The Most Unforgettable Bartender:

[MiguelCardoso]

My most unforgettable bartender, I was told by one of the useless drones who'd replaced him at the Algonquin Hotel in midtown Manhattan - one of which actually mixed my Martini in a cheap plastic tumbler and had the cheek to say glass was "inappropriate" - has died. Supposedly. I didn't believe the guy then - this was in May 2001 - and I don't believe him now.

The woody, legendary little bar where he worked, to the right of the reception desk, had been closed forever - though there was a cat-flap at the bottom of the door, to where the lovely house cat, a Maine Coon called Mathilda, who enjoyed lounging on the desk, retired whenever over-enthusiastic guests stroked her too much - and all that was left was the denuded, deracinated, declassé and ridiculously expensive "Blue Bar" accessible from the street.

When I was almost 30 - in the mid-eighties - this suave, philosophical and witty bartender, on my first visit to the Algonquin, introduced me to the joys of well-made Martinis, Manhattans, Old-Fashioneds, Whiskey Sours, Aviations and, for my very first time, Margaritas. For which, very understandably, I shall be eternally grateful.

He was tall and slim - I'd say in his late forties - very distinguished, well-spoken and literary, with a fascinating and much-travelled life. Among his quirks were using a drop of Pernod in an improvised "pipette" (a straw) to enhance his Martinis (something I still do to this day) and keeping what was left in the shaker after making a cocktail, to fill up when you'd had a sip or two. He called this "the dividend".

I went back to the Algonquin three or four times and I won't pretend he wasn't the main reason for my staying there - I even resisted when the Royalton, just across the street, had opened. His conversational "nous" and his worldly intelligence were as stimulating to me as my best Oxford tutors'. Like all expert bartenders, he welcomed every client as if they were the only human beings who not only enjoyed but sincerely and direly needed a cocktail. There was no special treatment, though every one of us felt special.

Every afternoon, around five, I'd enter the bar and place myself in his hands while he chose "sequences" of classic cocktails (he was an expert at this, being able to serve four different cocktails in an increasingly agreeable crescendo, with no unpleasant effects or drunkeness) and regaled me with his observations of the world.

He wrote a long, riveting article for "Esquire" about the bartender's art but, a few years later, when I managed to return to New York, the Algonquin had been bought by some Japanese corporation and then by some equally faceless American chain, the small woody bar he worked in had been shut forever and my most unforgettable bartender, to borrow the classic Readers' Digest phrase, according to the obnoxious plastic martini guy, had passed away. I suspect the fact that I didn't tip him (didn't drink the Martini either, as he refused to mix it in a proper mixing glass) may have had something to do with it as, just before I asked about the now mythical bartender, I caught him whispering "Cheap!" to his similarly uncouth colleagues.

For years now I've searched for that article - if only to remember his name (which I'm almost sure was David something, but we all know the havoc that memory allows) and honour him properly and the role he played in my life, not the least of which is the weekly cocktail column I write for the "Diário de Notícias", Portugal's oldest daily newspaper.

Perhaps some older eGulleteer can help me track him down - or someone with access to the complete "Esquire" archive. Perhaps not...

Still, I'd very much like to hear similar stories of extraordinary bartenders who have opened your eyes, taste buds or minds with their expertise, patience and generosity. I shouldn't wonder a lot of them are quite young - only three years ago, the chief bartender at 58/58, the New York Four Seasons Hotel bar, a cheerful, superbly gifted Trinidadian ex-boxer called Chris, gave me and my wife a fortnight-long crash course in late 20th Century cocktails - to lasting effect, bless him.

Edited May 14, 2004 by MiguelCardoso (log)

[beans]

Perhaps some older eGulleteer can help me track him down - or someone with access to the complete "Esquire" archive. Perhaps not...

Let's check with Splificator, aka David Wondrich, who posts very informative and insightful words from time to time around here?

As for an unforgettable bartender, I've got to think about this a bit more because I have a few that come to mind for a bizillion other, but very valid, reasons.

[MiguelCardoso]

David Wondrich is Splificator? Wow! No, let me say that again: WOW! His marvellous counsel - not only on the essential Esquire Drink Database - is one of the few eternally reliable and knowledgeable mainstays of us cocktail-lovers. If he doesn't know who the Algonquin bartender is... well, he should be ashamed! ;)

Thanks ever so much, dearest beans! :)

Edited May 14, 2004 by MiguelCardoso (log)

[DaleJ]

I am compelled to honor a long ago white haired bartender who made fabulous martinis. This goes back to the late sixties in Detroit and I was a recently registered architect working in a large firm in the New Center area. A block from our office was "Jack's Steak Out", a sometimes lunch spot, but an every night watering hole. Alas, I don't remember his name, but a few of us were addicted to his bar gin martinis which were stirred and strained into frozen glasses. And the price was eighty five cents. A buck on the bar therefor included an over fifteen percent tip. Ah, those times.

[GordonCooks]

Dale DeGroff back in the Rainbow Room days.

The very definition of gentleman barkeep and mixologist.

[Splificator]

David Wondrich is Splificator?  Wow!  No, let me say that again: WOW!  His marvellous counsel - not only on the essential Esquire Drink Database - is one of the few eternally reliable and knowledgeable mainstays of us cocktail-lovers. If he doesn't know who the Algonquin bartender is... well, he should be ashamed! ;)

Thanks ever so much, dearest beans! :)

First, let me say that I'm blushing: thanks for the kind words from you both, very much appreciated indeed (and Miguel--I'm a big fan of your MetaFilter posts and would love to see your column, even if my Portuguese is highly approximate at best). Second, let me admit that the other reason I'm blushing is for shame. I don't know this paragon of bartending virtue; in the '80s, alas, the Algonquin was out of my economic reach. Now that I can afford it, it has degenerated to a shocking degree--a recent visit yielded some of the worst, most expensive drinks on record.

The next time I go up to Esquire's offices I'll look through the back issues for the article in question. If you can give me a more precise range of dates that would certainly help.

I've encountered many unforgettable bartenders, but few of them were gentlemen as you describe. There was Jimmy, the spike-haired punk--only a couple of years older than myself--who manned the bar at the Station Pub in my home town on Long Island (this was in the early 1980s). He was not averse to locking the door on a slow night, blasting the jukebox and pouring free drinks for the house (it wasn't his bar, naturally). He also insisted that the only mixed drink worth ingesting was a straight-up dry gin Martini, which he made perfectly with a minimum of fuss. Wise beyond his years.

Then there was the large, bearded Grizzly Adams type at Grass Roots on St. Mark's Place in Manhattan, who taught me that it is not acceptable behavior in a bar patron to haul off and kick the jukebox if the record is skipping. Life is a journey.

Del Pedro, at Manhattan's recently closed and much lamented Grange Hall also leaps to mind. One of the few native Bermudians in captivity, Del makes a mean Swizzle and knows the proper way to make a Dark & Stormy (more rum, less ginger beer). But he was also one of the first bartenders to resurrect rye whiskey--his Manhattans were impeccable, and will be wherever he ends up--and has internalized the classic art of the cocktail. In other words, his own creations taste just like they came out of the Savoy Cocktail Book, without making a big deal out of it. But mixology is only part of bartending, and what makes Del unforgettable is the atmosphere he created at his his bar, where everybody would end up involved in elliptical, freewheeling conversations that involved regular, passing stranger and bartender alike. Del is one of those bartenders who can cause his bar to bob like a bottle in the stream of passing hours so that those fortunate enough to be sitting there are for a while immune from time's passing.

Once you get started on this, there are so many--28 years of drinking in bars, 25 of them legally, create a lot of ghosts.

Edited for that pesky grammar.

Edited May 14, 2004 by Splificator (log)

[beans]

Miguel and David -- the pleasure was all mine!

There was Jimmy, the spike-haired punk--only a couple of years older than myself--who manned the bar at the Station Pub in my home town on Long Island (this was in the early 1980s). He was not averse to locking the door on a slow night, blasting the jukebox and pouring free drinks for the house (it wasn't his bar, naturally).

I know of a few such as this!

Then there was the large, bearded Grizzly Adams type at Grass Roots on St. Mark's Place in Manhattan, who taught me that it is not acceptable behavior in a bar patron to haul off and kick the jukebox if the record is skipping. Life is a journey.

But mixology is only part of bartending, and what makes Del unforgettable is the atmosphere he created at his his bar, where everybody would end up involved in elliptical, freewheeling conversations that involved regular, passing stranger and bartender alike. Del is one of those bartenders who can cause his bar to bob like a bottle in the stream of passing hours so that those fortunate enough to be sitting there are for a while immune from time's passing.

Yes! I do know of a couple that fit that description. Funny how you know their work schedule better than your own....

[NeroW]

John Carlo and Guido Nardini, Club Lago, Chicago, IL.

[MiguelCardoso]

David/Splificator: I can't tell you how honoured I feel to share a thread with you. I've so often quoted you (along with all my friends and fellow columnists, so that you don't think I'm some sort of exception) that it's quite a thrill. Hey, if something's true, come out and say it, right?

I'll have you know that it was your fearless and intelligent defense of straight rye whiskey that first intrigued me and led me, around 1998 or 1999, to a single-handed campaign to have rye whiskey available in Portugal. I fancy myself as a connoisseur of whiskies but, to be honest, I'd never actually tried it till then. Talk about shameful...

Today, thanks to YOUR influence alone (and your denunciation of the Canadians' false claim to ryeness, still believed in a lot of lesser European countries which use Canadian Club to make Manhattans, Old-Fashioneds and Mint Juleps) my friends and I have managed to convince the all-powerful drink distributors here to offer Wild Turkey Straight Rye, 50.5% (Pernod Ricard Portugal - delicious!); Pikesville (Mercearia Nacional - godawful but definitely rye); Jim Beam "yellow label" Rye (rusty-tasting and diluted to 80 proof for Europe but still engaging in a couple of julep, with the right mint) and expensive brands like Sazerac and Van Winkle (from our meritorious Whiskey Clube).

This was all thanks to you. In Manhattan itself - even in the best bars - rye whiskey was not only unavailable but seemingly unheard of: a scandal in the very country which invented the damn, blessed thing! Since I haven't visited for three years, I hope things have changed. Friends of mine have reported that the Bemelsmans Bar at the Carlyle Hotel now stock plain Old Overholt (I love it!), Sazerac and Wild Turkey. But not in the spring of 2001, where asking for "rye", even for a plain, classic highball, was akin to demanding Luxardo maraschino for your Aviation: reactions were worth photographing, believe me!

I sincerely hope, if you're kind enough, you'll locate the "Esquire" article written by this outstanding bartender and, as you rightly say, gentleman. I'd very much like to write about him and renew our acquaintance, wherever he is. It was a longish essay on bartending, published, precisely, in the early Nineties, mentioned on the cover.

The funny thing is that the "David" part may well have come from you! :)

Edited May 14, 2004 by MiguelCardoso (log)

[HKDave]

Most unforgettable? Gary at the Fireside Lounge, in the back of the Peppermill Coffee Shop on the Strip in Las Vegas. He was behind the bar on my first visit something like 17 years ago, and he's still there. A man of few words - unless he's dressing down a new cocktail waitress for not calling an order in the Gary-approved sequence, which seems to happen at least once a night - but he runs a totally professional bar.

I don't need much conversation from a bartender. I just like to sit back with a well-mixed drink at the end of a long day, and the Fireside is great for that. It was even better before they added all the TV screens....

[Splificator]

Today, thanks to YOUR influence alone (and your denunciation of the Canadians' false claim to ryeness, still believed in a lot of lesser European countries which use Canadian Club to make Manhattans, Old-Fashioneds and Mint Juleps) my friends and I have managed to convince the all-powerful drink distributors here to offer Wild Turkey Straight Rye, 50.5% (Pernod Ricard Portugal - delicious!); Pikesville (Mercearia Nacional - godawful but definitely rye); Jim Beam "yellow label" Rye (rusty-tasting and diluted to 80 proof for Europe but still engaging in a couple of julep, with the right mint) and expensive brands like Sazerac and Van Winkle (from our meritorious Whiskey Clube). 

Miguel--

This is about the most gratifying thing I've ever heard, and I'm not kidding. The thing about "providing content" for the web, as I was doing (and still do from time to time) in the Esquire Drinks Database, is that it often seems like nobody's reading the stuff. You put it out there and there it is, but there's no real conversation or feedback (which is why sites like eGullet, DrinkBoy's group and MeFi are so nice). You work just as hard as you do when writing for a magazine with audited circulation, but all you get are click counts and the occasional email. So to hear that my rantings and ravings about rye have in some way spurred somebody to not only track the stuff down but to ensure that his compatriots can do the same, well that's better than anything! Thank you!

I can't take responsibility for the fact that rye is slowly creeping into the bars here in New York, though. I'm just one of many die-hard fans here--Gary Regan, Dale DeGroff, Audrey Saunders, Sasha Petraske, Del Pedro (one of the very first to resurrect the stuff, if not the first)...there aren't very many of us, but we're pretty vocal and have hopes. For me, rye is personal. I was born in Pittsburgh, on the banks of the Monongahela, and even though my family moved away when I was no more than 8, I think the stuff must have gotten into my bloodstream.

As for the ryes--

Wild Turkey. Agreed, delicious. Best Manhattans going, IMHO

Old Overholt. Should be bottled in bond (as it always was) at 100 proof, not 80 or 86, and a couple more years in the barrel would be nice, too. It has potential to be truly great. Overholt is the oldest brand of whiskey in America, and it's a

shame that it's being treated so shabbily.

Jim Beam. Again, Higher proof, more years. Still, very nice and spicy.

Van Winkle Family Reserve. Nectar of the gods. Too good for Manhattans,

perfect for Sazeracs or Old Fashioneds or just plain sipping.

Sazerac. Too long in wood for my tastes.

Rittenhouse. The 100-proof is one of the best mixing whiskeys out there--a great bottling. Smoother than the Wild Turkey, but still plenty flavorful.

Pikesville. One of my favorite memories is of being in the outpost of altered reality we call Baltimore, just about the only place you can buy Pikesville in the States (it's an old Baltimore brand) and buying a bottle of the stuff in a corner shop for $9 at 10:00 on a Sunday morning from an 11-year-old boy. "Godawful" is probably not too strong a word for it. Ginger ale is essential.

There's also Michter's, which is too young and filtered to boot (their previous bottling was excellent, but much older; I think this one needs work), and Stephen Foster, which I've never tried, Old Potrero, which has two ryes that are fascinating and delicious but too expensive for general consumption and a couple of limited-edition bottlings such as A. H. Hirsch and Black Maple Hill, which aren't really a factor.

I'll definitely try to track down that article, and pull every string withing my reach to get to Portugal one of these days (and soon), so that I can deliver it in person. I suspect you make a mean Old-Fashioned.

Edited for neatness, of course.

Edited May 17, 2004 by Splificator (log)

[MiguelCardoso]

Dear David,

Thank you so much for your kindness, knowledge and utterly unfiltered enthusiasm!

A run of Old-Fashioneds has indeed been booked in your name!

All the very best,

Miguel

[MsRamsey]

I just found this thread. My most unforgettable bartender is Alberta at the Orbit Room in SF. She has an unbridled passion for mixing and researching vintage cocktails, and I appreciate her immensely.

[JAZ]

I just found this thread. My most unforgettable bartender is Alberta at the Orbit Room in SF. She has an unbridled passion for mixing and researching vintage cocktails, and I appreciate her immensely.

Oh, yes, yes! She is wonderful. We talk drinks for hours while she mixes me her specialties. She's the one who made the cucumber and apple infused gin to mix with Pimms, and the one who makes variations on Aviations that are, incredibly, even better than the original.

And, as an aside, the Orbit Room is where I met Ms. Ramsay and her husband, completely by chance -- you gotta love eGullet for that sort of thing.

[tryska]

way too many to count.

i can say my latest was a gentleman with whom i discussed galliano bottles as a weapon with, who then showed me his scar from somebody's pool-cue. i also made me an on-the house special cocktail, who's name i will not share in mixed company. it was damn good tho.