New York Magazine - USA (2020-03-30)

march30–april12, 2020 | newyork 19

constantlyreplenishedstacksoffreshlem-

onsandlimestoprovidetheillusionthat

it’ s summertimeagainandyou’resittingin

thebackyardofa favoriteneighborhood

restaurant,orona porchsomewhere,sip-

pingyourdrinkwithnocaresintheworld,

watchingthewindplay upinthegreen

treetopsastheeveningcloudsdrift by.

I’mnotaloneinthesesoothingfanta-

sies.ThereareZoomhappyhoursand

FaceTimecocktailbashes,liquorand

mixersalesarespikingallover,andwhy

not?CheckyourInstagramorTwitter

feedandit’ s possibletowatchthegreat

giantsofthecocktailworld,likeRobert

SimonsonandDavidWondrich,digitally

measureout theirold-fashionedsand

martinis,andoutinthesuburbsfriends

aretellingmeabouttheirritual“Walk-

tails,”whichinvolvemixinga stiffgo-cup

with several measures of vodka or country

moonshine and a splash of mixer and

wandering in a woozy, self-distanced way

several times around the block.

I haven’t yet tried a Walktail, but I have

been experimenting with a cocktail hour

inspired by the gin-loving Wasps

I grew up with. Although this ancient ritual

could devolve into a raucous, bacchanalian

event, it was usually a decorous affair

designed to promote a sense of goodwill

beforethefamilydinnerofovercookedrib

roastandrecentlyunfrozenpeas.Like lots

ofotherlostfamilyrituals(conversation,

cooking,groupdinners,regularwalksand

exercise,readingactualbooks),thecocktail

hourhasmadea littlecomebackinour

small,floatingquarantinecapsuleinthe

pastfew weeks.

Theritualbeginsmost eveningsat around

six,althoughafteroverservingmyselfinthe

earlygoing,I nowlimitmyselftoonealco-

holicdrinkevery othernight.Crackersare

sometimesputout,ormaybea bowlof olives

anda chunkofproperlymolderingcheese.

I’lldrinkmy very weakgin-and-tonics,with

theirgreatfloatingwedgesof lime,ora little

whiskey maybe,ormaybea half-glassof

beertoppedwitha littlevodka,whichwas

whatI rememberdoingyearsago whenI

wasofftravelingsomewhereandrations

weretight.

Theladiesofthehouseholdarefreeto

joinme,althoughoftenthey havebetter

thingstodo,soI’llsitbymyselfforhalfan

hourorso,watchinglightspoponinthe

backsofthemostlyempty apartment

buildingsastheskyturnsdarkoutbeyond

thefireescape.I’ll sometimesFaceTime

otherdrinkingfriends,ormyfather,age 84,

inhisapartmentuptown.He’snotallowed

todrinkanymore,ondoctor’sorders,but

hesneaksa beernowandthen,sowe’ll chat

a littleabouttheaffairsoftheworldand

whatwe’vedonethat day, andwe’llraise

ourglassesina littletoast beforesigningoff

forthenight.

Schedule a

Cocktail Hour

BY ADAM PLATT

6

Make Platt’s Gin-and-Tonic

My favorite quarantine cocktail for simplicity

(any fool can mix it), medicinal purposes (yes,

there’s anti-malarial quinine), and

psychological well-being (it speaks of summer,

cool breezes, and the great outdoors).

1. Put several cubes of ice in
   your glass.


2. Pour your gin (we
   traditionalist Wasps prefer
   juniper-rich blends like
   Tanqueray) halfway up the ice
   (for rationing purposes).


3. Then splash in the tonic and
   a largewedge of lime. Stir
   with a carefully cleaned
   swizzle implement and enjoy!

restaurant critics tend to be always
thinking about our next dinner or, more
recently, our next drink. So it’s no surprise
that I’ve been put in charge of panic-
supplies procurement by the three women
who run the suddenly crowded little Platt
household, although one of them pulled
me aside the other day as I came lumber-
ing home bearing bags of potato chips,
canisters of mayonnaise and peanut but-
ter, and bottles of gin, and quietly said,
“Dad, maybe a few more green vegetables
next time.”
As usual, she had a point, although in
times like this, I like to remind my wife and
daughters, ages 17 and 21, that you can
never have too much mayonnaise and you
can never have too much goddamned gin.
The Platt home bar was well stocked before
this global pandemic, and it’s even better
stocked now. As of today’s count (and, yes,
we conduct daily counts, the way a platoon
leader counts his troops), we have two
kinds of vodka, several tequilas, and mul-
tiple high-proof whiskeys and bourbons
that a boozehound friend from Tokyo
recently advised me to start sipping at reg-
ular intervals to keep the germs away.
We have many varieties of gin, of course:
Tanqueray and Gordon’s and vats of vari-
ous artisanal potions smelling of cucumber
and elderflower and honey picked up on
long-ago trips to places like Copenhagen
and Vermont. Our mixer of choice is anti-
malarial tonic, which is already in peril-
ously short supply, and for fruit, there are
PHOTOGRAPH: TRINITY MIRROR/MIRRORPIX/ALAMY STOCK PHOTO