The Manhattan. The Sidecar. The Singapore Sling. Behind each, there’s a story and someone’s name; there’s an epicenter from which the legend arose. Over time, as the mythos of each cocktail spread, it diluted to mere rumor and speculation. Periodicals, cookbooks, and memoirs have been scanned exhaustively for references to the origins of certain drinks, but the true circumstances under which the beverage was created are forever lost behind the allure of the tale.

We’ve since suffered an even greater loss: the bartender who had the gumption to create such a cocktail for the ages. Corporate restaurant groups homogenized beverage programs in the interest of making a quick buck. Candy-sweet mixers with flashy labels and neon colors helped usher in a Dark Age in which terrible vodkas enjoyed high sales. Everything ended in -tini. Everything seemed bleak.

But Grandma’s china has come back into high demand, and the cocktails of her youth are de rigueur. As technology-weary generations resume making things with their own two hands, a new phenomenon arises: the artisanal bartender. No longer content to mix for the lowest common denominator, these men and women read the old books, seek out the best small-production spirits, make their own bitters, and muddle anything that grows, in search of new flavors and legacies.

In Houston, there are a handful of ambitious bars devoted to these ancient rituals, but Anvil stands above them all. These bartenders understand the finicky needs of each spirit—when to gently stir and when to whip, when to use large ice cubes and when to use crushed (or none at all). A list of cocktails changes seasonally, but on any given day, you might play guinea pig to a new concoction devised from rows of bitters, house-made grapefruit beer, beautifully frothed egg whites, and obscure spirits from exotic lands: Oaxaca, Alsace, Tennessee. There’s a reverence for the classics, as well; with nearly 20 ryes on the shelf, you will not only rediscover the Sazerac here, but you may never have it better.

This excellence extends to beer, as well. Bottles include local microbrews and several Belgians, and there are a dozen ever-changing taps—check the chalkboard. There’s also a terse snack list, but even this is better quality than most: terrific small-production, organic cheeses from here and abroad; bread made by Slow Dough; and seasonal fruits.

There is a poetic justice to the bar’s name, as it is a place where new and old legends are forged with tremendous skill and devotion.

If you do go, a word of advice, go when they first open. Service goes downhill quickly because friends are given privilege over random customers. I do enjoy a classic cocktail however I've received too many drinks that end up being over run by soda or fruit juices. Take that into account.

matthou - 2009-09-17 22:59

Much to the consternation of the owners, the name has nothing to do with getting hammered.

Kent Wang - 2009-10-02 02:39

As with many bars, guests who frequent the place often (known as regulars), get noticed in a crowded room. If you want to ensure good service, become a regular of an establishment and leave a good tip (T.o I.nsure P.rompt S.ervice).

I don't know which drinks you've had that are overrun with soda or fruit juices since all the cocktails are made with measured pours.

The place does get overrun towards the later hours (that tends to be when successful bars do business). If you want a cozy, quiet place, try a bar downtown.
If you want a bar with good drinks and an interesting crowd go to the Anvil

fmoore350 - 2009-12-30 12:08

fmoore350
I don't know which drinks you've had that are overrun with soda or fruit juices since all the cocktails are made with measured pours.
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Never seen a bar measure soda before, alcohol yes, soda no.

When there's a line of people out front, I expect the one in front to be the next one in. Not the case.

matthou - 2010-01-28 10:11

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