The Belfry, Kansas City 

"Naturally, I'm misanthropic. But the Negronis are helping considerably."

- Anthony Bourdain

Recently the Missus and I visited a bourbon bar in Houston and had a very unsettling outcome. We met up with an old colleague and his delightful wife (trust me, he married up) at a bar called Angel's Share HTX. It was a combo: part dive bar, part bourbon bar, a joint that offered both pepper poppers as well as over 75 different bourbons, served in a church-like setting (the God of Whiskey?). I asked the bartender for "a Manhattan on the rocks", to which he replied "a what?", We went back in forth for a minute and it quickly became apparent that he had never heard of such a drink, which was confirmed when I asked if he had ever made a Manhattan on the rocks and he emphatically said "No". After letting it all sink in for a moment, I asked if he could make it and he thankfully but reluctantly confirmed "Yes."

It was a solid Flackhattan, but the fact that a bartender had never made one, really threw me and negatively affected the enjoyment of my drink. My friends tried to make me feel better, alluding to the fact that the bartender looked like a drug fiend, but I had trouble getting past it.

A few weeks later I met up with a friend who has drunk more than a few Flackhattans. When I reviewed the time I served him his first Flackhattan a few years back, he mentioned he thought that "on the rocks" was the natural state of the Manhattan. We all decided to visit the Belfry to investigate further.

The Belfry is a retro bar hidden in plain sight in the Crossroads neighborhood of Kansas City. I must have passed it more than a few times, but though it has a large sign, the bar is actually located six feet above street level and is therefore not visible to the thirsty pedestrian. After walking up some terrazzo stairs I entered the modestly sized rectangular space. The room itself looks un-updated since the '50s, with a bar installed on the right that contains a selection of some 175 bourbons and ryes. While my wife, friend, and I settled in, my friend mentioned he was thinking of getting the Belfy Manhattan, which the bartender took for an actual order, and soon after a Manhattan "up"¹ was delivered. It reminded me of sitting through presentations when I was in the Navy: if a question was asked and you scratched your head (anything above the ear), you would be called upon to supply an answer. He was a little surprised but drank it all the same. I used the opportunity to ask the bartender about Manhattan "up* vs. "rocks, she told me that for her it was 95% . . . up.

I ordered the Belfry Manhattan too, but I clearly stipulated it was to be "on the rocks". It was a fine Manhattan made in accordance with almost all of the Flackhattan specifications:

• Buffalo Trace bourbon: Ten years ago Buffalo Trace was the house bourbon in my household. Quite simply it is premium 90 proof bourbon that sold at Jim Beam prices - it was my little secret. Now, the secret is out and when I can find it, it is priced accordingly.

• Cocchi sweet vermouth: It ain't Martini & Rossi, that's for sure.

• Angostura bitters: The Maker's Mark of bitters, easily recognizable by its oversized label.

• House-made cherry.: While there weren't the required two cherries, the one that was lovingly placed was outstanding. It's a frozen cherry that was placed in a sealed mason jar for a few days with some bourbon, simple syrup, and a proprietary blend of spices that includes cinnamon² and red pepper. What it lacked in firmness, it more than made up in juiciness and zip.

The only issue was that it was poured from a tap. Now theoretically, this shouldn't make a difference in its freshness and an argument could be made that it was assembled in controlled conditions, thus ensuring a perfectly proportioned cocktail. Call me old fashioned, but I want my Flackhattan made before my very eyes. While it's nice to be able to confirm the ingredients ordered are the ones entering the glass, I like to watch the performance: the bourbon and vermouth being measured, the bitters being dashed, the entire elixir being lovingly stirred in a crystal decanter with a long slender bar spoon, the cherry being dropped . . . you get the idea. Also, it provides an opportunity to interview the bartender about her technique, the ratio, the specific bitters, the cherry . . . you get the idea. Instead watching this Flackhattan being "created" had all the excitement of a Bud Light being "drafted." And for 13 smackers no less!

My wife tells me I need to visit bars at least twice before I pass judgment, "as maybe they're having a bad night." So a couple of months later I revisited. In the time between my visits, my wife and I visited perhaps the best restaurant in Kansas City, the Antler Room (again) where she ordered what may be the perfect before dinner cocktail, the Negroni. For those unfamiliar, a Negroni was supposedly invented when Pascal Olivier Count de Negroni concocted it in 1919, by asking bartender Fosco Scarselli, to strengthen his favorite cocktail, the Americano, by adding gin rather than the normal soda water. The bartender also added an orange garnish rather than the typical lemon garnish of the Americano to signify that it was a different drink. It's a drink that is as simple as it is sublime and consists of equal parts Campari, gin, and sweet vermouth served on the rocks with a thin slice of orange. You can watch the Master, Tony Bourdain, make one here.

When she tasted her Negroni that night at the Antler Room, it just didn't taste right or look right (as the drink should have a Christmas red hue to it - due to the vivid red Campari and the red sweet vermouth). When she informed our server, she was in turn informed that the Antler Room does not use Capari, but substitutes another bitter apéritif. She gracefully turned it back in and asked for a glass of wine., while I turned over in my mind the idea of a first-class establishment delivering a Campari-less Negroni - it blew my mind. If they have an issue with Campari, fine, but don't call the drink a Negroni, and don't serve it to your customers without a warning. To me, it's like serving a gimlet, but instead of Rose's lime juice, you substitute another sweetened lime juice.

On our second visit to the Belfry. my wife ordered a Negroni and of course, I recited the above two paragraphs to our server (the same one from our first visit) who emphatically agreed with me that "a Negroni without Campari is not a Negroni!"

Well a few minutes later, when my wife's Negroni was placed atop the bar, I noticed it was not Christmas red. When I followed up with the bartender, I was informed that she used Campari, gin, and blonde vermouth. You can't make this shit up.

All that and the rather flat "Fried Cauliflower with miso-walnut dressing" has most likely eliminated the need for a third visit. On the plus side though, the lack of a tv helps keep out the riff-raff.

April 1, 2022

Note: When the bartender was pouring my Flackhattan we briefly spoke about Old Overholt Rye and how it has become trendy, so trendy that its economics no longer make sense. She mentioned that she was now using Mellow Corn Straight Corn Whiskey as her new bottom shelf replacement. I made a note to give it a try as it could make for an interesting future article. That it comes in at 100 proof. doesn't hurt either.

Footnotes

¹ The term “up” refers to a cocktail that is shaken or stirred with ice and therefore chilled, but it is served without ice. Ordering a Manhattan “up” tells the bartender that you would like your Manhattan chilled, but do not want to have ice in your glass. "Straight Up" and "Up" can be used interchangeably. A drink served "up" will generally be served in a cocktail glass (also often called incorrectly a martini glass)

² Cinnamon in the Flackhattan cherry (x2) spice blend makes perfect sense. As Jerry Seinfeld said in the episode "The Dinner Party" when defending the Cinnamon babka, 'any time someone says "oooh, this is so good, what's in this?", the answer invariably comes back cinnamon, cinnamon, again and again.'