I need hobbies here.
I am trapped in Missouri for the next four months, and as entertaining as my friends are, we are inheritly limited by the fact that there is jackshit to do around here.
There is a bar within walking distance of our lodging, which is both a Godsend and a Goddamn bane on my existance.
Anyway.
I brought the mason jars, which means new and exciting infusions. Given that the fruit selection was decidedly limited in Anti-Fruit St.Roberts, MO (population 1,260), so I had to get creative.
I was thinking strawberry banana when it hit me:
Oranges.
More specifically, clemintines. I'd always like the flavor just a bit better, plus they aren't usually as pulpy.
I had two experiments: a high proof vodka and a whiskey.
The whiskey took to the flavor exceedingly well, the clementine sweetness balanced with the richness of flavor from the whiskey.
The vodka a different story: The high proof "burn" is still prevalent. You won't forget that you are drinking vodka that's a bit stronger than normal, but the strawberry-clementine mix is both cool to look at as a rosy orange, as well as a pleasant mix of both smell and taste. My hands smell like kool-aid, which should be a stunning endorsement of about anything!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
In Defense Of The Bartender
I worked at a restaurant once.
As a 'server', which, despite it's intent, made you feel less like a person than the term 'waiter'.
There were lots of things I hated about it: the lack of identity: making 'Southwest Eggrolls' at an ostensibly Irish establishment; the hick employees that hailed from the four corners of Glen Burnie; and the fact that one errant rain drop would cause a deluge in the restaurant. Like I said, a lot of things.
I was hired with the intent to move up as a bartender, after all, I had done parties in New York City. I knew cocktails, their histories, beers, their factories, and the basics of wine pairing. I was a shoe-in, right?
Nope.
"Hi, welcome to. My name is Thom, can I get you something to drink?"
I dealt with it, because it was better than no money, and sometimes there were customers that didn't make me want to shoot myself.
We had four bartenders over the course of the week. One of them was a few shades of orange away from being a contender on the Jersey Shore, another was a short, round blonde with a Pasadena accent, the other was a Kindergarten teacher who did this on the side for extra cash, and the fourth was a mean spirit who was covered in tattoos. All of them were female. Which leads me to my first point:
1) A bar will hire a woman, ugly or stupid, over a guy any day of the week.
She may be a 2 at 10, but she'll be a 10 at 2. Extra tips for the tip jar, and more drinks for the house means bigger tabs. Okay, I get that.
A bunch of friends have come to me and said they wanted to get their schooling in Mixology. Without miss, I have warned them against it. It isn't a good business for anyone, really, especially not men. You fall into one of two categories: sex object or unemployed.
Search Craigslist. Look at your local bars. Who do they hire? Attractive females when possible. It's the old fantasy that the MAN will somehow seduce the attractive bartender. It's the same fantasy which draws men into strip clubs. I unabashedly laugh at women who tell me they're bartenders. Sure that makes me a dick, but I have things to prove.
You can make a rum and coke? That's adorable. Can you layer shots? Can you tell me what Pousse Café means? I have a bottle of Merlot sitting in my kitchen, what should I eat with it?
I have a game where I challenge bartenders. I go up and ask for a drink, a relatively common one. I deal in drinks from the 100 most common cocktails list. Usually it's a Mexican Madras, which is the cousin to the inbreeding of a vodka-cranberry and a screwdriver. Watch as the eyes roll back into her head, or as she "goes to get the bottle from the back". You can almost hear the pages in her copy of Mr.Boston's turn.
She comes back, puts all of the ingredients in a shaker and goes to town, because her boss has a "shake all cocktails rule" for all her female bartenders. I'm stuck with a cocktail I don't even like, but at the very least, a moral victory.
Back to my original tale, the guidette once complained loudly in the back that all of these guys from the afternoon / happy hour crowd were unloading on her with their day's problems.
"But, as a bartender, it's your job to listen."
"I don't care about their problems."
What happened to the good old days, where you would go in and talk to Marv, your bartender and tell him how your wife is a terrible, soul-stealing harpy? Oh wait, that chapter was cut out of Bartending For Dummies. The craft doesn't draw people with a love for fine spirits, or people who have their own way of empathizing. It draws women trying to work their way through college or afford that new Gucci bag.
For all of my complaining, there are establishments, and even a guild for serious practicioners of the art of Mixology. We are still out there. We're not in the dive bars, but the ones tucked away in tiny corners filled with interesting people. Sure, the regulars are older, and the music is softer, but we actually care about you here.
Thom's Vodka Grasshopper
1.5 oz Vanilla Vodka
1.5 oz Green Creme de Menthe
1.5 oz White Creme de Cacao
As a 'server', which, despite it's intent, made you feel less like a person than the term 'waiter'.
There were lots of things I hated about it: the lack of identity: making 'Southwest Eggrolls' at an ostensibly Irish establishment; the hick employees that hailed from the four corners of Glen Burnie; and the fact that one errant rain drop would cause a deluge in the restaurant. Like I said, a lot of things.
I was hired with the intent to move up as a bartender, after all, I had done parties in New York City. I knew cocktails, their histories, beers, their factories, and the basics of wine pairing. I was a shoe-in, right?
Nope.
"Hi, welcome to
I dealt with it, because it was better than no money, and sometimes there were customers that didn't make me want to shoot myself.
We had four bartenders over the course of the week. One of them was a few shades of orange away from being a contender on the Jersey Shore, another was a short, round blonde with a Pasadena accent, the other was a Kindergarten teacher who did this on the side for extra cash, and the fourth was a mean spirit who was covered in tattoos. All of them were female. Which leads me to my first point:
1) A bar will hire a woman, ugly or stupid, over a guy any day of the week.
She may be a 2 at 10, but she'll be a 10 at 2. Extra tips for the tip jar, and more drinks for the house means bigger tabs. Okay, I get that.
A bunch of friends have come to me and said they wanted to get their schooling in Mixology. Without miss, I have warned them against it. It isn't a good business for anyone, really, especially not men. You fall into one of two categories: sex object or unemployed.
Search Craigslist. Look at your local bars. Who do they hire? Attractive females when possible. It's the old fantasy that the MAN will somehow seduce the attractive bartender. It's the same fantasy which draws men into strip clubs. I unabashedly laugh at women who tell me they're bartenders. Sure that makes me a dick, but I have things to prove.
You can make a rum and coke? That's adorable. Can you layer shots? Can you tell me what Pousse Café means? I have a bottle of Merlot sitting in my kitchen, what should I eat with it?
I have a game where I challenge bartenders. I go up and ask for a drink, a relatively common one. I deal in drinks from the 100 most common cocktails list. Usually it's a Mexican Madras, which is the cousin to the inbreeding of a vodka-cranberry and a screwdriver. Watch as the eyes roll back into her head, or as she "goes to get the bottle from the back". You can almost hear the pages in her copy of Mr.Boston's turn.
She comes back, puts all of the ingredients in a shaker and goes to town, because her boss has a "shake all cocktails rule" for all her female bartenders. I'm stuck with a cocktail I don't even like, but at the very least, a moral victory.
Back to my original tale, the guidette once complained loudly in the back that all of these guys from the afternoon / happy hour crowd were unloading on her with their day's problems.
"But
"I don't care about their problems."
What happened to the good old days, where you would go in and talk to Marv, your bartender and tell him how your wife is a terrible, soul-stealing harpy? Oh wait, that chapter was cut out of Bartending For Dummies. The craft doesn't draw people with a love for fine spirits, or people who have their own way of empathizing. It draws women trying to work their way through college or afford that new Gucci bag.
For all of my complaining, there are establishments, and even a guild for serious practicioners of the art of Mixology. We are still out there. We're not in the dive bars, but the ones tucked away in tiny corners filled with interesting people. Sure, the regulars are older, and the music is softer, but we actually care about you here.
Thom's Vodka Grasshopper
1.5 oz Vanilla Vodka
1.5 oz Green Creme de Menthe
1.5 oz White Creme de Cacao
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Mission Statement
Hello Internets,
Hopefully this doesn't just end up as another forgotten blog on the outsides of the internet. It will be my committment to log as much of my ill-gotten liqour knowledge as possible, but a bit about me:
I am a bartender by trade, but mostly by hobby. I dabble in the accumulation and invention of cocktails. As an old school video gamer, I have jumped on the bandwagon to try and invent several video game themed drinks.
Buxom, insipid, blonde bartender I am not. As a guy I've found there are two ways to get a job: know somebody on the inside, or work at a pub somewhere you're not needed as a sex object, so let's get one thing straight: I'm a classical guy, through and through.
For the next four months I am going to be stuck in Fort Leonard Wood doing all sorts of stupid tasks, but practicing my craft during the night. It should be interesting to see what I come up with.
Hopefully this doesn't just end up as another forgotten blog on the outsides of the internet. It will be my committment to log as much of my ill-gotten liqour knowledge as possible, but a bit about me:
I am a bartender by trade, but mostly by hobby. I dabble in the accumulation and invention of cocktails. As an old school video gamer, I have jumped on the bandwagon to try and invent several video game themed drinks.
Buxom, insipid, blonde bartender I am not. As a guy I've found there are two ways to get a job: know somebody on the inside, or work at a pub somewhere you're not needed as a sex object, so let's get one thing straight: I'm a classical guy, through and through.
For the next four months I am going to be stuck in Fort Leonard Wood doing all sorts of stupid tasks, but practicing my craft during the night. It should be interesting to see what I come up with.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)