As I ascend the narrow staircase from the bustling Freakin’ Frog bar to the members-only Whisky Attic upstairs, it’s as though I’m making my way toward the secret clubhouse of my youth, glancing over my shoulder periodically to make sure no girls are following me. Except now I glance over my shoulder to check out the girls, and I wish they would follow me. What a difference a couple of decades make.
Without bothering with any sort of secret knock, I head through the door, and the first thing I see is a bookshelf across the room, filled with board games, including both Star Wars and Lord of the Rings Monopoly. My God, it is my clubhouse. Then I look to my left to see the giant projection screen (used for Monday movie nights) and a suit of medieval armor. Okay, so it’s a little cooler than my clubhouse. Then I look to my right to find shelves upon shelves upon shelves of what has to be every whiskey known to man. Okay, it’s way cooler than my clubhouse. We didn’t have quite as impressive an assortment back then.
The selection of 500 or so whiskeys is enough to impress even the hardcore aficionados who know when and when not to include the “e” in the spelling (whisky if it’s Scottish, Welsh, Canadian or Japanese; whiskey if it’s Irish or American). This collection even includes rare bottles from New Zealand as well as southern states where one has to pick up the bottle in person at the distillery.
“Whiskey is as complex or even more so than wine,” I’m told by Gary, who runs the Whisky Attic and takes his beverage of choice very seriously. He brings my attention to a bottle of Springbank 32 Scotch Whisky in the far corner of the bar. Since I’d have to write three Bar Exams about the stuff to make enough money to afford a single shot of it, I decline a taste. Besides, I’m here for the new cocktails.
About 20 Whisky Attic members and friends are gathered to sample six of the bar’s 17 new cocktails, designed to appeal to less whiskey-obsessed customers—particularly women. Unlike the hangout of my preadolescent years, this particular clubhouse doesn’t want to send a “No Girls Allowed” message.
The first two drinks they serve, Sagerac and Bourbon Lemonade, while colorful, don’t do much to mask the distinctive flavor of Mr. Jim Beam, but something called a Flying Scotsman, with a taste akin to spiked punch, seems to do the trick.
“It tastes like college,” a patron observes.
But it’s the fourth drink that wins me over—a mixture of Dewar’s, grenadine, brandy, sweet vermouth, sweet and sour and a few flakes of chocolate. It’s called a Scotch Holiday, and it tastes an awful lot like mint chocolate-chip ice cream. All over again, I’m just a kid in the clubhouse with some sweets ... except kinda drunk.
With its enormous selection of hard liquor and tasty beverages for those who prefer the softer stuff, the Whisky Attic makes one swell hangout for kids of all ages (21 and over, of course). Just watch your step down that narrow staircase when you’re done. For some reason it’s a lot easier to get dizzy climbing down from the clubhouse than it was when I was younger.
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The Whisky Attic
4700 S. Maryland Parkway
597-9702