And from what I gathered, the boy had been learning fast

derspatchel and I had dinner at Saloon. There is no sign; there is a lamp, a discreet doorman, and a downward flight of stairs. He said it was the closest thing to a speakeasy he knew in Boston nowadays. Most of the menu is alcohol. There's vaulting on the ceiling. All it lacks is a honky-tonk upright and lapel pins.

It was not on the menu, but the bartenders made me a Bunny Hug.

(The waiter who carried the request said dubiously, after I described the proportions of the drink, that she'd pour it down the sink, too.)

It was terrific.

Here's to you, Mordecai.