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on new year’s eve, i embarked on a two week migratory adventure back to my home away from home.  prior to my departure, i turned to atlanta’s definitive source on local culture, creative loafing, for a survey of worthwhile craft cocktail purveyors.  having already traversed holeman & finch on a previous itinerary,  leon’s was next on the list.  a meandering drive down ponce and we arrived in downtown decatur, a suburb within the perimeter.  my displaced seattle shipmate and i settled in for an evening of mediocre gastropub fare and lost cocktail thursdays debriefs.  being that we were seated in the dining area, our waitress relayed our drink order to the bar and some fumbled instruction later, what arrived was lost in translation.  not quite the premium fantasy i had hoped for, i received exactly what i asked the waitress to avoid, fernet with rye.  now don’t get me wrong, rye has it’s place of grandeur in the world, but that place is not yet located on my palette.  my drink ended up like a disillusioned child, dragging its heels back to the bar for a replacement.  had i been at the bar, things might have been different, for i honestly believe the quality of a craft cocktail is directly proportionate to the distance of the barkeep.  consider it the ‘proximity quality quotient’.

blame the belgians for american obesity