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"That's my favorite drink," said the bartender, young and bright-faced and as vest-wearing as any of the other cheerful experts at the Rieger. And he meant it. We could tell by the way he described the cocktail, the way he explained how the Galliano pricks the Milagro Silver tequila just so while the green Chartreuse dances with the lime. And the Tiki bitters ... what was he saying about the Tiki bitters? Because we'd already knocked back a pelirrojo (Milagro Silver, sparkling wine, berry agave syrup, lemon — delicious), and when we drink the good stuff even our favorite men in vests start sounding a little blah blah blah, and we were watching the sunset crowd arrive and making eye contact now and then. So there was a little guilt in the "Oh, yes, it's our favorite drink now, too" as we gave him leave to tend to someone else at the bar. Nothing was going to come of that eye contact. But now we really did have a new favorite drink.
