This essay by Slate’s television writer approaches the old-fashioned with endearing humor. Because Patterson resides outside of the cocktail cognescenti, his take on this manly (and yet grandmotherly) of drinks reveals the ludicrous extent to which the time-honored classic is (either unintentionally or very intentionally) perverted beyond recognition. A sample:
I placed my order with a pleasant young man wearing a bow tie and clip-on suspenders. Very shortly, the bacon-infused old-fashioned got all up in my face. It came on easy--smoky and rich but delicate. The wife observed that the clarity of the bourbon contrasted wonderfully with the drag of the sweet grease. I quickly decided that I wanted another, but not for years, probably, unless it were served alongside a plate of crispy Eggo Minis. The bacon fat lingered on the palate--loitered, even--on through the cab ride home.
[Continue reading at: Slate]