The rain hit my northbound Acela train right after Stamford, and didn’t let go all. day. long. By the time I finished a long, schleppy day pulling clothes for a shoot, which involved multiple trips along the cold, puddle-filled streets of a very dark, grey Boston, I was in need of two things: comfort and a cocktail.
Only an amber-liquid would do. Only something that I could feel warming my insides as I curled up on my mother’s couch at her house in the South Shore. Something slightly sweet.
Here’s the secret to a good Manhattan. It’s bitters. Sometimes, I just mix some sweet vermouth and bourbon, and add a slice of orange. Yet it never has that slight, subtle sweetness that bitters adds. You need only a dash or two. You can use bitters for lots of other things. Last night, the addition of bitters (and a maraschino cherry) helped me achieve an elusive goal: making a perfect Manhattan at home.