From The Library, with love
Not so long ago, myself and the Happy Couple stumbled upon The Library—a divine bar in the Roosevelt Hotel. Or is that Hotel Roosevelt? Eh, no matter—what’s important are the cocktails. Nay, not just cocktails. To say such a thing sullies the very essence of each concoction’s individual yum factor. These mixtures are Elysium, heaven, liquid sex, whatever you want to call them—just smelling them makes you a little happier. I would travel across a desert on a Little Rascal with no sunscreen while being forced to listen to a Vanilla Ice album just for the opportunity to order a cocktail from Sweet Daddy Matt, the bar’s resident mixologist with verve to spare.
Last night was my second visit, but my first experience partaking of a sage-vodka combo that almost made me weep. Emotions were running rampant, but I kept my shit together; otherwise running mascara would have transmogrified me into The Crow.
The cocktail menu features only a sampling of Matt’s capabilities, which is why I give him the creative license to fill my glass with whatever he sees fit. And each time has been a fabulous success. For instance, he painstakingly crafted citron vodka with sage, agava and other mystery ingredients that were more than happy to party with my palate. He later created a shitaki Manhattan, which might sound like a strange mixture, but it was quite good. But Matt’s liquid love doesn’t come cheap—each signature cocktail is $16 plus tip. I know, I know, it’s crazy. But if only you could taste them, she says with a contented sigh.
And the best part, aside from watching him work (I know it sounds creepy, but it’s appreciation, not stalking) is the fact that all of his ingredients are fresh, purchased several times a week at the Farmer’s Market. Fruits, honey, herbs, vegetables, etc.—all if it is lined up on the bar in neat bowls of nutritional love, just waiting to counteract the damage the vodka hands out to an expectant liver. Ah, Nature’s bounty. Oh, and yes, I did say vegetables. I didn’t have a veggie drink, but the chick sitting beside me at the bar was drinking a red bell pepper martini adorned with a star fruit.
I didn’t take any cocktail photos, so that means I will visit again to provide you with the proper visual aid of Sweet Daddy Matt’s handiwork. It’s hard work, but I only want the best for my LOP readers.
Note: I’ve been spoiled by Matt so that other bartenders will be hard-pressed to measure up. But, that isn’t going to stop me from seeking out others (if any exist) of his ilk who will water me the way I like it.
Somewhere on Maui, this man is running loose
