or Apprentices, the people responsible for you having your drinks at Tales
[Note to Don Lee: Thanks for acting as copy editor/fact checker on this entry.]
Thursday night, Muriel's was the setting of "Desmond Payne's Ruby Jubilee" to honor Desmond Payne, Beefeater's master distiller.
While the party went on in the second level of Muriel's, I found myself outside on the balcony suffused with the sound of muffled revelry leaking out into the evening. Drinks sweated profusely in the thick sticky night as I sat in a group that included John Deragon, Don Lee and Daniel Eun of PDT, both Ebens Klemm (B.R. Guest) and Freeman (Tailor), Ryan Fitzgerald of Beretta in San Francisco and Dave Arnold, director of culinary technology at The French Culinary Institute. The group grew and contracted throughout the evening as other bartenders came and left.
I was discussing with Mr. Lee about not wanting to appear like a self-important writer who wrote about bartending because they couldn't. Not that I was being all presumptuous that I could actually bartend, but I really wanted to be serious about the bar trade so as not to waste the time of bartenders I talked to. And I wanted a bit of better understanding about what I was writing. I felt like I lacked in the experience department and was toying with the idea of how to get that.
"You know, like something like street cred," I said, not realizing that I'd inadvertently created a running joke that'd follow me the next couple of days.
"You want bartender street cred? You come juice some lemons and limes in the juice line in the kitchen," Don said. "If you're looking for stories that's the untold story of Tales right there. I've got a pirate-like crew of people working several hours a day."
Don and John were helping Phil Ward (Death and Co.) in a ragtag group of bartender "apprentices". It was kind of an interesting title choice once you saw the caliber of bartenders in the kitchen. They were responsible for batching and creating pretty much all the cocktails served at Tales related events. And if they weren't in the kitchen, they were in the seminar rooms or behind a bar at some event mixing and shaking.
My ears pricked at this suggestion. As informative the seminars had been, to be honest, I could only sit through so many of them and was starting to get a bit of first-timer burnout. At the same time I felt obligated to attend as much as possible to cram knowledge into my head, but it came at a cost. My butt was starting to get tired from sitting and my hands were itching from hearing about all the techniques and recipes.
"Really? I can do that?" I asked.
"Hey John, Sonya's gonna come down to the kitchen tomorrow to get some 'street cred' with us," Don said, the scare quotes practically etching themselves into the almost solid, humid air.
But then I remembered a press event I RSVP'ed to go to the next morning. Could I come in to help an hour in the morning?
"No." John and Don both said.
"You're either in it all the way or you're not," Don said. "The juice line doesn't work that way."
"Oh, come on," I protested. "It's not like I don't want to help. I just have a prearranged engagement tomorrow morning."
"That's called wussing out."
"No, that's called being responsible," I said.
My protestations were soon lost when Dave Arnold said he'd jump in the line and the conversation devolved into an impromptu event to set up a juice-a-thon between Ryan Fitzgerald and himself. Rules were written, and abandoned in the same breath and much smack was talked until Leo DeGroff made an appearance and showed interest in the wager. Apparently Leo's juicing skills is the stuff of legend and something meant to be discussed only in hushed tones of reverence. Ryan, the group's favorite, was quickly displaced by the Prince of Cocktail.
All Friday morning I found myself preoccupied with whether or not the showdown had happened between Ryan and Dave as I sat through a seminar on bitters after a media breakfast held at Brennan's. I wanted to go peek in to see what happened, but feared that I was banned from the kitchen thanks to my wussing out.
After the seminar I ran into LaTanya White, owner of the cocktail catering company 71 Proof in Tallahassee, Fla., as well as one of the apprentices. She said that it should be fine if I go down to the kitchen and helped now. With almost three hours free until I had to be at another seminar, I let Don know I was present to help. Alex Day pointed me to a box of latex gloves. I pulled a pair on and got to juicing. I was going to prove that I could do it and I wasn't just some soft doughy writer sitting in front of a computer who...
"Just wait one goddamn second," I thought an hour and a half later when I realized I had been juicing what seemed like a never ending flow of limes.
OK, maybe, just maaaaaaaayybe Don did Tom Sawyer me into helping out by insinuating both my mettle as journalist and a basic human being weren't up to snuff if I did not participate, but the man had a point about this being hard work. If you didn't see it just walking into hectic kitchen, you certainly knew it after changing gloves for the third time because the juices would penetrate through the latex and make your fingers sting and feeling the your shoulder muscles stiffen from using a a manual juicer, or, as I saw with Alex, having an electric juicer snip at your fingers if you weren't paying attention.
I wasn't the only one pressed (ha!) into service. Dave Arnold, who to his credit did show up at 8 a.m. to help juice, returned to juice some more. Even Jean-Georges pastry chef Johnny Iuzzini, who was attending Tales, popped into the kitchen to see how things were going and offer some morale. But that was his mistake because he also got pointed to the box of latex gloves by Alex. Johnny tried to laugh it off, but you don't joke about the juice line. So he too pulled on a pair and joined Joaquin Simo at his side to help cut limes in half to be juiced.
"I love it that we have the country's best pastry chef cutting fruit," Joaquin later commented.
And if for whatever reason you decide that your life is not complete unless you see someone halve lemons and limes at inhuman speeds, call up Johnny Iuzzini. That man goes through a crate of limes like...like...some kind of...lime cutting machine that cuts super fast.
Don pressed upon me several times that he was not joking about the group being like a pirate crew, and as I stood there listening to the orgeat syrup-like musical stylings of Curtis Mayfield coming out of on iPod dock, taking swigs out of a communal bottle of Rittenhouse and taking in the frequently salty banter of a group of hard working and harder playing bartenders, Don's comparison was ringing pretty true.
(A scene from the kitchen: Photo of Ryan in his "I Hate Cocktails" shirt taken by Camper. Not pictured? The back of the shirt. I'll just leave it at saying that several times on Friday when I'd unwittingly look in Ryan's direction when he had his back to me I'd burst out laughing. Maxwell Britten also gets honorable mention for his "Brown and stirred, bitches" shirt.)
So at 7:55 a.m. on Saturday I was back in the kitchen asking what I could help with. Don said it was a bit easier that morning and I made some lemon twists and orange zest and skipped off to another seminar.
It's kind of hard to see the scale how much these guys did even when you're in the thick of it producing gallons of juice or cutting 350 lemon twists because it becomes repetitive and downright inevitable in some ways. However, once out of the kitchen and throughout the day, I'd spot a lemon twist or an orange twist floating in a cocktail that looked oddly familiar or see how many times lemon and lime juice would come up in a recipe presented during a seminar as people sipped the samples, and speaking of which, how about all the math Don and John were doing to make enough cocktails for a 100 people with a recipe made to serve one? It was pretty insane to realize just how much work these guys were doing.
Don caught me in the hallway of the Hotel Monteleone a little later in the day and said that there was a last minute juicing emergency and I should get in the kitchen if I wanted to help.
Thomas Waugh (Alembic) and Joaquin were busy trying to get wheels and wedges out of limes so they weren't ready for juicing so I got to helping with some lemons.
Death and Co. owner Dave Kaplan made the same mistake Johnny did the day before and got put on the juice line for a while.
Eben Freeman came down to help and was soon organizing people and delegating tasks. Seeing me slooooooooowwwwwly cutting lemon twists (in my defense, I did just learn how to do it that morning) he told me to grab a free juicer to help with the limes while he got on the lemons to get the amount of twists needed and was soon getting them ready to be juiced.
All of the sudden it was like the juicing All Stars. Leo DeGroff showed up and proceeded to own everyone in the kitchen as he deftly manhandled an electric juicer and some unfortunate limes with a two-handed technique that I'm pretty sure broke several rules of physics.
"I give up. There's no way I'm keeping up with that," Daniel Eun said and relinquished his manual juicer and moved over to the lemons side. He wasn't an apprentice and was at Tales to hang out, but he also had been helping out in the kitchen whenever possible.
"Holy crap," I thought as I stared slack-jawed with a look that bordered on abject terror.
"I feel pretty damn useless next to you," I told Leo and was about to give up and go help where my help was actually needed, but he picked up a hand press and showed me.
"Just do it like this," he said and then proceeded to squeeze out a shot of juice that splashed me like I was in the splash zone at SeaWorld. Easy enough for him to say, he's been doing this since he was, like, 16 or something. He handily filled up the 1/3 full container to the brim in a matter of minutes before leaving.
For a few minutes I found myself juicing limes next to Gary Regan and it turned into a Christmas miracle. We thought we needed three more gallons of lime juice, but with the intervention of Saint Gary, when Eben decided to double-check we found out we just needed to top off the one container we were working on. There was more to be done, but at least a majority of the juicing was over with, so I went ahead to go get ready for the Tales of the Cocktail Spirit Awards.
"Thanks for the help," Phil Ward told me on Sunday before the start of a punch seminar he was chairing with Allen Katz and Dave Wondrich.
"No, thank you. It was a learning experience," I returned, and I meant it. Zesting an orange? I mean, I know how to grate, but I don't really do it all the time or anything like that. But thanks to talking to bartenders for so long, I now knew about pith. How else would I have found out that a dampened paper napkin lining the bottom of a container for twists, as well as covering them with another dampened paper napkin would keep them from drying out unless Dave Arnold told me? Sounds like common sense, but I never had to store 200 lemon twists and I don't know if I ever will. Using a peeler to get lemon twists was infinitely easier after Ryan fixed something as simple as where was placing my forefinger. And how would I have picked up the handy tip of soaking some cool limes that had been sitting in a walkthrough in warm water before juicing unless I'd watched Eben Freeman do exactly that?
That's pretty much what I wanted. I wasn't looking for some kind of macho respect when I said street cred, I just wanted to learn how things were done in the day-by-day. I could ask all the questions I had when I visited bars or read all the books I wanted, but what I wanted to know was what was habit to these guys.
"It's stuff like this that's what street cred's about," Don told me one evening. "It's not about who's got the best technique or who's making the best recipes. It's who's staying late to work on the garnishes or staying late to clean up."
So anyways, much kudos to the apprentice program guys. I know I didn't get to meet all of you, but great working with you (and please let me know if I've missed anybody in this list or got anything):
John Paul Deragon
Don Lee
Armando Archundia (the dude came all the way from Switzerland)
Joaquin Simo
Maxwell Britten
Alex Day
Jacquelyn Leon
Rhiannon Enlil
Catherine Fellet
LaTanya White
Ryan Fitzgerald
Chris Hannah
Thomas Waugh
Jim Kearns
Josephine Packard
Kimberly Patton-Bragg
Peter Vestinos
P.S. Thomas Waugh spilled about a pint of lime juice on me. Don and John, you derided me for not having capped him back with my juicer, but I just want you all to know, that's all part of my strategy. Oh, I'm going to get him all right. One of these days. He just doesn't know when or where.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tales of the Cocktail 2008: "Is the Customer Always Right?"
June 16
Recently in the blogosphere a particular tale of customer dissatisfaction created a minor ripple. Commenters were divided along several lines. Some believed "the customer is always right," then there were those who were sick and tired of snobbery in service when all they wanted was a damn cup of coffee. Others thought the store was well within its right to refuse serving coffee to a customer based on the philosophy of what they served. Some people were even more riled up after reading the coffeeshop owner's response. Finally, there those who thought both parties were jackasses and nobody handled the situation particularly well. In other words it was an anecdote that seemed to illustrate all that could go wrong in a customer-server relationship.
What did this particular bit of "Iced espresso is Not Okay" brew-haha have anything to do with Tales of the Cocktail? Well, when I arrived at Tales, the professional series seminar "Is the Customer Always Right?" jumped out at me probably thanks to this story being in my head so recently. So soon after checking in and running on 3.5 hours of sleep, I slid into a chair for the 10:30 a.m. session.
Moderated by Doug Frost, the panel members were Charlotte Voisey, mixologist and brand representative for Hendrick's Gin, Deet Gilbert, Johnson and Wales faculty member who teaches front-of-the-house practices; Jim Meehan of PDT, N.Y.; and Ti Adelaide Martin of the famed New Orleans restaurant family responsible for establishments such as Commander's Palace and Brennan's.
In an age where many cocktail bars, bar chefs, mixologists, and bartenders are formulating solid drink philosophies not unlike how some chefs have their own food philosophy, how should customer service type issues be addressed?
The topic of how to provide good (or probably more accurately, appropriate) service quickly became a talk about recruitment and training as Charlotte Voisey opened things up by stating that a lot of talk about improvement revolves around improving the bar, the design, the ingredients or technique, but "we need to talk about what happens between the bartender and the guest."
Voisey pointed out three important aspects of human resources to improve guest service:
1. Right recruitment.
2. Responsibility.
3. Service as an integral part of training.
Deet Gilbert echoed some of Voisey's points by explaining that "you can't teach the right personality," and in the hiring process bar managers and operators need to look for things in their prospective employees such as how they are dressed, their smile or what kind of personality they have."
And about the old "the customer is always right" adage, Gilbert explained that "It's not always that they are right, but it's to make them think they are right. That's our job."
Jim Meehan spoke from the point of view of the independent bar operator and said that on a day-to-day basis training needed to be tailored to each employee. Even after a prospective bartender manages to impress someone hiring them, different working styles, personalities and skill levels can require different care and training from an employer or manager.
While all this talk of training and recruitment may seem like a detour into an HR seminar, the truth is properly trained employees make good service.
As Ti Adelaide Martin mentioned at one point, the motto drilled into employees at Commander's Palace is that the employees are there to make dining memories. And as providers of not just good drinks, but an overall experience, a staff that is trained well with adequate attention who innately have what it takes can make or break a customer's experience.
"We are in the hospitality business," Martin said. "We are not here to show off our technical skill."
Not that technical skill or knowledge doesn't have a place. Especially in the world of high-end cocktails or beverages.
Voisey gave the example from her early bartending days when she'd hate serving single malt whiskeys because she wasn't too knowledgeable in the area. And instead of being able to discuss or provide information and product that her customers wanted, she'd find herself pushing the customers onto something else that they did not want.
Then how do passionate people with a large library of skills and knowledge not scare customers?
Deet Gilbert said, "Talk to them like a normal person. Don't talk down to them," pointing out that a too technical bar chef or intimidating menu can sometimes create a chilling effect similar to when customers who are not familiar with wine encounter wine lists in a fancy restaurant.
Martin agreed with Gilbert and told the group that at Commander's Palace, sommeliers go by the title of "wine guy" to bring things down to more of a casual level.
"Ask them 'What do you like? What do you normally drink?'," Martin added.
"Just give them the vodka cocktail," Meehan said. "That's what pays the rent...They'll sit for ten minutes drinking and will see other cocktails and will order something else because they'll realize they're in a cocktail bar."
Doug Frost then asked the panelist when would a customer be wrong?
"When they're abusing our staff," Martin answered immediately, but then added, "For us it has to go pretty darn far" before any action is taken. Touching an employee is verboten.
"We expect customers to treat us we treat them. It goes two ways," Gilbert commented.
"It's when they take you out of our comfort zones," Voisey said.
Voisey said with so unwritten rules in bars, having a culture or policy defends the bars so people can know clearly when they've stepped over the line.
Meehan said that the customer is wrong when they begin to affect the experience for other customers. And when he asks a particularly loud customer to keep his voice down or asks another to refrain from using uncouth language, that particular chided customer might leave in a huff, but usually once the rules are explained they are understanding and other customers are appreciative of the effort to maintain a certain mood or experience.
The panel members also agreed with the importance of being able to take criticism as well as taking initiative to find places to improve.
Martin said she when she walks around Commander's Palace she'd ask customers how they were doing and most times they'd answer that things were fine. Nonetheless she'd ask again to truly find out if everything was working for a customer by saying, "Listen, I don't learn anything from compliments."
Taking initiative towards improvement can be something as simple as in being on the lookout, just as if a restaurant patron leaving food can be a sign of dissatisfaction, Voisey explained that the look on a customer's face in that unguarded moment of the first sip can speak millions.
In fact, the idea of a reputation as being perfect can be an impediment towards good service by creating expectations built high that can topple like a deck of cards and keep staff members on edge. Meehan brought up how back in his Gramercy Tavern days, customers brought in with them their own high hopes and interpretations of what a Danny Meyer dining experience was and ended up expecting to "levitate on their way out."
"Perfection is not the goal; excellence is the goal," Meehan said.
Recently in the blogosphere a particular tale of customer dissatisfaction created a minor ripple. Commenters were divided along several lines. Some believed "the customer is always right," then there were those who were sick and tired of snobbery in service when all they wanted was a damn cup of coffee. Others thought the store was well within its right to refuse serving coffee to a customer based on the philosophy of what they served. Some people were even more riled up after reading the coffeeshop owner's response. Finally, there those who thought both parties were jackasses and nobody handled the situation particularly well. In other words it was an anecdote that seemed to illustrate all that could go wrong in a customer-server relationship.
What did this particular bit of "Iced espresso is Not Okay" brew-haha have anything to do with Tales of the Cocktail? Well, when I arrived at Tales, the professional series seminar "Is the Customer Always Right?" jumped out at me probably thanks to this story being in my head so recently. So soon after checking in and running on 3.5 hours of sleep, I slid into a chair for the 10:30 a.m. session.
Moderated by Doug Frost, the panel members were Charlotte Voisey, mixologist and brand representative for Hendrick's Gin, Deet Gilbert, Johnson and Wales faculty member who teaches front-of-the-house practices; Jim Meehan of PDT, N.Y.; and Ti Adelaide Martin of the famed New Orleans restaurant family responsible for establishments such as Commander's Palace and Brennan's.
In an age where many cocktail bars, bar chefs, mixologists, and bartenders are formulating solid drink philosophies not unlike how some chefs have their own food philosophy, how should customer service type issues be addressed?
The topic of how to provide good (or probably more accurately, appropriate) service quickly became a talk about recruitment and training as Charlotte Voisey opened things up by stating that a lot of talk about improvement revolves around improving the bar, the design, the ingredients or technique, but "we need to talk about what happens between the bartender and the guest."
Voisey pointed out three important aspects of human resources to improve guest service:
1. Right recruitment.
2. Responsibility.
3. Service as an integral part of training.
Deet Gilbert echoed some of Voisey's points by explaining that "you can't teach the right personality," and in the hiring process bar managers and operators need to look for things in their prospective employees such as how they are dressed, their smile or what kind of personality they have."
And about the old "the customer is always right" adage, Gilbert explained that "It's not always that they are right, but it's to make them think they are right. That's our job."
Jim Meehan spoke from the point of view of the independent bar operator and said that on a day-to-day basis training needed to be tailored to each employee. Even after a prospective bartender manages to impress someone hiring them, different working styles, personalities and skill levels can require different care and training from an employer or manager.
While all this talk of training and recruitment may seem like a detour into an HR seminar, the truth is properly trained employees make good service.
As Ti Adelaide Martin mentioned at one point, the motto drilled into employees at Commander's Palace is that the employees are there to make dining memories. And as providers of not just good drinks, but an overall experience, a staff that is trained well with adequate attention who innately have what it takes can make or break a customer's experience.
"We are in the hospitality business," Martin said. "We are not here to show off our technical skill."
Not that technical skill or knowledge doesn't have a place. Especially in the world of high-end cocktails or beverages.
Voisey gave the example from her early bartending days when she'd hate serving single malt whiskeys because she wasn't too knowledgeable in the area. And instead of being able to discuss or provide information and product that her customers wanted, she'd find herself pushing the customers onto something else that they did not want.
Then how do passionate people with a large library of skills and knowledge not scare customers?
Deet Gilbert said, "Talk to them like a normal person. Don't talk down to them," pointing out that a too technical bar chef or intimidating menu can sometimes create a chilling effect similar to when customers who are not familiar with wine encounter wine lists in a fancy restaurant.
Martin agreed with Gilbert and told the group that at Commander's Palace, sommeliers go by the title of "wine guy" to bring things down to more of a casual level.
"Ask them 'What do you like? What do you normally drink?'," Martin added.
"Just give them the vodka cocktail," Meehan said. "That's what pays the rent...They'll sit for ten minutes drinking and will see other cocktails and will order something else because they'll realize they're in a cocktail bar."
Doug Frost then asked the panelist when would a customer be wrong?
"When they're abusing our staff," Martin answered immediately, but then added, "For us it has to go pretty darn far" before any action is taken. Touching an employee is verboten.
"We expect customers to treat us we treat them. It goes two ways," Gilbert commented.
"It's when they take you out of our comfort zones," Voisey said.
Voisey said with so unwritten rules in bars, having a culture or policy defends the bars so people can know clearly when they've stepped over the line.
Meehan said that the customer is wrong when they begin to affect the experience for other customers. And when he asks a particularly loud customer to keep his voice down or asks another to refrain from using uncouth language, that particular chided customer might leave in a huff, but usually once the rules are explained they are understanding and other customers are appreciative of the effort to maintain a certain mood or experience.
The panel members also agreed with the importance of being able to take criticism as well as taking initiative to find places to improve.
Martin said she when she walks around Commander's Palace she'd ask customers how they were doing and most times they'd answer that things were fine. Nonetheless she'd ask again to truly find out if everything was working for a customer by saying, "Listen, I don't learn anything from compliments."
Taking initiative towards improvement can be something as simple as in being on the lookout, just as if a restaurant patron leaving food can be a sign of dissatisfaction, Voisey explained that the look on a customer's face in that unguarded moment of the first sip can speak millions.
In fact, the idea of a reputation as being perfect can be an impediment towards good service by creating expectations built high that can topple like a deck of cards and keep staff members on edge. Meehan brought up how back in his Gramercy Tavern days, customers brought in with them their own high hopes and interpretations of what a Danny Meyer dining experience was and ended up expecting to "levitate on their way out."
"Perfection is not the goal; excellence is the goal," Meehan said.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tales of the Cocktail 2008: New York, July 16th
June 16
I arrived home from work at a little after 8 p.m. on Tuesday the 15th. I had a 7 a.m. flight the very next morning. After finishing half my packing I took a "nap" at 11:30 p.m. and dutifully woke up at 3 a.m. to finish what packing I could before heading to the airport.
As I stood in line bleary-eyed for a breakfast burrito that ended up tasting better in theory than in reality I turned around and noticed Jared Brown and Anistatia Miller get in line behind me.
"What a coincidence," I thought. Or so I thought.
Once I got to the gate my plane was departing from, I saw that there was a small group congregated near it...and I recognized them all.
I said hello and good morning to Allen Katz, Paul Tanguay, Kenta Goto and Damon Dyer. Damon was asking if anyone knew where to get some lemons. This was an important fact to note and it would be most fortunate that I ended up sitting next to him.
I think I passed out from sheer exhaustion as the plane took off, but I was soon wide awake as the flight attendants were making their way down the aisle for drinks. I asked for a Coke and got my soda with a cup of ice. Damon asked for tonic water and two cups of ice. Our flight attendant looked at him funny, but acquiesced.
Damon eyed my cup and solemnly told me, "Save your ice."
He informed mixologist Gardner Dunn, who was sitting in the row head of us, to do the same. Wising up to what was going on, Gardner stressed that he wanted "a lot of ice" with his drink order.
The flight attendant again looked slightly suspicious but Gardner got his request. He turned back around and gave Damon a thumbs up and handed his cup back.
After giving a perfunctory assessment of the situation, Damon began pulling out small bottles of brown spirits and made me sniff one of them saying that it'd been pre-doctored with bitters and began pouring the contents out over the ice. The smell of bitters seemed to linger with a vengeance in the recycled air of the plane's cabin. The lemon search had been unsuccessful, so he ended up using some orange juice (later on, he'd take a swig of the juice and wrinkling his nose declare that it was "pretty terrible. I'm ashamed I even put that in there.")
He then reached into another pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with lemon peel and begins to squeeze and drop them into the drinks. After passing one to Gardner I got a cup of my own.
Holding his plastic airline cup up he said, "Cheers. Welcome to Tales."
I lifted my own cup and said, "Cheers."
I arrived home from work at a little after 8 p.m. on Tuesday the 15th. I had a 7 a.m. flight the very next morning. After finishing half my packing I took a "nap" at 11:30 p.m. and dutifully woke up at 3 a.m. to finish what packing I could before heading to the airport.
As I stood in line bleary-eyed for a breakfast burrito that ended up tasting better in theory than in reality I turned around and noticed Jared Brown and Anistatia Miller get in line behind me.
"What a coincidence," I thought. Or so I thought.
Once I got to the gate my plane was departing from, I saw that there was a small group congregated near it...and I recognized them all.
I said hello and good morning to Allen Katz, Paul Tanguay, Kenta Goto and Damon Dyer. Damon was asking if anyone knew where to get some lemons. This was an important fact to note and it would be most fortunate that I ended up sitting next to him.
I think I passed out from sheer exhaustion as the plane took off, but I was soon wide awake as the flight attendants were making their way down the aisle for drinks. I asked for a Coke and got my soda with a cup of ice. Damon asked for tonic water and two cups of ice. Our flight attendant looked at him funny, but acquiesced.
Damon eyed my cup and solemnly told me, "Save your ice."
He informed mixologist Gardner Dunn, who was sitting in the row head of us, to do the same. Wising up to what was going on, Gardner stressed that he wanted "a lot of ice" with his drink order.
The flight attendant again looked slightly suspicious but Gardner got his request. He turned back around and gave Damon a thumbs up and handed his cup back.
After giving a perfunctory assessment of the situation, Damon began pulling out small bottles of brown spirits and made me sniff one of them saying that it'd been pre-doctored with bitters and began pouring the contents out over the ice. The smell of bitters seemed to linger with a vengeance in the recycled air of the plane's cabin. The lemon search had been unsuccessful, so he ended up using some orange juice (later on, he'd take a swig of the juice and wrinkling his nose declare that it was "pretty terrible. I'm ashamed I even put that in there.")
He then reached into another pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with lemon peel and begins to squeeze and drop them into the drinks. After passing one to Gardner I got a cup of my own.
Holding his plastic airline cup up he said, "Cheers. Welcome to Tales."
I lifted my own cup and said, "Cheers."
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
It has begun!
For once, something not about alcohol.
Making my way to work, walking down Lexington, I get stop at the Starbucks betweetn 57th and 58th because they had a dude standing out with their freebie tray and those mini cups they use for giving out sample. Busy commuters weren't really paying much mind but I heard him say Vivanno and I thought, "OH SNAP THE NEW SMOOTHIE!" and quickly grabbed one. Didn't get the Chocolate Banana though, it was mango. There was a slight, almost savory, tinge in the back of it. And I don't mean the slight metallic taste from the banana (both have flavors have bananas in them). I don't know if savory is exactly it, but it's a little something you detect on your tongue. Maybe the protein powder? It could just be the flavor of the juice they use. Not too sweet at all though admittedly, I just had a little bit and I'm not sure if such a small size is really a fair way to...
Oh wait, gotta go. Looks like we're having an impromptu tasting here in the office at the moment.
...and I'm back. Got to try the Chocolate Banana flavor as well and there's something muted in that flavor that I can't quite put my finger on. It's not exactly something bad, but it's definitely something you notice. But after having tried some more the "not that sweet" verdict still stands.
Making my way to work, walking down Lexington, I get stop at the Starbucks betweetn 57th and 58th because they had a dude standing out with their freebie tray and those mini cups they use for giving out sample. Busy commuters weren't really paying much mind but I heard him say Vivanno and I thought, "OH SNAP THE NEW SMOOTHIE!" and quickly grabbed one. Didn't get the Chocolate Banana though, it was mango. There was a slight, almost savory, tinge in the back of it. And I don't mean the slight metallic taste from the banana (both have flavors have bananas in them). I don't know if savory is exactly it, but it's a little something you detect on your tongue. Maybe the protein powder? It could just be the flavor of the juice they use. Not too sweet at all though admittedly, I just had a little bit and I'm not sure if such a small size is really a fair way to...
Oh wait, gotta go. Looks like we're having an impromptu tasting here in the office at the moment.
...and I'm back. Got to try the Chocolate Banana flavor as well and there's something muted in that flavor that I can't quite put my finger on. It's not exactly something bad, but it's definitely something you notice. But after having tried some more the "not that sweet" verdict still stands.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Hudson River Cafe's new summer cocktail menu
The last time I stepped foot in the Hudson River Cafe, it was still partially under construction. It was a little over a year ago that I was shown around as I conducted an interview for a story I was writing about all the restaurant development happening along a particular stretch of West Harlem along the Hudson River.
It was easier to be in that neighborhood to pick up some Dinosaur BBQ back when I still lived up in the Inwood/Washington Heights Area, since it was on my way home on the uptown 1 train. However, even after the place was up and running I never got a chance to stop in. Now that I'm out in Astoria, it's kind of out of the way to say the least. So it was a bit of nostalgia to find myself on the uptown 1 again for the cocktail party debuting the new summer drink menu.
Walking past the Cotton Club and hanging a right, I passed by Dinosaur BBQ on the right and Fairway on the left under a scene probably not unlike the one under Knoxville's Henley Bridge that Cormac McCarthy described as a "long aisle of arches" in Suttree.
I entered the courtyard area of the Hudson River Cafe that was littered with building materials on my last visit, but was now filled with people and tables instead. I gazed upon...oh, bother, this is getting to be a bit much. Enough with the descriptive writing, on to what we're all here for — the drinks!
Mixologist Alex Ott, who's consulting Hudson River Cafe on their cocktail menu created this lineup of summer drinks. He was behind the bar somehow managing to mix up several a large amount of cocktails. He seemed to be able to accomplish this by attacking the situation in waves. Go through several glasses of one cocktail, break, then move on to the next.
Alex Ott is a busy man, telling me at one point he's working on about 150 cocktail menu deals all around the world as he was negotiating three different shakers at once. He said he created the drinks on the menu so that the could be paired with the food served at the restaurant; the lemongrass the Courtesan with ceviche or the wine in the Hudson River Caipirinha to go with beef, Alex explained.
The drinks were generally divided between fruity-up-front or the more subtle fruit-as-an-undertone categories. In the latter category, for example, I'd place the Lychee Fizz, and in the former, the Manhattanville.
The Harlem Renaissance, which is a dessert drink meant to be served "instead of dessert," according to Alex, came with a "virtual campfire" according to the menu. I didn't get to see it at the bar, but I did catch a glimpse of a red wine glass filled with smoke overturned on a platter brought out to one table, the glass lifted, then waved about. I'm guessing the smoke smelled like a campfire in some way. I didn't smell the smoke myself so I can only presume, but now I'm all kinds of puzzled as to what that's about. I didn't get a chance to ask since I didn't notice this detail until later. I tried to reason with myself that maybe its some kind of approximation of s'mores, but that doesn't sound right either.
Honeysuckle
Zacapa Rum, liquified honey, fresh lime juice
Manhattanville
fresh strawberries, guava juice, Grand Marnier, Belvedere Vodka, lime juice
Courtesan
Ginji Sake, Svedka Vodka, fresh lemongrass, fresh ginger, fresh mint, soda
Little Bird
Ocucaje Pisco, fresh mango, egg white, fresh lime juice, cinnamon, lime zest
Harlem Nights
Patron Silver, Creme de Peche, fresh mango, fresh lime, fresh mint
Lychee Fizz
Svedka citron vodka, fresh grapefruit, fresh lychee, agave nectar, soda water
Hudson River Caipirinha
Merlot, fresh limes, agave nectar
Harlem Renaissance
Chianti, fresh raspberry, Godiva Dark Chocolate Liqueur, fresh whipped cream, 23 carat gold "Virtual Campfire"
It was easier to be in that neighborhood to pick up some Dinosaur BBQ back when I still lived up in the Inwood/Washington Heights Area, since it was on my way home on the uptown 1 train. However, even after the place was up and running I never got a chance to stop in. Now that I'm out in Astoria, it's kind of out of the way to say the least. So it was a bit of nostalgia to find myself on the uptown 1 again for the cocktail party debuting the new summer drink menu.
Walking past the Cotton Club and hanging a right, I passed by Dinosaur BBQ on the right and Fairway on the left under a scene probably not unlike the one under Knoxville's Henley Bridge that Cormac McCarthy described as a "long aisle of arches" in Suttree.
I entered the courtyard area of the Hudson River Cafe that was littered with building materials on my last visit, but was now filled with people and tables instead. I gazed upon...oh, bother, this is getting to be a bit much. Enough with the descriptive writing, on to what we're all here for — the drinks!
Mixologist Alex Ott, who's consulting Hudson River Cafe on their cocktail menu created this lineup of summer drinks. He was behind the bar somehow managing to mix up several a large amount of cocktails. He seemed to be able to accomplish this by attacking the situation in waves. Go through several glasses of one cocktail, break, then move on to the next.
Alex Ott is a busy man, telling me at one point he's working on about 150 cocktail menu deals all around the world as he was negotiating three different shakers at once. He said he created the drinks on the menu so that the could be paired with the food served at the restaurant; the lemongrass the Courtesan with ceviche or the wine in the Hudson River Caipirinha to go with beef, Alex explained.
The drinks were generally divided between fruity-up-front or the more subtle fruit-as-an-undertone categories. In the latter category, for example, I'd place the Lychee Fizz, and in the former, the Manhattanville.
The Harlem Renaissance, which is a dessert drink meant to be served "instead of dessert," according to Alex, came with a "virtual campfire" according to the menu. I didn't get to see it at the bar, but I did catch a glimpse of a red wine glass filled with smoke overturned on a platter brought out to one table, the glass lifted, then waved about. I'm guessing the smoke smelled like a campfire in some way. I didn't smell the smoke myself so I can only presume, but now I'm all kinds of puzzled as to what that's about. I didn't get a chance to ask since I didn't notice this detail until later. I tried to reason with myself that maybe its some kind of approximation of s'mores, but that doesn't sound right either.
Zacapa Rum, liquified honey, fresh lime juice
Manhattanville
fresh strawberries, guava juice, Grand Marnier, Belvedere Vodka, lime juice
Courtesan
Ginji Sake, Svedka Vodka, fresh lemongrass, fresh ginger, fresh mint, soda
Little Bird
Ocucaje Pisco, fresh mango, egg white, fresh lime juice, cinnamon, lime zest
Harlem Nights
Patron Silver, Creme de Peche, fresh mango, fresh lime, fresh mint
Lychee Fizz
Svedka citron vodka, fresh grapefruit, fresh lychee, agave nectar, soda water
Hudson River Caipirinha
Merlot, fresh limes, agave nectar
Harlem Renaissance
Chianti, fresh raspberry, Godiva Dark Chocolate Liqueur, fresh whipped cream, 23 carat gold "Virtual Campfire"
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Countdown to Tales of the Cocktail 2008
Did you know that the Sazerac was designated Official Cocktail of New Orleans earlier this week? I never really contemplated whether or not New Orleans had an official cocktail, but I was kind of surprised to find out that it wasn't already considering it is the cocktail's hometown and all that. I don't really understand all the civic intricacies of designating anything an official something, nor do I know each individual city's history of official things so I shouldn't be the one to talk.
Anyhow, there's going to be an event celebrating this new designation for Antoine Amédée Peychaud's contribution to the annals of beverage history...ON THE DAY I ARRIVE IN NEW ORLEANS. According to the media alert, complimentary Sazeracs and Sazerac cupcakes (I have several ideas of what the latter might actually entail, but all conclude with me eating them) for everyone starting 2 p.m. The organizers do not play. Considering that there are events kicking off around 9-10:30 a.m. almost everyday of Tales of the Cocktail, it's more indicative than something of an anomaly.
With a little less than a week before I head down to New Orleans, all the emails I've been getting regarding Tales of the Cocktail finally has me facing the fact that I need to try and organize my schedule. I've been pushing this off because it combines two things I do not enjoy. Organization and planning ahead. And for those of you reading this blog regularly, that's two more things I've revealed about myself on this blog that makes me sound like not that much of a winner.
It's not that I can't do said things, it's just they're on a list of many "Things I Do Not Enjoy That Just Happen To Also Be Things You Need to Do To Live an Adult Life in Modern Society." Like filling out forms for example. It can take me an hour to fill out a one-page form because I'll stop every two boxes and go wander off and do something else before coming back to it. If you want to include the time it takes for me to work up the gumption to actually go and fill out the form after I first receive it, I average about four days to a page.
There are plenty of seminars and events going on. I do have some events that I really want attend, but I haven't really even begun to figure out where time conflicts exist and things of that nature. For example, I just realized that "How to view Beer as an Ingredient" is happening at the same time with 'Jerry's Kids: The life, drinks and legacy of Jerry Thomas." Both things I would love to attend. And do I even have time to go on the New Orleans Original Cocktail Tour?
This is exactly why for the past couple of weeks whenever I've been asked whether or not I'm going to Tales my answer has been, "Yes...and I'm a little scared."
I guess "intimidated" would be a better word than "scared" because any interaction usually goes like this:
Person X: "Are you going to Tales?"
Me: "Yep!"
Person X: "It's going to be awesome.......but, oh ho ho ho..."
Me: "What?"
Person X: [Insert some reference to drinking way too much than is humanly healthy, or not getting to your hotel room until 4 am]
This event is work. And not to say there won't be other people working at this event as well, I mean, this is work for me in that I have to do things like remember details accurately. Remember them at all for that matter. Last I checked copious amounts of alcohol and brain activity did not come together unless for some kind of awesome disastrous story your friends told you after the fact that might as well have happened to someone else because you might have been there physically, but in no way mentally was that the same person as you. Or in one story a friend told me of an acquaintance of his, realizing you somehow transported a Col. Sanders statue from the front of a local KFC to the roof of your building in your inebriated state.
I'm taking much of this in stride. First off, no matter how you cut it this will be an awesome event as well as learning experience. I still feel like just a kid in many ways about this whole cocktail business and I'm going to run myself ragged running around to different events and get me some education. And it's a little ridiculous to be worried about an event celebrating cocktails because of course there will be drinking. At the same time I'm reminding myself that it's not like I will be forced to drink a lot (right??) and everyone's got their own pace that they'll follow. And really, it's a great opportunity to celebrate cocktails, enjoy some quality drinks and meet some new people and finally talk to some of those whom I've only talked to via phone or email.
It seems like The Museum of the American Cocktail won't be opening until the 21st. I hope there's some way to take a gander at the place before it officially opens.
Anyhow, there's going to be an event celebrating this new designation for Antoine Amédée Peychaud's contribution to the annals of beverage history...ON THE DAY I ARRIVE IN NEW ORLEANS. According to the media alert, complimentary Sazeracs and Sazerac cupcakes (I have several ideas of what the latter might actually entail, but all conclude with me eating them) for everyone starting 2 p.m. The organizers do not play. Considering that there are events kicking off around 9-10:30 a.m. almost everyday of Tales of the Cocktail, it's more indicative than something of an anomaly.
With a little less than a week before I head down to New Orleans, all the emails I've been getting regarding Tales of the Cocktail finally has me facing the fact that I need to try and organize my schedule. I've been pushing this off because it combines two things I do not enjoy. Organization and planning ahead. And for those of you reading this blog regularly, that's two more things I've revealed about myself on this blog that makes me sound like not that much of a winner.
It's not that I can't do said things, it's just they're on a list of many "Things I Do Not Enjoy That Just Happen To Also Be Things You Need to Do To Live an Adult Life in Modern Society." Like filling out forms for example. It can take me an hour to fill out a one-page form because I'll stop every two boxes and go wander off and do something else before coming back to it. If you want to include the time it takes for me to work up the gumption to actually go and fill out the form after I first receive it, I average about four days to a page.
There are plenty of seminars and events going on. I do have some events that I really want attend, but I haven't really even begun to figure out where time conflicts exist and things of that nature. For example, I just realized that "How to view Beer as an Ingredient" is happening at the same time with 'Jerry's Kids: The life, drinks and legacy of Jerry Thomas." Both things I would love to attend. And do I even have time to go on the New Orleans Original Cocktail Tour?
This is exactly why for the past couple of weeks whenever I've been asked whether or not I'm going to Tales my answer has been, "Yes...and I'm a little scared."
I guess "intimidated" would be a better word than "scared" because any interaction usually goes like this:
Person X: "Are you going to Tales?"
Me: "Yep!"
Person X: "It's going to be awesome.......but, oh ho ho ho..."
Me: "What?"
Person X: [Insert some reference to drinking way too much than is humanly healthy, or not getting to your hotel room until 4 am]
This event is work. And not to say there won't be other people working at this event as well, I mean, this is work for me in that I have to do things like remember details accurately. Remember them at all for that matter. Last I checked copious amounts of alcohol and brain activity did not come together unless for some kind of awesome disastrous story your friends told you after the fact that might as well have happened to someone else because you might have been there physically, but in no way mentally was that the same person as you. Or in one story a friend told me of an acquaintance of his, realizing you somehow transported a Col. Sanders statue from the front of a local KFC to the roof of your building in your inebriated state.
I'm taking much of this in stride. First off, no matter how you cut it this will be an awesome event as well as learning experience. I still feel like just a kid in many ways about this whole cocktail business and I'm going to run myself ragged running around to different events and get me some education. And it's a little ridiculous to be worried about an event celebrating cocktails because of course there will be drinking. At the same time I'm reminding myself that it's not like I will be forced to drink a lot (right??) and everyone's got their own pace that they'll follow. And really, it's a great opportunity to celebrate cocktails, enjoy some quality drinks and meet some new people and finally talk to some of those whom I've only talked to via phone or email.
It seems like The Museum of the American Cocktail won't be opening until the 21st. I hope there's some way to take a gander at the place before it officially opens.
Monday, July 7, 2008
When everyone has an opinion on a secret
A little while back I came across a post on Gawker about another secret bar location in the city. This one with some kind of creepy two-way mirror screening built into the entrance process. The info came via Jossip, which in turn was via Urban Daddy, but I stuck with the third-hand Gawker post to see what commentary the denizens of Gawker had to serve up.
I wasn't disappointed at all and dissolved into discreet office giggles when several comments ended up referencing the Konami Code and Super Mario Bros. 3. The general tone of these jokes seemed to indicate that the great lengths taken by this particular establishment was just plain ridiculous. One commenter, Grumpy McGillicutty, expressed the opinion that "The patrons are there to buy booze, and the bar is there to make money by selling them booze. The patrons are not there to supplicate and petition the bar for the privilege of supporting their business endeavor."
I'm personally more laissez-faire about the whole thing. I figure that with cocktails and beverages gaining as much spotlight as food, the bar and lounge business shouldn't be treated all that differently from the restaurant business. Especially in a saturated and diverse market like New York, it's not surprising to see how it makes sense to try and differentiate from the competition. So you're not a $1 PBR kind of place. Go get on with your bad self whatever your concept might be. In the end, the market would determine what works or not. Not that I'm particularly politically or economically minded. I guess it's just that the combined experiences of sitting in front of a bar as well as talking to those behind it has me easily playing point/counterpoint about the subject of secret bars and "speakeasies" whenever it comes up.
On the consumer side of things, it's not that hard to see that exclusivity can breed contempt. Whether the negative reaction is "Well, I didn't want to drink in your fancy pants bar anyway," or "This is too much trouble just to get a drink," the pitfall for secret bar operators is that smoke and mirrors can easily cloud the public opinion of an establishment regardless of the operators' intentions.
My friend Kate messaged me a little while back about a question that popped up on the question-and-answer portion of the community blog Metafilter. A user wanted to know how he could gain access to some secret bars in New York.
But Kate didn't message me to ask me help this particular user; her reasons were entirely more Bolshevik. "Give me the number so I can put it all over the internet and ruin their lives. Mwa ha ha."
A chunk of her beef with the place came from reading about about Milk and Honey from the viewpoint of several customer/reviewers online. Her message continued:
"Seriously, I'm reading on Yelp and it's all these douches being like, 'Oh yes, I got the number somehow, but no, boo, you don't get the number, unwashed masses.' Boooo."
I went over to Yelp to see what some of the reviewers had to say about the place.
Some of the reviews were straightforward accounts of visiting Milk and Honey, but then I'd find myself slightly cringing when I'd come across some variation of "But, yea, don't ask me for the number, nyah," or some manner of slight bragging about the well-heeled friend that got them in or how they're tight with such-and-such a bartender would pop up. I wanted to say to my flickering computer screen, "Look, we ALL know it's secret. That's kind of the point. I really don't see how mentioning that you enjoy hanging out with other M&H members or your magical dinner at Babbo beforehand is worth two figs to anyone else besides saying 'I'm this sort of person.' And stop complaining about people bugging you for the number. I have no sympathy for you. Maybe you should have thought a bit more about that before relating to the general public that you are in possession of said hot commodity."
Some might level charges of gimmickery at the place or some would say the entire experience is worth it for a handcrafted cocktail somewhere that wasn't a loud and crowded bar scene, but it wasn't too hard to see how a few rotten apples of asshattery could turn people off. Some were too wrapped up in rapt descriptions, that it made you doubt if their review really was for the benefit of others or if they just wanted to pat themselves on the back for having visited the place.
Say that one finds the crapshoot of whether or not you get a number an attempt to level the playing field in a city where too many times you don't get behind the velvet rope unless you're judged on looks or whether or not you can afford a table. And even say that Sasha Petraske's rules make sense to you since it helps to get away from that meat market-like atmosphere where you're no one unless you know someone and women aren't just there as props to be ogled at or bothered. Even so, unfortunately, customer behavior outside of the bar is something that all the changing numbers and rules in the universe can't do anything about.
Another anecdote: On a typical busy night in Crif Dogs eating my hot dog and chili cheese fries with some friends, I watched several sets of customers sitting around us whisper about the phone booth leading to PDT.
"You ever been in there?" I heard one ask only to be answered in the negative by his companion.
One emissary from another group of diners was goaded by his friends to try and see if they could get in to PDT "just to see what it's like" only to be rebuffed at the phone booth since, unsurprisingly, the place was filled to seating capacity. When a group showed up later and got through the phone booth (probably a table reservation), I overheard one of the rebuffed comment, "I guess they try to, like, keep a balance between girls and guys or something?"
It was so wrong an assessment that I almost stood up to go over and explain things to them, but sure *I* knew that the place took table reservations and really, there's no such thing as a secret handshake to getting into the place than being there when there's a seat, but for someone who only knows the reputation of "secret," what did it matter?
I couldn't oblige Kate's request to help her in her revolution against Milk and Honey, but instead I asked, "Do you want to go to Milk and Honey with me?" Considering my own spinelessly lackadaisical opinion about the whole affair I needed a reaction to the joint from a different perspective.
So Kate, her boyfriend Marc and I found ourselves crammed into a little booth on a Thursday night.
The first general topic of discussion was that the place was smaller than expected. Kate nodded and said that she supposed reservations really kind of were necessary for a place that size. It's not hard to find a bit of crowd control in some of New York's cocktail lounges. It's not hard to understand why either. There are bars, not secret even, that do not allow standing customers. Not so secret spots such as Death and Company and Hotel Delmano do it. In a way, the secret number is a type of crowd control. Though, yea, there's an added twist that if you can't really figure out a way to get the number, you're pretty SOL. Marc had to surrender his ever-present hat, but he said he did think the rules regarding how ladies were to be approached was pretty neat. There were no complaints whatsoever on the drinks front.
On a final note, I've always felt weird describing some places secret bars or speakeasies. They always seemed like just bars and lounges to me with varying levels of difficulty in regards to entrance. Like how with some restaurants, it's just impossible to get a reservation? To the army brat in me it seemed more like a system of like how classified government documents work. You got you Unclassifieds, you got your Confidentials, maybe even a Top Secret*. And like the Freedom of Information Act, you're always more than welcome to submit a request for what you want, but don't be surprised if it comes back inked up with black markers.
In the end, Kate was still annoyed by what she deemed the frippery of having an unlisted number as well as the idea of $15 drinks. However, she did enjoy her drink. Part of me wonders if Sasha Petraske would rather hear someone say that the place might not be exactly their cup of tea, but they still honestly enjoyed their cocktail or would he rather have a mountain of praise full of preening for a bar where rule number one is, "No name-dropping. No star f***ing."
*One time when I was 13 and was accidentally given some classified documents to handle while running errands at my summer job with the U.S. Army. I almost pooped a brick when I opened my messenger suitcase and saw the carmine bordered cover sheet with "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped ominously across it. The response from the commanding officer of the office I worked at was, "Oh, you weren't supposed to get that. Go ahead and go shred it." Fine, Confidential is the lowest level, but I didn't even attempt to sneak a peek for fear that MPs would come bursting in and drag me off somewhere to interrogate me about breach of security.
I wasn't disappointed at all and dissolved into discreet office giggles when several comments ended up referencing the Konami Code and Super Mario Bros. 3. The general tone of these jokes seemed to indicate that the great lengths taken by this particular establishment was just plain ridiculous. One commenter, Grumpy McGillicutty, expressed the opinion that "The patrons are there to buy booze, and the bar is there to make money by selling them booze. The patrons are not there to supplicate and petition the bar for the privilege of supporting their business endeavor."
I'm personally more laissez-faire about the whole thing. I figure that with cocktails and beverages gaining as much spotlight as food, the bar and lounge business shouldn't be treated all that differently from the restaurant business. Especially in a saturated and diverse market like New York, it's not surprising to see how it makes sense to try and differentiate from the competition. So you're not a $1 PBR kind of place. Go get on with your bad self whatever your concept might be. In the end, the market would determine what works or not. Not that I'm particularly politically or economically minded. I guess it's just that the combined experiences of sitting in front of a bar as well as talking to those behind it has me easily playing point/counterpoint about the subject of secret bars and "speakeasies" whenever it comes up.
On the consumer side of things, it's not that hard to see that exclusivity can breed contempt. Whether the negative reaction is "Well, I didn't want to drink in your fancy pants bar anyway," or "This is too much trouble just to get a drink," the pitfall for secret bar operators is that smoke and mirrors can easily cloud the public opinion of an establishment regardless of the operators' intentions.
My friend Kate messaged me a little while back about a question that popped up on the question-and-answer portion of the community blog Metafilter. A user wanted to know how he could gain access to some secret bars in New York.
But Kate didn't message me to ask me help this particular user; her reasons were entirely more Bolshevik. "Give me the number so I can put it all over the internet and ruin their lives. Mwa ha ha."
A chunk of her beef with the place came from reading about about Milk and Honey from the viewpoint of several customer/reviewers online. Her message continued:
"Seriously, I'm reading on Yelp and it's all these douches being like, 'Oh yes, I got the number somehow, but no, boo, you don't get the number, unwashed masses.' Boooo."
I went over to Yelp to see what some of the reviewers had to say about the place.
Some of the reviews were straightforward accounts of visiting Milk and Honey, but then I'd find myself slightly cringing when I'd come across some variation of "But, yea, don't ask me for the number, nyah," or some manner of slight bragging about the well-heeled friend that got them in or how they're tight with such-and-such a bartender would pop up. I wanted to say to my flickering computer screen, "Look, we ALL know it's secret. That's kind of the point. I really don't see how mentioning that you enjoy hanging out with other M&H members or your magical dinner at Babbo beforehand is worth two figs to anyone else besides saying 'I'm this sort of person.' And stop complaining about people bugging you for the number. I have no sympathy for you. Maybe you should have thought a bit more about that before relating to the general public that you are in possession of said hot commodity."
Some might level charges of gimmickery at the place or some would say the entire experience is worth it for a handcrafted cocktail somewhere that wasn't a loud and crowded bar scene, but it wasn't too hard to see how a few rotten apples of asshattery could turn people off. Some were too wrapped up in rapt descriptions, that it made you doubt if their review really was for the benefit of others or if they just wanted to pat themselves on the back for having visited the place.
Say that one finds the crapshoot of whether or not you get a number an attempt to level the playing field in a city where too many times you don't get behind the velvet rope unless you're judged on looks or whether or not you can afford a table. And even say that Sasha Petraske's rules make sense to you since it helps to get away from that meat market-like atmosphere where you're no one unless you know someone and women aren't just there as props to be ogled at or bothered. Even so, unfortunately, customer behavior outside of the bar is something that all the changing numbers and rules in the universe can't do anything about.
Another anecdote: On a typical busy night in Crif Dogs eating my hot dog and chili cheese fries with some friends, I watched several sets of customers sitting around us whisper about the phone booth leading to PDT.
"You ever been in there?" I heard one ask only to be answered in the negative by his companion.
One emissary from another group of diners was goaded by his friends to try and see if they could get in to PDT "just to see what it's like" only to be rebuffed at the phone booth since, unsurprisingly, the place was filled to seating capacity. When a group showed up later and got through the phone booth (probably a table reservation), I overheard one of the rebuffed comment, "I guess they try to, like, keep a balance between girls and guys or something?"
It was so wrong an assessment that I almost stood up to go over and explain things to them, but sure *I* knew that the place took table reservations and really, there's no such thing as a secret handshake to getting into the place than being there when there's a seat, but for someone who only knows the reputation of "secret," what did it matter?
I couldn't oblige Kate's request to help her in her revolution against Milk and Honey, but instead I asked, "Do you want to go to Milk and Honey with me?" Considering my own spinelessly lackadaisical opinion about the whole affair I needed a reaction to the joint from a different perspective.
So Kate, her boyfriend Marc and I found ourselves crammed into a little booth on a Thursday night.
The first general topic of discussion was that the place was smaller than expected. Kate nodded and said that she supposed reservations really kind of were necessary for a place that size. It's not hard to find a bit of crowd control in some of New York's cocktail lounges. It's not hard to understand why either. There are bars, not secret even, that do not allow standing customers. Not so secret spots such as Death and Company and Hotel Delmano do it. In a way, the secret number is a type of crowd control. Though, yea, there's an added twist that if you can't really figure out a way to get the number, you're pretty SOL. Marc had to surrender his ever-present hat, but he said he did think the rules regarding how ladies were to be approached was pretty neat. There were no complaints whatsoever on the drinks front.
On a final note, I've always felt weird describing some places secret bars or speakeasies. They always seemed like just bars and lounges to me with varying levels of difficulty in regards to entrance. Like how with some restaurants, it's just impossible to get a reservation? To the army brat in me it seemed more like a system of like how classified government documents work. You got you Unclassifieds, you got your Confidentials, maybe even a Top Secret*. And like the Freedom of Information Act, you're always more than welcome to submit a request for what you want, but don't be surprised if it comes back inked up with black markers.
In the end, Kate was still annoyed by what she deemed the frippery of having an unlisted number as well as the idea of $15 drinks. However, she did enjoy her drink. Part of me wonders if Sasha Petraske would rather hear someone say that the place might not be exactly their cup of tea, but they still honestly enjoyed their cocktail or would he rather have a mountain of praise full of preening for a bar where rule number one is, "No name-dropping. No star f***ing."
*One time when I was 13 and was accidentally given some classified documents to handle while running errands at my summer job with the U.S. Army. I almost pooped a brick when I opened my messenger suitcase and saw the carmine bordered cover sheet with "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped ominously across it. The response from the commanding officer of the office I worked at was, "Oh, you weren't supposed to get that. Go ahead and go shred it." Fine, Confidential is the lowest level, but I didn't even attempt to sneak a peek for fear that MPs would come bursting in and drag me off somewhere to interrogate me about breach of security.
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