Lost in Translation

By The Editors
February 26, 2014 9:00 am

In matters of booze, much like education, spelling counts.

Take schnapps. Spelled as such, it’s dirt-cheap, syrupy hooch wrapped in a paper bag and a hangover.

But drop the extra plosive (read: schnaps) and you’ve got a dry, refined fruit distillate that’ll knock your go-to sip on its ass.

You’ll only find it at Trocadero Club, and yes, it’s a distinction worth investigating.

Eschewing the faux-Prohibition trend in favor of staid Bauhaus-cum-Casablanca design, Trocadero (Geary and Leavenworth) is the definition of a quiet corner of the world in which to disappear with a drink and some good company.

But we digress.

Schnaps. It’s potent, averaging above eighty proof. It’s mainly distilled from fruit (twenty pounds to the bottle), but you’ll find one derived from walnuts and another distilled from beer malt stocked in the Club’s back bar.

Thing is, it’s not cloying like the cherry or raspberry base would have you believe.

Smooth. Just a hint of the fruit. None of the sweet.

They’ll pour it straight or mix you a cocktail (here’s the full list — sans the new schnaps program).

We recommend the Flora (cherry schnaps, vermouth and Crème de Cassis) or the Working Man (Scotch, bitters and bierbrand schnaps).

Either way, you’re a quick study. Belly up.

Photos by Jessica Stout Paul


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