Drink of the Week

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? I still remember the giggly shock that struck me in middle-school French lab when I learned the true meaning of that erotic song. It seemed sotitillatingly romantic, which is probably why I stuck with the language and ended up living in Paris at the age of sixteen. I don't remember the name of the monsieur who bought me my very first dirty martini in a streetside café -- let's pretend it was something dashing, like Jean-Paul -- but one sip of the Dirty Martini ($7) at Deja Vu was enough to transport me from a sunken patio in Cherry Creek to amour central. Made with Skyy Vodka, a small drop of dry Vermouth and olive juice, this cocktail is served perfectly shaken, garnished with petite ice crystals and plusieurs d'olives. Since several of my lady friends subscribe to the French philosophy that men, like cheese, get better with age, Deja Vu is an ideal spot for us to gather and spend an evening perusing the older, well-dressed clientele while nibbling on steaming hot mussels in a dashi-cilantro broth or tuna tartare drizzled with a soy-Thai chili sauce. Ooh la la!