Lingering New Canaan Cocktail Controversy To Be Resolved Shortly

I'm at a loss to understand why, besides those on lower Main Street and the supposedly to be plonked onto the train station parking lot, the most burning issue consuming New Canaan isn't a resolution of the question, once and for all, of which restaurant in town mixes the best Manhattan. It might just be too hot a topic.

A year or so back, I got into a discussion about where to find the best Strawberry Daiquiri in Fairfield County, and was surprised at how quickly tempers flared. Believe me, people feel a lot more strongly about Manhattans than they ever did about Daiquiris.

Still, the question could stand some research. At the bar at Sunday night, Mrs. Banks and I discussed how it might be undertaken. 

"Would you take samples from every place in town?" she asked me.

"I don't think I should. Too risky. If my research found that, say, serves up a Manhattan that's better than what you'll get at the , there'd be an uproar. I don't even think the Tequila Mockingbird people would be happy, since the hubbub would distract attention from their Margaritas, which are magnificent."

Mrs. Banks saw the logic in that. So, instead, we settled on five finalists most likely to mix up a quality drink, and serve it in an atmosphere where it can be enjoyed convivially. The finalists are , , Gates, , and the .

“That’s a first-class field,” I said. “It should make for some very productive sampling.”

"How are you going to judge the drinks?" she asked me.

"The way they do on Iron Chef. I'll make up some categories."

“Categories? For a Manhattan? How many can there possibly be?” Mrs. Banks is not a Manhattan drinker.

“Well, appearance. And taste.”

“How about originality?”

“Darling, the Manhattan is the finest cocktail on earth. Bartenders really shouldn’t try to get creative with them. Pavarotti never improvised in the middle of Che gelida manina, did he?”

Mrs. Banks agreed that, in fact, no, he had not. “Originality” was out.

Before long, we had all the details set. The New Canaan Manhattan survey is therefore officially on, and will be conducted in coming months (this is not the sort of research that can be profitably rushed). We settled on three main categories to judge. Each will be scored on a 1 to 5 scale (in multiple samplings, most likely, if prior habits hold, on Saturday and Sunday nights in twosies and threesies) with the best possible total score a 15.

Our categories are 1) appearance, 2) taste, and—boy oh boy is this one ever important—3) proximity to the Platonic ideal of a Manhattan.

Coincidentally, the closest thing to an earthly incarnation of such an ideal happens to be the Manhattan I make at home, so this is an area I’ll be looking at pretty darn hard. Data collection from independent researchers will be gratefully received, either in the comments section below or via e-mail to conrad@conradbanks.com.

By the time we’d got everything settled, we were done with dinner and I had a hankering for a digestif. I asked Brendan for a bourbon Manhattan, up. It was a solid 12.