The Campground/Voltaire/Lucky Boys 

"The bitters are excellent for your liver, the gin is bad for you. They balance each other."

- Orson Wells on the benefits of drinking a Negroni, 1947¹ ² 

So for being a good neighbor, our neighbor gives us a $30 gift certificate for a "James Beard 2024 Restaurant and Chef Award semifinalist for Emerging Chef presented by S.Pellegrino® Sparkling." Even though the the whole thing is a little wordy, I mean what's a good neighbor to do? 

So we're off to The Campground, which is conveniently located in the West Bottoms neighborhood of Kansas City, but 0.8 miles from my home. First of all the the West Bottoms is an interesting place. From the early 1900s to the 1970s it was the location of the second biggest stockyard in the United States. Then once the slaughterhouses realized that it made more sense to bring the slaughterhouse to the cow instead of the cow to the slaughterhouse it all became a place filled with semi-deserted warehouses, abandon bridges, and railroad tracks. It didn't help that there were numerous floods, I mean the place is called the West Bottoms and is located directly adjacent to the Missouri River. 

The Campground markets itself as . . . 

"An intimate aperitivo cocktail bar and restaurant located in the historic Stockyards District of Kansas City. Our food is sourced locally whenever possible; and with an influence of hunted, fished and foraged ingredients, The Campground offers a nostalgic dining experience. The menu is constantly evolving while staying focused on whole product use." 

Now I'm down with "intimate, locally, hunted, nostalgic," and "evolving" with the "Stockyards" being a more melodious rebranding of the West Bottoms, but could do without "foraged," and was concerned with "whole product use," especially if it meant sweetbreads, liver and testicles.

The place is one of those places that is so cool it can charge a $10 deposit on reservations, which as a gourmand I find offensive, but as a businessman I have to really respect. 

As per the AAR SOP, Mrs. Flackhattan and arrived @ 5:30 pm and took our seat at the bar. The bartender handed me the menu, which appeared to be a leatherbound portfolio containing a listing of beer, wine, cocktails, shareables & starters, entrees, sweets, cocktails (again), and Spirits. "Old school I thought," though as soon as I opened it, I was presented with a QR code. Though the reverse page contained a listing of all the Merchandise that was available for purchase (i.e. Surf Cap for $26 anybody?). I guess they menu was evolving, while the Merchandise was timeless.   

After the QR code was QR'd, I was immediately presented with a list of "Cocktails," some classics like the "Old Fashioned" and others like the "Girl Scout" which is of course made with Armagnac, Elote, Amontillado Sherry, Fermented Orange, Trefoil Cookie (I immediately thought that if it was authentic it would be sold by the Scout's father from his office cubicle . . . . put me down for five). In keeping with a new law that applies to all hip, and evolving bars:

1. The classics contain an ingredient that is most definitely not classic: For example the aforementioned Old Fashioned contains "Apple Brandy" and the Martini, "Spanish Fortified & Oxidized wines."  

2. The non-classics such as "Porn Star Lemon Drop" and the "Huntsman" contain such non-classic ingredients such as "Spanish Pét Nat and "Génépy."

It was all a little confusing, I mean what the hell is Génépy? So the Missus ordered a Modelo and me? Well the "Sierra Cobbler" with "Oaxacan Mountain Rum, Moscatel Sherry, Tart Cherry, Lapsang Souchong, Lime" looked very intriguing, that is until I was informed that "Lapsang Souchong" was a smoke infused tea. So I went with the usual . . .

My bartender Keaton then confusedly asked me "large rock or small?" which I thought was trick question used to determine my Manhattan bone fides. With Socratic like wisdom I replied "What do you think?" To which she replied "a large rock," through which I confirmed her bone fides. 

It was the most magnificent rock I have ever laid eyes on since a man in a suit and tie in NYC location subsequently forgotten to the tides of time and bitters, hand chipped a cube of perfection out of huge block of ice back in the aughts. This rock was so stunning that the Missus specifically asked about its origin, as it appeared not from this world. Quite simply a rectangular cuboid of perfection.

She then gave a Flackhattan 101 class, as she stirred the Rittenhouse Rye, Red Doulin Vermouth, and bitters in a crystal mixing glass, then with scientific precision poured it into the space between the magnificent rock and the wall of the glass. Adding an orange rind cradling a cherry, held together with a steel toothpick (like it was an angel on horseback). The glass had a colorful drawing of mallard duck taking flight that really worked with the name of the place and the ambiance it exuded. I removed the toothpick so my cherry could soak, then took a sip . . . heavenly. 

I then took the opportunity to ask Keaton a deep philosophical questions that has intrigued "philosophers" since 1919: is a Negroni a Negroni, if it does not use Campari. According to Keaton it . . . is, which was conveniently backed up by The Campground menu which lists not one but two: 

• Negroni ($15): Letherbee Gin, Spruce Aperitivo, Atxa Vermouth

• Orange Negroni ($15): Campground Orange Vermouth, Campground Amaro Blend, Banhez Ensemble Mezcal     

So as Bill O'Reilly might say, we " would have to agree to disagree."³ I did appreciate she tried to reach across the aisle by mentioning that the "Campground Amaro Blend" did contain Campari (as well as two other bitters).

Our dinner of Red Trout (her), Double Smashburger (him) and French Fries with Fried Egg Aioli (both) were delicious. As was the well soaked Bada Bing Cherry, a plump, juicy, rich piece of heaven. The best cherry that has ever been place in a Flackhattan.    

When I was leaving I asked Keaton if a Gimlet had to contain Roses Lime Juice, she shook her head and said "No" as if she knew the pain she was causing. . . my head almost exploded. 

After departing we walked down the street to Voltaire. 

Voltaire holds a special place in my heart as my wife and I visited here soon after moving to K.C. and had a delightful time. It's a classic bar/restaurant set-up with the bar to the right as you come in the door with a series of banquets up against the wall on the left. The bar is a wood masterpiece, that says class and dignity. It even contained a small cabinet where they store the good stuff. Even though it had been a few years I immediately felt right at home . . . a paper menu and a never ending happy hour. It's a place that begs for a Flackhattan to be ordered and I didn't want to disappoint . . .

So I asked Erin how she should make one, and she replied, "Do you want a large rock or a small one?" 

"Is this becoming thing?" I thought.

Well, needless to say she passed the test and soon after was pouring a mixing glass full of thoroughly stirred Old Forrester, Cocchi Vermouth Amaro, and bitters into the space between the the wall of the glass and the night's second most magnificent rock. A Luxardo cherry was then added. With the exception of the Bada Bing cherry, this Flackhattan we equal to its predecessor, though my taste buds might have been slightly dulled.  

Then on to Lucky Boys, a bar thoughtfully located just down the street . . .

I always though this place might me a gay bar, but its actually a dive bar filled with a bust of Ben Franklin, a velvet Charles Bronson, a working cigarette machine (which I didn't think were still legal) and one of those floating Schlitz billiard lamps hovering over the pool table. Rory, our bartender, had a Mod haircut that made him look like a young John Entwistle. 

An after after dinner drink was definitely in order and I didn't think this was a Sambuca and Grand Marnier on the rocks kind of place, so in the end two Logboat Missouri Lagers put a nice capstone on the evening.

"Moral and physical health are synonymous. The slums are responsible for nine-tenths, alcohol for one-tenth of all human depravity."

- Adolf Hitler, 1923

 Mar 14, 2024

Footnotes

¹ Jim Erskine Johnson, “In Hollywood: Producers Pale, As Public Passes” The Coshocton Ohio Tribune, December 17, 1947, 5.

² Though I'm sure drinking a Negroni with Rita Hayworth would make it taste even better. 

³ Though I'm sure we would agree about the incorrectness of sexual harassing five women via "verbal abuse, lewd comments, unwanted advances and phone calls in which it sounded as if Mr. O’Reilly was masturbating." I think we would also agree that paying over $50 million to buy silence from these five women is a lot of money and that if he truly was innocent he should not have settled "to protect his children," but should have fought tooth and nail to clear his name and restore his honor. Though I'm also sure we would both believe that he wanted the story "to go away." He may no longer be on FoxNews, but he still has a podcast.