All for the sake of this story, I recently ordered a Manhattan while hanging out with friends at Bloomingdale's dive bar Showtime. I knew I wasn't going to get a Manhattan. There's plenty of rye lining the walls behind the bar, but vermouth? Bitters? LOL. My boyfriend had offered to get me a drink, but paused when I told him my order. I felt bad. I couldn't make him ask for a Manhattan at Showtime for me.
So I stepped up to the bar and asked. To his credit, the bartender didn't seem to care, just shook his head and told me they didn't have the ingredients. "How about any other cocktails?" I asked. "Is there another cocktail I could get?" That's about when I heard the guy next to me at the bar laugh at me. The bartender was still cool, though. He listed off the juices he had — grapefruit, orange, and cranberry — and offered to make me something with those if I wanted. But my dedication to Eater only goes so far: I ordered an Overholt Rye.
