Saturday, October 20, 2012

The 22nd Floor Vesper

Since the plan was being accomplished I felt less bad about having wine at the IbizP around 4, but I was antsy to get out and execute my Germany Tourist Guide plan, which included a taxieven though BizP had stated “Never take a taxi; it will cost you almost 50 dollars to go anywhere.”

Ignoring stupidity and thinking, dude I live in Chicago and will take a taxi if I fucking need to, I took the train downtown, figured out where the cab stand was, and pointed to a location in my book. What I did not anticipate was rush hour, but even at rush hour it only cost me 10 euro to get where I was going.

I’ve paid close to 30,000 won to get across Seoul on occasion. When your feet hurt, and you have had a long day and don’t know where the hell you are, spend the money on a cab every time. No matter how much you pay, it will always make up for itself in convenience.

Where did I want to go?

I hadn’t quite gotten there as I spotted a restaurant that looked interesting first, so I walked in. As the sun was going down I had a Manhattan in honor of a good old friend, and had, of course, shrimp scampi.

And olives, I had a fuck tonne of olives.

The restaurant had lovely ambiance, and I was among one of the few people there. I’m pretty sure it was also famous and on the map of places to eat in Frankfurt, but having stumbled on it rather at random, I just enjoyed myself and the good food. Unfortunately, I failed to make a note of the name.

Afterward I went to my actual destination: the 22nd Floor Lounge located in the Eurotour, which was described by my guidebook as, “a good place to enjoy your cocktails while enjoying a sweeping view of the sparkling Frankfurt city.” That one, yes.

The most amusing part of my 22nd-floor experience was the elevator. Rather than punch a button and wait, you typed the floor into a keypad and then were informed of where the elevator would land. This freaked me out to no end, but I managed it and got up to the bar without too much fuss. The bar was quiet and sparsely populated and I managed a window seat in the corner overlooking all of Frankfurt. I looked over the menu and decided on the one thing that had the most appeal: the Vesper.

Okay, so part of me was thinking it was a little cliché to order a drink from a James Bond movie, but the rest of me had always wanted to have a Vesper Martini and see what it tasted like. Casino Royale, you have to admit, was a kick-ass Bond film, and it made me want a drink almost as much as watching an episode of Mad Men, which you practically couldn't watch without drinking, and I wanted to try this newfangled martini.

The Vesper, I will tell you was parts vodka, gin, and Lillet Blanc (a dry vermouth). It was served (at least at the 22nd Floor Lounge) with a skewered orange slice in a martini glass that had been chilled with ice. The drink was shaken, not stirred and poured over the skewered fruit. And, in a sentence, it was the single most delicious thing I had ever put in mouth to drink and I almost never wanted to drink anything ever again; it was that good. It was awesome enough that I had a second one before calling it a night and heading back to the apartel, well before curfew.

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