Cosmopolitan: A Bartender's Life by Toby Cecchini

[glenn]

Has anyone read this?? It totally knocked my socks off. It's the equivalent of Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, and just as enjoyable and funny and witty, no offense Mr. B. Has anyone been to the author's bar, the Passerby on W. 15th St? I must've passed it in my car and on foot dozens of times and never noticed it (it's opposite Chelsea Market) near 10th Ave.

[bourdain]

I really enjoyed it. The guy can write--and has a lifetime of stories to tell.

[beans]

Quite a testimonial.

Editorial Reviews

Review

?Marvelous.  Toby Cecchini is no part-time, blender-drink-slinging woo-woo pouring dilettante. He's a professional. A hard, wise, funny, sad and unflinching look at the world from the other side of the bar.  Beautifully written, as fascinating for its backstairs account of hip restaurant/bar/lounge hijinks as it is for its unique perspective on human behavior. New York night life in all its true, hilarious, horrific, poignant and pinheaded glory.?

-Anthony Bourdain, author of Kitchen Confidential

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detai...404119?v=glance

I need to hit the bookstore today, so my interest has been piqued.

[ronnie_suburban]

This book is fantastic! Toby Cecchini is insightful, articulate and funny. I really appreciate the tip. I bought it some time ago and have just gotten to it. Now, I can't put it down. I highly recommend it.

=R=

[Raynickben]

I just finished reading it. I enjoyed it, especially the customer anecdotes and his thoughts on various cocktails. He did repeat himself a few times, maybe to string out some more pages, but overall worth reading.

[Cusina]

This looks really entertaining. Thanks for bringing it up glenn.

[Cusina]

Cosmopolitan: A Bartender’s Life by Toby Cecchini

I initially heard about the book in a thread here on eGullet. Thanks for the great tip!

My local branch didn’t carry this book. I had to order it all the way from Kaukauna. (No, I’m not making that name up. The proper local pronunciation is kuh-caw-nah.) The cover is arresting. Two drunken people sucking face, one lighting up… a ton of glassware strewn across a bar. It is a late night scene that looks glaringly out of place on the coffee table in my den. Amusingly enough, on the copy I borrowed there is a large white library label stating “Kaukana Public Library Adult Department” pasted along the bottom of the book’s jacket. For a second I wonder if the Kaukana library has a porn section I didn’t know about. I have to think that sticker, which basically shouts, WARNING SMUT INSIDE, bodes well for the book. It’s a welcome change from the crisp, clean aura most books of the food and drink genre give off.

It isn’t quite porn, but there are a lot of naked people in this book. Most, though not all, are young and nubile. At one point even Toby himself is caught with his “dick flapping in the breeze” just before falling off the bar with a few strippers. (Don’t worry, no one was hurt.) Despite all the debauchery and dankness that is his world, this book is eloquent and Toby is extremely likeable. In fact, I think it is this contrast that makes the book hard to put down. He is the quintessential protagonist, the honest, slightly too nice but smart enough to figure it out boy from the heartland who comes to find his fortune in the big city. Guys of that genre are a dime a dozen, but this one happens to be able to write his unusual experiences down in a compelling fashion. It’s not just the funky stories I like, it’s also his extensive vocabulary (I just love a man with a large vocabulary. Size does matter.) and his reflective nature. He thinks about where he is and the role that it plays in the greater picture.

“It is important to realize that everyone entering a bar is there for something, and seldom is that just a drink. I don’t mean for that to sound as sinister as it might, but a bar is a place for human exchange – of every variety – and a drink, if that’s all you want, is invariably cheaper at home. One thing I feel fairly certain of, having observed for so long this admixture of appetites, is that most people who enter the bar don’t themselves have a clear idea what they want.”

You have to appreciate a guy who uses phrases like ‘admixture of appetites’.

Toby goes into great detail describing the actual workings of the bar: Staffing, stocking, creating ambience and customer draw, knowing when you are in over your head or need to try something new. I also admire how well he paints a clear picture of the spectrum of his pace. From his early morning solitary walk home and the almost disturbing quiet of an empty bar to the borderline hysteria that the place becomes when it’s packed.

“There’s a kind of sickly beauty to these screeching, urgent moments for me, if only because they strip away all the niceties and solicitation of careful bartending and pare what I do down to a simple, brute contest of endurance and production. Locked in that little dugout, when all becomes speed and reflex, I can feel the eyes of all the day-jobbers on me, staring hard even if they don’t mean to. Propped cooling your heels in front of a cross between a donut machine and a carnival sideshow, it’s hard not to watch the crazy, tight spasms of this trained animal churning out refreshments at a hundred miles an hour.”

One of my absolute favorite reveries in the book is one that describes his habit of seeking out old world style hotel bars. What a great way to spend a few spare hours, absorbing their character, history, quirks and plushness while sipping something rarefied.

Now, of course, I picked up Cosmopolitan in anticipation of a few good drinks. There are a total of five recipes that appear in the appendix: The Cosmopolitan, which he tells the story of perfecting, The Martini, The Margarita, The Sidecar and The Negroni. We chose to replicate The Cosmopolitan and The Negroni. One drink we felt we had never fully appreciated and one we had never tried. We didn’t do them both in one night, however, in fear of not being able to properly describe the later drink.

We began our experiments with the Cosmopolitan. (Toby rails against abbreviating the name to Cosmo.) It is decidedly different than the “Cosmo” that I’ve been served previously. The common style is roughly 2 oz. vodka 2 oz. triple sec and 1 oz. cranberry cocktail. It’s o.k., if you are in the mood for a sweet drink, but has become passé even here in the Midwest. Toby’s recipe calls for 2 oz. Citrus Vodka, 2 oz. triple sec or Contreau, 1 ¾ oz. fresh squeezed lime juice and a dash of cranberry, just enough to blush it pink. Yes, you read that correctly, almost an entire jigger of lime. His mixing instructions are great, worthwhile reading on their own. Basically he instructs you to shake the mixture vigorously until it’s painful and then strain into chilled martini stemware. These instructions, by the way, are for shaking two drinks at a time.

I didn’t have cranberry juice (which around here is the sweet Ocean Spray variety) and so used a local brand of unsweetened dark cherry juice instead. It is a very dry mixer, similar to real cranberry juice in character. I think the substitution made absolutely no difference in the finished product. I used Ketel One Citron vodka and Contreau as well as half of a large, juicy lime.

Toby’s Cosmopolitan, in appearance, is femminine. It is blush pink and slightly cloudy due to the lime pulp. In flavor it isn’t girly at all. It is pungent and extremely acidic, like very potent limeade. The cherry juice and the flavors of the alcohol were completely lost in the lime. Toby states in his text that he can’t imagine anyone being able to tell the difference between Cointreau and much less expensive triple sec in this drink and I expect he is right. I’m not sure if that is a good thing or not. I, personally, found the drink to be refreshing almost to the point of overload. It reminded me of those “curiously strong” breath mints in that way. It successfully wiped every trace of my dinner right off my palate. It would be a good summertime after dinner cocktail. While enjoyable, it isn’t a drink I’d ever order a second of. One was plenty for an evening.

For the second round my husband took over with the shaker and reversed the proportions of the lime juice and the cherry juice (2 oz. vodka, 2 oz. Cointreau, 1 ¾ oz. cherry juice to a dash of lime). This was more to my taste. Reducing the acid, I could appreciate the blending of the sweet/citrus/bitter of the Cointreau with the vodka and the darkness of the flavor in the cherry juice. It was quite smooth, a nice balance between Toby’s version of the Cosmopolitan and the overly sweet version I’ve been served at parties. It’s also visually beautiful, a nice clear rosy glow with a bright green lime twist.

This is cheesy, but in homage to the Cosmopolitan and its subsequent reputation, we put in the 1st season DVD of Sex and the City and watched a few episodes while sipping our drinks. It was a late nineties retro night at our house.

To try the Negroni, we took a field trip to our local martini bar. The menu is lengthy and I had noticed it buried among things like “appletinis” and “blue moons”. The Negroni, for those who haven’t had the pleasure, is a mixture composed primarily of Gin, with a shot each of Campari and Sweet Vermouth. Our bar’s menu listed the drink as made with dry vermouth and we asked the bartender to make it with sweet, which, I’m sure, makes it very different in character. She poured us a beautiful pale caramel colored drink. It was tremendously smooth and palatable and an excellent finisher for our night out. During a quiet spell at the bar, the bartender came over to our table and asked how we liked our Negronis. She said that she has made literally thousands of martinis, but this was her first order for that particular drink. I’ll bet she will make a few more now that she has tried it. It really is an excellent and sophisticated cocktail. Cheers to Toby for the selection.

I came away from this book having learned a lot about Toby’s underappreciated industry. There is a passion for this work that isn’t explainable by love or money. He makes it sound like dancing with the devil. Hot, intense, full of temptation, and one hell of a ride if you can manage to hang on. I would recommend this read highly as both entertainment and liquid refreshment.

Edited October 4, 2004 by Cusina (log)

[PattyO]

Thanks, Cusina, for the excellent (as always) review.

I almost bought this book the other day and decided not to. You've changed my mind!

PattyO

[Squeat Mungry]

Great review, Cusina! I was in the bar business for approximately 10 years, and I thoroughly enjoyed this read. Very entertaining and, as you say, eloquent writing. In fact, it earned space on my exclusive 'Washroom Selection' shelf , and I often enjoy a quick reread of this or that section. I second the recommendation.

Cheers,

Squeat

[Carrot Top]

You've been doin' a bit of drinking this week, girl! That takes practice..I admire your perseverance all in the goal of getting the reviewer's job done!

Nice review. Sounds like a highly entertaining book.

The review itself was an entertaining read, too. Loved the paragraph about 'Sex and the City' in TV...made me laugh out loud...

[Cusina]

Yah, the field work for this one was rough. The things I do in the name of science and stuff. In fact, I feel the need to recheck my impressions on that Negroni sometime soon. Just to be sure.

Has anyone been to Toby's bar? I'd be curious to hear their thoughts.

Squeat, did you pour in a restaurant or a bar? What kind of place(s)? How did you get out eventually? It sounds to me from the book that Toby is really struggling with the physical need to quit and lead a "normal life" vs. the desire to stay and do what he does best. Did you feel that too? Is that specific to him and/or the New York scene or is it something that pretty much every bartender faces eventually?

[Squeat Mungry]

Squeat, did you pour in a restaurant or a bar?  What kind of place(s)?  How did you get out eventually?  It sounds to me from the book that Toby is really struggling with the physical need to quit and lead a "normal life" vs. the desire to stay and do what he does best.  Did you feel that too?  Is that specific to him and/or the New York scene or is it something that pretty much every bartender faces eventually?

←

I worked in two different bars (but only poured in one), and wound up doing quite a bit of catering work as well, which I still do occasionally. The first place (where I started out working the door and later became barback) was an extremely popular hipster/scene hangout on the 16th Street strip in San Francisco's way happening Mission District. (At the time I was working there, that is. A year later it was dead as a crypt, and still is. The owners can't even unload it. I'm not surprised at all. They are certifiably insane, and routinely scared off any talented bartenders they had. It was morbidly fascinating to watch this place crash and burn.)

Anyway, the other doorman at that place (who incidentally looked enough like me that most people thought we were the same person, which resulted in some confusion for both of us before we actually met each other! ) left to barback at another bar, then eventually landed a bartending gig at yet another place, where he asked me to come and "do door" for him, as we had become good friends and knew we worked well together. He showed me the ropes and soon I was barbacking, then pouring at this new (to us) place, which we (with the help of a few others) had, in the course of a year or so, turned from a sleepy neighborhood dive into one of the most popular weekend spots around (the owner loved us -- we tripled his weekend take), while still maintaining a neighborhood bar "feel" and loyal regulars during the week. Kind of a tricky balancing act, but one we felt strongly about, and were proud of.

I loved the life (still do), but like most bartenders I know, eventually began to feel it take its toll. For one thing, it's damn hard work physically, and we all age. (Plus, there is the constant exposure to all the booze and drugs and general partying, which can be more of a problem for some than others.) Eventually that and other factors (in 1999 I moved out of my years-long roommate situation, and was looking at astronomical pre-bust peak San Francisco rents) got me to thinking about how I would transition into the "Former Bartenders' Club", as it had come to be known amongst a bunch of us in and formerly in the trade, and get a steady income which would pay the rent and hopefully leave enough to eat and drink well, and maybe even take the occasional vacation. Besides, my friend had moved to Philly to be with his new bride and, while I enjoyed the other people I worked with, the 'click' just wasn't there, and we didn't seem to function quite so smoothly (and profitably) as a team as my friend and I had.

So I taught myself computer programming. (Remember, at that time, no one foresaw that the dotcom bubble would ever burst.) And that's still how I'm making my money these days (though not nearly as much as at first), supplemented as I say with the occasional bartending gig with some catering friends.

All of which is a (very) long-winded way to say that much of what Cecchini says resonated with me, as I think it would with any bartender -- at least any one who had poured at popular bars in big cities where being in the weeds was a daily and shift-long experience. I get the sense that Cecchini is starting to feel a bit of burnout, and that it terrifies him, because the life he has been leading is the only life he knows. I know the feeling. But most of the older bartenders you see (and think about it, how many do you really see?) either came to it later in life, or at least did not work for years in the bright-lights-big-city sort of hotspots. In Cecchini's case, it's possible that he'll stay in the biz, but move to more managerial duties and less time behind the bar. I would love to visit his bar before that happens, though.

I also identified with the way he felt about old-school hotel bars. I absolutely adore them. I think I'm the only San Francisco resident I know who regularly visits our venerable hotel bars, and I seek them out in every city I visit. I even occasionally toy with the idea of going back to full-time bar work in a stately old room somewhere!

Cheers (and apologies for the tome -- can you tell I think I could write my own book on the subject?),

Squeat

[ronnie_suburban]

As I mentioned on the other thread, I really enjoyed this book. Cecchini is insightful, articulate, funny and wise.

Thanks Cusina, for sparking this excellent discussion which has provided some valuable context through which to view the book.

=R=

[Cusina]

Ronnie, you're welcome. Anytime.

Squeat, your experience does sound like it resembles Toby's. I can see why this book would be one you would revisit now and then.

It's funny, but you and Toby almost sound like you are describing a lost love. You should write that book, especially if you take up with one of those older hotel bars again. I'll bet you get some serious characters in those places. I'd also be interested to see the difference between the New York and California scene. At least in CA you wouldn't have to battle the smoke.

I hadn't registered the lack of older bartenders before... though one of our favorite haunts has a manager that is over forty, Brian, he is about the only one. Partly, it's our favorite haunt because of him, he's a great conversationalist, smart guy and is always reading a good book that he wants to tell me about. His reading tastes wander well into the twisted, so it's always interesting. I worry about him a bit, though. He is a fairly serious cyclist who is completely without health insurance. I'll bet that is another reason older bartenders are a rarity. Once you hit about 45, being self-insured is outrageously expensive and financially very risky and I can't imagine many bars offer benefits. I'll never forget the golf pro I met in the Oncologist's office I used to work in. He let his insurance lapse after his 50th birthday because the cost went through the roof. Sure enough, by age 52 he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The saddest part of the story was that he had been about to get married at the time of the diagnosis. They cancelled the wedding as he just couldn't saddle her with the healthcare debts after he was gone. It's such a risk, being without insurance, especially in a physically punishing envrironment like a bar.

I definitely can see the allure of the industry, but there is a lot going against it too.

[Squeat Mungry]

I hadn't registered the lack of older bartenders before... though one of our favorite haunts has a manager that is over forty, Brian, he is about the only one.

Of course the other big factor in play here (i.e., besides bartender burnout) -- and Cecchini addresses this in the book as well -- is the eye-candy quotient, especially at the cool kids' hangouts and 'scene' bars. Managers and owners know that people will buy more drinks if it translates into more face-time/flirt-time with the hottie behind the bar. And the hottie at those places knows that sales and tips will be in direct proportion to his/her ability to create allure and the illusion of mutual attraction.

It's convenient that as one ages, and thus becomes less eligible for this particular game, the less interest one has in playing it. It's one reason why these days I mostly daydream about old hotel bars where professionalism is more important than 'flash', and this dynamic is less of a factor. And where you're much more likely to find what few older bartenders there are.

It's funny, but you and Toby almost sound like you are describing a lost love.

Yeah. Not to get too sentimental about it, but yeah. It's kinda like that.

Cheers,

Squeat

[bleachboy]

I can't add as much as most others in the thread. My wife (the librarian) brought home this book for me to read, knowing my love of all books culinary -- and double love of all books boozy. It was an enjoyable read, and I definitely recommend checking it out from your local public library.

It took me over a month to read, as it sat in the bathroom the whole time. Errr... (Seinfeld reference) "This book is flagged, sir".

[Liz B-F]

I live in the Meatpacking District near Toby's bar, and the thing I liked best about this book was its love-letter-to-New-York aspect--

"[T]hat’s the thing with all of New York: you often can’t tell whether you’ve been made privy to some esoteric kiss or whether you’ve been defiled in some irreversible manner not in your immediate capacity to understand.”

It was a good read, sometimes poignant, and hard to put down.