How I Found the Only Jazz Bar in Curacao…Drunk.
*warning…some explicit language ahead*
After a long couple of weeks working on my thesis, I was really looking forward to NOT thinking and getting can’t remember my name, make bad decisions drunk. When I arrived in Curaçao I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Kome. Their drink menu is constantly changing with flavors that are out of this world and it was tapas night! Winning.
I put my ‘freakum’ dress on, a full beat lipstick included, put juices and berries in my hair, and packed up my camera. I felt sexy, beautiful, and confident…then I stepped outside.
IT’S HOT AF OUT HERE!
Within the first 5 minutes, I began to wonder why I even took a shower this morning. I truly have a love/hate relationship with the Caribbean. The only part of my body that loves the heat and humidity is my hair. My curly fro inhales the moisture like vines seeking sunlight.
My skin is now glistening with sweat as I start to make my way to Kome. It’s 5 p.m. why is the sun attacking me?! My butterscotch skin tone needs no further caramelization, sir. I brought my gay husband Ryan along on my drinking quest so I didn’t look like a total loser getting drunk all by myself.
IS IT BECAUSE I’M BLACK?!
I knew I wanted to start my adventure with Kome’s refreshing Watermelon Sangria. I may be genetically predisposed to loving this drink and I don’t care; that shit was ambrosia. Plus it’s a classy way to start the night.
I love dining with Ryan. He’s a gourmand who doesn’t look at me crazy when I eat like I’m getting ready for winter.
WHAT COMES AFTER S FOR SANGRIA? T FOR TEQUILA?
In true tapas fashion, we ordered several plates to share. Our first course was a salad. By salad I mean the best kind; deep fried and covered in sauce. These tempura green beans with sesame chili mayo and sweet soy sauce were addictive. Texturally interesting, crunchy, sweet, spicy perfection.
What comes after Sangria? Tequila of course. This low-key beauty packs a mean punch; meet Joya de Agave: tequila, mezcal, pineapple, agave, and pink peppercorns. The sweetness from the pineapple and agave against the touch of smoke flavor from the mezcal made this drink wrong for all the right reasons.
I love brie. Always have. I didn’t think I could love it more until tonight.
They. Deep. Fried. IT. I mean…this is when you stop counting calories. This pecan crusted fried Brie was served with a tomato jam and arugula. Two words. TOMATO JAM. It completely made the dish. The crunch of the crust, the oozing richness of the warm brie, the unexpected candied flavor of the tomato jam with the spicy arugula was unbelievable. I almost attacked the waitress when she tried to clear it. We also had a risotto cooked to perfection with a bounteous amount of black truffle and pecorino cheese.
SANGRIA, TEQUILA, RUM, WHISKEY, SHERRY, BOURBON = BLACKOUT
Two more drinks followed as we continued to pound through more tapas, and then I ordered the best Old Fashioned I think I’ve ever had with bacon Jack Daniels, maple syrup, and coffee bitters. Holy shit.
I’m slurring my words now and laughing at my own jokes. Ryan was starting to look hotter as I ask myself ‘How gay is he REALLY?’ It’s time to call it quits.
I get talked into one more round and boy am I glad I did. My big finale came with a FLASK PEOPLE! I’m telling you Kome gets me better than all my boyfriends since 2003.
The Traveler’s Tipple combined Bulleit Rye, Johnny Walker, Rooibos, Honey, and Ginger. We just kept pouring the flask and our glasses kept filling up. This never ending ‘tipple’ also had a great smokey flavor almost like diesel; I know that sounds terrible but it works. Trust me. Completely satisfied and my goal achieved, we closed our tab and started to stumble back home.
WHERE ON EARTH ARE WE?
The night air still viscous with humidity, brought a cool breeze to caress the back of our necks as it gently pushed us toward fate’s design. We saw what looked like Christmas lights draped across a few buildings a couple blocks away. As we got closer, my glossy eyes could barely read the sign. Miles JAZZ CLUB? Like Miles DAVIS?! NO F’IN WAY.
This night could not get any better.
We sat outside under the stars and Christmas lights. A few couples were sprinkled around the café and there was an afterthought of cigar smoke; the smell was just enough to make me miss my father’s pipe. We ordered a round of Leffe Belgian blond beers and let silence fall between us for just a moment.
The sultry and sullen music of Miles Davis continued to serenade us. He created the perfect soundtrack for our undisguised liquor-soaked conversation. Laughing to the point of tears and sharing WAY beyond my comfort zone, I couldn’t remember the last time I was this obliterated, fulfilled, and so unapologetically happy.