Lately I am having trouble with bartenders. I am not sure if they can't hear me, understand me, or if some higher power is intervening and steering me down a road away from ruin. A few weeks ago my friends Debbe and Lee Sussman invited me to attend the opening of the new art mall at Neonopolis in downtown Las Vegas (which is VERY cool, by the way). In addition to the live music and general gala atmosphere there was a portable bar set up. I asked the bartender for a martini, very dry. I watched as he meticulously poured about one oz. of vodka and another ounce of vermouth into a shaker with an ill fitting lid. A few half hearted and messy shakes later I was treated to about an ounce of a very vermouthie tasting concoction in a plastic cup. Lee began to protest, but i waved him off and solved the problem by buying another shot of vodka and tossing it in the cup to dry this one up a bit. I tipped heavy just for the sheer entertainment value of an inexperienced bartender struggling with a leaky cocktail shaker. About half way through the drink my tongue accepted its fate and allowed my brain to enjoy it's part of the bargain. The artists and their work are all impressive and enjoyable. My taste in art, however, does not appreciate my income and so the walls at home remain white. The bartender remembered the tip and made up for the first disaster with a generous pour when I went back for a "Vodka on the rocks."
Wait, there's more...
A few days later I met a friend for dinner. I got to the Hofbrau House a short while before him and sat at the bar near the door, ordering a small size seasonal brew. The bartender quickly became involved in a mini drama with the draught pressure. The tap spewed plenty of froth and not much liquid, so he began filling several glasses, apparently hoping that they would settle into an amount equal to one beer... so I thought. I appreciated his approach to the problem, but it had taken 5 or more minutes and I still didn't have a drop to drink. He had already wasted quite a bit of beer trying to angle the glass, and several other techniques. I told him that I didn't mind a good head on a beer and I would take the one that was settling out if I could get it right away. His distress was immediate and obvious. I told him that I just really wanted to start drinking a beer and I wanted the one that had been sitting in front of him to start sitting in front of me. He poured a bit from one glass into another, which again spilled a good share into the drain. I figured that he was not getting what I was telling him, so I decided to make it clear. Crystal clear! I said, "here's the deal. I want the glass that is sitting there in front of you. I want it even though it isn't full. You can top it off when one of the other glasses settles and then I'll have that one too. I don't mind that half of it is head. Can I just have that one right now?" He was perplexed and seemed a bit peeved. Still though, he didn't make a move. Finally I stated "Can you just give me THAT beer, right now? I'll pay for it and we can figure out what to do with the other glasses later." With that he pushed the one glass in front of me and in another quick move he dumped the other two glasses into the drain. My jaw dropped and I asked him why he threw the contents of the other glasses away when they had already come such a long way in the process? He realized his mistake. (You understand that I would have waited for the other glasses to settle if only I had one in front of me to drink.) He muttered something about the way that the tap pours and has to fill up a glass so that the computer can register the charge, and blah, blah blah. After 8 minutes I had half a beer. It took a while to finish. I got one more and the same problem happened, only filling the glass with half beer, half foam. This time he served it right up - fresh and cold. When I got the tab to settle up at the bar before heading in to the dining room, he had charged me for two. I paid cash and I tipped him heavy. I'll consider it my tuition in the school of "You might think that you're helping, but you are really just confusing a guy that is in a corporate situation designed to look like a real beer hall, caught between getting you your drink and trying not to get bitched at for pouring too much beer from a keg that is obviously being kept at a temperature that is too cold to allow it to be draughted properly." Mmmmm. Dinner was much better.
And still that isn't all...
The other night I was a bit frustrated so I thought that I should treat myself to live music. I got to Boomers at about 12:30 am to see my friend Elvis Lederer and his band. I asked the beautifully tattooed bartender if she would get me a Jagermeister on the rocks. After a minute she came back to report that the bar was out of Jager. Is anyone else starting to feel that maybe I should just quit drinking?
But it is still not over...
I was going to get a bite to eat at Firefly on Paradise. The food there is always good and the service is fast and friendly. Again though, the bartender thing. It had been a busy week (as busy as it gets for someone that is looking for work and trying to keep the skills sharp and the resume current) so I thought I would treat myself to a martini. In a place that deals with hipsters and beautiful people in abundance a martini should be less than no problem, right? Well, I ordered an Absolute martini, straight up, one teaspoon dirty and very, very dry. Shaken not stirred. I began to admire the scenery at the bar so I didn't watch the drink being made. It came quickly and with only one question, "how many olives?" The martini glasses at Firefly are large and the pour is a good one. The only problem was this martini came very, very, very wet. So much vermouth that it was undrinkable except if it had been ordered as a tall glass of vermouth with a splash of vodka. I moved from the bar to my table in the dining room before i realized that the lesson I was learning, was not about communication, it was about determination. I decided that I wanted to have what I wanted and I deserved to get what I ordered, so, waste of alcohol be damned, I was taking that drink back. I explained the deal to the bartender and he was immediately apologetic, quickly giving me a Grey Goose up, shaken and one teaspoon dirty. Delicious. At last. I tipped heavy.
So to sum this up. In a martini, DRY means very little vermouth. VERY DRY means less than that and BONE DRY means, well, you get the point right? With beer if YOU are having trouble getting a pour, you give me whatever you can - right away, even if it is mostly head. You tell me there's no charge for the taste and you set about fixing the problem you are having with your tap while I enjoy my beer. Also, I am from Milwaukee, so you never, EVER, throw beer away, especially while I am sitting there watching you. And finally, when it comes to Jagermeister... Don't run out! Make your own if you have to.
BjK.
Someone recently asked me what a Lounge was?
