John Borland

So, who knew? We’re at a bar last night on Bergmanstrasse, hip orange and white decor, very minimalist, but the usual mellow Berlin crowd. I haven’t quite finished reading the cocktail menu when the waiter comes. I’m a fast reader, but it’s long. All I can recall is the Smokey Martini. Laphroig and Bombay. It sounds terrible. Two great tastes that, you know, what?

So what could I do, I had to order it. Just the right amount of peat in with the gin. Two thumbs up, warms you up for that cross-town bike ride home. Woulda never thought.
Someday, I’ll stop being amazed at the genius of bartenders, but today, I remain a wide-eyed innocent, a mere novitiate of the barstool.