Violet Hour | Wicker Park, Chicago

Less is more. So true. You know what you’re doing, you don’t need choices. Make everybody the same perfect drink. Start to slide? Bring on choice. Like a Denny’s or an Olive Garden — too damn many food choices. Violet Hour is starting to slide. And it’s too bad.

I don’t line up to drink. Just don’t. No bar is THAT good. No bar should be considered that good. You shouldn’t have to chump it up in line to get a good drink. Not worth it. I waited in line last Friday at the Violet Hour.

And it’s still so close to perfection. It’s not like it’s tanked. It’s just not what it was. They posted rules. No cell phone convos, etc. Pathetic. Like insisting on deck shoes on your million-dollar yacht. What are deck swabbers for? Why do you have to post the rules when people just understand them?

It was just … different. Not like it has been. The posted rules were the clearest indicator of it. There was also the multi-page menu. Used to be just a single sheet, but now it’s paginated. And the same drinks are stuck on it instead of the full revamp every season. There was a Manhattan on the list — rye, sweet vermouth, bitters — just a Manhattan, maybe a perfectly constructed Manhattan, but still just a Manhattan. WTF?

The first time we visited we had two bartenders and we had a half-hour conversation about ice. Frozen water. That was the topic. And I learned something. Another time a gin distributor stopped by and we sampled a custom cocktail along with our bartender that was getting the soft sell. Then there was the time with the Champagne cocktail made with High Life. Didn’t taste bad, but we didn’t pay for it — the bartenders made us the drink out of amusement alone. Now it’s all business, but that’s what it is, right? Which isn’t surprising, it’s just too bad, because it seemed like more.