what:
orange & herbal liqueur
where:
Le Bar
Hotel George V
31 Avenue George V
Paris
when:
early spring
character:
Adding Cointreau to a drink is like wearing fine silk about the neck—whether
that be a lady’s silk scarf, or a gentleman’s cravat. Designer
or second-hand, skinny or wide, neatly tied or quickly thrown about on the
way out the door, it is generally thought of as supplemental yet adds two
indispensable elements: texture and color. The first it brings with its
obvious silk sheen, the second typically in warm hues (and classically in
a deep bronzed-orange). Each adds a layer of sophistication less subtle
than Vermouth and, at the same time, less affected than Chartreuse or Benedictine.
And therein lies its timeless appeal. Because it is sensual in the way it
draws the eye to the face and reserved in the way it closes down the neck;
because it is 160 years old and still fresh as tomorrow; because it is easy
to under- or over-do; because getting it right can make up for much wrong
elsewhere; because it is the last thing one puts on and the first thing
another wants to remove; and because it is just so very French—for
all this it is as essential as it is essentially stylish.
tastes like:
A hand resting
on another’s knee in a way that is outwardly casual and innocent,
but in which the fingertips rest just so, as to be something else
entirely.
pairs nicely with:
Late afternoon after checking out of the Four Season Milan, Milano Centrale,
oversized 30’s print advertising (particularly those by Frank Newbound,
Charles Loupot, or most particularly Leonetto Cappiello), Budapest Keleti
at night, being one of two people not asleep on an overnight train, Gare
du Nord, ‘C’est lui’ by Josephine Baker, brandy and lemon
juice, and an evening of cocktails with an old friend one happened to meet
on the train to Paris, throughout which both parties are acutely aware of
their being perhaps one good cocktail away from seriously endangering said
friendship, the inevitable question ‘Would either of you care for
another?’, and the silence which lingers over a table when both sides
look across in hopes that the other will say yes, first.
