Old Peanut

There is a bowl of peanuts on every surface in this room, and eventually somebody was going to put them in a drink. We wash bourbon with peanut oil overnight, freeze it, and skim — an old technique with a silly name — and what comes out the other side is a whiskey that tastes round and toasted without tasting like a sandwich.

Build: two ounces peanut-washed bourbon, a quarter ounce of demerara, two dashes of aromatic bitters, one dash of black walnut. Stirred long and cold, poured over a single cube in a heavy rocks glass, no citrus anywhere near it. We serve it on a small stone coaster because the glass sweats and the tablecloth is borrowed.

This is the last drink of the night for most people. It is also, occasionally, the first, and we have never once talked anyone out of that.