—A slow hymn of rye and vermouth; every note descending, every sip a tolling bell.

The glass was dark, its surface still,
a chapel built of rye and will.
Vermouth drew curtains, red and deep,
and bitters hummed the hymn of sleep.

You raised the glass, its weight was grave,
a liquid requiem it gave.
The cherry sank, a casket stone,
to mark the measure’s final tone.

Each sip intoned a softer chord,
a silence no applause adored.
Until the end, when glass was bare,
and echoes gathered in the air.

The dirge was sung. The night was kept.
The city drank. The city wept.

📜 Dirge Manhattan – The Recipe

Instructions:
Stir rye, vermouth, and bitters with ice until somberly chilled. Strain into a chilled coupe or Nick & Nora glass. Drop the cherry to the bottom, letting it rest like a gravestone in amber. Serve without toast, without cheer.