26, 30, 46, 50

Saturday night, a large group of friends dawned not their Halloween costumes, but cocktail attire. We met at Bricco in Glastonbury for a plated dinner to celebrate the birthdays of two of my friends, one turning 26, the other turning 30. In the back of the restaurant, 46 people gathered in booths and tables for a plated dinner, followed by a house party.

Diners mingled, hugged, and gave birthday wishes as they found their seats. The meal began with a creamy caesar salad, which, untraditionally, included radicchio. The parmesan was shaved on the top, and the croutons were crunchy, the lettuce not wilted under the dressing. The salad was paired with grilled bread, served on a cutting board with mascarpone cheese instead of butter. The cheese was bone white and topped with chopped basil and a touch of olive oil. The oil’s flavor didn’t come through much, but the slight twang of sour from the cheese went well with the heartiness of the bread.

Dinner, like the salad course, was served family style. Chicken picatta was laid out first. Thin breasts of chicken with a light egg batter had been pan fried then coated in a garlic, white wine, and caper sauce. Another plate was the eggplant parmesan, topped with crispy chips of spinach and bread crumbs. The dense layers were almost indiscernible from one another, vegetable, sauce, breading, and cheese all running together in warm gooeyness. Dessert was cannoli. The filling was cream-cheese based and was flecked with chocolate chips. One side of the cannoli was dusted with pistachios, while the other with Oreos. They successfully avoided the cardinal sin of soggy cannoli, the pastry tube remaining crunchy.

After everyone paid (the waitresses were great about having 46 separate checks), we drove back to the birthday boy’s home. The birthday girl, a talented baker, unveiled blue velvet cupcakes, cardamom and pistachio flavored brownies, and a moist chocolate-chili brownie. The latter was rich, heavy, dark, and melted in your mouth. The initial rush of chocolate masked the chili, but as you swallowed, the spice lingered on your tongue, light and not unpleasant. Utterly additive. Cases of a variety of spirits were unpacked and cocktail creating implements were laid out. Every variety of alcohol seemed to be present, whiskey, gin, rum, bourbon, bitters, tequila, and even sweeter spirits like amaretto, goldschlager, triple sec, and midori. One of the party goers, a passionate mixologist, entranced the room with “Spirit School,” walking us through the creation of some classic cocktails. This was soon followed by a three round, single elimination, cocktail creating competition. Each round, a theme would be selected and entrants would have 15 minutes to craft their rendition. The winner of the three rounds would be awarded $50.

I switched from a suit coat to a lab coat, breaking out my syringe and pipettes for the throw down. Round one’s theme was “fine and smooth.” I passed the round with my entry of a combination of rum, angostura bitters, orange, Grand Mariner, and a touch of maraschino cherry syrup. Round two’s theme was “spicy and sweet, but not too sweet.” My cocktail consisted of aged whiskey, goldschlager, a touch of St. Germaine, a splash of soda, and a pinch of red chili pepper for heat. I used a twill of orange around the rim to scent it. It proved to still be too sweet for one of the judges, and it was down to two.

In the end, it was a draw in the last round, “twist on a classic,” between a gin variation of a margherita and a “riff on a riff of a drink from Boston called an 1862(?).” At this point, everyone had sampled enough that raucous cheers went up and glasses were clinked all around.

Happy birthday my friends, may we celebrate in such style again next year.