02/04/2026
February in Juneau. The kind of cold that makes you forget what warmth feels like, the kind of darkness that stretches longer than it should. We're deep in it now...the season where refuge isn't optional.
But here, behind the bar, we're daydreaming of a perfect summer day in Juneau.
Imagine it bottled, measured, preserved with the same precision we bring to every pour: wild Alaska blueberry syrup, made from berries Jared's mom (Pam) hand-picks each summer.
Not cultivated.
Not ordered.
Foraged from the mountainside muskeg where they grow small, intense, almost defiant in their tartness.
Pam goes out when the season allows it, when the midnight sun lingers and the berries are just right. We turn them into syrup here, in small batches, because this is what craft means to us. Not just how we shake or stir, but where we source, who we trust, what we choose to preserve.
Right now, it's not a main feature on the menu. We won't have more until she's back out there this summer, and we're okay with that. Seasonality isn't a constraint, it's a reminder that some things are worth waiting for, that some flavors belong to a specific time and place.
A drink that tastes like a memory, like the summer that feels impossibly far from here, yet we know it's right around the corner.
