French kicks

In search of some serious joie de vivre, my partners in cocktails and I lit out for Gaslight Brasserie du Coin. Cue “Phantom of the Opera.” Actual gaslights illuminate the walkway leading underground. The prime locale neighbors the South End Open Market, and (remarkably) has free parking at night and on weekends. The décor screams brasserie chic: subway-style nicotine-stained tile walls, Parisian zinc bar, with mirrors and signs en français sprinkled throughout the interior. It might be a little too Epcot France for some, but not moi. The crowded bar, filled with Internet daters, locals and partiers of all types, creates quite a din, but that only adds to l’ambience.

We set up camp at the seemingly endless bar for what proved to be a long night of taste-testing. Bartender Bill was a Brit charmer who had the memory of an elephant and a touch of ESP. When my first beverage was not to my liking, he sensed it, and quickly exchanged the offending drink for the excellent Martini Ambre (Macallan Amber, Calvados, Maker’s Mark). He then gave us a sneak peek at the spring spirits. I’m sworn to secrecy, but suffice to say, one tastes like lemonade with a kick and the other features pink bubbly in a classic champagne coupe. In the interest of full disclosure, absinthe was imbibed. The barely legal beverage provides a heady buzz, but visions of green fairies did not dance in my head. Fueled by said cocktail, or perhaps to prove to ourselves that we weren’t gremlins, we ate moules a la grecque and pommes frites at the stroke of midnight. These fried goodies transported me to my happy place faster than any absinthe could, and my hangover thanked me the next day.

Gaslight Brasserie du Coin
560 Harrison Ave., Boston
617-422-0224
www.gaslight560.com