that
I would not complain. I raised the glass in a cheers as thanks, then swiftly
drank it before the duo made their way to what was the inevitable ballad version
of the Ramones.
My new shirt and I were next out on the town. It took less
than twenty steps to find a super happening restaurant with a single remaining
seat at the bar for me to grab something to eat. Without any encouragement the
young lady on the stool next to mine recommended the house specialty, duck
meatballs. She made the right choice for me as the two large meatballs served
with a dark, thick, sweet sauce matched perfectly with my masterfully made Old
Fashioned cocktail. The young lady’s male dinner companion arrived while I ate,
and the three of us exchanged all the must see sights in Portland and Victoria.
It wasn’t long before my drinks were getting to my brain, so I headed back to
my hotel.
Before I headed to my room, I figured a third drink was
needed so I returned to “my seat” at the Vintage lobby bar and was welcomed by
the same accommodating bartender.
“You’re back. So is it the beginning of your night or the
end?”
It was the end I told him so I placed an order for a White
Russian which I find to be a wonderful “go nite-night drink”. When he placed
the drink in front of me, I asked if he would do me the favour of writing down
the recipe for the Black Negrino. He pulled off a slip of paper from the till
printer. I watched as he transferred the ingredients list from his coworkers
notes to the slip of paper for me. Besides the Old Tom Gin there were other ingredients
I had not heard of. His note read:
Black Negrino
1 oz Old Tom gin
¾ oz Carpano Punt e Mes
½ oz Campari
¼ oz Fernet-Branca
1 long twist of lemon peel
Stir & strain over fresh ice in Old Fashioned glass.
Twist and drop lemon peel.
I thanked him for the recipe while I placed it in my wallet.
Realizing the time was still early, but I was tired I said good night with a
cash tip and headed to the elevator a little after 10pm.
The next day I had an early flight home so I could be back by
lunch for what would be some family time the rest of the weekend. That evening
after I had shared all the excitement of the week in Portland with Mrs, I was
describing the drink and the discussion I had had with the bartender. I told
her I wanted to see if I could get the ingredients or adequate substitutes to
make the drink for our friends. I retrieved my laptop from my bags and the note
from my wallet.
“See honey, I have never heard of these before. What is
Fernet-Branca?” I put the paper down on the counter when I began tapping in the
words into Google.
“Ah..what’s this?” she asked holding the paper.
“Here, let me see.” I squinted at the messing hand writing. “Ya,
Punt e Mas? I don’t know”
“No Bill, look on the other side.”
I turned the small slip of paper over to silently read “Thanks.
Call lobby bar @ 11:30. Sean”. I could imagine that the look on my face told her
that the hamster that usually runs my brain had fallen of its wheel and lay
twitching in the bed of straw. After a silent moment he did recover,
“You know Honey. I don’t know. Maybe it was my new shirt!”
Cheers!
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