Before we get started on the continuation of your goal of being a good bartender, I'd like to address publicly a great point brought up by one of our Slashfood readers.
Suzy pointed out in the comment field in the last post that as an alternative to becoming a barback, another way to get your foot in the door is as a cocktail waitress. Great point, and I'd elaborate that to include anybody in the restaurant business. If you're a server and your restaurant has a bar, try asking if you can step behind the bar and train. This is how I got into bartending. Now, ordinarily, this will mean you will be back there for free. Again, this is how I got in. I put in several volunteer hours until I was asked to cover a shift and until finally getting my own shifts. The point is, any way you can get yourself behind a bar and start learning, paid or not, do it.
In fact, I'll go so far as to say that starting as a server is probably the optimal way to go, though the process will take longer. As a barback, you'll get behind the bar quicker and your learning curve on how to work a bar will be shorter, but you'll be missing what I consider a key element of bartending, namely, service. Going through a server training program through a restaurant gives you an eye for the details of good service, an element I think is lacking in many bartenders today. A server in a restaurant would never skimp on the basics such as a) providing water for your guests, b) acknowledging new guests right away with menus and c) patiently explaining the product being offered if asked. I cannot tell you how many bars I go to that skip the bare minimums of good service, as if the bar were a rarefied plane of existence in which these standards don't apply. Good bartending means good service. Period.
Okay, stepping off my soap-box and moving right along . . .
Makes sense; we have a dream of opening our own cocktail lounge someday, so it'd be nice if she could step behind the bar with me and know what she's doing. Better yet if she could stand alone with her arsenal of cocktails and be known about town as a great bartender.
Seeing as how she is married to a one, I'm the obvious choice to begin her training. The question for me is, where to begin? How do you build a bartender from scratch? There is no real established training program or apprenticeship blueprint that I know of that doesn't either a) cost a bunch of money or b) get you physically involved behind a working bar, so I've decided to take a whack at coming up with my own.
In 1934, a former bootlegger opened a 27 seat bar on McFadden place in Hollywood, California. This tiny little bar launched the career of one of the world's greatest bartenders and set in motion an unprecedented 30 year fad that influenced music, fashion, restaurant and hotel design and, of course, drinking.
That bartender was Ernest Raymond Gantt, or as he was better known, Donn Beach. That bar, Don the Beachcomber's, ushered in the Tiki era and provided the template for every Tiki bar to follow.
Walking into a Tiki bar at the height of its craze had to have been a surreal experience, as you moved straight from the Eisenhower era stylings of conservative suburbia into a darkened place draped in fisherman's nets, Polynesian masks, exotic music and most importantly, some of the craziest drinks ever invented.
There is an ingredient listed on the cocktail menu at Union which receives more quizzical looks, more gasps of surprise when sampled and generates more chatter than anything else we do in the bar. The complexities of it's aroma and flavors are hard to pin down, though everyone tries. This witches brew of cocktail goodness is popping up in scratch cocktail bars all over the nation, and in the well-stocked homes of cocktail aficionados all over the globe.
I'm talking about falernum, the nectar of the tiki gods.
What falernum used to be and what it has become are totally different. Since the beginning of the tiki boom in the 1930's, falernum has been used as a sweetener used primarily in tropical and Caribbean cocktails. Produced commercially rather sporadically in Bermuda, Barbados and the U.S., it had been, until recently, hard to get consistently. Keeping in line with the notion that you crave the most what you can't get, frustrated bartenders and cocktail historians began tinkering with recipes to produce their own.
In August of last year, I became the luckiest guy in the world when Christine Nylin accepted my proposal for marriage. Being the dork I am, I set out to make up a cocktail symbolizing the event. I named it The Union, which not only highlights the joining of two into one, but also happens to be the name of the restaurant where I tend bar.
That cocktail has gotten a lot of play recently, the recipe popping up on different web sites, magazines and recipe collections. And now, it has another moment in the sun, for on a spectacularly beautiful August 3rd in Seattle, I became even luckier the luckiest guy in the world when Christine became my wife.
In that spirit, I offer up our recipe to share with you. Check it out after the jump.
I've got a bias against infusions. I admit it, and I feel so much better for having gotten that off my chest. Why the bias? I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with altering the integrity of a spirit. Maybe because everyone with a mason jar has got some science experiment going on behind the bar. Maybe I'd just rather taste the fresh flavors of the fruit/herb/vegetable rather than the vodka-soaked version.
Oh, I know. Most of them don't work. Up until about a month ago, I would have said none of them work. Then, I got to taste Tequila Por Mi Amante.
I have to thank and give credit to Paul Clarke for this one. Paul has introduced me to quite a few cocktails and cocktail ingredients, and I'm a better bartender for having read his site. He is, in my opinion, the best blogger on cocktails on the whole internet and one of the best writers on this topic in the world. Bookmark his site. Go ahead, I'll wait. . . .
Do you have a personal blog? Yes, I do. It's Movingatthespeedoflife.blogspot.com. Longest URL ever! I've been meaning to change it for a long time. I get carpal tunnel symptoms every time I type that thing in. What is your day job, or rather, what do you do when you're not drink blogging? I bartend at Union restaurant in Seattle. Ethan Stowell, the chef and owner, has recently been nominated for a James Beard award (Best NW Chef) and was named among the ten best new chefs of 2008 by Food and Wine magazine. It's an exciting time to be at the restaurant, that's for sure. He gives me freedom behind the bar, so I'm doing my best to offer cocktails that can stand up to all the hard work the kitchen guys are doing. So many restaurants/bartenders just mail it in when it comes to cocktail programs. I want Union to be different. How long have you been blogging with Slashfood and what is your favorite post? Been here since February, I think. Prior to that I blogged for AOL Drinks. My favorite post is the recent Mint Julep post, mostly because of all the beautiful quotes I pulled and that video link brings a tear to this old bartender's eye.
Do you have any non-food-related, non-blogging hobbies? Hobbies? Who has time for hobbies? Does reading count? Does going out on the town?
Nothing signifies late spring/early summer better for me than to see a bartender muddling mint for a cocktail. The light, clean flavors of mint bring a certain delicacy and refreshing quality to a drink, whether it be in the iconic Mint Julep, the omnipresent Mojito or any number of classic or new creations. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cocktail elevated with the crisp flavor of mint.
Given its fragility, mint is an easy herb to abuse. I've been to a number of bars and home parties where the bartender or host absolutely punish the mint, leaving a bitter, limp cocktail that loses all its intended charm. Truth be told, a great Julep or Mojito is harder than you'd think. Personally, I struggled for a long time with mint cocktails, simply because, like most people, I didn't understand what I was dealing with.
For the first time in years, I won't be bartending this St. Paddy's Day. For the first time in years, I'll be on the other side, elbowing my way to the bar and signaling to a hapless, overworked barkeep that I, Keith Waldbauer, believe it's time for me to get my drink on.
And after all this time, boy am I ever thirsty.
So, what am I drinking? There will be Guinness, of that you can be sure. And, sure, I'll down a Tullamore Dew, two if I start feeling it. If the night gets away from me, I may even be talked into that Irish Car Bomb my friends are pushing toward me. First thing, though, let me tell you, I'll be tipping back a Tipperary.
Is it a typical Irish cocktail? No, not really. There's the Irish whiskey in it, of course, and then there is the name, which comes from both a town and a county in Ireland. It has a green tinge to it as well, courtesy of Chartreuse, a French liquer made by Carthusian monks since the 1700's.
So why a Tipperary on St. Paddy's Day, then, if the associations are rather slight? Because, my dear friend, while everyone else if fattening up on too much beer and slobbering over too many shots, you'll be at the end of the bar with a classic, 90 year old cocktail in your hands, taking your time with a well-balanced beverage. And with juuust enough Irish elements to keep you in the spirit of the moment. Here's my version of the Tipperary:
Tipperary
2 oz Irish whiskey (I generally use Bushmills) 3/4 oz sweet vermouth 1/4 oz green Chartreuse
Stir well, strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish required here.
We have a 29th of February this year, making this a Leap Year ... making Friday a Leap Day. So what does that mean?
Well, we have an extra day to put off preparing our taxes (yes!), and an extra day standing between us and summer (boo!). Just like the Olympics and Presidential elections (yeah, we get yet another day of political sniping, too), Leap Years come every four years. It also means it's time to dust off an old classic cocktail called, ingeniously enough, the Leap Year Cocktail.
This hibernating little fellow comes courtesy of the Savoy Cocktail Book, first authored by Harry Craddock and remains, 78 years after publication, a benchmark for tradition-minded bartenders and scholars alike. There are over 750 recipes in the book, a few of which have notations augmenting their worth. I'm going to lift the entire quote regarding the Leap Year.
This cocktail was created by Harry Craddock for the Leap Year celebrations at the Savoy Hotel, London, on February 29, 1928. It is said to have been responsible for more proposals than any other cocktail ever mixed.
Well alrighty then! That's quite a feat considering the little bugger pokes its head out of the ground every Presidential cycle, but okay, I won't quibble with anything reaching its 80th birthday. The recipe is after the jump, taken from a more modern perspective from Gary Regan's excellent Joy of Mixology.
Before we get started on the continuation of your goal of being a good bartender, I'd like to address publicly a great point brought up by one of our Slashfood readers.
My wife wants to be a bartender.
In 1934, a former bootlegger opened a 27 seat bar on McFadden place in Hollywood, California. This tiny little bar launched the career of one of the world's greatest bartenders and set in motion an unprecedented 30 year fad that influenced music, fashion, restaurant and hotel design and, of course, drinking.
There is an ingredient listed on the cocktail menu at Union which receives more quizzical looks, more gasps of surprise when sampled and generates more chatter than anything else we do in the bar. The complexities of it's aroma and flavors are hard to pin down, though everyone tries. This witches brew of cocktail goodness is popping up in scratch cocktail bars all over the nation, and in the well-stocked homes of cocktail aficionados all over the globe.
In August of last year, I became the luckiest guy in the world when Christine Nylin accepted my proposal for marriage. Being the dork I am, I set out to make up a cocktail symbolizing the event. I named it The Union, which not only highlights the joining of two into one, but also happens to be the name of the restaurant where I tend bar.
Do you have a personal blog? Yes, I do. It's 
Nothing signifies late spring/early summer better for me than to see a bartender muddling mint for a cocktail. The light, clean flavors of mint bring a certain delicacy and refreshing quality to a drink, whether it be in the iconic Mint Julep, the omnipresent Mojito or any number of classic or new creations. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cocktail elevated with the crisp flavor of mint.
For the first time in years, I won't be bartending this St. Paddy's Day. For the first time in years, I'll be on the other side, elbowing my way to the bar and signaling to a hapless, overworked barkeep that I, Keith Waldbauer, believe it's time for me to get my drink on.
We have a 29th of February this year, making this a Leap Year ... making Friday a Leap Day. So what does that mean? 
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