Category Archives: boozeworthy

Under normal January-in-Chicago circumstances, a luscious photo of an ice-cold, frozen mojito from the pool bar atop The Hotel at South Beach in Miami might have made you all long for summer…but the relatively balmy temps right now aren’t making winter as soul-crushingly horrid as it normally is. Don’t get me wrong, my weekend trip to South Beach and Naples was a welcome respite from Chicago’s ice-encrusted sidewalks, salt-coated cars and dreary skies. I didn’t go too crazy, but did have a mind-blowingly good dinner at Michael’s Genuine Food & Drink (forgot camera-blaaaggghh!) and a fantastic muddled rhubarb cocktail at The Setai courtyard bar (the most stunning bar I have ever seen). But a definite highlight was the frozen mojito served at the pool bar atop our hotel. At first glance around the pool, I thought (wished) it was a green smoothie, but figured that was much too healthy an option for 3PM on a sun-soaked, 80-degree Friday. I was feeling more frozen margarita, but our server convinced me otherwise. I’m not a huge mojito fan, but the mint didn’t overpower, nor did the alcohol, and it didn’t taste like a sugar bomb…just a refreshing mint-kissed mojito, perfect for an unseasonably warm day in Chicago. The Hotel at South Beach, 801 Collins Ave.

Well it’s no surprise that N’awlins is all about boozin,’ and a great place to do that was at the allegedly haunted Arnaud’s, located across the street from our hotel in the French Quarter. We didn’t get to check out the actual restaurant, but mostly hung out in the quaint yet cool French 75 Bar to try the stiff (but strangely addictive) Sazeracs, and the Shrub Swizzle, rum, strawberry shrub, ginger ale and lime juice, and ponder the boozy quotes on the cocktail napkins. Arnaud’s, 815 Bienville

So, well, besides gorging on tapas and dessert, we drank some rather nice things too. I pretty much lived on the house reds, but also discovered some pretty amazing local beers, and during the day, overdosed on the coffee. From the cafe con leche to the tiny cortado (espresso with a bit of milk) the little foamy drinks were wee, but still packed a bitter caffeine punch. And the beer discoveries ranged from crisp light brews like the sunny (and historic) Moritz to dark double malts like Voll-Damm (please click on this site just to hear the beer being poured into the glass).

All I had to know about this little cava bar in the middle of the Born neighborhood was that it’s been owned by the same family since the 1930s, and that the house bite was a plate of Cantabrian anchovies. We also hadn’t delved into nearly enough cava, so we paid a visit to the small restaurant stocked with royal blue and white tiles, barrels, photos, bottles and antiques.

Like most tapas bars, people stood and grazed at the bar, but an expertly timed arrival of 5:30PM (right when they raised the garage door) got us a seat at small cafe table..not that the bar didn’t look happening as hell..and by happening I mean stacked with delicious goodies..

We ordered up some cava in awesome glasses that reminded me of a New Year’s Eve toast glass, except the bubbly was delicious (although low-grade, says the guide book), and the stem didn’t break off from the bottom mid-clink. Oh, and two salty, meaty, deliciously olive oil-soaked anchovies rested nearby..

From there we had paprika sprinkled artichokes.

Jamon (of course) stacked on crispy bread.

I don’t remember exactly what this was, a croquette of sorts with cheese, I think, but it was amazing.. If you ever go, you’ll see them skewered on a plate..point and nod.