On April fifteenth, at 8:42 p.m., I had a drink. Not on Zoom. Not alone on my couch. Not outside, under a heat lamp. Nope. Inside, on a stool, at the actual, physical bar. For the first time in more than a year. To sit shoulder to shoulder with friends again, chatting with the bartender about esoteric spirits, hearing the laughter of strangers it felt new and raw. Even with the masked staff and social distancing, the experience was unexpectedly life-affirming. All of a sudden, I felt like me again.
Perhaps it was what I was drinking at Viridian, an Asian American bar in Oakland, one of the places on this year’s Best Bars list; many of the cocktails nodded to flavors of Asian candies my dad would surprise me with when he returned from grocery runs in New York’s Chinatown. But I suspect that I would have been hit with joy if it was any drink at any bar that had reopened its doors to do what bars do best: hospitality.