Propeller Skies

Saturday evening, The Beaver* and I dropped by Cafe Intermezzo for a drink. Because it was reasonably early, we were able to score seats at the bar. Intermezzo has an enormous selection of espresso drinks, cocktails, misnamed Martinis**, wine, and beer. After perusing this list for about half an hour, I ordered a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (SNPA). The Beaver was a bit more adventurous and ordered a white wine.

I enjoyed my SNPA and ordered another one. In contrast, my companion decided to switch types of wine and asked the bartender for advice. Despite displaying competency in the all-important category of getting more booze to the patrons in a timely manner, the bartender was clueless about wine and admitted as much to us. One would think an august establishment like Cafe Intermezzo would have some type of training program to familiarize the staff with the various and sundry libations available. Sadly, this is apparently not the case.

Overall, Cafe Intermezzo is a nice place to hang out, with an excellent faux European atmosphere. Additionally, drink prices are fairly reasonable, especially compared to establishments further north along Peachtree Street, in the Buckhead Shooting Gallery™. Cafe Intermezzo earns a rating of somewhat bitchin’.

notes:

* I do not make the nicknames, I just use them. Please contact the Israeli Council on Assigned Nick Names (ICANN) with any questions or concerns.
** As mentioned previously on the Prizzo Skeezy, a proper Martini is London Dry Gin, Vermouth, and a twist. Period.

I stopped into Bazaar* tonight for an event. I was planning on having a tasty Rolling Rock or two, hitting on some hotties, and leaving. However, as I sidled up to the bar, I noticed that they had several Martini** glasses chilling in the cooler. This is always a sign of a top-notch joint that knows how to mix a cocktail, so in the interest of scientific inquiry, and to enlighten all five Prizzo Skeezy readers, I ordered a dry Sapphire Martini with a twist. I am happy to report that Bazaar has some most excellent bartenders, who are capable of mixing a proper Martini. That would put them in elite company with only one other lounge in Atlanta, Halo. Alert readers will remember that The Mark fell from grace several weeks ago, after committing the cardinal sin of serving a Martini in a plastic glass. I highly recommend stopping in for a drink.

notes:

* The full name is Bazaar Urban Bar. However, we here at Propeller Skies feel that is redundant. Since it is in Midtown fucking Atlanta and it pretty clearly serves drinks. It is not like it is a speakeasy, for fuck’s sake.
** Just because it involves liquor does not mean it is a motherfucking Martini. A proper Martini is made with gin, French or Italian vermouth, and a twist or an olive. Anything else is a nothing but a fucking cocktail that bartenders were too lazy to come up with a clever name for. For the Bush voting morons out there, this means that a so-called sour apple Martini is a sour apple cocktail, NOT a Martini.

Last night, The Beaver and I stopped for drinks at the worst bar in Atlanta. After reading a glowing review of Pura Vida in Creative Loafing, I went in with high expectations. The Loaf mentioned Pura Vida served obscure South American cocktails, such as Pisco Sours and Caipirinhas made in the proper way with fresh lemon juice and limes. The Loaf failed to mention the poor execution of the bartenders.

I started with the Pisco Sour, which was at least drinkable. A heavy hand with the lemon juice and simple syrup completely overwhelmed the Pisco (an unaged, high-proof brandy distilled from muscatel grapes in Chile and Peru, similar to Grappa), resulting in a drink that tasted like a lemon drop. I assume the overzealous use of juice and syrup was encouraged by a management afraid of candy-ass Atlantans complaining about the unrefined fieriness of the South American brandy.

Next, after noticing that the bartender had the appropriate tool (a muddler) to make a Caipirinha and actual Cachaca (an unaged Brazilian brandy made from sugar cane), I sampled one. Bad idea. The bartender only used two lime wheels instead of a whole lime and did not stir the drink. The result was basically straight Cachaca, which tastes like lighter fluid. Not being a quick learner, I then ordered a Mojito. Surprisingly, this drink was actually passable, but mediocre. Stick to beer at Pura Vida, they can’t mess that up.