Posted by Jeff Burkhart on August 9, 2013
All I asked for was an old fashioned.
The tattooed hipster bartender then took several minutes to make a bizarre concoction utilizing a handful of fruit, three different bitters, and several mixing glasses.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s an old fashioned,” he said.
“It is?” I said.
“It’s not what I was expecting,” I added.
Read more at: http://www.so-mag.com/3dissue/080713/files/22.html
‘A BELVEDERE, dry, twist of lime, super cold; a Ketel One, wet, three olives; two Bombays, one on the rocks, one with a twist and one with a blue cheese-stuffed olive; a Makers Mark old-fashioned, no sugar, add extra bitters and a lemon; and a Don Julio,” the man said without taking a breath.
‘HEY JEFF,” SAID the man upon approaching the bar. It took a long second before I recognized him.
Bartenders get good at the details. I remembered, two years ago; a wife, kid, dirty martini, very dirty, if memory serves. In an industry where drink memory is more important than names, a customer can quickly become “that dirty martini guy.” The public won’t know who is being talked about, but every other bartender in town will.
‘YOU KNOW WHAT you should do?” a man I had never seen before asked me, unsolicited I might add.
“What’s that?” I said, looking around at the milling Wednesday night crowd that indicates a bar doing well.
THE MAN IN the business suit with a skull and crossbones scarf started to look around anxiously. The gentrified tough guy leaned toward his guest, whispered something and then half rose from his seat before gesturing in my direction.
“Hello!” he said using the word not as a greeting but as a dodge, a way of getting attention.
Posted by Jeff Burkhart on June 26, 2013
Judges Jeff Burkhart (Marin IJ), Arne Hillesland (209), Michael Weiss (CIA)
Kimberley Lovato’s Foodie Five interview with Jeff Burkhart:
Jeff Burkhart interviewed by Christopher Kimball on America’s Test Kitchen!
IT WAS ONE of those social gatherings where everyone stands around holding a glass of white wine in one hand while simultaneously balancing a small plate of pasta salad and cocktail shrimp in the other.
I had done my best with the shrimp and had almost secured a mouthful of pasta salad when a woman asked me what I did for a living.
“I bartend,” I said between sips of white wine.