The Great Cocktail Cliché Hunt
Ottawa doesn’t just drink cocktails anymore. It performs them. You’ve seen the glass domes lifted with a flourish, the plumes of cedar smoke rolling out like a rock concert intro. You’ve Instagrammed the highball with a dehydrated orange wheel so dry it looks like it’s been sitting in a shoebox since Confederation. And yes, you’ve politely nodded when your bartender set a rosemary sprig on fire just to prove they’re “craft.”
It’s time to talk about the clichés.
The Dehydrated Wheel of Doom
The thin, brittle slice of citrus. Once useful for adding a hit of aroma, now a permanent coaster on every single coupe in the city. At this point, you could shingle a roof out of all the dried limes on Elgin Street.
Smoke, Smoke, Smoke
If you’ve ever had to wave away a cocktail cloud just to find your date’s face, you know the gimmick’s gone too far. Pro tip: smoke should taste like something. Otherwise, it’s just drinking beside a bonfire where nobody brought marshmallows.
The Herb Garden Explosion
A sprig of rosemary? Cute. A literal bouquet that forces you to navigate branches like you’re foraging in Gatineau Park? Less so. At some point, Ottawa bars decided more greenery meant more credibility — when really it just means more compost.
The Overly Clever Glassware
Bathtubs. Lightbulbs. Mini-milk jugs. At some point, someone in Centretown drank a negroni out of a ceramic skull and decided it was “elevated.” Here’s a thought: if you can’t put it down without spilling, it’s not a vessel, it’s a hazard.
Sweet by Default
The secret Ottawa bar rule: if in doubt, add more sugar. Simple syrups, syrups that are anything but simple, syrups that should probably be classified as maple taffy. Somewhere along the way, “balanced” got lost in the simple syrup arms race.
Honorable Mention: The Brûléed Marshmallow
You know the one. A cutesy camping nostalgia plunked onto the rim of your bourbon sour. You can almost hear the crackle of Instagram likes.
The Verdict
Ottawa’s cocktail scene is good. Sometimes too good. Which is why it’s leaning on theatre instead of flavour. We don’t need more domes, torches, or tiny clothespins. We need bartenders who are willing to say: actually, this drink doesn’t need a garnish at all.
Now that would be the most radical move of all.