Places You Should Know...the Legendary Hotel Toblerone

In its day, there was nothing to rival it. It was said that it had not been constructed of bricks and mortar, wood and stone, but concocted, from nougat and icing sugar; that it was a confection, hence the name. In the Bar au Chocolat, that strange bar in the lobby, attended to by a staff that was almost certainly mad, customers came and went, and found themselves drawn back, again and again. And again. Some, it was said, never left.

But you know, people say things. I was one of those customers, looking to escape the grey, ordinary life of the contemporary world outside, with its digital this-and-that. Exchanging that world for the more magical one within the walls of that palace, that hotel… well...what can I say?  The hard, modern immediacy of the world outside its brass-and-glass doors was hard to remember once one was inside, which suited me; I’ve always been considered old-fashioned. The Toblerone was entirely analog, olde-worlde. Maybe the phrase I’m seeking is outside of time.

I was introduced to the hotel by an “uncle,” about whom the less said, the better. I abhor sordidness. He did one good thing for me, however. He brought me to that gleaming, cream-colored palace with its hundred windows glowing like jellied sweets as the sun went down, and its polished brass fittings and satin-lined walls--that ark of the fantastic, the Hotel Toblerone--and within it, the holy of holies, the Bar au Chocolat. Ladies and gentlemen, let me be frank--I fell into its enchantment.

Guests of the hotel swept up the grand staircase, staying for days, weeks, or months in the rooms behind those jewel-colored windows. Some of them never left, either. What they did, no one ever asked; discretion was almost a mania with the management, if such a word can be attached to such a serene and otherworldly establishment. I glimpsed some of them as they entered or left, however, from my seat at the bar. Some were quite well known: actresses, wrestlers, musicians. Even a bishop. Everyone was treated as an equal at the Hotel Toblerone.

Even in the days of its decline, which was when I first knew it, much of its former glamour still adhered. The bar where I spent such happy hours was tended by a strange, small man with a dangerous smile. (I was taught not to speak ill of the dead, but there was sometimes a whiff of spent matches that came from him. And anyway, it’s by no means certain that he is dead.) His feet were noticeably small, even for a man of his slight stature, and always shod in gleaming patent leather of the deepest black; a European affectation, I assumed. He had an accent that came and went. I found myself captivated by him, and studied him for many years, but I never knew his name, for he never told it, only smiled his dangerous smile and tapped the side of his nose with a finger. His name was a secret then, and may still be today.

His gift, so to speak, was in the creation of cocktails that were personalized to customers’ natures. Not to their tastes, you understand, but to their natures, which the Man with the Dangerous Smile could intuit. He wrote down the recipes in a small, leatherbound notebook, which was thought to have been lost when he disappeared. But it wasn’t lost, anymore than the City of Atlantis is lost.

I like to think he left it to me.

I’ve tried all his recipes, no matter how unpalatable the ingredients, or how difficult to obtain (other stories, for other times). I have, truth be told, suffered hellish physical pain after imbibing some of them. More than one has put me in the hospital, with no idea how I got there. It’s my own fault, I’m sure. I never felt ill while drinking on the premises of the Hotel Toblerone.

I’ve tried to recreate these drinks, but must confess mine are but poor approximations. You see, there was something about the Hotel Toblerone that imbued whatever was served there with a spice and a savor I could never hope to match. But I try.

I present a selection of them now to you, along with explanatory notes where I deemed them necessary. Try them at your own peril. And be sure to raise your glass to the memory of the Hotel Toblerone, and the man with the dangerous smile.

The Cocktail Menu

The Yeti - Collected snowmelt, White Lightning, splash Gin. Juniper Berry garnish. A taste at once legendary and abominable.

The Virgin Sacrifice- One part Perrier, Two parts Pellegrino. Cucumber garnish. (For when you don’t want to feel anything.)

The Oubliette - Jaeger and Gin. (Also when you don’t want to feel anything, but in a bad way.)

The Lobotomizer - Vodka, Prosecco and Nyquil. Garnish with pickle chips for a salty and sweet … hhmnnnnhh.

The Head Trauma - Fill shaker with ice chips, throw away. Add Cisco (any flavor). Float Amaretto. Drink through a straw.

The Rubber Duckie - Peach Schnappes, Mr. Bubble. Fruity nose, clean finish.

The Hangover Helper - Tequila and Dubonnet. Add a splash of Chablis. Call the police.

The Baby Seal - Canadian Club, straight up.

The House Zombie - Grapefruit juice, Cold Duck, Embalming Fluid. (Not legal in most states.)