what’s wrong with this picture? blue. a martini shouldn’t be blue. your bar doesn’t need to stock curaçao because tidibowl.

on the plus side, commander’s palace is one of several old-school new orleans restaurants to encourage a now-rare pleasure, one that in my lifetime has gone from standard to illicit. i speak, of course, of day-drinking.

commander’s palace will, in broad daylight, tuck a cloth napkin in your lap, bring you good bread and excellent gumbo, and pour three jumbo martinis, all in return for a twenty dollar bill. even if your tip approaches 50% (which it should, for the crumb-clearing alone), you’re adrift in the garden district for thirty bucks, pleasantly buzzed (the drinks are stiff, and most aren’t blue). same deal at antoine’s, and similar at galatoire’s.

but this post isn’t about the accessible delights of lunch specials at restaurants older than your great-grandmother. it’s about daylight tipsiness, its virtues and perils. first of those perils is (as with nearly everything) the dullness of habit. this thrill is only a thrill if uncommon. how often may one safely day-drink? (and, to be clear, i mean weekday.) quarterly seems too regimented and rare; monthly too frequent. six times a year feels about right. so ask yourself: ‘did i day-drink last month?’ no?

‘oh, barkeep. . .’

day-drinking is the adult version of playing hooky. a table by the window or on the sidewalk is best, in full sight of the poor saps who aren’t you. it’s most pleasant on overcast days, with the weather your co-conspirator. drizzly is even better; full-on rain is too much. you want an in-between kind of day, and a time slot to match, from about 1:30 to 4:15. less than three hours, home in time to brush your teeth before family gets back. no nap, or you’ll wake in an unfit state and supper will burn.

pitchers of beer work well, as they act like a sundial– a central, subtle way to mark time’s passage. cocktails are also fine. if it’s wine, though, keep it light– a nice rosé  won’t mean a bedtime migraine. i never failed to deepen a friendship through day-drinking; it’s like robbing a bank together; you’ll always have it. stagger a little on your way home. makes the proletariat wonder what they’re missing and what the world’s come to, two questions that will help hasten the revolution.

a bunch of hooch

sometimes a pearl of rare and refined wisdom drops into your lap; knowing it when you see it is wisdom’s true mark; sharing it is how we advance as a species (presuming we do).  so it was when alan avery, that princely atlanta art dealer, revealed to me his party bar stock list.

i covered this one in the original fifty/fifty list at number 41, so perhaps you won’t mind a little blahblah on the way back around to it.

there are very few variations of party bar worth mentioning. the first is a specialty bar. a bloody mary spread is a fine example of going deep, not broad. celery, horseradish, lemons, tabasco, celery salt, and pepper are mandatory. beyond that, lay out bacon, old bay, olives, pickled okra, cocktail onions, so forth and so on. it too greatly resembles a salad bar to ever be chic, but is great fun, and makes brunch a snap. for a smarter take on the specialty bar, try all martinis, or a buffet of bourbons. this last one is unavoidably expensive, but sure makes an impression. i’m told some don’t care for bourbon. we’re not acquainted.

it was dennis severs’ punch bowl and the feeling of schizophrenia it induced in me that prompted these drinking posts. for years i’ve held a hard line against punches and specialty cocktails. their one-size-fits-all solution to drinks strikes me as contrary to the spirit of party spirits, where some give and take between what we have and what you want seems sporting. but the punches at 18 folgate street had such a tempting aroma. served hot helped, as did the severs’ etymology of ‘punch’.

severs maintained that ‘punch’ is a hindustani loan word, meaning ‘five’ and standing for the five essentials of any punch: water, spirits, citrus, spice, and sugar. this struck me as a spurious derivation, so i looked it up once home, and sure enough. british army officers brought home punch, and now i find myself warming to it. so long as it’s not all that’s offered, and all that goes into it is fresh, i will relax a little. in 2015, surely we can model convivial and old-maidish both at once.

now– back around to alan’s no-fail bar list, which needs little prelude. alan has spent three decades hosting a decent bar for several hundred people once a month or so. he maintains that a cocktail bar is the most cost-effective approach, carrying the backstock forward. he shared with me his list of a stripped down bar, respectably balanced, no splurges, but no duds, either. he swears every single human drinker will be satisfied with the choices among:

wild turkey 81, skyy, dewar’s white label, tanqueray, schweppes, cranberry, tonic, soda, and coke; olives, bar fruit, vermouth, and bitters.

there. now we’ve done it.

just one loose end, and we can wind this one up. as promised yesterday: what should you never do with a drink in your hand?

have your picture taken. the single exception is when in a group raising a toast. otherwise, just don’t.

till soon.

(enjoy this? check out part one, then let me hear from you.)