(I wrote this soon
after my first visit to The Jerry Thomas Project. I’ve since been back, though
not as often as I’d like. The city has also seen an explosion of high-end
cocktail bars in the last few years. While I haven’t been to all of them yet,
I’ve tried a fair few of the top contenders. I still find JT to be the best all
around experience due to the consistent excellence of the cocktails paired with
perfect service.)
Recently I’ve had the pleasure of
sipping a cocktail or three at the Jerry Thomas Project, a speakeasy here in
Rome. Now, I have always been grumpy about the speakeasy trend in the States,
mostly because I don’t like having to plan ahead to have an excellent drink. In
cities like San Francisco or New York, there are so many high quality offerings
in so many different kinds of cocktail bars that it becomes simple to imbibe
the best and still avoid making reservations. In Rome, the selection is more restricted.
Let me put
it in perspective. I love, adore, delight in great cocktails, deep spirits
lists, and bartenders that appreciate my requests and improve upon my
fantasies. These things, however, are not historically among the wonders of
Rome. While it is easy to find a drinkable Negroni or a Spritz, and the
occasional bar will turn out a passable Old Fashioned if I am very specific
with the bartender, someone coming from a historically cocktail centered city
like SF is going to miss the ubiquitous high quality of the drinking culture.
By someone I mean me, in case that wasn’t clear.
Cut to a couple weeks ago, when I
went out to girls’ night at a place my embarrassingly cool hair stylist had
fleetingly mentioned (and that I totally pretended to know already, because you
have to maintain credibility with your stylist). I got to the unmarked door and
rang the bell, rolling my eyes at the process and hoping this place was worth
the sweaty bus ride to the Centro Storico. Trying not to feel ridiculous, I
gave the password and the name of my friend. Minutes later, seated on a
comfortable pouf, I was explaining to the charming (bearded) gentleman
semi-hopefully what exactly I was seeking in a cocktail.
The perfectly balanced and wonderfully
complex martini of Sipsmith London Dry Gin, Vermouth del Professore and a
teensy dash of bergamot bitters he brought me soothed a homesickness that I did
not even know I felt.
When the aforementioned gentleman
returned to check in, the relief and pleasure I felt must have been clear to
him. We ended up talking, and I discovered that they have a lovely deep spirits collection, that the vermouth they use is their own production, and that I had
found a sort of spiritual home in this city full of churches.
You’re thinking, “It’s just a bar,
Homie, don’t be so dramatic!” Maybe, but it is a damn good bar. You like gin?
They have the best, from Genevers to London Dry, and they’ll make you the right
cocktail with each. Rum, you say? The last time I was there I sniffed out some
of their selections, and they are not playing. I think whisky, scotch, bourbon,
rye go without saying. But the best part? The part that makes my Mexican heart
flutter in my chest and brings an absurd smile to my face? Mezcal! Not only do
they have a well-curated selection including anonymous looking bottles that
probably aren’t available to mere mortals, but the owner behind the bar is
passionate about and expert with them.
Friends, I sipped things I had
never even heard of. This is not to be taken lightly. This is any spirits
lover’s dream-to have every visit to the bar be a learning experience with the
lingering finish of shared enthusiasm. The fact that I have found a place of that caliber in
Rome is a gift from a whole pantheon of wine gods.
Is it as good as the spots in SF,
New York or London? I would say yes, it is. Like everything, it is slightly
different from its hometown counterparts, due in part to its dual role as a bar
serving the Italian palate and a locus for greater visibility of cocktail
culture in Italy. I think they do an admirable job of being accessible to the
less trained palate and interesting for aficionados. The only thing I wish is
that I didn’t have to make reservations, but such is the price I must pay to
have my gin and drink it too.
