Saturday, January 21, 2012

The Quest: Dirtiest Martini in Nashville


 In the beginning, there were two mortals in a quest for an epic Friday night. I suggested to my cohort that we begin at Cafe Coco, where I could enjoy a scrumptious cup of what I like to call "Liquid Cocaine", or as it is properly titled "Adrenaline Rush." So as I sat, content, basking in my well earned cup of caffeine goodness, I observed the trendy granola eating, skinny jean wearing, scarf making, hipster crowd around me. Amber began drinking in earnest.

Suddenly the five shots of espresso began coursing through my veins, it hit my chest like an eight pound sledge-hammer. My leg began to bounce involuntarily. "Dear Tebow!" I thought to myself, this must be what Tony Montana felt when he face planted into that mountain of blow in Scarface. Amber on the other hand was already on Yuengling number three. This was no good. Here I sat, sober as a nun on Christmas, while my editor/photographer was well on her way to getting shit-wrecked. "This will not stand!" I proclaimed from my chair, shaking with a limitless amount of temporary energy. LET US QUEST!

I informed my colleague that I would not drink unless we could find a place that I had previously stumbled into (on a much less sober occasion) that served a damn good dirty martini. "How Dirty we talking here?" Amber inquired.
"Filthy" was my only response. Amber informed me I had the look of a man on a mission.
So we quickly closed out our tabs and generously tipped our baristas for services already rendered: because remember my fellow tavern explorers, "Tipping is Sexy."

CORNER PUB: "Beware of Lurch"

    We took off in the direction of Midtown, recalling from a hazy drunken memory that the bar was located somewhere there. We begin our martini excursion, and first find ourselves at the infamous Corner Pub. As usual the Pub was packed. We push our way through the throng of already inebriated patrons, and cozy up at a sorry excuse of an opening at the bar. After what seemed like an eternity to me, our bartender sluggishly made his way over to us. Amber orders a Yuengling in a bottle, number four, for you guys that our keeping count. Even still, the bartender returns with a Yuengling on draft. Amber reminds the bartender, (we'll just call him "Lurch" for shits and giggles) that she wanted a bottle. Lurch gives Amber a blank look, that blatently says "I don't give a fuck," and simply states "too bad," then sloths back to the other end of the bar. This was the point in time I realized the Corner Pub would not fulfill my martini needs. We quickly closed the tab, that never had a chance in hell to accumulate, and decided to continue our hunt elsewhere. Just for future reference: tipping is sexy, unless your bartender is a dick.


The next stop on the quest for Martini greatness was even more disastrous than the first. At first glance the place looked promising, but soon my hopes for the delicious and dirty drink were dashed when the bartender informed us that the main ingredients to make my beverage of choice, were not currently in stock. "Not in stock!" I shouted over the egregious hip-hop blasting from the speakers. I mean honestly what bar doesn't have Vodka and Olive juice? At this point I am becoming more and more irritated at the current situation. Not only is there apparently no ingredients for my beverage of choice, but random sweaty, drunk people were continually bouncing into us. One look around the bar revealed a cornucopia of different people drunkenly gyrating and grinding on each other. Until this moment I had never before experienced the feeling of being trapped in a low budget rap video. After an overwhelming plethora of sweaty encounters with randoms, we thought it best to continue on with our search elsewhere.


Amber stumbles out into the street and I follow soberly after her. We are back to square one, my coffee buzz has worn thin and Amber is becoming more and more sober by the second. Tempers flare as we wonder aimlessly through the streets of midtown, passing by establishments we quickly deem unsuitable. I was on the verge of declaring the night a failure, but Amber would not have it. Even though it was seemingly so out of reach, the decision was made that the night would not end without having consumed a filthy-fucking-dirty martini. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spot a sign, "Midtown Tavern." This is it, zero hour, it's two in the morning and we still have not found the dirtiest martini in Nashville. This Tavern was appointed as our last hope at making the night a success. In short we are now both hoping for a Tebow 4th quarter miracle.


We hold our breath as we cross the street and enter the bar, after a quick ID check by the bouncer of course. The lights are perfectly dimmed, and the music not overwhelming for once. Atmosphere? Check! But the only real element towards our eternal success is the drink we seek. Rounding the corner I spot the bar. There it was, exactly as I recalled from my drunken memories. "Its glorious!" I proclaim to Amber, this is it, we have found it! I felt like Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade, and awaiting before me was the holy grail of Martinis! We jubilantly stroll over to the bar and are immediately greeted by the bartender. "What can I get for you?" he asks.
"I want a dirty martini extra olives, make it two." I say, feeling giddy as a college kid on spring break attending his first wet t-shirt contest in Panama city.
Our bartender then proceeds to serve me the most dirty and delicious vodka martini of my short natural life. It goes without saying that I was pleased, we had finally triumphed in Midtown. As I sat basking in the afterglow of my tasty adult beverage, I had no choice but declare the night a success. "Hows your martini, everything you hoped it would be?" Amber asked.
"Tastes like Wealth." I exclaim using my best James Bond voice.

This is how we concluded our evening, we stayed at Midtown Tavern and shut it down. Several pictures and rounds of martinis later the idea for this blog was created. We intend for this blog to be both entertaining and informative. Hopefully our future drunken quests and shenanagins will lead to both delicious adult beverages and good times for our fellow drink connoisseurs. And always remember to Please Drink Responsibly, despite what our examples may be.