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St. Valentine's Day Massacre

Watch your back

By Michael Stabile

My body craves scotch at the slightest hint of chill. Unfortunately Scotch lends itself to teary reminiscences of ex-lovers and of the final scene of Fame. What's a man to do? ("Dewar's neat with a St. John's Wort chaser, please." Perhaps not.) But digging back to my Italian roots, I found the perfect compromise: The Godfather.

Nothing could be a better attack on annoying purists than adding amaretto to Scotch whisky. Damn, it's tasty. And only my forefathers, without papers and in guinea T-shirts, could so brazenly have slapped the face of old-money single-malters and chased the blues away with a blasphemous diabetic gat. And the best place to get it, Mafioso or not, is Martuni's, where they not only know how to make it, they also make you feel like "family." Just watch your back, because the coming holiday is as tied to romance as it is to mob massacres.

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From the February 7, 2000 issue of the Metropolitan.

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