'Bar-tweenies' need lessons in basic mixology

IF the kids behind the bar these days could go back in time to watch how my generation of bartenders handled ourselves in the '70s, they'd probably laugh themselves silly. Don't get me wrong; we did some things very well indeed. Our Manhattans and Rob Roys and martinis, even at neighborhood bars with sawdust on the floor, were as good as you can currently get at any swank cocktail lounge - well balanced, well chilled and well served. We had our priorities right, too. We knew how to show the punters a good time, how to put a smile on their faces, and how to look after them as they needed looking after.

Our margaritas weren't fabulous, though - most of us used commercial sweet-and-sour mix - and we weren't the most creative bunch. We were responsible, for instance, for the Woo Woo, Sex on the Beach and the Long Island Iced Tea - a drink that tastes OK, though the recipe is something that a bunch of monkeys with keyboards would come up with eventually.

Although the core chore of the bartender - to make people happy, welcome and cared for - will never vary, over the past decade the mixology side of the craft has changed completely. And I'm happy to say that, just as roadside diners and four-star restaurants coexist nicely here on God's green Earth, so too do neighborhood taverns serving shots of whiskey and pitchers of beer along with highfalutin' speakeasies dealing in creative cocktails containing countless complex components. God forbid the day when I can't get a plate of greasy corned-beef hash and eggs, and God forbid the day when I can't get my hands on an ice-cold shot of Jägermeister, with a small beer back, too.

Not all drinks being served in today's cocktail lounges, though, deserve space in a chilled glass. I hate to be the one who says this, but I'm betting you've seen it coming. The cocktailian craft has been grossly mishandled of late, and it's time to rein in a few newcomers to the craft who seem to have missed the point.

Odd ingredients

"Too many bartenders are making drinks with a dizzying array of odd ingredients," said Erik Adkins of the Slanted Door when I got him on this topic. "These drinks are often muddy and lack balance. My big fear is that we are going to leave the public behind."

Let me say for the record that 21st century bartenders have taught me more about the craft of mixology than I ever learned during my 35 years behind the bar in the 20th century. I've no wish for today's bartenders to stop pushing the envelope. I'm pretty much insistent, though, that we take a hard look at the bartenders who have been trying to blind us with their mad-scientist-type potions while rendering cocktails reminiscent of an emperor's new clothes. We've taken more than a couple of steps forward in recent years. It's time to take at least one step back.

Age alone doesn't define bartenders lacking basic principles of mixology, but the mixologists whom I'm about to take my stick to are, for the most part, fairly new to the craft. I'll call them bar-tweenies because although they act as though they're accomplished cocktailians, their voices have yet to crack.

Many accomplished bartenders I approached about this phenomenon were reticent to talk. Nobody wants the phenomenon of superstar cocktailian bartenders to come to an end. We're just getting started, and we all want to see this movement grow. But lack of experience is a growing concern.

"Time behind the stick is a must for one to really be a great bartender," says Duggan McDonnell of Cantina. "Time spent tasting wines and spirits, time spent working as a busboy, time spent eating, and thinking, and traveling, and reading, and practicing the art of conversation."