Washington, D.C. — A girl stirs an old fashioned cocktail at a bar on Pennsylvania Avenue in Capitol Hill.
Behind the Stick is a new series highlighting perspectives and experiences of Scofflaws Den’s veteran barman.
“If some of our guests had a stick, I know they’d poke me with it.”
I’ve been known to say this a few times when describing what it’s like to be a craft bartender (or mixologist). I’m implying, of course, that there’s a certain sideshow aspect to the cocktail revival. You truly are a performer on a stage when creating drinks.
Many bartenders adopt a ring leader-like persona. Others, like me, wish to commit their craft to the glass – mostly sotto voce. What’s fascinating is eventually everyone feels performance pressure from (or sadly even indignation towards) wide-eyed, mesmerized spectators. I often think how professional magicians can lose fondness for their audiences after doing the same trick nightly over the years.
Don’t take this the wrong way. I enjoy serving guests. I like displaying not only the glory of the final product but also the beautiful process of building a craft cocktail. I avoid pretentiousness and I am happy to chat with customers about all the bizarre tinctures and toys we use. I even love telling guests some of my tips for making great cocktails.
Still, sometimes the abrupt demands and precocious inquiries can get a bit overwhelming for some of us, particularly when we are busy. Here’s a scenario:
A guest watches as I pour whiskey, sweet vermouth, and bitters into a glass and begin to stir.
“HEY, what’s that you’re making there,” the guests asks.
“It’s a Manhattan,” I reply.
This exchange alone isn’t nearly as aggravating as when it’s been asked for the billionth time or the question is coming from a serial asker. Any good bartender learns to hide his or her annoyance. You see, from their perspective, somewhere along the way customers have taken on the habit of seeing a bartender work, pointing at a drink, and asking, “what manner of witchcraft is this?”
Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of a similar impulse. (I often look back at my intrusive interactions with craft bartenders several years ago and cringe). My curiosity overwhelmed my sense of perspective.
To be fair, it’s hard for a seasoned bartender to remind him or herself what it’s like to be in a guests’ shoes. The foodservice business has also encouraged much of the extra attention. Many restaurants now find an edge by providing more than just good fare and good service or a quick gimmick. These days the industry tries to offer guests an experience.
None of this observation really brings profound insight into some of the big problems in the world. But there’s always an interesting dynamic with each interaction between barman/barwoman and guest. We in the industry very rarely get to express our thoughts on those interactions.
