jd yates

There are drinks, and then there are Cocktails. This place serves the latter.

As I sit down to write this it occurs to me that I’ll be prone to what will sound like superfluous language (as is often the case, regardless). Having now had plenty of time to mull over my experience the night of my visit, I have come to the conclusion that such language is all that will suffice, and barely at that. See what I did there? Yeah, there’ll be lots of that.

Before I get too far into this, to be clear, Victor’s is also a reportedly phenomenal restaurant but I have yet to truly partake, so I’ll do my best will stick to the finer points of the bar.

Given that everything that Tristan Simon touches turns to gold, it should come as no surprise that Victor Tango’s sets the bar for handmade cocktails. Walking in, the place has a sort of speakeasy feel. Low light with dark wood and leather appointments. Not a huge place (in the old Sense space), but with an open layout. It’s easy to imagine that it could get claustrophobic on a busy Friday night. Fortunately I chose a Thursday, post-dinner rush for my visit.

It’s clear from a summary glance at the menu that no expense has been spared, ingredient or otherwise. Specialty drinks including Elderflower Fizz and Passionfruit Gimlet evidence an attention to detail matched by only a handful of places in this town. I’m told a mixologist was even flown in to develop the menu and train the bar staff prior to opening.

My companion on this particular evening is apparently a Victor’s regular, so as soon as we walked in he was recognized by several of the staff. They were extremely friendly and, much like the decor, relaxed such that I felt this place could be my “Cheers” were it not for the typically douchey Knox-Henderson clientele and the comparatively pricey menu items. Also, the openness of the space means it doesn’t take much to reach deafening decibel levels. We sat at the corner of the bar to maximize our people watching capabilities. And, to say the least, it was stellar.

I promise, I’m getting to the drinks, but I must insert one quick missive about my sole experience with the food. Harl was intrigued by one of the specials, displayed on a chalkboard behind the bar, so he ordered the Malpeque Oysters and a Left Hand Milk Stout. While the stout was a little outside my range (dark and creamy, of the bready variety I tend to avoid), the oysters were absolutely divine. Served on the half-shell with a green tomatillo sauce, a red sauce, and a hollowed lemon filled with frozen lemon puree and various spices. Not being terribly experienced with oysters I tasked Harl to dress one for me. The balance of sweet, spicy, tart, and texture easily overcame the slight awkwardness of eating from the husk of something that spent it’s life quite literally bottom-feeding. If this became a regular menu item I would order it again without hesitation and devour the entire plate to myself. The saucier deserves a Nobel.

Now, on to the particularly good bit, the cocktails… Looking at the drink menu was like walking into an exotic car dealership. How does one choose from so many delectably sexy options? Everything on the menu appears to be created using only fresh and house-made ingredients. The only way to overcome my alcohol ADD was to err on the side of the namesake, so out of the box I ordered a Victor Tango. Prior this experience I was under the impression that Victor Tango was phonetic for vodka-tonic. The menu had enlightened me, and I was happily intrigued. As I watched the bartender combine fresh English cucumber, hand-mulled mint, El Tesoro Platinum tequila, hand-squeezed limes, and their house-made simple syrup in a shaker I was transfixed by how involved the process is (and noticed that, almost as if it was cocktail law, the bartender went out of his way to make the drink directly in front of me). From a restaurant perspective not only have you just spent a fortune on ingredients, but on prep time as well. Fortunately the payoff is well worth the wait and cost. Once strained the drink comes out almost margarita-colored. The subtle addition of mint and cucumber, however, departs far from the readily-available boring tequila fair. It was light and sweet, not lacking in bite, but overall understated and smooth.

About the time I was ready to move on to my second drink (the first of which went down a bit too quickly and easily) Harl was ready for another drink and his main. He chose a Gold Rush (Elijah Craig bourbon, house-made clover honey syrup, and fresh squeezed lemon juice) and a basket of adorably ballpark-style miniature tacos. Naturally, I partook of both. The tacos were, as advertised, simple and tasted exactly as one would expect. Not spectacular, but satisfying and nostalgic, nonetheless. The drink, while not something I’d have normally been attracted to, was quite good. Sweet to mask the bourbon, with an almost milky texture. My next drink was a suggestion from our friend the crass, but funny and friendly, yankee hostess. Unfortunately it wasn’t on the menu, so I can’t describe exactly what was in it, but it was the best mojito I’ve probably ever had. Featuring pineapple and coconut. As if a pina colada and a mojito had a beautiful love-child. My first drink wasn’t served on ice, but this one was, which brought to my attention the use of a mixture of cubed ice and shaved. It’s astounding that such a minor detail can have such a profound impact. I’m not even sure how to describe it, but it was greatness. Also, I’d wager that it performed a dual purpose by mitigating the leafy mint slurpage factor, which plagues most of the more common mojito venues in Uptown.

At the end of the night I was more than a little sad to leave. I was dying to try the next drink on the menu… but at that rate I could have continued all night. Suffice it say the plethora of choices will not only keep me coming back, but promises a new and outside-my-envelope experience every time for as long as this temple of cocktail science remains.