You have to know someone to get a password, then you have to know a secret handshake, then you have to compliment all the mustaches and suspenders inside.
Fine. Whatever. Some other times you just want a stool, a counter, a shot of whiskey and a shot of pickle juice.
Yeah, we said it. Pickle juice.
Step inside the unassuming cavern of liquid curiosities called The West End, now open on the Westside.
This is the kind of low-key spot you might dismiss at first glance, with a copper counter, some Moroccan lanterns and the occasional ham sandwich. Wait. Hang on. Actually, that’s an H.A.M. Sandwich and that’s an acronym for “Hard as a Motherf**ker.” Which is a burger with merguez sausage and spiced ketchup. Something is not as it seems here.
Then you get your cocktail menu. You order a Rochelle. Sure, it’s a girl’s name, but it’s got Antarctica cognac... that’s completely clear and made with white grapes. So you kind of need to try that.
And yes, you should order a pickle back (shot of whiskey, shot of pickle juice). Also, a cocktail with cognac-soaked raisins or bourbon-soaked cherries. They’re both made in-house.
And you’re pretty pro-soaking these days.