It was a late evening in Spring when I first had occasion to visit what is now my favorite haunt. The night air was surprisingly warm and muggy, and a drink would come most appreciated. There was no sign, no neon entreaty to partake of this or that, not even a simple placard. The windows were not a place for advertisement of specials or events, but of concealment--which was an advertisement in itself. For when I had passed through the humble green door that was the only invitation to The Crow and Quill, I knew instantly--having never even been--that I had arrived at the right place.
I was delighted to find myself in another era, a lounge of a century past, with its walls of rough brick and Edwardian floral print, beautiful antique settees, broad wooden tables, all warmly lit by candles and fringed lamps. The sensation is more than superficial. It is a true gathering place for people to meet, discuss, and indulge in liquid refreshment.
To call The Crow and Quill a bar is to cast an impression that is decidedly false. The music is ambient, not endemic. The scene is genuine rather than kitsch. It is technically (and in a bygone era, ought to be called) a club. But that, too, has such modern connotations that are woefully inept at describing its essence. The most fitting appellation for this place is parlor.
The denizens are of every stripe--a true distillation of that local flavor that embodies Asheville so well, and yet something markedly different than the standard fare, illustrating progress need not be at the expense of decorum. For a place so newly minted, it is still difficult to inhabit without feeling a sense of history of the place. One gets the impression that the next great ideas and works of our generation--in literature, philosophy, journalism, politics--could and may well be born in this place.
The lifeblood of any parlor is its inebriants, and here The Crow and Quill does not disappoint. The alchemists at the bar (for what they do is nothing short of sorcery) will welcome your offer of “Surprise me”, and surprised you shall be. They were able to weave for us spirits and flavors as an embroiderer would cloth and thread, the culmination of which was a libation that transported the senses, not only across distance but time. My compatriots and I found ourselves in faraway Thailand, drifting along the canals of old Bangkok as we sipped the drinks before us. And though such magic may suggest that one would pay highly for these indulgences, it is a great surprise and delight to find that the prices are practically the best I’ve seen for such quality concoctions.
As the night waned and our conversations drifted through many and sundry topics, we settled into the plush chairs and lamented that not all cocktails could be so crafted, and not all lounges so inviting. But that lamentation would be for us easily hushed, instead the cry of less fortunate souls; we had The Crow and Quill.
