So I was somewhat surprised when the bartender looked at me and just said, “No.” Not, “No, I don’t know how to make it”, or “No, we don’t have the necessary shit to make that.” Just, “No.”

Well fuck that guy, because I just found the best bartender in the world.

I’m not actually qualified to make that judgement, but when I went to meet my friend Matt in Everett at the Anchor M Pub, this man, Mark Sexauer, made me a Singapore Sling that used his *own homemade grenadine*. Made with *cane sugar*. He also made me a cocktail with Elderflower liqueur, which is gathered by hand and transported to the distillery by bicycle. In France. And although I wasn’t taken with it, he did make me a Gin Fizz according to an 1840s era recipe.

So if you’re in Everett, you really, really need to stop in here. Excellent, educated, and erudite service. And if he has to tell you “no” when you order something, he’ll explain how it has to do with the economics of the bartending trade, and how that was influenced by the peculiar social history of America.

And if you can’t get to Everett, check out his blog and make some of the drinks. Or if you’re like me, and unable to make any drink more complicated than a shot of whisky, read it and just marvel at the ingenuity and dedication. The man has made Chartreuse *ice cream*, people. It’s like meeting the design guy who did the concept drawings for Blade Runner, and while he’s doing it, he takes the time to explain what he’s doing.

[Read Mark Sexauer’s Cocktail Blog]

The song is about a young woman, 22 years old, living in Saint Paul. Which is kind of weird, because I was about 22 when I moved to the Twin Cities. While I hadn’t just graduated from college, I had decided to strike out on my own.

(Okay, to be honest, I was gonna fuck around for a few months, then go home. Instead, I stayed for four years, splitting time between both Saint Paul and Minneapolis. Oops. This is probably how I’ll get married. I’ll meet some woman and think, eh, lets hook up for a bit. Next thing you know, we’ll be wearing matching running suits.)*

When I hear this song, it instantly brings up every memory of gray Minnesota winters. My homies know what I’m talkin’ about. The perma-snow that just turns gray after the first month, and the prolonged dusk that hangs over everything. The barren trees.

On the other hand, no homeless punk kids. Win some, lose some.

but home was a photograph you taped to your wall

it’s gonna be a cold white Christmas in St Paul

This lyric works for me. I’d lived in Ellensburg, but home was definitely still my parent’s house. When I got to Minnesota, that ‘home’ became a place I visited once a year. I didn’t have a photograph taped on the wall, but this is poetry, baby. It’s all about metaphor. Or something.

beer for breakfast who’s gonna scold

Okay, so I don’t think I’ve ever been that bad but a few times. That I say ‘a few times’ kind of bothers me, but not much.

& you trudge to work through the snow in a coat down to your knees

& you linger at the twinkle lights as you pass by the mall

& count the days to a cold white Christmas in St Paul

Since I took the bus to work, yeah. Totally get this one, too. Ever feel like your eyeballs are gonna freeze? Man, this is why as much as Alaska really kicks ass in the summer, no damn way would I live there.

And here’s the lines that I really dig, the ones that get down to it:

when you’re on your own you’ve got no one to please

in a Minnesota city just as bare & as mean as the winter trees

but you’ll be damned if you’re the one making collect calls

on a cold white Christmas in St Paul

I never felt exactly this way. But to a certain extent, it’s the reason I think anyone moves a thousand miles away from home. You want to show that they need you more than you need them. Because fuck these weird people who fate stuck you with. What in the world, beyond DNA, do you really have in common with them? And after a few cold white Christmases in Saint Paul, once you’ve stripped the sense of obligation that comes with family, you realize that you have everything in common with them.

Lindie, who recommended this band/album to me, opts for ‘New Year’s Kiss’ as her favorite song. I like it, too, but ‘Cold White Christmas’ just resonated on a more personal level. I’ve got both of them on my muxtape at the moment for you to listen to.

*I always imagine that if I have some sort of long term relationship, she will scream and yell at me until I become healthy. This is a great fantasy, because this way I can eat nothing but meat and potatoes, drink, and laze about the internet. “No matter,” I think. “Imaginary future girlfriend will sort me out.” Meanwhile, I lay the foundations for a second chin.