The Tonalities of Mole Hill

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Thursday, July 4: Back in the West End again, where the blog began. When I moved to Vancouver in 2006, I lived with my brother in a Bachelor Suite on Comox and Bute. He had the living room, I slept in the closet. 

"I sleep in a drawer!"

That's how it was. Back then my blog was Value Village is Booby-Trapped!!, a poetry journal that I had co-founded at the University of Alberta in 2002, then transformed into digital doodah. Little did I know it, but blogging had peaked around 2005 or so. How come I'm still at it?!

I would wander around my new city and write poems. I was especially charmed by the rows of Vic and Ed homes that begin by Thurlow Street. This micro-neighbourhood was and is known as Mole Hill:

As befits its name, Mole Hill doesn’t loom large in local lore. I’d wager that even many West End denizens don’t know about this charming little enclave. As a psychogeographical zone within the neighbourhood, you have to be alert to even know it’s there, but you’d feel it even if you only passed through, distracted by your phone. It’s a break from the monotony of apartment blocks and has an almost San Francisco frisson. Most times I've walked down the little gravel lane between Comox and Pendrell, I'm bathed in stippled sunlight, sometimes autumnal, sometimes æstival. 

And since it’s on the east side of the West End, that means it’s on the way to Maxine’s. 

Put some coins or a cocktail in me and I’ll tractate upon how Burrard Street is an underrated West End quarter. What makes Vancouver’s West End interesting – density, but strangely desolate side streets, a cosmopolitan mix of people and languages, brutalist buildings and art-deco beaches – is all behind you at Maxine’s. It’s a borderland, a transition zone. Maxine's is the Rick's Cafe Americain that welcomes you in or bids adieu to you, whatever your daily civic journey might be.

On this visit, I had a Cherry Colada: Sailor Jerry's spiced rum, Amarula, Pineapple, Lime, Cherry syrup and Angostura bitters. The Amarula gives it a smooth, creamy undertone and the Moai tumbler lends the drink a whimsical gravitas:

It's a delight. I could have three of these while ignoring the sunset.

I spied a new drink on the menu called a Bookmaker. It's a variation on the Paper Plane. This one’s bitterer than other remodels – in fact, it tastes like a cross between an Old Fashioned & a Paper Plane. It’s a bit of a culture shock after the fruity Cherry Colada - like going back to work after a holiday, say, the 4th of July. 

This is a drink I’d recommend for my Philistine friends who rarely will leave the comfort zone of a Negroni. As you go, the ice melts and the flavours seem to be drawn out and blend in different ways – it’s a slow sipper. It's unctuous and the walnut bitters add an hibernal note. It's not easy to describe, but it's worth getting to know. It feels like the drink equivalent of the guy that sits next to you at a bar and tells you of the ups and downs of his life. You're interested, but you might be relieved when it's over.

Odds are, I’d order this again if I’m out with someone and I need to nurse a drink while listening to some serious business. But my mind would still be on vacation, though I only have half a brain ...

Maker’s Mark Bourbon, Vecchio Amaro del Capo, Cherry Syrup, Walnut Bitters, Soda.