Two Cocktails and a Lagniappe
The Italians hadn't started drinking yet as the sun glinted off the Arno, but I was two El Charros deep. I had the bar to myself. Neon lights cast a futuristic glow across 400-year-old archways while exposed stone mingled with the mocha leather furniture. This fusion of Renaissance and retro was surprising yet oddly satisfying.
As the bartender’s spicy Negroni riff kindled a pleasant buzz, my eyes wandered, taking in each detail. Later, on the way out the door after paying my tab, the bartender beckoned me back — "Happy Birthday. Join us for a shot — on the house."
Who was I to decline such a generous offer? I'd just finished a productive day at the office and hadn't been in Florence long enough to make many friends. “Salute!” we said, clinking glasses, downing the mystery liquor’s tangy bite.
That shot was a "lagniappe" (pronounced LAN-yap), a delightful custom where a merchant gifts a small token to the customer during the purchase. While the Italians have perfected this practice, the term finds its roots in Louisiana French, evolving from a Quechua word introduced to New Orleans by the Spanish Creoles.
As Mark Twain noted, it is akin to the thirteenth roll in a baker's dozen, a little extra thrown in for good measure. Today, its meaning has expanded to include any extra or unexpected benefit, like the generous birthday shot that marked my celebration in San Frediano, Florence.
Lately, I’ve deliberately captured experiences, thoughts, and insights into a notes app. When intrigued by something surprising or inspiring, my finger instinctively opens my digital notebook, bottling epiphanies before they are lost to the ravages of memory — it’s how I could recall the name of the cocktail.
This habit formed after I began writing and realized that ideas slip away when unpreserved. Note-taking stores them in an idea fridge for later use. In fact, this piece was inspired by reviewing months-old notes about an organization system called Zettelkasten.
This new approach has led me to value byproducts.
I used to dismiss stray thoughts as distractions —diversions from a project, objective, or accomplishment. But since seeing my notes grow and connect to one another, I’ve realized they are knowledge lagniappes. Byproducts, not waste.
This mindset shapes my attitude toward learning. No effort put toward knowledge is ever wasted.
I realized this while reading Solzhenitsyn’s opus, The Gulag Archipelago, and curating an accompanying classical soundtrack — unfamiliar territory for me. Initially lost in the book and foreign scores, perseverance revealed insights into how artists channel the human spirit’s struggles and resilience. The lessons will improve my creative pursuits, generating even more valuable byproducts.
Sitting alone at that Florentine bar, I raised my lagniappe to celebrate another year. Life’s richest nectar derives not from the expected but from detours along the way. By embracing each precious extra — every hard-won insight, every chance encounter — our world expands. Unknown beauty comes into focus wherever we roam with an open mind.
