One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever… The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to the place where he arose… The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to its circuits… All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come thither they return again.
So cycleth the seasons of Archer...eth. They cometh and goeth. Phrasing. First. Boometh.
If you recognize that quote up above, then you are one of two kinds of people: A) You’re the kind of person who is pretty familiar with the Old Testament, and specifically, the book of Ecclesiastes, or if you’re more of a Ketuvim kind of fella, you might know it as Koheleth. B) You’ve read your fair share of Hemingway and specifically his novel, “The Sun Also Rises”.
If you didn’t recognize it, you might have been reading it in the voice of Daffy Duck... and if you didn’t, then you should go back and give it a try. It’s the best. Might want to get a tissue or a paper towel ready though... because seriously, Mel Blancs microphone spit screen must have been disgusting.
...what were we talking about?... Hemingway! Right! The Sun Also Rises features a few “epigraphs”, one being the old testament verse above, and the other being a sentence which is attributed to Gertrude Stein: “You are all a lost generation.” This is in reference to the generation that survived the first world war, or as Woodhouse put it, The Great War. (They were all great. Those Nazi uniforms. Hugo Booooooss! Shut up! Swear to god.) Gertrude had heard the phrase when lamenting to a garage owner about the poor work done by one of his mechanics (not sure what he had done wrong but Ol’ Gertty thought he was banging on her car with a wrench like a monkey. She didn’t actually think THOSE words exactly. I wouldn’t know honestly. I wasn’t there. Stop asking me so many questions.) The garage owner said that the young men in their 20’s were easy to train, but those in their 30’s, who had been through the war, were a lost generation, impossible to get them to care about anything.
Gertrude Stein may have said it but when Hemingway put it in his book is when it stuck. It not only described the idea of his peers being a lost cause who were unable to return back to the old way of life but also the fact that they were the first generation with relatively easy modes of travel. Planes, trains, and automobiles... if you will. This was the first generation where you were no longer limited to your immediate hometown to find work, or love, or most importantly, a good drink. Those of you familiar with history may remember that two years after the conclusion of The Great War was the beginning of America’s prohibition of alcohol. So, if you were an affluent American like Hemingway, or Steinbeck, or Chaplin, or Gershwin, or Dietrich, or Bogart, or Kelly, you might have found your way over to some place across the pond like Paris, or maybe Venice.
If you ended up at either of those cities in particular, what you might want to do is tell your driver to take you to Harry’s Bar. If you’re in Paris you’d tell the driver: Sank Roo Doe Noo. If you’re in Venice, I guess maybe you just swim? I don’t know. I’ve never been. They don’t have any clever four word phrases to tell you how to get to their location on Calle Vallaresso, 1323 (west of the Piazza San Marco), but trust me, you tell your gondolier you want to go to Harry’s and they’ll know what you mean.
(I should clarify. Harry's Bar in Venice and Harry's New York Bar in Paris are not owned by the same people and do not share a common history. There were a lot of Harrys back in the day in the bartending world. It was even a little confusing for me. Fret not.)
There are an infinite number of stories that could be told about Harry’s Bar and its owners, from their rise to power in New York and then their subsequent tax scandal that may or may not have been a front by the mob to get the Cipriani family out of NYC, or the seemingly endless number of celebrity patrons from royalty to hollywood, but what you probably need to know are just three things. They are as follows:
- At some point in 1929 Giuseppe Cipriani was working at the bar at the hotel Europa in Venice when an older woman and a young man began frequenting his bar. The man was Harry Pickering and the older woman was his Aunt. Harry would have been ordering dry martinis, his aunt was having bourbon and 7-UP. The reason Harry was in Venice was that he had a drinking problem and his mother and father in Boston sent him to live with his Aunt (away from all the mischief of his friends I assume) to sober up and get his life in order. He was the scion of a very rich family of what nature I am sure I don’t know anything about. Anyway, the trip was not productive in the sense of getting him sober, as he and his aunt both liked to kick back their fair share of sauce. At some point, likely in a drunken stupor, Harry’s aunt got upset with him and left him high and dry, without so much as a penny to get him back home. Since Giuseppe had befriended Harry during his stay in Venice, he offered to lend Harry some money to get back to America, under the condition that he pay him back as soon as he could. Harry was grateful and took 10,000 lire (about $5,000 american) and returned to Boston. Two years pass. Giuseppe is likely perturbed, but sure enough Harry returns with 10,000 lire, as promised... plus an extra 40,000... That 40,000 was to be used to open up their own bar. In Mr. Pickering's infinite humility, he decided that it should be called Harry’s Bar. So it was.
- Sometime around 1950, a countess by the name of Amalia Nani Mocenigo came into Harry’s Bar and asked Giuseppe if he could perhaps prepare her a dish with raw meat; a diet which had been recommended by her doctor. After making a dish of thinly sliced beef with a bed of lemon, olive oil, and parmesan, Giuseppe felt that the dish looked a bit like the paintings of Vittore Carpaccio, who was known for his use of red and white. Thus, 'Beef Carpaccio' was born.
- Giuseppe was apparently a fan of art. When he began making a signature cocktail for his bar, the rose pink color of the drink, a combination of white peach puree and prosecco (an italian sparkling wine) reminded him of the robe of a saint in a painting by 15th century Venetian artist, Giovanni Bellini. Thus, the TIP was born:
I’m sorry... but you are not Hemingway. Even if you looked like him and went to competitions for people that look like him, the fact would still remain that you are indeed not Hemingway. And if you were stuck out in the middle of the bermuda triangle you might be lucky if you had any booze at all, so to make due with what you have, this is what we’re gonna do:
The original bellini is white peach puree and a light sparkling wine.
These are relatively fancy things.
The poor man is not fancy.
What we’re going to do is mix:
2oz Peach Juice from a can of sliced peaches.
- 2oz of Moonshine from a dirty jar that you bought from your cousins friend in North Georgia.
Shake them together with some ice, strain into a coffee mug. Enjoy.
I know that was a lot of setup for a ghetto drink, but honestly, what were you really expecting, huh? This isn’t Mad Men, it’s Archer... with special guest Jon Hamm... from Mad Men... Whatever, you get the point. Go drink. Have a good time. I’ll see y'all on the internet.
Coffee Liqueur. Straight from the bottle.
Not sure here. Fish sticks? Crab cakes? It’s all up to you. I got nothin.