SEATTLE, Washington - One of my dinners in NYC last week was at Mara's Homemade, a mom-n-pop Cajun place in the East Village that I had been to a couple times when I lived in the city. I should be angry at Mara - I've asked to get off the email list a couple times since moving away, without success - but I was in the mood for fish.
I didn't order drinks on my previous visits, but this time I ordered a Cajun Martini (just vodka and Tabasco, it seems.) Mara brings out the glass and the shaker, pours the drink, and then tells me to tilt my head back. I get a shot poured right down my gullet. I swallow and she says there's more. I tilt back and take a second one. She says to tilt back again - I said why not just get bigger glasses? She said "he's a generous man." Hopefully she meant her husband David, mixing the drinks. So I took a third shot, finally emptying the shaker. I was lit up real good before even touching my martini.
Two young ladies at the next table also ordered drinks (one saw me getting served) and they each only got one shot down their throat. I don't know if David puts extra in the shaker for men or if it was just luck.