Potter’s Lounge tries to capture what we imagine when we idealize the cocktail’s glory days — something involving low light, comfortable seating, well-executed drinks, and expensive prices. Which is fine. It’s part of the whole anti-tini backlash, I think. We’ve become fed up with Tom Collins-tinis and margarita-tinis and appletinis and want something better. Potter’s just misses the mark.
They have fried potatoes drizzled with truffle oil. They have big, old-school absinthe water dripping contraptions. They have a variety of seating options. They have old-timey cocktails. They SAID they had Singapore slings in their press release (and I hold it against them that they do not have them on their menu when I visit).
Here’s the problem: they are way too fucking slow. Yes, it takes a while to make a good cocktail, but it shouldn’t take forever to take our order. And it doesn’t take that long to pour a glass of wine, but when it’s sitting on the counter ready to go, it still needs a waitress to pick it up and deliver it to the table.
I saw the manager (I imagine) sauntering around in his too-big-for-him suit chatting it up with the staff, wasting their time, probably trying to get his dick sucked in the back room by one of the waitresses instead of making the place function. The place is run by hotel employees — secure in their positions, not really caring, maybe were cleaning rooms last week, hotel employees. It’s not run by bartenders that want to make great drinks. It’s not run by a proud owner with his neck on the line trying to succeed. It’s run by bureaucracy.
Getting a drink at the old Trader Vic’s in the basement was a hell-of-a-lot more fun. Getting a drink at the Palmer House Hilton’s temporary lobby bar was a lot more fun — fun to sit in the ornate lobby, fun bartender to talk to, fun to laugh at mistakenly ordering some sort of pink concoction when I really just wanted a Trader Vic Mai Tai. Potter’s could and should be great, but right now, it’s not. Head to Old Timer’s instead.
Potter’s Lounge | The Loop, Chicago
Potter’s Lounge tries to capture what we imagine when we idealize the cocktail’s glory days — something involving low light, comfortable seating, well-executed drinks, and expensive prices. Which is fine. It’s part of the whole anti-tini backlash, I think. We’ve become fed up with Tom Collins-tinis and margarita-tinis and appletinis and want something better. Potter’s just misses the mark.
They have fried potatoes drizzled with truffle oil. They have big, old-school absinthe water dripping contraptions. They have a variety of seating options. They have old-timey cocktails. They SAID they had Singapore slings in their press release (and I hold it against them that they do not have them on their menu when I visit).
Here’s the problem: they are way too fucking slow. Yes, it takes a while to make a good cocktail, but it shouldn’t take forever to take our order. And it doesn’t take that long to pour a glass of wine, but when it’s sitting on the counter ready to go, it still needs a waitress to pick it up and deliver it to the table.
I saw the manager (I imagine) sauntering around in his too-big-for-him suit chatting it up with the staff, wasting their time, probably trying to get his dick sucked in the back room by one of the waitresses instead of making the place function. The place is run by hotel employees — secure in their positions, not really caring, maybe were cleaning rooms last week, hotel employees. It’s not run by bartenders that want to make great drinks. It’s not run by a proud owner with his neck on the line trying to succeed. It’s run by bureaucracy.
Getting a drink at the old Trader Vic’s in the basement was a hell-of-a-lot more fun. Getting a drink at the Palmer House Hilton’s temporary lobby bar was a lot more fun — fun to sit in the ornate lobby, fun bartender to talk to, fun to laugh at mistakenly ordering some sort of pink concoction when I really just wanted a Trader Vic Mai Tai. Potter’s could and should be great, but right now, it’s not. Head to Old Timer’s instead.
More here: potterschicago.com