As a thank you to all the hard work we've put in recently, our boss Tod took the whole company to new digs around the corner, The Optimist, for drinks and bar food. As great as the food was, the atmosphere was what had me looking around like I'd never been out of the hamlet of Norcross in my life. (And truth be known, my little white socks and vinyl pockeybook very rarely go to anything inside the perimeter besides the office). Anywho, loved the place.
The oysters were GOR-JUSS; next time, that's what I'm splurging on. Our crew feasted on deep-fried green beans with a buttermilk-dill mignonette dipping sauce and corn milk hushpuppies “beignet style” with a cane sugar butter for dipping. They serve a variety of alcoholic punches which the gang liberally sampled. Others braved the shots of something (a strong booze of some sort, not sure what) with a pickle juice chaser. I asked the bartender for something with vodka and was served up an Old Salty Dog (vodka, ruby red grapefruit — hullo??? how did he know how much the Dgirl loves her some grapefruit juice — grapefruit bitters, and rimmed in pink Himalayan sea salt). I was licking the salt pre-sip with embarrassingly unguilty regard for the chichi crowd pouring in the doors.
The garnish is a piece of thinly peeled grapefruit skin.
The bathrooms were all individual water closets. The one I went into had this quaint vintage image of a little boy holding a freshly caught fish. Lots of white tile and white beadboard; needless to say, it was nice going to the bathroom even if all I did was wash my hands.
In the hallway leading to the bathrooms, there are two racks holding vintage-like motel room keys. We girls were looking at them, realizing that they could be removed, but certainly not crass enough to take one. One of the waitresses came over and told us to please each take one. Only 1,000 had been made, and they were encouraging patrons to take one as a keepsake.
A simple forged wall hook on the white-painted brick wall of the water closet.