Providence is defined as the divine guidance of human destiny. That’s accurate. I call it the place where I discovered Black Sambuca.
Today, I returned to sacred ground.
One doesn’t normally associate a cramped airport bar combined with a long flight delay with an epiphany. But when the muse of inspiration called alcohol is involved, the blank canvass called the imagination becomes quite splattered indeed. Call it the art of the possible.
My epiphany happened in “Providence” — which just so happens to be the airport located in the capital city of Rhode Island. So, let’s just say it was a small epiphany. I passed through here today for the first time in more than a decade, make that a decade and a half. For those requiring a quick geography lesson — the Providence Airport is the closest connection to the Mohegan Sun and Foxwoods casinos, located in nearby Connecticut.
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Providence is defined as the divine guidance of human destiny.
In 1999, nothing of the sort was foreseeable. Seriously, when are you stuck at an airport expecting a life-changer?
Trapped in the Providence Airport during a February blizzard, there was only one possible refuge. It had three letters. Let me give you a hint. It starts with “B” and ends with “R.”
Scheduled to fly back to Washington National DCA on the noon flight, my departure became delayed until 1:30, then 3:30, then 5:00, and ultimately I was starring at a $130 bar tab — worth every penny.
As I said, I returned to this sacred ground earlier day. The bar and barstool remain right where I left them.
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Fifteen years ago, I took the end seat on the left side of the bar right in front of the television. A sporting event captured my attention.
“What’ll you have?”
How about a shot of Sambuca, straight up.
“You got it….by the way….have you tried the new Sambuca?”
“New” Sambuca, what are you talking about?
“Black Sambuca. We just got it in. If you like Sambuca, try this. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
Sold.
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What’s the difference between black Sambuca and white (clear) Sambuca?
Does anyone know? Go ahead. Venture a guess.
Admittedly, I had to look this one up. I love this definition which was cut and pasted from Answers.com. Here you go:
White Sambuca’s flavor is dominated by anise, elderberries, and sugar. Black Sambuca’s flavor is dominated by witch elder bush and licorice. It has a higher alcohol content than most anisette, yet less sugary taste. A word of warning: Some liqueurs flavored with herbs have some strong “medicinal” properties. Before you dally around with anisette or with licorice-based liqueurs (licorice has been used as a laxative for centuries), learn about what you’re drinking. There are a lot of liqueurs that can be beneficial to one’s health in small quantities but produce extremely undesirable results in large quantities.
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That bartender was a saint. He schooled me. He tutored me on Black Sambuca. I wonder — how many other disciples exist? In the many years that have elapsed since then, how many others have I schooled and influenced? All that I know was plagiarized. Stolen. That bartender, whose name I do not know, changed my life. In a Pay It Forward sort of way, he probably changed other people’s habits, too. And, he never knew it.
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Listen to me. Try this.
After a nice dinner, on the proper occasion, when the mood strikes — order a shot of Black Sambuca. Straight up. Ideally, there should be two coffee beans floating on the crest. Do not underestimate the power of those coffee beans. They kiss you in the face with each sip.
It must be served in a large snifter glass — the bigger the better. That means a large glass goblet containing no more than perhaps a quarter liquid.
Next, Black Sambuca must be swirled. It must be savored. It must be worshipped. If you are in a rush, forget it. This liquor is for sipping, not gulping. Nectar of the gods. Like making love to a beautiful woman, the idea is to take one’s time.
That bartender taught me a lesson. He was a maverick. He started a trend. I am convinced that others typically now order this cordial in this way because of him.
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Because I was drinking the Black Sambuca at a bar, my saint recommended that I sidecar this liquid delicacy with a glass of mineral water (club soda) served straight up. And the mineral water must be cold, the colder the better. You must order in this manner. But do not mix the two. This power combined with a cleansing subtlety provides a proper balance.
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Today, upon my visit I found out the bartender changed. But the barstool was the same, as was the delicacy of Black Sambuca aching to be released from the captivity of a bottle and poured memorable occasions.
Alas, we make our own memories, don’t we? That holy water from Rome that I first consumed all those years ago was still available, beckoning to be lifted from the back of the bar and free-based into the Coventry of a snifter. I did my part as the grand emancipator.
The occasion of my return called for a toast. As they say, “when in Rome…”. Black Sambuca….straight up…..with a glass of cold mineral water on the side.
Brings back some happy memories. Once again, I have worshiped at the cathedral of licorice.