Recently, I moved my ass out of a beloved one-bedroom apartment that I often forgave for its thin walls (and even thinner ceilings) and communal air ducts due to the low rent and friendly manager. I am now shacking up with the boy. In a house. We can't hear people watching porn. We can't hear one-way phone conversations of loud talkers upstairs. And no one cares if we decide to cook stinky food at 3 a.m. or shout bizarre threats at each other while being ultra-competitive Mario Kart players. I moved from the OED (Old East Dallas, for you new folk) to the Park Cities area (yes, we rent). While I miss being within walking distance from my old haunts, they're still there and I've discovered some new ones too. And I'm really beginning to dig the neighborhood.
What's my point? Well, that you should be blissfully happy for me. Kidding. I mean, that would be nice and I all, but I was getting to the part where I say that one day Dave mentioned that since I'd moved into a house in the Park Cities, did I know that Lazare had a drink called the Park Cities Princess? I told him I did not and because I was tired that day, I then I turned away, afraid that he might have some sort of food-bribe to entice me into doing more work...because that techniques is almost always successful. He then asked if I knew that the Park Cities Princess (which I laughably note can be abbreviated PCP, which I'm sure is oh-so hot among the Parkies) is rimmed with Pop Rocks? No?! For real?! Like, actual Pop Rocks?!
So there we were a few days later and I'd made plans to meet my friends Carey and Melissa for a drink. Where to go? We're emailing and I mentioned the Pop Rocks. Nuff said. Problem solved. Lazare at 8:30 p.m.
We sat and ordered three PCPs. They're made with Finlandia grapefruit vodka, X Rated liquor, Peach Schnapps, fresh grapefruit, champagne and, of course, the Rocks. The waitress didn't have much info on the X Rated (Google offered that it's basically a vodka/blood orange fusion), but she was extremely enthusiastic about the smell of the cocktail, saying that while she hadn't had one, they were her favorite to serve because they smelled like sweet citrus candy. We were sold. We were also hungry so we ordered some seared tuna and beef tartare.
The Park Cities Princesses**, as they so often are in real life, were dressed to kill but lacked substance and class. For $12 we expected more. Carey began, "It's like a really bad mimosa," to which Melissa added, "with hotel orange juice!" And Carey concurred. The Pop Rocks are a really cool idea...the noise and the taste are conversation starters and honestly, the candy flavor added a much needed kick. But, they were pretty much glued to the rim so it took a lot of work to get them off...again, I suspect much like actual Park Cities Princesses, so perhaps it was more of a character study than an attempt at a successful cocktail. As much as I wanted to try the Uptown Cougar ("Pearl Plum vodka, St. Germain liquor, Lillet, shaken hard"), I couldn't bring myself.
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The mojitos were much, much better. The cucumber mojito was the star with huge chunks of cuke, a crisp bright flavor like the Organic Crop cucumber vodka had just bathed 30 thousand cucumbers in mint and lime. At least it was like that when Carey ordered it. After tasting hers, Melissa and I ordered our own and were presented with what we're pretty sure was the scullery maid's version. We got no chunks and the cucumber taste was more of a breathy whisper than a full on statement. But our waitress asked the bartender and came back to tell us that indeed we had a cucumber mojito because, well, he said we did so enjoy it. She was nice to us, but I suspect he was not nice to her.
Having had some raw and barely cooked proteins (which I'll wait to comment on until Dave's review of Lazare comes out next week), we decided we needed some fried potatoes up in this piece so we ordered up some frites while Carey tried the blackberry caprihana (Veev acai vodka, fresh blackberries, lime). Melissa and I finished our business class mojitos while Carey sucked down bits of blackberry. I tried it. It was stout with berry flavor and heavy with avoidable berry silt. I do appreciate that Lazare muddles its own berries and makes its own syrups and uses fresh whatevers, but honestly, it was far too bitter and I would have preferred a little more lime and acai flavors to counter the blackberry.
As we readied to leave we noticed Charlyne Yi of Paper Heart and a large entourage entering the "hangout/chi-chi party space" of Lazare. They had apparently come from a special screening at Magnolia next door. So, you know, the people watching was super cool. And the girl talk was badass--as per usual, we covered all manner of sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. In the end we mutually decided that it was an adventure. "An adventure that cost a shit-ton." And you know, I'm just a renter, but I'd guess that might be a good tagline for owning a house and living with a princess in the Park Cities.
**Before you send the hate mail, note I'm only referring to the princesses, not the regular, down to earth Park Cities peeps that I've come to know and love. That being said...oh eff it, you're still gonna send the hate mail.