Say you’re sitting under shitty disco lights at your local dive and you get the wild hair to ask your favorite bartender to make you something novel. She, Sarah might her name, suggests an Old Pal and won’t answer any of your questions about what’s in it. Fine. Let’s go.
Sarah then sets about a five-minute process involving numerous infusions and concoctions resulting in a witch’s brew that tastes dangerously amazing. Sarah knows this, because Sarah can kill you from behind the bar, as she should. After all, she’s slaved under and over this place — rickety as it is — to make it the absolute best joint in Charleston.