Usually it’s pretty easy. I walk in, I look at a menu, I choose a beer. Something light, but not too light, maybe with a hint of citrus. A hefeweizen with lemon. Simple. But this time, it’s different. Upon entering, I am informed that this place is about classic 1960’s style cocktails. There is no menu, but I can ask for whatever I want.
It’s a little daunting, this going out for real actual cocktails, especially since I know next to nothing about bar culture and things of this nature. I don’t even know what I like. What spirit do I prefer? I used to drink rum in college, I think. Vodka? Everyone drinks vodka. Gin? Do I like gin?
This is where I start to get nervous. I have no idea what to ask for. I don’t want to look like an idiot. This is a real bartender. A real actual bartender. I look to my friends for guidance. They tell me just to go with it. Okay. I’m going to do this.
The bartender comes over and asks what I want. I get this worried look on my face and manage to sputter out something about being overwhelmed. They laugh. I say, “Do whatever you want.” I can’t lie. I’m slightly terrified at this point. I’ve just placed a great deal of trust with this complete stranger, just because I’m trying to save face. I’ll be screwed if they hand me a glass of something too strong. I’ll take a sip and make the face, you know the one, the one that says, “OH GOD IT TASTES LIKE BURNING AHHHHH WATER!” Then I’ll REALLY look like an idiot.
I sit and watch as they start pouring things into a glass. It looks like there’s a lot going on there. There is no measuring. They just know these things. Even though they have probably made this exact same drink a thousand times before, they still taste it along the way. This makes me feel a little better. It’s probably not going to taste like burning.
Finally, a small cocktail glass is placed in front of me. It is filled with a cloudy light blue or greenish mixture. The bartender goes down the line, explaining each drink to the three of us. Mine is a classic gin cocktail. The Aviation. Gin, maraschino liqueur, lemon juice and (if they have it) crème de violette. I take a sip. I moan. It is perfect. Bright and refreshing. The bitterness of the lemon is balanced out by the sweetness of the cherry flavour, leaving it slightly tart. It looks sweet, but it’s not. Just like me.
Later, we move on to another bar. After having such great luck the first time, I tell this bartender the same thing. I trust him. Make whatever you think I’ll like. I repeat the same experience. Watching in anticipation. A glass is placed in front of me. What is it? “This is a classic gin cocktail. The Aviation.” Huh. How did they do that? Just by looking at me, they knew what I’d like. Both of them. Looks like I’ve got myself a new official cocktail. Just like that.
The lesson here is simple. Trust your bartender. If you let them make the things they love to make, you know it’s going to be good.
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Taken at 1022 South. ↩
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