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Congratulations to Eastern Standard for making Esquire magazine’s 2008 Best Bars in America list! One Eastern Standard mixologist, Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli, will be a guest bartender tonight at our World Cocktail Day celebration at Green Street in Cambridge.

Eastern Standard, along with the People’s Republik in Cambridge and the Beachcomber in Wellfleet, joins past Esquire honorees the B-Side Lounge, Doyle’s Cafe and No. 9 Park. What a coincidence — those are some of Boston’s best bars.

Established: 2002
Specialty: Beer
Prices: Moderate
Atmosphere: Beer-loving ladies and gents congregate here en masse for top-notch Belgian and other artisanal beers, a friendly vibe and a choice of two bars adorned with authentic Belgian taps and brewery decor.
See Best Boston bars for address and contact info.

If the ho-hum lager Stella Artois is what you equate with “Belgian beer,” then get yourself over to the Publick House in Brookline (1648 Beacon St.) ASAP. As you confront the beauty of a complex Trappist ale or bottle-conditioned saison (the Champagne of the beer world), you’ll realize what you’ve been missing.

The Publick House has so successfully schooled Boston-area residents in Belgium’s myriad beer styles that David Ciccolo, who owns the pub with his wife, Ailish Gilligan, was knighted in that country. Seriously. Shortly after opening the Monk’s Cell, a tap room adjacent to the Publick House, in 2007, Ciccolo traveled to Brussels to be inducted into the Chevalerie du Fourquet des Brasseurs, or Knighthood of the Brewer’s Mash Staff. Formidable! I’m guessing the fact that he used to be an actual brewer, at the defunct Tremont Brewing Co. in Charlestown, didn’t hurt.

The Publick House’s beer menu leans heavily toward Belgians (roughly 100 of them), but it has a very respectable selection from the best American craft breweries (Allagash, Sixpoint, etc.), plus the occasional tasty treat from elsewhere in Europe. Belgian breweriana decorates the walls, and the proper glassware is used. I loved my Atomium Grand Cru in its wide-mouthed goblet emblazoned with the beer’s namesake: Brussels’ kitschy monument to molecular science built for the 1958 World’s Fair. Naturally, there are mussels and frites on the menu, along with several dishes in the gastro-pub vein. And one of my favorite bartenders, Matt Tremblay (pictured above) — whom I’ve known since he worked at the Cambridge Brewing Co. back in my brewing days — is the top tap man there. His attitude echoes that of the Publick House as a whole: respectful of good beer without being snobby about it.

Beers range from $4 to $8 (and more for the rare stuff); dishes from roughly $8 to $20. Astute barflies will remember that the Publick House originally opened under the gaelic name Anam Cara. Naturally, confused patrons would walk in expecting an Irish pub. Ciccolo says that was an “admitted mistake,” and changed the name. The most frequent complaint about the Publick House is that it gets too crowded. “I don’t understand why more people aren’t doing what we’re doing,” Ciccolo says. Not surprisingly, he has plans to expand his empire, which now includes not only the Publick House and the Monk’s Cell, but Publick House Provisions (1706 Beacon St.), a specialty grocery store that features the beers on the Publick House menu, cheeses, Belgian chocolates, etc. Personally, I’m lobbying for a Belgian tap room in the Cambridge-Somerville area.

Established: 2001
Specialty: Cocktails, beer, wine
Prices: Moderate
Atmosphere: Take your pick — attractive neighborhood eatery on one side; cozy pub with board games and TV screens on the other.
See Best Boston bars for address and contact info.

The Independent in Somerville’s Union Square is kind of like that middle sister who, after an awkward adolescence in which she was often overshadowed by her older and younger siblings, grew up to be the attractive, smart girl who’s really easy to hang out with.

The Indo, as regulars call it, has made a series of tweaks to its concept over the years, trying to achieve the magic trick of appealing to a wide-ranging clientele while cultivating its own identity. Chefs have come and gone, as have periods of sub-par food. Funky cocktail-lounge seating has been installed and removed, cheese tastings and poker nights have had their run, and live musical acts have mostly given way to iPod playlists. Fortunately, in the past couple of years, the food, the drink, the service and the concept have all settled into a nice groove.

I’m partial to the drink, of course. The Indo’s general manager, Jess Willis, is responsible for resurrecting vintage cocktails in Somerville. The frequently updated menu has included such gems as the Algonquin, the El Presidente, the Gin and It, and the Perfect Pal (Rittenhouse rye, Aperol, sweet and dry vermouth). Head bartender Evan Harrison is bringing his own enthusiasm for old-school mixology to the program, as well as helping to expand and improve the Indo’s beer list.

Evan, his fellow bar crew, and the servers on the floor have a laid-back but professional style. Chef Paul Oberhauser’s kitchen does a nice job with seasonal ingredients and satisfyingly simple dishes like steak frites and panko breadcrumb-crusted cod with bacon and clams. The burgers are good, too.

One of the nicest things about the Indo is that you can choose between two different spaces: the pub, a good place to watch the game or drink with a group of friends; and the restaurant, if you want to feel more like you’re having an Evening Out. Either way, the food and drink stay the same, as do the reasonable prices: $7-$9 for cockails, $5-$7 for most beers, and $13-$24 for entrées.

You would think, from the buzz that began the day it opened for business, that Highland Kitchen was the very first restaurant to open in Somerville. It seems everywhere I go, someone is asking someone else, “So, have you been to Highland Kitchen yet?” I’ve lived in Somerville for a long time, I’ve seen some good restaurants come and go, but I’ve never seen anything like this level of excitement.

Is it warranted? Pretty much. What we Somervillians essentially have with Highland Kitchen is our first neighborhood restaurant owned by a noted chef who is offering consistently well made, but not too fancy, food and drink in the perfect price range. (Entrées under $20, surprisingly large cocktails $7-$8). Highland Kitchen is to the ‘ville what the Franklin Café is to the South End or Green Street is to Central Square in Cambridge. Which makes sense, because the chef-owner, Mark Romano, used to be the chef at Green Street and its former incarnation, the Green Street Grill, drawing legions of fans with his Caribbean-influenced dishes. He’s slipping some of that cuisine in here and there, but basically this is a menu of the comfort variety, with steak frites, bluefish cakes, a “Cuban Reuben,” gumbo, burgers, etc.

Part of the enthusiasm over Highland Kitchen stems from its location in a spot, outside of the city’s main squares, that has never had a destination restaurant. People who live in neighborhoods north of Highland Ave. no longer have to trek to Davis or Union squares to get a nice dinner. And Highland Kitchen is staffed with pros, so it hasn’t seemed to suffer the dreaded kinks that need to be worked out in the first few months of business. Romano’s wife and partner, Marci Joy, was (according to the Globe), a manager at East Coast Grill. The servers and bartenders have logged many hours at other respected establishments around greater Boston, including No. 9 Park, Upstairs on the Square, the Independent and Gaslight. I wasn’t surprised at all when I found Joe McGuirk working behind the bar during my most recent visit.

Michael, the bar manager, is a gracious guy who has put together a short but decent cocktail list with a few things — like the Bourbon Smash, the Brandy Flip and the Periodista — that appeal to vintage cocktail enthusiasts like me. There are daily blackboard specials, too. Aware of McGuirk’s knowledge of vintage recipes, I embarked on an off-menu expedition by asking for a Frisco. Alas, there was no Benedictine (only B&B). Then Michael suggested a Red Hook. Uh — yes please! Good food, good service, good prices and Red Hooks? Highland Kitchen’s not the first restaurant to open in Somerville, but I’m going to go ahead and say it’s already among the best.

OK, that title’s a bit of an exaggeration. But it’s based on fact. The Beehive, which bills itself as a “neighborhood café des artistes,” is a new and very popular nightclub in the South End. Like all new and very popular nightclubs, it has its detractors: People who had to wait in a long line. People who think the food and cocktails are overpriced. People who were treated rudely by the staff. “Obnoxious crowd, unnecessarily obnoxious bouncers, mediocre music and food, cool look downstairs,” begins one critique on yelp.com. I have heard some people say that the owners are jerks. Other people I know have gone expecting the bar staff to be knowledgeable about vintage cocktails and have been sorely disappointed. Most of my acquaintances who have tried the food have been unimpressed at best.

But most people, even detractors, agree on one thing: the Beehive is a cool-looking place. (On yelp.com, by the way, the Beehive currently gets three-and-a-half out of five stars based on 90 reviews. Not bad.) The first time I visited, I thought to myself, ‘They did it. Someone created a really original hangout in Boston that’s not a rock club or a dance club or a trying-too-hard-to-be-chic martini bar.’ The cavernous brick interior, the red velvet drapery, the intimate little cabaret tables, the vintage chandeliers and, especially, the bold and witty contemporary art — all make for an impressive space. And the clientele illustrates the apparently revolutionary truth that people over 30 go out at night.

I have only been to the Beehive a few times, always on off-nights (i.e. not Thursday through Saturday), so I’ve never had to wait in line. Is the place worth waiting in line for? For 10 minutes, maybe. For an hour? I don’t think anyplace is worth waiting in line for that long. The Beehive Julep (rum, Creole Shrubb liqueur and lime juice) I had on my first visit was sloppily thrown together and nothing to write home about. The champagne and Cointreau cocktails I had on another visit were tasty (and hard to screw up, admittedly). The server who brought those champagne cocktails to me was an absolute doll. I love the fact that for $10 a ticket, the Beehive recently hosted a show called Titler’s Oddville — a strange, naughty, highly entertaining vaudeville revue. I didn’t love the fact that the stage was barely visible because the audience was made to stand.

So, the Beehive is far from perfect. But they’re doing something different. For that reason it’s hard for me not to root for the place and make plans to go back.

I love visiting bars. I hate visiting bar websites. One of the little-known drawbacks of being a drinks writer is the amount of time you spend searching for the Skip Intro button on restaurant, club and bar homepages. These sites are notorious for forcing on you a little Flash movie of the lounge area, or slide show of signature dishes and cocktails, complete with urbane musical accompaniment, before you are allowed to see the navigation. Then, when you finally get past the intro, you find yourself in a site that uses frames — those little windows, popular in 1998, that you have to scroll through — rather than separate web pages for each section. And don’t even get me started on menus in PDF. Nearly every bar and restaurant on the planet makes you download their menu to your desktop and view it in Acrobat. Is it asking too much to simply put the text on the actual web page? Oh, but wait, you’d need a web expert to hack into those damn frames…

I didn’t set out to pick on anyone in particular here. The examples above were easy to find, and there are dozens more like them. That’s my point. Bad websites are rampant in this industry.

Regarding what I said about frames — it’s not that these sites look out of date. Most of them are quite slick. It’s that they act out of date. Mr. or Ms. General Manager, that flash intro may have seemed awesome the first time your web developer played it for you, but after the ninth time, when all you’re trying to do is take a quick look at the wine list, it’s annoying as hell. And the shoddy navigation on some of these sites can be comical. On the Beehive’s website, for example, click on Special Events (after watching that cool intro, of course). Where does that take you? Not to a list of special events, as you might expect, but to a page that says, “Beehive Special Events. Click here for more information.” Click there, and yet a third page opens in a new window with the info you’re looking for. Incidentally, I will be at the Beehive on the 27th to see Titler, who has a completely hallucinogenic website.

I know, restaurant folks don’t tend to have their fingers on the pulse of web technology. That’s why they’re mixing cocktails, cooking food and serving dinner, not sitting in an office. But what they need to understand is that if a potential customer visits their restaurant’s website, he probably landed there only after Googling, say, “sushi, Boston,” reading a few reviews on Chowhound and local blogs, and asking around the office to see if anyone has been to the place. At that point, all he wants to do is check out the latest menu and find the T stop nearest the destination. My advice? Give him a clean, easy-to-navigate website where he can readily find that info, because he wants to be wowed by your food, drinks and service, not your homepage.

“Last Call,” a recent Boston Globe article by Robert David Sullivan, lamented the demise of gay bars — and of their influence on urban life — in Boston. As usually happens the minute people get misty-eyed over the passing of a cultural phenomenon, a reincarnation of sorts is bubbling up right under the noses of the bereaved. Yes, the South End may have less of a gay vibe these days, but that doesn’t mean all the gay people have left Boston. They’re here, and they’re still meeting up in bars. They’re just not limiting themselves to gay bars. Some of them are waging what you might call guerrilla barfare.

Josh Gerber, an Asheville, NC, native in his late 20s, co-founded Guerrilla Queer Bar - Boston edition with his friend Daniel Heller. The idea, which started in San Francisco in 2000, is simple: a large group of gay men and women gather once a month at a “straight” bar to have a little fun by a) skewing the demographic a bit and b) doing what everyone else does when they go to bars — hanging out and ordering drinks. There are no protests or parades. Just several dozen people creating their own gay bar within a bar. As the founders of Guerrilla Queer Bar in Washington D.C. said of that group’s infiltrations, “We don’t look at it so much as a takeover as a … blending.”

Gerber, who runs Cambridge’s two 1369 Coffee Houses, intrigued me when he first told me about Guerrilla Queer Bar a few months ago. He intrigued me again when he told me that, on only its third meetup, the group attracted 120 people to the Hong Kong in Harvard Square. “I think we pretty effectively took over the bar,” he said. Clearly, GQB-Boston is onto something. I wanted details, so I arranged a Q & A with Gerber over cocktails at one of his, and my, favorite bars, Green Street.

Drinkboston: Is Cher Guevara a symbol for the other Guerrilla Queer Bar groups?

Josh Gerber: No. I can’t say it’s entirely original, though. We were trying to come up with something that represented guerrilla-ness and gay-ness at the same time. We thought we had invented something really exciting. Then we Googled it and found it. So it already existed but had never been associated with the Guerrilla Queer Bar concept before us using it as our brand. It was originally, in the ’80s, a cover for a rock magazine in England. We basically stole the image, in true guerrilla form.

DB: Explain the concept of Guerrilla Queer Bar.

JG: It sounds more subversive than it’s intended. The idea is to organize a large group of gay people and bring them to bars they don’t normally go to and that don’t normally experience large groups of gay people. And, you know, we like to shake things up in a few bars and see those places maybe … slightly uncomfortable. We want people to look around and say, ‘Oh, what’s going on?’ But we don’t want people to think we’re against them or that there’s any sort of negative connotation on our part. Our entire goal is to go out and have fun with a bunch of fellow gays in a straight bar.

DB: Are you trying to make a statement, but a somewhat cheeky, innocuous statement?

JG: Yeah, we’re trying to make a statement, but more than anything, we’re just trying to have fun. We want to meet in bars that are pretty stereotypically hetero, or that aren’t accustomed to a gay crowd — like Match, for instance [a “burger and martini bar” in the Back Bay].

DB: How did that go?

JG: It didn’t go as well as our first event [at the People’s Republic in Cambridge], but we had a similar turnout, between 50 and 60 people. It was really, really crowded, and the bar was understaffed. It took 20 minutes to get drinks. Plus, the bar’s terrible. We kind of want to go to terrible bars sometimes, but god. It’s an interesting thing for us, trying to figure out which bars to go to. We want to be in a place where we’re able to have an impact. If we’re 60 people in a bar that seats 600, then so what, who cares? But when there are 60 people in the People’s Republic, it’s like, ‘Oh my god, what’s going on?’ That was our first one, which was very fitting, given that they have a poster of Che over the door. It’s the whole Commie theme. It was funny, though, because it was a Red Sox night, and most of the straight people in the bar were completely oblivious because they were staring at the game.

DB: Is the demographic of the group mostly guys in their 20s and 30s?

JG: It’s 20s-30s coed. This is actually something I’m really excited about, that we’re about 50-50 gay and lesbian. In the gay bar scene, and in the bar scene in general, gays and lesbians don’t mix. Gays and lesbians at the same time have everything in common and absolutely nothing in common. The bar scene tends to focus on the “nothing in common.” It’s been really cool to mix them in this event. The other thing that I’ve found that has been really exciting is the fact that everyone’s part of something that nobody else in the bar is a part of. The “otherness” of it all makes everyone want to talk to each other and hang out. Which is different from going to any traditional bar unless you’re the ultra-outgoing type.

DB: I’ve heard that gay men are doing this because 1) they’re tired of the “ghettoized” gay bar scene and 2) they can socialize in Querrilla Queer Bar groups in ways that are not possible at gay bars, where the vibe can be hyper-sexualized. Can you comment on that?

JG: I’m not a huge fan of the gay bar scene in Boston or even gay bars in general, primarily because they tend to be gay first and bars second. So, what you often wind up with is mediocre bars — with mediocre service and mediocre drinks — that are really busy because they’re gay. I don’t identify as gay first. I identify as, you know, outdoorsy, and I identify as interested in local foods and community … I have a lot of interests. And gay is somewhere on that list, and it’s relatively high, but if someone were to approach me and say, “Who are you?” “Gay” would not be my first word. And I feel like, if you approach those bars and say “Who are you?” “Gay” is the first word. That’s not where I want to hang out. That’s not to say that gay bars don’t have their place or shouldn’t be there. I think they’re a great thing in that they enable gay men to be in a place that’s comfortable. But as for me, I want to both be comfortable and be in a bar that I like and not feel like I’m gay first.

DB: Given what you just said — and it seems there are other people, especially in the younger generation, who feel the way you do about the gay bar scene — do you think gay bars will even exist in 20 years? Or will gay bars at least change the way they operate?

JG: I think gay bars will absolutely exist in 20 years. Being a gay person, meeting other gay people is not easy unless you’re involved in a gay scene, and the way for a gay scene to exist is through … bars. Every other bar besides a gay bar — and this is part of the reason we’re doing this — is hetero-normative. There’s an assumption made that everyone in there is straight. While I wish that assumption wasn’t there, of course it’s there. The vast majority of people are straight. So, it’s a reasonable assumption. But it sucks to be gay in a hetero-normative place, so you have to create alternative spaces in which that assumption doesn’t exist or where people can make the [assumption that gay people are also in the mix].

If it’s the case that 10 percent of the population is gay, we can stand for a lot more than four gay bars in Boston. Ten percent of the bars aren’t gay. If that were the case, there’d be some competition. There’d be what has happened in the rest of the bar world, which is that it’s important for any establishment to make themselves stand out. Right now, the problem with gay bars is that they don’t have to stand out. Just by being gay, they’re able to attract a crowd, and they don’t have to try that hard. Why bother caring about drinks? Why bother making it a really nice space? Why bother investing in the place when you can just be gay, and that’ll do it?

DB: What if more straight people went to gay bars? I mean, my boyfriend and I have been to gay bars where we’ve felt totally comfortable, and we’ve been to gay bars where we’ve felt we shouldn’t be there.

JG: I would love it. If I owned a gay bar, I wouldn’t want it to, out of my control, suddenly become a “straight” bar. But I would love it if straight people came to the bar. I mean, the more that there’s mixture, and the more that there’s mutual embracing of each other’s scenes, the less weird it’ll be. The thing that’s interesting about Guerrilla Queer Bar is that bars generally love it. I mean, 60 people showing up is like, it’s great business — especially if the people are drinking. So, it’s a simple concept, but I’m really excited about it. Do you have any suggestions for the next bar?

Established: 1994
Specialty: Wine, cocktails
Prices: Moderate to high
Atmosphere: Warmly lit Cambridge nook with noted French-Cuban cuisine, stellar wines by the glass and a short but sweet cocktail menu, all doled out by a single hardworking, competent bartender.
See Best Boston bars for address and contact info.

This is what happens whenever I get near Chez Henri: the cheery red window frames catch my eye, and I peer inside to gauge the seating prospects at the narrow, cozy bar filled with contented Cantabrigians eating Cuban sandwiches. Even if there’s a crowd, I can’t help myself — I go in and wait patiently for a barstool.

Chez Henri has two distinct clienteles: the one that fills the dining room to feast on Chef Paul O’Connell’s nationally recognized French-Cuban cuisine, and the one that flocks to the bar that introduced Mojitos and Cuban sandwiches to greater Boston. O’Connell himself notes that there is a clear demarcation between the “bar people and the dining room people.” He once thought about expanding the bar area but decided, probably correctly, that its small size had a lot to do with its charm. Plus, the architecture of the previous occupant wasn’t to be messed with. A restaurant called Chez Jean operated here for 35 years prior to Chez Henri. “I felt like a caretaker when I took over the space,” explains O’Connell, who kept the “Chez” and added the “Henri,” for his son.

One thing about O’Connell, he knows how to pick his bartenders. Some of Boston’s best — Joe McGuirk, Dylan Black, Scott Holliday — have put in time here and helped coin the standard summation of what it’s like to run the show on this cute, cozy little stage: ‘This bar will break you.’ Between pounding mint leaves into battalions of Mojito glasses, serving two different menus (restaurant and bar), recommending wines and tending to additional customers at the back bar and at a handful of tables, it takes hustle to succeed here. The latest team, Ari Barbanel and Rob Kraemer, takes turns holding down the fort, with Kraemer carrying on an unofficial tradition of classic cocktail-inspired mixology. From day one, O’Connell has eschewed “flavored vodka drinks” for rum-based classics like the Periodista (dark rum, fresh lime, apricot liqueur and dash of orange liqueur) and bartender creations like Kraemer’s Shiver. And at $7 each, these cocktails are some of the cheapest in Cambridge.

Did I mention it gets crowded in here? And that sometimes the crowd skews a bit much toward gray-ponytailed professor types? Don’t worry, such annoyances melt away as soon as you secure a seat at the bar.

It’s time to broach an unpleasant subject: public toilet seats sprinkled with pee. This is caused by women who refuse to sit while urinating and instead hover above the toilet, thus soiling the seat and forcing successive users to adopt the same uncomfortable high-rise position. It’s a problem in all public ladies’ rooms, but particularly those in bars, where trips to the toilet are more frequent. Rock clubs, where I go to see drinkboston.com contributor Scott Howe’s band the Hammond Group, are especially notorious; their bathrooms are heavily trafficked and dimly lit — a bad combo for anyone hoping to keep her bum dry.

We can’t chalk up the annoying behavior of high-risers to alcohol and darkness alone, however. It really stems from an old-fashioned, entrenched, completely unfounded belief that toilet seats are breeding grounds for infectious diseases. To all you dainty dolls afraid to park your precious derrieres on a toilet seat that others’ backsides have touched, I say this: you want to see a breeding ground for infectious disease? Look at your desk. Microbiologists have found four hundred times more illness-causing bacteria on the typical office desktop, with its germ-filled computer keyboard, mouse and phone receiver, than on most toilet seats. Hands, which are out in the world touching everything, and not bums, which are covered by clothing all day, pass the vast majority of bacteria that make people sick. So worry more about the faucet handle in the bathroom than the toilet seat, princess.

Howard Heller, an M.D. and infectious disease specialist at MIT Medical, says, “It’s very difficult to get sick from a toilet seat. A little extra caution might be warranted if one is traveling in an area where enteric infections like cholera are more common.”

In other words, if you find yourself in a public restroom in Angola, you may want to play it safe and hover. Otherwise, sit down on the damn toilet. Please. I mean it. My thighs are killing me.

I want to like the bar/lounge that is part of the nouveau steak house KO Prime and used to be part of the restaurant Spire, in the posh Nine Zero Hotel (90 Tremont St.). KO Prime is in a great, history-saturated part of Boston — near the Common, the State House, the Athenaeum, the Parker House, Locke-Ober and the Old Granary Burying Ground, where Paul Revere and Samuel Adams are buried. Not bad company. My first visit was promising. I ordered the rum-based Tea Party Cocktail, which was smartly served in a plain white chilled teacup. The rum, spice and citrus flavors evoked a really good colonial-style rum punch. I also sampled the One Hot Minute, a mixture of tequila, agave nectar, lime juice and Lillet Blanc with a few drops of jalapeno Tabasco sauce, served on the rocks in a short glass. Sounds odd, but all the ingredients balanced one another out and constituted a nicely layered, zesty drink.

Unfortunately, the sleek, characterless look of the bar isn’t much changed from the Spire days — though the cowhide covering the low lounge chairs is a colorfully kitschy new touch. In the restaurant itself, the recessed ovals in the ceiling display — inexplicably, but what the hell — details of Grant Wood’s famous painting American Gothic.

Admittedly, KO Prime is about the food. We’re talking about Mr. KO, or Ken Oringer, of Clio fame, and rising young chef Jamie Bissonette, formerly of Eastern Standard. But … the bar happens to come with the place. Some time and effort were obviously put into the list of newly created cocktails. I revisited the Tea Party Cocktail and the One Hot Minute on my second pass through KO Prime. They weren’t as good as previously. The rum came through too bluntly in the Tea Party, and the One Hot Minute was served in a bigger glass. This helped throw the balance of ingredients off so that the drink tasted a little too tequila-y and a little too sweet. I mentioned to the bartender that the drink had been served in a rocks glass previously, and he said he put it in a highball glass because, basically, ‘more is better.’ With a gin and tonic, maybe, but not with a more complicated mixture.

I’m guessing Oringer and Bissonette wouldn’t be so cavalier about changing the proportion of ingredients in one of their dishes. Is it being too nitpicky to ask for consistency in the quality of the cocktails? This would make the bar at KO Prime worthy of its owner’s culinary reputation and its location’s luster.