SR
Shawn Rahman
Sep 21, 2025
I ventured once more to the rooftop at Clermont, though I increasingly question the wisdom of doing so. Of late, the establishment has grown capricious in its habits, half the time it is given over to private functions, leaving the common patron to loiter about in uncertainty like a suitor denied entry to his beloved’s parlour.
As for their cocktails, the latest iteration is, Dune themed. An odd choice, for I had not previously considered Frank Herbert a guide to the art of refreshment. One sip convinces me that the management is experimenting with great enthusiasm and precious little direction. They are aiming for Arrakis, but landing somewhere closer to Macon.
Still, the rooftop retains one virtue: a sunset of noble proportions, which arrives with unerring punctuality and requires no mixologist’s hand. The food, however, continues its downward spiral. There is a taco truck, peddling trifles at seven to ten dollars apiece, items which, by natural justice, ought rather to be dispensed freely, perhaps even apologetically.
And, as if this insult were insufficient, the Saturday night I went to came with cover fee of $5 per person, as though one ought to pay simply for the privilege of entering the building. It is a most offensive innovation and one that ensures the rooftop at Clermont is rapidly perfecting the art of driving away those very patrons who once held it dear.
While the sunset remains splendid; everything else is best endured with flask in pocket and expectations in check.