Bloody Mary in the Little Apple (Manhattan Kansas)

When gas prices were on the rise, I parked my 1963 Lincoln in my cousin’s driveway. Prices had gotten to the point where I could afford to drive again and I couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel. My cousin lived in Manhattan Kansas so that’s where I found myself on a pleasant spring afternoon. Manhattan was a college town and I chose to go to a popular place where broke students took their visiting parents. It was Sunday and I had a day before I hit the road. My cousin was a college professor and he didn’t want to join me at a place frequented by students so I ventured into Hansen’s solo. I headed directly to the bar as the restaurant area was packed. I sat in the cloth-covered stool; relieved that it had a back because mine was killing me; too much time on planes and trains. The bartender who was quick on his feet made it over immediately.

 

“Good morning.” He checked his watch. “Make that afternoon. What can I get ya?” He threw down a placemat and silverware.

“I’m just gonna have a drink. I see that bloody Mary’s are popular. Father and Son down the bar are enjoying theirs. I’ll have one of those.”

“Spicy or not so much?”

“Medium hot, Jeramiah. I read your nametag. Make it a seven on a scale of one to10. I take it you add stuff to spice it up and don’t rely on the mix.”

“Yes sir. We’re know to have the best bloodies in town.”

Jeremiah was probably a senior in college so I expected him to be a rookie bartender but he knew his stuff. He pulled a pint glass out of the cooler and packed it full of ice cubes. He picked out a bottle of standard vodka from the well. It was equipped with a monitor that measured out an exact shot, which was probably a good idea at a college bar. The temptation to give a heavy pour to one’s buddies would be too great. To the ice, he added what looked like a premade mix and most bartenders would stop there. At Hansen’s they took the extra step. Jeramiah added three dashes of Tabasco, dollop of horseradish and a turn of ground pepper to customize the heat of the drink. He gave the concoction a brisk stir before taking a deep breath and garnishing my bloody Mary. He planted a stalk of celery in the center of the glass joined by a pickled green bean. A lemon and lime wheel balanced on the rim. Jeremiah presented my cocktail as if it were a report card of “A”’s to his parents.

“Thank you. Not a bad way to get my veggies. I feel an air of celebration in the air. Almost forgot that it’s graduation at the University. Father and son have a great deal to celebrate because that boy’s the first in the family to graduate from college.”

“How do you know that Cecil?”

“The look of pride in the man’s eyes and the way he’s dressed. He’s accustomed to being on a farm and he cobbled together an outfit so he doesn’t embarrass his son. The shirt is out of style and the seams are worn. The American farmer is a dying breed and this young man got out. It’s bittersweet for the dad because he wishes his son could follow in his footsteps. The farm has been in his family for three generations but they’re no longer able to turn a profit.”

“I think I know that kid from some of my engineering classes.”

I sipped my drink. One of the finest bloody Mary’s I can recall. “I can see that that transition might be from working on a farm to engineering. Mechanical comes to mind because he’s gotten good at moving parts with tractors, thrashers and the like. The two of them are in some kind of transition and it’s uneasy for them both. The boy is chomping on his ice and the man is gnawing on his celery stick like a bunny. The boy will end up financially providing for his pop and he will be the first in the family to move away from Kansas with many to come.”

“So you think change is good Cecil?”

“Change is inevitable Jeremiah. We have to move with the tide or it draws us under. That man taught his son well and earned that look of pride in his eyes. This will be the first of many celebrations for the two of them.”

“Can I get you another?” Jeremiah asked when he saw an empty glass.

“No. I’m gonna stretch my legs along the river. I have a day of driving ahead in my reclaimed vehicle, which I’m looking forward to. I’ll be back in the Little Apple someday and in for another bloody Mary but I’m sure by then you will have moved on and graduated. Good luck.”

“You too Cecil.”

I left behind a generous tip as I walked away.