Week 2: A Deep Dive Into The Precepts From Beta Cocktails
Focus on making one person happy one drink at a time
Welcome back to week 2 in my deep dive into the transcendent and eccentric cocktail book Beta Cocktails.
If you would like a copy of this hard-to-find book to follow along, you can grab one here.
The Precepts of Beta Cocktails:
Week 1
P. 7: Don't knock it 'til you've tried it.Week 2
P. 2: A bar exists to serve customers, not cocktails.
P. 8: You will never serve a cocktail that makes everybody happy, so focus on making one person happy one drink at a time.
I am doing the Precepts out of order, but I will list them by the week above each post with a link so you can refresh yourself on past Precepts if you like.
Let’s roll!
P. 2:
A bar exists to serve customers, not cocktails.
The Bellini at Harry’s Bar in Venice. The Bloody Mary (origin often disputed) from Bar Hemingway in Paris. The Benton's Old Fashioned from PDT in New York. The Martini at Duke's Bar in London. The Grasshopper at Tujague's in New Orleans. The White Lady at Bar High Five in Tokyo. If those drinks didn't exist, the bars most certainly would because it isn't the drinks that make those bars so good, and boy, are they good!
Why do bars exist?
I am sure your answers differ depending on what side of the bar you usually stand on. When you think of the famous cocktails and the bars they hail from, it's good to keep in mind that the bars were well loved before those popular drinks landed on a napkin.
People walk into bars for all sorts of reasons, but as Colin Field of Bar Hemingway likes to say, "rarely because they are thirsty." A bar can be a sanctuary, a place of refuge. Often they are considered third spaces in that they are not home and not work. When I meet a friend at a bar, the drinks are secondary; you can get a drink anywhere. Do you think the fictional Norm kept walking into Cheers because the beer was that good?
A good bartender knows that they are there to be of service. If a guest would like a cocktail, that is certainly a service they can provide. Bartenders also provide directions and advice. They should be seen as the concierges of the city they occupy. When I moved to Chicago and got a job tending bar downtown at a hotel, I quickly had to learn the cross-streets because tourists were more concerned about getting to Navy Pier, The Art Institute, or Wrigley Field than they were with the whiskey I poured in their Old Fashioned.
When I travel, I skip all the ten best lists and head to the closest bar. I usually leave with a napkin full of scribbled addresses of places to go and who to ask for when I get there. It works every time...and the only way I remember what I drank in those instances is because I tend to order the same drink with regularity! It wasn't about the drink; it was about the bar, the bartender, and the patrons.
Some of my favorite bars don't even have a cocktail list. Why would they? Those bartenders want to talk to people face to face, eyeball to eyeball, to determine exactly what the guest requires. Handing someone a menu is a distraction in a place like that when simply asking, "what do you like?" would suffice.
But on the subject of cocktails, a bartender should remember:
P. 8:
You will never serve a cocktail that makes everybody happy, so focus on making one person happy one drink at a time.
This Precept hit hard for me when I read it nearly a decade ago, and it still rings true today.
As a patron, you don't have to like every cocktail that comes your way, and it would almost be silly if you did. If you are polite about it at a reputable bar, they will make it right if the error is on their part, on yours, or if you just flat out don't like what you received. Don't take advantage of the system but know that a good bartender wants you to leave happier than when you walked in the door (or sat on the patio). As a bartender, you should know that not everything you make will please everyone.
I remember working a busy happy hour, and a woman sat down at the bar with a couple of friends and ordered a Manhattan without hesitation. I pride myself in making a pretty darn good Manhattan, seeing as it's my wife's drink of choice, and in a few pours and stirs, this lady had a tasty Manhattan sitting in front of her, or so I thought.
She took one sip and looked up at me, and said, "I hate it."
I was slightly confused and even a bit embarrassed as I was rewinding the last few minutes in my head. Did I mess it up? Did I grab the right bottles? She did say Manhattan, right?
I asked very simply, "Is there a specific way you would like your Manhattan made?"
She responded, "Well, I don't know. This is the first Manhattan I have ever had. I saw someone drinking one on TV and wanted to try it."
I realized then that there was no way to please this person with a Manhattan, even though it was the drink ordered. We chatted while I made drinks for her friends about the Manhattan and stirred drinks versus shaken drinks. I found out that she usually drinks Moscow Mules but liked how the Manhattan looked because she was tired of the cup the Moscow Mule always came in, and she was curious about whiskey. The answer was looking us right in the face.
A few shakes later, I had a delighted customer at the bar sipping a Whiskey Sour while I dumped an excellent Manhattan down the sink. But what good is a Manhattan for someone that doesn't like a Manhattan? My drink ego, while feeling bruised a few minutes back, really had nothing to worry about. The problem wasn't MY Manhattan; it was boozy stirred drinks in general and how this specific guest didn't have a taste for them. As much as she wanted it to, the Manhattan didn't fit her, but a Whiskey Sour fit naturally.
If you've ever gone to a tailor, you realize quickly what can be done to a piece of clothing: add a little here, take a little there, make this bigger, make this smaller. When they finish, you have an article of clothing that fits only one person, you. You also have someone who can tell you without any pretense what styles works for your body—thick or thin lapels, pleats, cuffs, winged collar, or cutaway.
The same can be done for drinks.
Sure, an "off-the-rack" 2:1 Manhattan may fit you perfectly and that is lucky and great. I thought my GAP blazer fit me until I had a suit made for my wedding.
Holy cow! I didn't know what I was missing. I am not just a 42S; I am Luke! I have longer arms than I am tall and short legs to go with my lengthy torso. My shoulders are too big for any shirt with a collar to fit right, and if I find one that fits me around the neck, I am swimming in the rest of it.
Focusing on one person at a time allows the bartender to make drinks specifically for the person ordering, like a tailor making clothes. I say it all the time, but you could have ten people sitting at a bar all drinking the same cocktail by name but with different specs/ratios for each one. It isn't hard to make ten different Manhattans, Martinis, or Negronis, and those drinks are all three ingredients or less.
Focus on making one person happy one drink at a time.
Next week we examine:
P. 6:
Recipes are guidelines, not gospel.
and
P. 10:
Share recipes. It can inspire.
Thanks for reading!