Apparently there are two ways to experience Barrelhouse Flat. One is to ask to be seated in the more intimate and presumably less drafty (and, by virtue of its location up a flight of pesky steps, less fratty) second-floor salon. The other is to sit downstairs—and not only sit downstairs, but fail to order the pig’s face poutine. Those are the two mistakes I made.
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There are no mistakes I could discern on the deliciously overwhelming cocktail list, a nod to the voluminous offerings over at the Violet Hour, where Barrelhouse partner Stephen Cole spent countless hours muddling and tincturing. The pedigree of both Cole and general manager Greg Buttera, formerly of the Aviary, is all over this sprawling if traditional list (there’s no trace of liquid nitrogen or spherification here). The Elk’s Own, one of two whiskey cocktails available under the “Egg” header—there are six more egg-frothed drinks of the gin, cognac, and pisco varieties—combined bonded rye, port, lemon, simple syrup, Angostura bitters, and, yes, egg white in a perfect antidote to both the chill and the parade of holiday-costumed Lincoln Parkers who stumbled in and out.
I wish I had skipped the waffles and the trio of dips (smoked trout, chipotle-sweet potato, and garlicky cauliflower) and ordered three plates of the blue cheese and mushroom beignets. They weren’t super mushroomy or cheesy but balanced earth and funk inside a crisp (!) exterior, surrounded by a peppery-yet-sweet gastrique. Those beignets more than lived up to the sophistication of the cocktails—as I’m sure the poutine and the salon would have. —Mara Shalhoup
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