The New Yorker
Our Job is done now… ;)
Drawing and great review by one of our absolutely totally favorite publications The New Yorker.
Thanks, Nicolas Niarchos and thanks Jorge Colombo, you have made us even more New York than we ever dreamed of… Please come visit us for Martinis…
And here is the article. Please go look at it in all glory on the New Yorkers page
Ultra-Local Vodka in Chelsea at Our/New York
The clean-tasting spirit is distilled in a copper contraption on the premises and served in a dangerously drinkable Martini.
A window at the back of this sleek bar frames a contraption that looks like one of the onion domes atop St. Basil’s Cathedral, in Moscow, but fashioned out of copper. The device is not, as a patron recently suggested, the latest in Russian espionage technology but, rather, a pot still, where a corn-based alcoholic mash is heated before the liquid is siphoned off and cooled. The resulting product is Our Vodka, a slightly fruity, remarkably clean-tasting version of the spirit. “It’s the first legal distillery in Manhattan since Prohibition,” an employee explained as she showed a clutch of bar crawlers around the facility. Our has a handful of distilleries in other cities, including Berlin, London, and Detroit, each of which sources its own local ingredients. “Manhattan was definitely the most complicated location in which to get all the permits,” the employee said. Behind the counter at the front, bottles of the vodka are sold, and a friendly bartender mixes cocktails for an after-office crowd, groups of colleagues who get progressively more vivacious throughout the evening without shedding their backpacks. “Don’t tell my friends from high school—back then, it was all about not conforming,” a lady in a white tube dress murmured to a co-worker. “Now I work at an insurance company.” The bartender smiled and poured an Excelsior ’64, which sparkled with elderflower and lemon. “It’s our take on a French 75,” he said. “But we use vodka and a New York State pét-nat sparkling wine.” The test of any vodka is how it fares in a Martini: Our’s, which comes with a few shakes of orange bitters and a dash of sherry, is smooth and dangerously drinkable. After a few sips, the woman in the tube dress confessed, “Well, I tried to not pay taxes for a while, but that’s about as far as I got.” (151 W. 26th St. 646-753-5556.) ♦
This article appears in other versions of the October 1, 2018, issue, with the headline “Our/New York.”