You may remember the Golden Dahlia. If you do, I both commend and thank you. Commend, because your memory may be tenacious as the proverbial better mousetrap. Thank, because that’s a drink I’m still quite proud of, and one that I think is simple in all the good, even the best ways. What has this got to do with anything? Read on.

I like Kraken. Hell, I have a certain fondness for Captain Morgan’s, as long as it’s in a Cable Car (which I first tasted and enjoyed, believe it or not, at the beautiful Petrossian Bar at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas). But yeah, I like Kraken, I think it’s a fine product, and I’ve wanted for the longest time to do something interesting with it. But what, O what would that be?

That was indeed the question. You could arguably call me lazy, but I was quite happy to fall back on a formula I had previously established as successful, at least as a start. On various evenings, I tried two or perhaps three slightly different variations on the Golden Dahlia theme (rum + amaro modifier) with Kraken as the base spirit and various amari as modifier. Despite my mental conjurations and resultant high expectations, none were successful. (I can be a harsh and demanding but realistic judge of my own efforts.) I found myself feeling frustrated and thwarted. Deep down, I knew this should work. Why did it not?

Weeks went by.

I mean, seriously. I’m not joking. Weeks went by. I pondered, but did not know what to do. And then…the magic happened. As it has done before, but still. I said something along the lines of, “I’m happy with this as far as it goes, but I want it to be, you know, punchier somehow.” And yet I didn’t know quite what to do to punch it up. Fortunately, Chuck had a thought: “I know what will give it some oomph.” The moving finger writes, and having writ, etc.

And so: Kraken, because I like it. (I have a superawesome long-sleeve promo t-shirt! Which, yes, I do wear!) Ramazzotti, because I do so love a good amaro, especially as a rum modifier. Lemon Hart 151 Demerara Rum, for the oomph. Luxardo Fernet, because it reminds me of NYC (where I first tasted it, at Babbo), and for its clean yet complex flavor that for me is like unto Fernet Branca, but with clear black pepper rather than menthol. Orange bitters, for their brightness.

Considering her dark hue and kinship with her lighter, golden sibling, and meaning and intending no disrespect of poor Elizabeth Short, I have called this concoction:

Black Dahlia
created by Wesly Moore and Chuck Taggart

2 oz. Kraken Black Spiced Rum
3/4 oz. Ramazzotti
1/4 Lemon Hart 151
Barspoon Luxardo Fernet
3-4 dashes orange bitters (your preference; I like Miracle Mile, Regan’s No. 6, and Angostura)

Stir over ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist, if you feel extravagant; it is quite fine without.

Dark. Bitter. Mysterious.

You may enjoy it.

You had to show up on the seventh anniversary of Katrina? Isaac, you’re a dick.

On the good side, this storm is not anything like Katrina. It’s smaller, less organized, and landed as a Category 1. The storm surge is not as high, nor are the winds. New Orleans has a competent and intelligent mayor running the city this time. (My favorite quote from his now-happening press conference, regarding looters: “If you loot, you’re gettin’ an orange suit.” Speaking of which, looting incidents have been minimal; only four reported, and all looting suspects were arrested.) The New Orleans levee and floodwall system is holding up well.

On the bad side … it’s a lot of wind and rain. A lot. Lots of trees, street signs and light poles are down in New Orleans, plus power lines down and transformers blown. Most of the city is without power, there’s some street flooding although it’s not too bad, varying amounts of debris on the streets (which nobody should be trying to traverse now anyway). Gambit just tweeted that “there’s crap all over the roads in the CBD.”) It’s not an apocalyptic disaster but there’s damage and it’s a huge mess.

Everybody I know back home is okay so far but nerves are frayed. People are concerned, nervous and irritated (although some, like my friend Andrew, are defiant). Even worse, the storm keeps stalling and moving very slowly, and won’t get the frak out of the area in a timely manner. The analogy I keep seeing from the NOLA Twitterverse is that Isaac is like that unwanted guest at your party who gets sloppy drunk, makes a big mess, and stays way too long. It’s going to go on all day today and it’s going to be tomorrow before things let up.

People keep saying that this stalling is what makes it feel like a lot more than “just” a Category 1. It’s been worse than expected, especially down in Plaquemines, Grand Isle, etc. It’s been downgraded back to a tropical storm by Wednesday afternoon, but that’s still a lot of wind and rain that’s sitting on top of southeast Louisiana and crawling like a snail.

On the worse side … lower Plaquemines Parish is bad. There’s been levee overtopping and severe flooding in Braithwaite, Louisiana, with flood waters overtopping roofs and over 100 people have had to be rescued so far.

Then there’s the dumbass national media.

As my pal Ed Branley pointed out … BRAITHWAITE IS NOT NEW ORLEANS. It’s outside the levee protection system. It’s a local levee that was overtopped, not the federal levees. Showing images of Braithwaite and telling the country that New Orleans is flooded is wrong and irresponsible. As Mayor Landrieu said, “Sometimes the national media has a challenge with geography.” To say the least. Apparently it’s too much of a challenge for them to, oh, look at a map or know what you’re talking about before you open your mouth.

I keep hearing a lot of complaints about some asshat on the Weather Channel who’s got a boner for panic-inducing statements and demeanor, too. I don’t know why anyone would watch anything but local news right now anyway. We may not have Nash Roberts anymore, but I want the locals who are following in his footsteps. I want Angela Hill and Bob Breck and Margaret Orr. Screw the Weather Channel and the Wall Street Journal; here’s what you should be watching:

WDSU
WGNO
WVUE
WWL

DirecTV Channel 325 is alternating between all these stations’ news coverage as well.

That said, Ed said that the aforementioned stations have been failing at social media. Apparently WWL outsources its socal media outside the city, and the other stations haven’t been doing a good job with it. If you’re following on Twitter, here are some feeds you should be following:

@YatPundit
@The_Gambit
@nolaready
@FleurtyGirl

There’s gonna be another day of this. Hang in there, Louisiana.

I love happy accidents.

As we planned our long-awaited first trip to New York City, I asked lots of folks for advice. One came from New York transplant-to-L.A. bartender Joe Swifka, who among other places highly recommended Torrisi Italian Specialties in Little Italy. I looked them up, found them highly regarded and looked forward to our visit. However, I somehow failed to notice that they’re closed on Mondays, which was the day we of course chose to go there.

Frak. Now what?

Well, here we are on Mulberry Street in Little Italy. As if this is the only restaurant anywhere around! I know that Mulberry Street has developed into something of a tourist trap, but I’d heard that there were good new places to be found, with a little help from the Internets. We walked across the street and a couple of doors down and found a place that was open, a place I wasn’t familiar with called Rubirosa Ristorante .. where I proceeded to have some of the best Italian food I’d ever had.

Happy accidents. Love ’em. More on the food in a bit.

I was very taken by their cocktail menu, too. Out of ten cocktails listed, four contained amaro of some kind and all of them looked really good. This was the one that really attracted my attention, though.

It wouldn’t be difficult to detect a particular joy for Manhattan variations on this weblog and in my taste, and this was one I hadn’t come across before. It’s simple, just swapping out the sweet Italian vermouth for a bittersweet Sicilian amaro called Averna, which is one of my favorites — herbal, bitter but quite pleasant, citrusy, with a touch of floral and caramel flavors and a hint of licorice. Dashes of aromatic and orange bitters give the cocktail even more backbone. This was a wonderful drink, and another great example of how something fairly simple — two ingredients and a couple of dashes of bitters — could also be so complex.

Captivated as I was, for some reason I took a picture of the menu to remember the drink selection and not a picture of the ruttin’ drink, which I was happy to reproduce at home with a quick and dirty Instagram snap.

BLACK MANHATTAN

2 ounces rye whiskey (Rittenhouse 100 proof, preferably)
1 ounce Amaro Averna
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 dash orange bitters (Miracle Mile or Regans’ would be my choice)

Combine with ice, stir for 20-30 seconds and strain into chilled cocktail couple.
Garnish with a Luxardo cherry.

This would not be my only Black Manhattan in New York, either … I received another one as a welcoming cocktail in another borough. More on that in another post. First, the food!

The pizza at Rubirosa was some of the best I’ve ever had, right up there with Domenica in New Orleans. This is real Italian-style pizza, not swill from corporate delivery trucks. Fresh ingredients, thin, crisp crust with sauce almost all the way to the edge, which itself is crisp and crunchy like a cracker — my very favorite style of pizza crust. This one is sweet sausage, broccoli rabe, roasted garlic and mozzarella (my favorite of the two, although I enjoyed both):

Also, mushroom, prosciutto, peas and pecorono:

Spaghetti alla chitarra, with meatballs. Perfect house-made pasta, perfect meatballs. My granny wasn’t Italian but if I had a Nonna she’d have said, “Not bad!” Which would mean, just about the best ever although probably not as good as hers because nobody’s is, even though she doesn’t exist. (Following? No? Have another Black Manhattan.)

This was easily the best cannoli I’ve ever had. Leave the gun. DEFINITELY take this cannoli.

The filling was light as a feather yet still rich, and not as dense and overpowering as some cannoli tend to be. Perfectly crisp shell, filled by hand to order and not sitting around getting soggy all day. Perfetto!

We had a few other things as well — some very good arancine, some lovely wine. I didn’t take a lot of photos that day, as we were too busy just having a great meal and great drinks and a great time with our friends, all of whom were mercilessly slagging me for how completely banjaxed I got at the Midtown gastropub where he had dinner following my epic cocktail consumption the night before at Clover Club. I suppose I had that coming.

Rumours of my disappearance due to abduction by aliens are highly exaggerated. Apparently for a while I slipped into the nascent definition of the term “cocktail blogger” as offered by my pal Jake Parrott, who describes a cocktail blogger as “someone who does not write about cocktails on the Internets.” Or something like that.

And no, I don’t write solely about cocktails on the Internets, but it’s true that I haven’t been writing about anything lately. Fortunately it’s not a case of mojo-loss-in-its-entirety, but I most certainly think that this ol’ weblog was in dire need of a jumpstart. Such a jumpstart, in the form of an epic visit to one of our favorite bars, came last week, as if one had attached jumper cables to … um. Well, before I come up with an entry for the World’s Worst Metaphor Contest, I’ll stop making metaphors and start talking about drinking.

It’d be hard to pick just one bar to designate as our “local,” as there are three that we visit most frequently, but if I had to pick one it’d probably be Big Bar at The Alcove Café in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles. (The other two would be Bar & Kitchen at the O Hotel downtown, and Bar 1886 at The Raymond in Pasadena.) Not walkable, sadly, but being less than 15 minutes from the house and the closest of the three makes it Close Enough. We love the mightily talented bar staff, the food from The Alcove is terrific, the bar is open and sunny, and as much as we like hanging at the bar with all the bartenders there’s a lovely patio to enjoy the outdoors as well.

Last Thursday we got together with a bunch of friends to try the brand-new midsummer cocktail menu at Big Bar — every single one. Yes, of course, we shared; eleven cocktails in one evening would be a bit much, don’t you think? In response to one friend who responded to my Instagram posts with “Good lord, you must be totally wasted by now,” we took a few sips and passed them along. It was a whirlwind of different spirits and flavors and styles, and all mighty, mighty good.

Mixicologist of tipicular fixins Dan Long took us through the through the menu, and began, as one does, at the beginning:

The Thorn In My Side featured a new spirit that I’d been itching to try — Knob Creek Rye. I’ve been a fan of their Bourbon, which comes in at a robust 100 proof. The rye is just as robust in the proof department, and tasting it on its own was worth the wait. Beautiful rye grain spice, lovely notes from the oak, a broad range of rye spice of the brown-baking-spices variety, with cinnamon on the forefront, plus some fruitiness on the palate (stone fruits) and a waft of vanilla. Not nearly as hot as you’d expect at 100 proof, smooth and lovely and spicy and mmm.

Dan used this in a tall drink that reminded me of a buck but wasn’t quite a buck — there was fresh ginger rather than ginger ale, smoothed out and sweetened by bianco vermouth (Martini & Rossi in this case), and the fizz came not from ginger ale but from Blackthorn cider. Dan said he had bucks in mind when concocting this recipe but wanted to go in a different direction. I liked that direction a lot — spicy and refreshing.

The next menu item said Gin and Tonic Cocktail, but it wasn’t a gin and tonic. How might you take elements of the standard gin and tonic (a lovely tall drink, and nothing wrong with that at all, oh no) and convert that into a stirred cocktail with no fizz? Beefeater gin to begin, of course — pretty much my go-to gin for a G&T. The quinine that you’d get in a tonic water comes in the form of a quinquina, a style of aperitif wine containing quinine. In this drink Dan used the wonderful Kina l’Avion d’Or from the endlessly interesting Tempus Fugit Spirits. (“Kina” is short for quinquina, and the rest of the name translates as “The Golden Aeroplane.”) The bitter bite comes from cinchona bark, source of quinine, plus wormwood as in vermouth, with lovely citrus notes from orange peel and other botanicals. The flavor profile is like “quince and marmalade,” as described by its makers; I’d go right along with that. Despite the bitter components it’s got a nice sweetness to it and is fantastic on its own over ice. In cocktails it’s amazing, and works well where you might use Lillet Blanc, such as in a Corpse Reviver No. 2 or 20th Century Cocktail. If we’re going to have a gin and tonic fresh lime is called for, of course. More citrusy aromatic complexity comes from the marvelous Bergamot Bitters made by Miracle Mile Bitters Co. right here in L.A. (if you’re a fan of tea, Earl Grey, hot, you’ll want these bitters in your collection), and the drink is finished with a spritz of kaffir lime tincture on top.

Creative and delightful. This was one of my favorites on the menu.

Ah, the classic Picon Punch! After a visit to Bakersfield, the unlikely home of a number of Basque restaurants (Picon Punch, made with the now-defunct Amer Picon being the signature drink of Basque folks), Dan wanted to put Picon Punch on the new menu. Two complications arose: 1) classic Amer Picon isn’t even made anymore, and what remains — two low-proof descendent varieties called Picon Bière (for mixing with beer) and Picon Club (for mixing with wine) aren’t available in the United States and aren’t all that great, and 2) Torani Amer, the quite excellent California-made substitute for Amer Picon, invented primarily for use in Picon Punches to satisfy the local Basque-descended folks’ demand, isn’t stocked at the bar.

Dan decided to go a different direction, using the Italian Amaro Montenegro to provide the orange and bitter base for the drink. It’s quite different from the old-style Picon Punch; Montenegro is a gentler amaro and the bitter orange flavor is far more subdued. It has a broader range of herbal notes than contemporary Picon or Torani Amer, which gives this drink a complex and interesting profile.

The classic Picon Punch would typically include a small float of Cognac on top, but Big Bar incorporates it into the drink, and not just any garden-variety Cognac either. Pierre Ferrand, one of my favorite Cognac producers, recently introduced Ferrand 1840, a Cognac made in the style of “three-star” Cognacs of the early 1800s, before the phylloxera epidemic nearly destroyed the wine and brandy grape crops in France in the 1870s-1880s. Bottled at 90 proof, higher than most Cognacs, it’s got a “punchier” profile that makes it ideal for mixing, and it’ll stand up to other ingredients and assert its flavor more readily.

This was a really nice variation. I’d be curious to try it with Amaro Ramazzotti and Amaro CioCiaro too.

Oh yeah, we had some food too. One simply can’t go wrong with Bacon-Wrapped Dates Stuffed with Goat Cheese, can one? (No, one can’t.) I don’t need to tell you how good this was. One of the more astonishing dishes was something I wouldn’t ordinarily touch — tempeh. I’m still not entirely sure what it is — some soy product that vegans eat, and something I once tried in a vegan household and politely nodded while inwardly recoiling. It’s all in the preparation, however, and when you take French-fry-sized pieces of tempeh, toss them in Buffalo wing sauce, batter and deep-fry them and serve them waith a herbed ranch dipping sauce … well, again, it’s hard to go wrong. I still find the texture of tempeh to be odd, but these were really good, and if you’re in the mood for something vegan yet with some protein in it, this would be your appetizer of choice.

We also tried their new “fish sticks” — thin strips of fresh fish (I forgot what kind, d’oh) lightly battered and perfectly fried, crisp and not at all greasy, along with sweet potato fries. If you’re the kind who enjoys classic fish and chips but feels bloated after the typical pub serving in which you have a piece of fried fish the size of a rolled-up newspaper (and which would leave massive grease stains on an actual piece of newspaper), you can enjoy this very much and still be able to take a deep breath afterward. There was also a plate of the beloved carnitas sliders which disappeared faster than you would in the middle of a shark feeding frenzy. That was the case with all the dishes other than the dates, hence the lack of photos. Quite understandable.

Okay, back to drinking!

This was the contender for Our Favorite Cocktail of the Evening (although we enjoyed them all and two others tied) — The Most Interesting Cocktail In The World, the brainchild of Big Bar bartender Matt Schaefer. Why is it the most interesting cocktail in the world? I’ll just recite the ingredients: Del Maguey Mezcal Vida. Fresh lime juice. Cinnamon syrup. Miracle Mile Chocolate-Chili Bitters. A dusting of cayenne on top.

Agave. Smoke. Spice. Sourness, in the unique way lime makes a cocktail exotic. Chocolate. Heat. It all combines into something greater than the sum of its parts. You marvel at the way all these elements play with one another. You say “Wow!” and smile. That, my friends, is an interesting and delightful cocktail. Go have one soon.

In the Selero Gin Fizz Dan said he was going for “the perfect brunch drink,” and this fills that bill exactly. The classic silver gin fizz — gin, citrus, sugar, egg white, soda — here has some intriguing additions. Plymouth is the gin, natch. The citrus shifts from lemon to lime — again, that exotic lime flavor (as much as I love lemon, I find lime so much more exotic; that’s just the word for it for me). Instead of sugar or simple syrup … green Chartreuse. Sweetness yes, but the oomph of a 110-proof liqueur and nearly endless herbal complexity. The key, killer ingredient? Celery.

Not the celery spear you see sticking out of your Bloody Mary which far too many people discard, not even some of the various brands of celery bitters that have arisen during the cocktail Renaissance (Bitter Truth, Scrappy’s). The “secret ingredient” that they’re happy to share with you is Bittermens Orchard Street Celery Shrub — not a bitters per se, but a blend of brine, celery and other flavors with a vinegar base, reminsicent of Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray Soda, a beloved New York staple (aka, “The Jewish Champagne”). The final aromatic touch is a sprinkle of celery seed on the foam on top of the drink. You get it on the palate and in the nose; that combination of senses not only makes the celery stand up to the herbal blast that is green Chartreuse but has them dance together beautifully. I had no idea how well celery and Chartreuse went together until I tasted this drink. Just marvelous, and the perfect fizz for a Saturday or Sunday morning before you start your breakfast or brunch.

The Belanda Cocktail was another surprise — this one’s just mixed in the glass, with no ice, stirring or shaking. It’s in the style of a type of 19th Century classic called a scaffa, in which the ingredients were mixed in a glass with no ice. My favorite recent example of this is Bobby Heugel’s signature drink from his bar Anvil Bar & Refuge in Houston, called the Brave.

Dan wanted this one chilled, though; the flavors weren’t working for him at room tempterature, but stirring with ice drew the flavors too far apart. His solution — refrigerate the ingredients, then mix. Perfect. The Bols Barrel-Aged Genever, apricot liqueur and East India sherry are kept refrigerated for this drink, combined in the glass and dashed with what the bar calls “improved bitters” — a combination of 1 part Angostura bitters, 1 part maraschino and 1/2 part absinthe. Dan was inspired to use this blend after reading about it in gaz regan‘s latest book. This was unusual and wonderful; I love that barrel-aged genever!

Next came another that seems ideal for mornings and brunch, the Chaton de Mer — Sailor Jerry spiced rum, St. Germain elderflower liqueur, lemon, grapefruit and topped with sparkling wine. The spiced rum and St. Germain work unsurprisingly well together.

This one Dan described as “the perfect patio sipper,” the Sal Paradise (named for the protagonist of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road). Oro Torontel Pisco, grapefruit, lime, honey syrup, Miracle Mile Sour Cherry Bitters and tonic. Oro is a very interesting pisco producer; in addition to an acholado-style pisco blended from several different grapes, a fairly typical style, they also produce piscos made from the individual varietals. The Torontel grape produces gorgeously floral and aromatic pisco, perfect in this combination of ingredients, and the kicker is the sour cherry bitters. Next time we sit outside this is the one I’m ordering first.

There’s one classic on the new menu, and I was glad to see it was an old favorite, the La Rosita. Tequila, sweet and dry vermouths, Campari and Angostura. The recipe is at the above link if you’d like to try this one at home; we frequently do!

There had to be at least one Tiki drink on the menu, and this one is a powerhouse. The Jet Stream is Big Bar’s take on the Navy Grog, once upon a time my favorite and most oft-ordered tiki drink. (Longtime L.A. denizens might remember the late, lamented House of Lee in Pacific Palisades. They served the same Americanized Chinese food as they had since opening in 1950, but had a marvelous tiki bar with all the classics like Zombies, Scorpions, Fog Cutters and Navy Grog. I miss them.) This one combines THREE cane spirits — Zaya rum, a gorgeously sweet 12-year-old rum from Trinidad; El Dorado 12 year, a Demerara rum from Guyana that’s one of my favorites; and the 2-year barrel-aged expression of Novo Fogo cachaça. A thwap of bitterness comes from some Campari (reminding me fondly of the Bitter Mai Tai), with the sweet and sour elements brought in by a special house blend they call “LGH Fuel” — a mixture of fresh lime, grapefruit and honey.

This one’ll knock you on your butt — gently, and with love. Boy, is it good. I love the blending of rums, a tiki staple, and the complexity you get here from those two rums along with a barrel-aged cachaça is terrific, and tempts you to schlurp it down dangerously quickly. (Take your time; it’s worth it.) Bravo on this one, y’all … another of our very favorites.

Finishing up the menu is St. Anne’s Helper, an example of my beloved “brown, bitter and stirred” — the Manhattan variations so close to my heart. This one’s based on a staple of our home bar, Eagle Rare 10-year Bourbon (which we buy in 1.5 liter bottles), with Carpano Antica as the vermouth, Miracle Mile’s miraculous Forbidden Bitters as the aromatic bitter, and the addition of a nice dose of digestivo, Amaro Meletti (caramelly and cinnamony with floral notes of violets and a bit of saffron). The name was inspired by a stroll Dan took through the French Quarter in New Orleans, where St. Ann(e) appears on everything from street names to churches to hotels to the Society of St. Anne Marching Club on Mardi Gras day. I think she’d like this one as much as I did.

It was an epic evening, and one in which we walked out under our own power, thanks to the virtues of sharing! Thanks to Wesly, Louis, Daniel, Fiona and Caroline for sharing, and thanks a million to our pals Dan Long and Eugene Lee for their hospitality, and for their talent running the program at Big Bar, and to general manager Sean Loeffel as well.

Big Bar’s like a second home to us — go there and you’ll see why.

Wesly and I are on the mailing list of a small-press publisher called Cemetery Dance that specializes in horror fiction. They also have a long-standing relationship with Stephen King, and often produce extremely nice editions of some of his novels — special hardcovers, slipcases, larger folios, illustrations that aren’t in the mass-published editions, etc.

One of the artists who regularly paints illustrations for the special edition King books (among others) is Glenn Chadbourne, who’s wonderful and well-known in the genre. Every now and again he offers special commissions to fans via the mailing list. For instance, a couple of years ago he offered to have people send photos of their house, either by itself or with you in it, and he’d turn it into a haunted/spooky house. We saw some of the results posted on the site; they were very cool. Last September his offer was to paint you as your favorite Stephen King character, or any character you like, in any scene from any of his books. The asking price was quite reasonable too.

Hmm, this sounded intriguing. Who would I be? I didn’t picture myself as anyone on the level of Roland of Gilead from the Dark Tower novels. Maybe one of the geeky kids from It? After a minute or two, a character and image burst forth in my mind.

Danny Glick, from ‘Salem’s Lot. Remember him? He was a minor but very memorable character, a young friend of Mark Petrie, one of the novel’s protagonists. Mark is a 12-year-old horror fan (not unlike myself at that age; I had the same glow-in-the-dark Dracula and Frankenstein plastic models as he did) who in the course of the story loses his friend Danny, who died of “pernicious anemia” not long after a mysterious figure buys and reinhabits the long-abandoned “haunted house” in town. Then, a few days later … Danny shows up. At night. Outside his bedroom window. His second-story bedroom window. Floating. And scratching to be let in.

To this day it’s one of the scariest scenes I’ve ever read in a horror novel. Even though the TV adaptation was deeply flawed and overall quite mediocre, the scene featuring Danny trying to get into Mark’s room is the most effective in the entire film. It’s an amazing scene. And I wanted in.

I sent some pictures of myself as a kid to Glenn, along with the relevant chapter of the novel, and below is what he sent me back, 7 months later. (The initial offer was to have them ready by Christmas, but unless it was absolutely necessary as a gift he asked for extra time to do the paintings properly. It was a gift to myself, so of course I said for him to take as much time as he needed.)

This might be a bit beyond fair use, since it’s more than a paragraph, but here’s the relevant scene:

Something had awakened him.

He lay still in the ticking dark, looking at the ceiling.

A noise. Some noise. But the house was silent.

There it was again. Scratching.

Mark Petrie turned over in his bed and looked through the window and Danny Glick was staring in at him through the glass, his skin grave-pale, his eyes reddish and feral. Some dark substance was smeared about his lips and chin, and when he saw Mark looking at him, he smiled and showed teeth grown hideously long and sharp.

“Let me in,” the voice, whispered, and Mark was not sure if the words had crossed dark air or were only in his mind.

He became aware that he was frightened–his body had known before his mind. He had never been so frightened, not even when he got tired swimming back from the float at Popham Beach and thought he was going to drown. His mind, still that of a child in a thousand ways, made an accurate judgment of his position in seconds. He was in peril of more than his life.

“Let me in, Mark. I want to play with you.”

There was nothing for that hideous entity outside the window to hold on to; his room was on the second floor and there was no ledge. Yet somehow it hung suspended in space … or perhaps it was clinging to the outside shingles like some dark insect.

“Mark … I finally came, Mark. Please …”

Of course. You have to invite them inside. He knew that from his monster magazines, the ones his mother was afraid might damage or warp him in some way.

He got out of bed and almost fell down. It was only then that he realized fright was too mild a word for this. Even terror did not express what he felt. The pallid face outside the window tried to smile, but it had lain in darkness too long to remember precisely how. What Mark saw was a twitching grimace–a bloody mask of tragedy.

Yet if you looked in the eyes, it wasn’t so bad. If you looked in the eyes, you weren’t so afraid anymore and you saw that all you had to do was open the window and say, “C’mon in, Danny,” and then you wouldn’t be afraid at all because you’d be one with Danny and all of them and at one with him. You’d be–

No! That’s how they get you!

He dragged his eyes away, and it took all of his will power to do it.

“Mark, let me in! I command it! He commands it!”

Mark began to walk toward the window again. There was no help for it. There was no possible way to deny that voice. As he drew closer to the glass, the evil little boy’s face on the other side began to twitch and grimace with eagerness. Fingernails, black with earth, scratched across the windowpane.

Think of something. Quick! Quick!

“The rain,” he whispered hoarsely. “The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain. In vain he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.”

Danny Glick hissed at him.

“Mark! Open the window!”

“Betty Bitter bought some butter–”

“The window, Mark, he commands it!”

“–but, says Betty, this butter’s bitter.”

He was weakening.

OK, you can look now … *scratch*scratch*scratch*

by Glenn Chadbourne. Click to embiggen.

Freaked. Me. Out.

He completely nailed what I looked like at 12, from the reference pictures and from one in particular (although he properly put me in a funeral suit, and not the plaid jacket my mom had had me in in the photo). My sisters freaked out too. (“Don’t show that to either of my kids!”) It was pretty much perfect, and is going to creep me out every time I look at it … as it should! Thanks a million Glenn, you did a brilliant job. One thing though — I will show it to my niece and nephew … once they’re old enough to read ‘Salem’s Lot.