That’s the sound of ice in the shakers of our barmen, tossing the ultra fresh zinging lime, hand squeezed a moment ago, across the body of Pisco, egg white and sugar.
Check out the flex- these guys are pumping out more Pisco than anyone else outside of Peru.
A dimple of bitters and the glass is placed within your reach. Sweet. Sour. Perfectly balanced.
You look around the room….
into a space reminiscent of a New York style basement, with its exposed brick walls and pillars, light seeping in from the streets above. An ocean-blue tiled bar, the cavernous space is a mix of booth seating, couches with coffee tables, stools and dining tables, evoking an intimate space lit by crystal lamps and candle light.
The staff are smiling at you, running through the menu that changes several times a week.
“What is a Pisco Sour without Ceviche?” the GM may ask…..
You would be correct to respond
“A day without sunshine”