We received some outlandish responses to our promise to award Milk & Honey’s new number to one lucky imbiber. Obviously this place has moved a lot of people in addition to simply giving them the booze sweats. In the end, we narrowed the contestants down to five or six. Let’s review, shall we?
First, a couple of responses cracked us up, but we’re afraid a simple punch-line isn’t going to cut it:
I left my favorite Agent Provocateur panties under one of the booths! And without the number I may never see them again!!!
It’s very simple, I cannot endure another Wednesday night playing the Top Chef drinking game — when Padma speaks, chug until she finishes her sentence.
Second, we had to dismiss this appeal from a graduate student who implored us to “think of me here with my petri dishes and micropipettes” because Grub Street does not condone the killing of animals, unless it’s for Meatopia:
I spend most of my time in the laboratory, killing mice and risking life and limb making dangerous chemical mixtures and solutions all in the name of Science.
When an experiment fails, and they do, as is the nature of research, I like to take solace and find rejuvenation in some alcoholic beverages. Now, depending on the extent of the setback in question, sometimes any old beverage will do. But in general it’s always better, and sometimes even necessary, to find the succor I crave in a particularly well-fashioned cocktail. I believe that the cocktails at Milk and Honey would be the appropriate thing to assuage this thirst.
Finally, there were the tearjerkers. Though the following confession touched the romantic in us, we ultimately decided that perhaps Milk and Honey is not what a relationship-in-peril needs — after all, another reader told us how the “hot Italian bartendress” caused the demise of his.
A year and half ago my boyfriend and I started dating. It was wonderful. We enjoyed NYC together and he took me to Milk and Honey a lot. I had already known him for over a year (as friends) but one of the first nights we went out together, he took me to Milk and Honey. It’s strange but I remember that night so well. The feelings one feels at the beginning of a relationship are unparalleled, beautiful, strong and scary too. Well, we’ve been living together for a year now, and things are far different from the earlier days. We’ve made too many last ditch efforts to make it work, to have a good time together, to be with each other. All we both want is to have a wonderful life together, but somehow we get in the way of that. I sent him flowers this morning telling him i love him and that i would plan a great Saturday night. it would be nice to get back to that place again. a year and a half ago. at milk and honey.
We got an equally emotion-filled plea from a more stable relationship but these guys would probably suck face the whole night, and that’s not fun for anyone else in the bar, is it?
Today (Sept. 5) we celebrate one year together (yes, it’s true, I did not make this up…how to prove though?) He courted me with Pimm’s Cups at East Side Company Bar, West Sides at Employee’s Only, Earl Grey Marteani’s at Pegu Club, and whatever was on the menu at Little Branch. But, alas, we’ve never made it to the land of Milk and Honey.
We spoke incessantly, we revealed way too much, we drank a lot. And with those fuzzy nights he continued to court me, though it took me a little more time. But it’s a year today since that first martini and what a good year it’s been. We are now both obsessed, and I’d like to thank him for his perserverance. Some nice cocktails would be a good start. Yes?
We had to turn down another initially touching request because, well, what if this girl got rejected — no amount of honey-drizzled apples could take the ironic edge off of the bill.
I’ve been a loyal fan of M&H;, but refused to go often for fear of tarnishing its magic. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter now b/c the number I have is disconnected and I know not where to turn until I read your column and its plea for pleas for why they deserve to get the #. Here’s mine:
I would like to come out of the closet to one of my very close friends from college when she comes to visit from SF next week. I’ve long held a crush, but kept it in check. It’s been easy enough w/ us being on separate coasts, but it’s time and the telling is long overdue. M&H; would be perfect in its magical space.
In the end, we picked a spiel that didn’t include a tale of romance or woe, simply because — even if it sounded a little bit like a college essay — it best summed up the magic of the place, and made us kind of want to go back there ourselves (despite the fact that Sasha will probably kill us when he gets wind of this contest):
I would like to request the new number for Milk and Honey, but not for
any altruistic reason, not for a way to get laid, or to bring some
out-of-towner so I can look cool. I would like to appeal to that
younger, less-strident Grub Street that wandered in for the first time
to remember those amber-toned evenings that ran too late, but never
long enough. The Grub Street giddy with anticipation after ringing for
entry, intoxicated by heady citrus nose once past the door, the warm
swirling sensation in your belly as you placed your order and gazed
longingly at the care with which your drink was made. Whether
surrendering to the freakishly spot-on bartender’s choice or quietly
huddling into the corner for a private moment with an old favorite,
Milk and Honey is where I fell hopelessly in love with The Cocktail.
(okay, so I DO want the number for love.) Maybe just for a moment I
can relive that first perfect Plymouth martini—with two olives and one
onion—that I have been chasing since my first visit. Or maybe use my
power for good and bring someone else so he or she can fall in love
with The Cocktail (oops, I said it wasn’t for altruism). Please, Grub
Street, find it in your heart, to pass on that number of numbers…If
not for me, for all who yearn to toast the bygone moments at Milk and
Honey while celebrating those moments yet to come.
Hopeful, wistful and thirsty,
Congratulations, Scott. May we recommend the pisco sour?