Au Comptoir, Woodstock

Au Comptoir’s inviting holiday entrance.
PHOTO COURTESY AU COMPTOIR

Au Comptoir owner Zoë Jaye Zillian has created a cozy, stylish, light gathering spot.

Wander off Central Street and—tucked away down this little alley—you’ll find Au Comptoir, all 600 square feet of it. Owner Zoë Jaye Zilian had her sights on the building for years, and when it came up for sale, she snapped it up and took it down to its studs. The Rockefellers built it in 1915 to house farming equipment, but to Zoë, the space cried out to be a gathering spot. She had the walls hand plastered, kept the old exposed ceiling beams, and put in brick flooring—uneven, so not conducive to chair-sliding—but gorgeous. She blended in some eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury paintings. And—snap!—she created a cozy, stylish, light gathering spot.

Zoë at first thought it would be all bar, no tables (hence the name, which means “at the bar”). And yes, tables both inside and out provide perfectly acceptable spots to while away some time before dinner. But the bar provides the real theatre.

Order a drink. From Chapter One (Shaken Cocktails—Light & Bright), I ordered the Ginger Margarita. Maddie, one of the bartenders, spun into action, pouring the drink into a shaker with a soft brass patina. A few vigorous shakes, understated—in keeping with the elegant brass of the shakers and the surroundings. A slap to the top to release it. The swift pour into a short glass, rimmed with salt, garnished with dried lime and candied ginger.

Ah! The familiar sweet/bitter blend of citrus, this time with an undercurrent of ginger. Perfect. Another drink from Chapter One: The French Blonde. Gin, Lillet Blanc, Cava, Grapefruit, lemon, and lavender. A sunny beach in a glass. Tempting—and dangerous.

I zip on to Chapter Two: Stirred drinks. The Smoked Old-Fashioned. A small piece of hickory is set afire, its smoke trapped in a glass. Kovalorganic oat bourbon, maple syrup, and Angostura orange bitters absorb the smokiness, and the concoction is whisked in front of me.

Vanilla magically dances with the smoke. The thrumming bass of the bourbon sets my chest thrumming, as an edge of bitter orange creeps in. Minutes later a husky guy a few seats down took a gulp of his, read my mind and proclaimed, “That’s the best Old-Fashioned I ever had.” Chapter Three: Seasonal Mocktails ease me away from alcohol. A Paloma Lite blends grapefruit, lime, agave, and soda water. A light, sparkling drink.

The bar at Au Comptoir radiates quiet elegance. PHOTO COURTESY AU COMPTOIR

Although cocktails take center stage, beer drinkers can choose from three Vermont beers and a German Hefeweizen. In keeping with the clean aesthetic, no beers are on tap.

The cocktails’ wonderful, subtle flavors don’t come about by accident. A hand press from Italy squeezes the juice from lemons and limes. Boiled-down honey and ginger make the margarita syrup. The orgeat (an almond syrup) for the mai tai is “so beautiful you want to pour it over ice cream,” says Zoë. “It’s insane.” Zoë’s sister makes the garnishes, including candied pineapple and ginger. Drinks reflect the seasons, with mellower, hearty drinks appearing to brighten the winter solstice. In short, the attention to detail resonates on every level, from the Danby marble of the bar to the stylish wooden chair underneath me to the sparkling chandeliers above. A crack cleaning crew sweeps and polishes and scrubs for four hours daily.

Zoë tells me that recently a couple came in and after sitting for a while sensed that she was the owner; they knew that a woman must be behind the place.

At the end of my visit, I plunk down a twenty-dollar bill on the bar as a tip. I roll off into the night. What do I find, in the middle of the road, no one in sight? A twenty-dollar bill. Maybe it’s the alcohol thinking, but I sense a glimmer of karma from Au Comptoir as I step back into the world. 

www.aucomptoirvt.com