Alchemist

I agree that people who put salt, pepper, ketchup, hot sauce on something before they taste it mess up the effect. Not always of course, Tapatio on your taco al pastor is one thing. In the same vein I have stopped using wedges of lime on cocktails (like a Daq or gimlet) and gone to very thin lime wheels so the customer can’t squeeze it first thing into a drink. I am, of course happy to provide lime or simple if the drink is too sweet or dry for their palate.

I like making martinis for myself two to one gin-vermouth, the vermouth depending on which gin I'm rocking changing Tanq-Noilly, Old Raj-Vya, orange bitters and then an whisper of oil from an orange twist, promply discarded. That allmost sounds like not a martini. If an onion changes a martini to a Gibson... And speaking of a "Perfect" martini, how about... 3 oz Junipero 1 oz dry Verm. Noilly 1/2 oz sweet Verm. Antica O. bitters, same garni as above Edited because I haven't slept in days...the bar I am opening taking up 22ish hours of my day.

At the bar I am opening here in Chicago we are putting two filters on all the water lines for the ice machines, and we will be doing only twice filtered tap water. We will be chilling the bottles and water. Which I find is a nice touch on tap water. Since we are having eight kinds of ice behind the bar we had to filter the water for that so months ago we decided to only use the tap water.

I am reading Calvin Trillin "American Fried" Written in 1974 and he mentions that there is a "Vermont statute that makes it illegal for a customer (in a bar/resturant) to carry a drink from one table to another." Any body know if this is true? My italics Toby

Wasn't there an eGullet-eer who has thier own tonic? I sure would like to get ahold of them. Also I like to make my southside fizzes with tonic instead of soda.

I have been a barback, server, and bartender for many years. I of course would pay people for the training. I ALLWAYS promote from within. So the barbacks will become bartenders or servers. But the best education is working your way up. The chef system has worked for many, many years. Until there is a Masters in Bartending Where else is one to turn. If you ask a waiter at a high end resturant about part of a dish would you not expect a concise answer? I would hate for them to go running back to the kitchen to ask what roux is.

Now I am having a hard time finding Barbacks. Is there anywhere I can find a young cook in Chicago that will be trained to slide into a bartender gig? I know that this is not Creigs list but the people here are so much more in tune with what I am trying to do. Thanks Toby

So I am in Chicago, and the bar is shaping up for a mid June opening. I have found the bartenders, all of them have cooked, two went to Culinary school. And they all said yes to a ten day training course which was quite a relief. We realized that we were going to need to put the cocktail waitress through the same course so the know the 150 spirits, EVERYTHING that goes in EVERY cocktail, and the allmost overwelming amount of little details that every one should know. It has been harder finding the cocktail waitresses. I am willing to cross train them as bartenders, but the 10 day training scares most of them off. If anyone has Ideas on where to look PM me. I will post again when the training gets underway and keep you updated. Toby

Can we call this thread cooks turning into bartenders for the right reason? Ok the big thing between a hack and a bartender is that a hack will make a drink and NOT TASTE IT. A cook will ALLWAYS taste a dish at least a couple of times between the the sautee pan and the plate. I want my bartend's to taste my Manhattan at least twice before it is served. And before that I want them to smell the vermouth and know the proper dashes of bitters going into it. A quick aside, I hate the way Ang. bitters comes out of the bottle, if it is full the bitters are a dribble. When the bottle is half way down it is an avalanch of flavor. A cook feels the difference. I put my Ang bitters in a tinksure bottle, better delivery. A cook will always have the Mise. They will system 9 when the going get's ruff. They wiil use bitters of Midori if needed. We get sh%t done in the best way we can. I want cooks to be behind my bar for now and the forsseeable future.

This is pretty close to how I make mine, the combo of Pimms and Gin. Everyone else was talking about how it's a good low voltage choice. I just thought that it lent it's self to adding a good dose of dutch courage so the polo game is less boring.

You tip for quality of service in those instances. And maybe add a little on top because that diner wairess is allways there with a hot pot of coffee, a "how you doin' Hon'" and a sassy snapping of chewing gum that sets you on your way.

First shake everything with out ice about 10 times. Then add big chunks and shake till ice starts to form on the outside of the shaker. Let sit for 5 seconds, then tap shaker to settle foam(You see baristas do this with Cap foam) then pour out into a short glass with NO ICE. Make sure you get all the merange that wants to stick to the bottom of the shaker. Then drizzle soda slowly down the side of the glass while spinning it with your other hand. Put a few drops of bitters and run a straw through them till they look like the sky in Starry Nights. Enjoy.

We had this problem too. Chef had us put out a buffet of sliced meat and cheese and the cheapest ass sliced bread. Mayo and mustard in portion packages. No lettuce, no tomatoes. When the servers asked about it, the chef said, "We've changed the staff meal to the STFU meal. And if you don't like it, you can shut the f--- up!" The whole kitchen was rolling on the floor laughing their asses off and when we were done, we had our steak dinners. Now, when one of the new servers complains about staff meal, the senior servers tell them to shut the hell up. ← At least they get something. The FOH doesn't get anything where I work. ← then you would work in the only restaurant where FOH doesn't complain about the staff meal they get! ← I have worked both BOH And FOH. BOH... There are days on the line when you are behind on prep and you need to make staff meal, the chef only wants you to use some questionable chicken or beef that is more gristle than meat, a box of pasta (Sysco, and the restaurant doesn't even use pasta) and thats it. Jesus had an easier time with the loaf's and fish. The waiters are sitting there folding napkins laughing and complaining about the hundreds of dollars they made last night. You are sweating through your whites, your f*%king Bernaise just broke, and it's 15 min till service. FOH...You come in a little early so you can set up and not eat standing up, and chew as you walk. The owners take money out of every pay check for your meals. You just want a vaguely balanced meal, made with ingredients that aren't going to make you sick. There have been meals, made with meat so old that I was sure was going to cripple the whole staff. I pictured an Airplane (The movie) scene, Waiters doubled over with stomach cramps, while Buss boys puked in the corners and in bussbins. How about a salad that isn't all frisee for a change. The cooks are in back eating the best bits of everything. The poach the oysters from the half chickens, nibble bits of fillet, asparagus spears dripping with butter and lemon, they dip crusty bread in rich sauces, (and wash it down with the beer that was supposed to be in the beer batter) and point fingers in our gaunt and hungry faces. The way to avoid this on the FOH side is if you are a bartender. You chill the beer extra for the cooks, and maybe slide them and extra couple and food appears like magic.

I am opening a high end cocktail bar in Chicago, and I am going after bartenders that have serious food knowledge and culinary experience. I have been looking for culinary school AND years on the line. I’m doing it because cooks have: - The concept of balancing flavors. - Lightning fast prioritization. - Respect for Mise. - Passion for ingredients. - Finely tuned palates. - The ability to put EVERYTHING back where it belongs. - Great knife skills. - The experience of working as a team or unit. - The ability to follow a recipe exactly. - The ability to tweak a recipe when needed. - An eye for presentation/garnish. - A Superhuman ability to work through the pain. - No problem working cruel/unusual hours. O.K. The last two are somewhat of a joke, but opening a bar requires Herculean effort. I am also going to have over 20 each of gin, rums, and ryes. The bartenders will have to know the flavor profile of every one, plus hundreds of other ingredients. The 3 vodkas will be easy. There will be 40 cocktails on the menu, plus the standard classic cocktails that will memorized during a 10 day cocktail course. Cooks understand the concept of a Stage. I will keep you appraised of how it goes in the windy city.

I think that you are a bit myopic, no disrespect. The bartenders at Alto, the last head bartender at WD-50, The bartenders at SB3, a couple of the people behind the bar at Freemans. There is some wicked talent at Gold Bar. At SoHo grand there is a wonderful bartender. I am sure that there are wonderful bar keeps many places. To reference another thread where the hell is Del? A good bar has a million pros and a few cons. I have had wonderful cocktails all over the city, it just takes throwing yourself on the mercy of the bartender. Let them make what they are good at, be it a perfect Martinez, or let them shine at pouring a great pint of black and a atiitude adjustment of Red Breast.

I love my job. I love bartending. I am not an actor. I'm not a writer. I'm not a model. I'm a f&%!*ing bartender. I’ve flipped burgers and eggs in a 24 hour diner, waited tables, washed dishes, worked a door in a club, managed (I use that term lightly), I have sous chefed, worked a line in a four star restaurant, I have unplugged toilets, battled rats outside a fast food s&%t hole at three in the morning. I learned so much from all that and I think that it was all leading me on the inexorable path to here. Here, to Nirvana, bartending in NYC. I live for the hours when it is three or four deep at the bar, and I’m in the zone that time when I can do no wrong. If a glass is dropped I catch it. You get inspiration for a Cocktail, and it is as good as you thought it would be. Movement becomes dance, drink ideas become ambrosia. When I see someone take a sip of my cocktail and they shudder, close their eyes and their toes curl. It makes me giddy to bring such pleasure. I am master of my domain. I am performer, chef, captain in a nasty squall. Guys throw money at me and beautiful women bat their eyelashes, and leave their phone numbers on lipstick smudged bev naps. Then there is working with another bartender that you groove with. To be so in sync with another person that you duck in below their sledge hammer shake, garnish and straw their drink, and ease out to spin and finish what is in your cocktail with flourish. Goddamn!!! It is like playing squash in a submarine, for six hours, with another human, all the while the barbarian hordes are clamoring at the gates for more, and more, and more. I get goosebumps from the summer smell of bruised mint, the burn of good rye, the complexity of a good wine, the look of a Loch Ness lemon twist in a wicked wet gin martini, the smokiness of Compass Box Pete Monster, a Mai Tai made classically, the way essential oils rainbow on the surface of a Manhattan. The clatter of shaking a Ramos, sounding like a runaway subway train. Life would not be complete without the ice that forms on a Queens Park swizzle, the layer of creamy head on an Apple Blow Fizz, the sound of the shakers popping metal on metal, the mini mushroom flare of a flamed twist done well, building a perfect Pousse Café, the laughter and private jokes that take a random group of people and bring them to a well oiled machine. And I overlook the cuts and bruises that make me a working man. I have no problem with celebrities, investment bankers and trust fund hipsters looking down on me for what I do. I tolerate the old chicken and pasta family meals that I'm expected to exist on, the lack of insurance, hearing "One More Time" six times a night, the aching muscles that lull me to sleep. I love the accomplishment of digging myself out of a hole that I thought was not possible. I dream of the clack and chittering of the printer that I can’t keep up with. I love the feeling when the shift is done and you know that you just made so many people happy, full, buzzed. I launched them on to more great cocktails, good sloppy 4am food and uninhibited sex that they will talk about for years. It just doesn’t get better than that. With a wee dram of hubris, I feel sorry for people who create art that hits only one sense. Van Gough's Starry Nights is a masterpiece, but you can’t smell, taste, touch, or hear it. I make art that hits all senses. Organileptic, baby. I never have to deal with rush hour on the subway. I rarely have to be functional before 4pm. My job is to get rich men and beautiful women drunk. This can lead to places that would make Heff, and Hunter, and Bukowski go home feeling like a eight-year-old girl in pigtails. Another thing that I love is meeting people that share a joy of living, and an appreciation of the best things in life. All of my friends love good food, drink, books, clothes, style, and humor. If I try to imagine spending 9-5 in a cubicle my blood turns as cold as a daiquiri shaken to 24 degrees farenheit. Yes, sometimes my body, soul and morals hurt at the end of a grueling shift, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I will repost tomorrow to add tomorrow. Edit for rum soaked syntax/spelling/meanderings. Edited for daisy17 rating.

The Wustoff (SP) is by far the best I have ever used. I like the one that the channel is in line with the handle, not at 90 degrees. If you make your pigtail twists right over your cocktail you leave an oily rainbow, like a puddle in a rednecks driveway. Yum!

What is Cristal? Edit to respell a word.

# Espagnole # Béchamel # Velouté # Hollandaise (butter sauces) # Tomato ← It's all coming back, the smell of roasting veal bones, and the cramps from a hand made hollaindaise, where you couldn't add a splash of water or lemon while whisking. I remember the Espangole as a take off of a Demi Glace. And what was the french name for a tomato sauce?

What are the five mother sauces? It's been almost 20 years since culinary school, and I've lost my Escoffier.

So is there a definitive answer? Or does this category of drinks defy catogorization? I like the idea that it is amount of soda, just a sploosh, like April showers that bring the beautiful may flowers. Or is it the sweetness of the cordials that lace the air like lilacs that give this drink its name? I don’t know but I’m sure going to have to do lot’s of research on the subject.

I am a fan of neither the Boston shaker nor the Cobbler. So my advice leans to the practical over the aesthetic. I used to work in clubs where it was necessary to make 20 Soco and lime shots, or 7 Cosmos at a time. I found if you get a Milk shake tin, it has grooves down the side, and then you get a big Cobbler shaker (throw away the useless top) they will fit together perfectly. Get the milk shaker first and carry it when shopping for the top piece. The lip of the the cobbler should not come below the first groove of the bottom or you will make a hell of a mess. It takes a bit of a spanking to get them to separate, but it works like a charm for system nine, combat bartending. Or when you have 10 thirsty guests clamoring for a cocktail.

This is a very interesting idea. If one uses potable bitters in splooshes and splashes to add needed layers, complexity or roundness to a cocktail, the possibilities are endless. Why not a sploosh of Campari to that Manhattan, or a drizzle of Punt y Mez to the Martinez? And if we are going there a rinse of Amaro in an Old Fashioned? We are blessed with a plethora of wonderful ingredients now a day’s let’s use them for f*%k’s sake.

I had a perfect day. I know that a cocktail is usually imbibed at the end of a long hard existetnial crisis, but not today. Everything fell into place like letters in a Boggle game. The subway might as well have been personal limo rolling up from valet parking. The Rain never fell when I was outside. The Polish Deli got my sandwitch right. My computer was on my side. So at the very respectable hour of 8:15 I went to Gothem for a cocktail. Mark works on wed. and I was craving a Gimlet. The Gimlet is one of the drinks that when it's good it's very, very good and when it is bad it is undrinkable. I don't know how he concocks such a beautifil drink. Maybe it was my yearning for all things spring amidts this cold rain and huddled people, maybe the need for an elegant glass perched before me, promising gloroius, happy tomorrows, but I think I just needed the sublime manage a trois of gin, lime and simple. The glasses at Gothem are sleek and classic, like a '64 Jag. The gimlet is sweet, no, it's tart, no it's strong and quaffiable. I had three. Heeding the advice Of Dorthey Parker I refrained from another. So I get home and stepped up to my bar. It is a rather sad sight, since a gathering of 8 bartenders, and 4 cocktail waitresses a few months ago. I have Kummel, Sloe Gin, Benedictine, peach schnapps, Dulseda, Don Julio 1942, Belle de Brillet, Don Julio anejo, limoncello, Don Julio Repisado, Pernod, Don Julio Blanco, seven types of bitters, Dubonnet, Lillet blond, creme de menthe, Absente, Pisco, eleflower cordial, Kahlua, Amaro Montanegro, Orzata, Johnny Walker Red, Triple Sec... And a Bottle of Beefeater way in the back. I pulled the gin from it's hiding place and put it on the counter, hoping for some inspiration. A root through my fridge, praying for something tart, something that can tame the rather rabid flavors of the gin. Two day old ordered in thai helps me not. I push past the beligeriant cold cuts and find a bottle of RED (fruit punch) Gatorade. Ouch!! I set the oh so sporty bottle next to the ridgid beefeater. There is not a lime, lemon or orange in the house. So i crack three perfect cubes of ice, add five dashes of Regans #6 bitters two fingers of the Queen Mum's Gin and a healthy splash of Flordia Football blood. It's not nearly as bad as I expected it to be. I could Imagine having it ice cold, with a squeeze of lime while playing hungover softball in the park this summer.

Waiting an hour at the bar, savoring an ice cold Negroni, Manhattan, or Martinez, antisapating a decadant, sumptious epicurian adventure? No!!! Please not in the briar patch!!! I think that if customers honored thier reservations more, more small resturants would take them. Customer service should be spent on customers who deserve it.