CHURCH

69 KILMARNOCK ST., FENWAY, BOSTON. 617.236.7600. CHURCHOFBOSTON.COM

By CHRISTINE LIU | PHOTO BY DEREK KOUYOUMJIAN

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My family's been begging me to reconsider church attendance, so I reason that coming here is a fair concession. Fenway's new Church is two sisterly establishments sandwiched together: A boldly painted music venue anchors one end, while a sleek gothic-modern restaurant sits on the other. We first pop into the former where a guitarist strums on stage. As we enter, I playfully challenge Phil, the bouncer, to a drink-off someday. His hardy Polish background notwithstanding, he finds me a worthy challenger, explaining from roughly two feet above, "My sister's name is Christine, and she's a great drinker!" The music crowd's thin at this early hour, so we all head down the block to the restaurant's bar.

Drink 1: Greed ($10). The evening starts swiftly and strongly with the first drink off their "7 Deadly Sins" cocktail list. Hendrick's gin is mixed with St-Germain's swoon-worthy elderflower liqueur and enhanced with diced cucumber and white pepper for a heady herbal swig. Already we're arguing the finer points of Chubby Bunny, the childhood game in which you keep stuffing more marshmallows into your mouth until The Fat Kid triumphantly wins and promptly pukes. Our bartender Josh squishes his cheeks together ("Lkkk thssssth?") in testament, while my companion, unfamiliar with the concept, remarks, "That's the most retarded game I've ever heard of." True, but they're pricelessly retarded memories.

Drink 2: Hangar One Fraser River Raspberry vodka with soda ($9.50). Josh recommends this vodka made with fresh Meeker raspberries from Washington state; naturally unsweetened, it's surprisingly reminiscent of the genuine fruit. We sip-sip through tiny stirring straws while the cocktail menu inspires our discussion of Se7en, a righteous creepfest of a film. "I hope I don't become the Gluttony guy," a neighbor feverishly hopes. Our voices escalate until we're all clamoring, "It was Sloth who lived ... yeah!"

Drink 3: Lust ($10). Ready to wrestle sin in a glass anew, I tightly clutch this sidecar variant made with Spanish solera brandy and a house-made lavender honey simple syrup. A real lavender sprig bobs on the surface, while the rim is sugared with what seems like diamonds. (I'm at a shiny-things stage.) I overhear from my left the backhanded "Going to Jamaica was better than a sharp stick in the eye," and the Svedka vodka reps on our right are emblazoning everything in sight with their newfangled pen-sized projector.

Drink 4: Ayinger Celebrator Doppelbock ($7). Because I'm totally oblivious to televised sports, I don't realize that instead of the Sox we're watching the NBA China Games followed by Starting Grid car racing. I vroom accordingly. We chat up some Berklee kids drinking a round of Gluttony, and of course some dude hands me his demo CD. As for my beer, the dark, molasses-hued brew is complex yet smooth, and I'm endlessly amused by the plastic white horse that dangles from the bottle. Poke.

Drink 5: Kelt XO ($25). The Kelt's cognac bottle -- a squat unfamiliar glass -- beckoned all night, and I was finally ready to receive its pourable glory. I seriously had no idea this stuff was so luxe, but by this time I deserved every drop of warm, spicy elixir, finishing off with a shot of espresso. Curiously, "melt-in-your-mouth burgers" got scrawled in my notes at this point.

I'll be seeing you soon, Phil, and you better be ready.