What the Kent*uck*y just happened to us? Pt. 1

In an attempt to not make this post to biographical, I'm going to take my time writing it, and also, it seems a crying shame to write this while sober. The only sobering thing about our trip to Kentucky was the hospitality of our host Cody Rossen and Makers Mark.  


What better way for a bunch of bartenders to begin a trip to Kentucky, than to pull and "All Nighter".  Since our flight left Portland at 6:30am on Sunday morning and a hand full of us had to work the night before, there seemed no need to go to bed and get 90 minutes of sleep before waking up and climbing into a cab...etc...BORING!!!  So we gather at Teardrop Lounge after they closed down.  For bartenders, it's much easier to pass the time in a bar than it is fiddling our thumbs at home.  By 4:30am, myself, Evan Zimmerman(Laurelhurst Market), Elizabeth Markham(Beaker and Flask), Tommy Klus(Bluehour), and David Shenaut(Teardrop Lounge), (Alison Webber*Gilt* and Chris Churilla *Downward Dog* were traveling separately) were properly lubed and hitched a ride to the Airport.  


I don't know if any of you have ever caught a flight first thing in the morning after staying up all night, but let me tell you....thanks to a rather generous glass of Drambue, and some delicious brownies, I recall... boarding, taxi'ing (not sure if that's a word or not)...and then the ding of the "fasten seat belt sound" and the pilot saying, "We are beginning our decent into Minneapolis".  A 4 1/2 hour flight that felt like 30 minutes.  It's the only way to fly.


We had a brief layover in Minneapolis, perfectly scheduled to coincide with the Viking's v. Rams game.  I managed to catch the first quarter and a half before we boarded our plane to Louisville.  I think I had luck on my side all week long because as I'm boarding the plane I muddle my way to my seat, and who was seated next to me?  Yes...it's a 23 year old model on her way back from Calgary to Louisville.  I showed her pictures of my wife (who's way hotter than she was) and kids, we talked life and careers, swapped I pods for a bit....the only reason why this piece of information is important is because, when we got off the airplane, everyone else proclaimed they had an awful experience on that flight.  Once I piped in that I sat next to a 23 year old model, I lost whatever friends I had before we left Portland.  

Lesson: Keep that kind of information to myself.

Stay Tuned for the next Installment...

"Nuttin' but a ham sandwich"

What do Policeman, Firefighters, and Bartenders have in common?  We all know when it's a full moon.  If you have the opportunity to ask a Policeman or Firefighter when their busiest nights if the month is, and they will most likely express "when it's a full moon".  Working as a bartenders, I would whole heartedly agree that sh!t get's crazy when it's a full moon.  This week I was reminded how lucky I am to work in a respectable restaurant as apposed to a nightclub type atmosphere, where these things happen all the time.

But I found myself in he unfortunate position of having to cut a couple people off.   And unfortunately, they were a part of a larger party, in which I had to stop serving the ENTIRE party.  Cutting people of isn't fun for them, it isn't fun for me, it just not fun.  But if the behavior of the guest mandates, you must stop that behavior by refusing service on behalf of the rest of the guests in the restaurant, then a little "verbal abuse" from an already intoxicated customer is a small price to pay for making the rest of the evening tolerable.

Being a parent of two little boys has given me an arsenal of tactics to use with drunk people.  Because, most people who get to the point where they are being cut off are acting just like that...Children.  But it's very important not to be patronizing because that will inflame the situation.  The scary fact of the matter is, bartenders and OLCC Licensees have legal responsibilities in place to keep from serving people too much alcohol.   And more likely than not, if you've gotten cut off, it's for a damn good reason, and no matter how much arguing takes place, you aren't going to get another drink.  And the amazing thing, is that people sometimes get so angry that they want your name, social security number, DOB, so they can take that information to the manager of the restaurant and argue with them about their level of intoxication.  What they don't know, is that it's not the managers call...it's the bartenders.

One of the most entertaining interactions I've had like this was at Bluehour restaurant.  There was a younger man, who was showing all the signs of being at the legal limit.  He kept asking me for a drink, over and over again.  He'd go away and come back 5 minutes later and ask for another, and of course...I kept saying "No."  Finally he looked at me and said, "Man...you really not going to give me a drink?"   I said, "Nope!".  He says to me, "Man...you ain't nothin' but a ham sandwich!!", and walks right out of the restaurant.  That still makes me chuckle.

Mmmm...Pechauds...

Inspired by Ricky Gomez from NOLA in New Orleans who introduced Portland to his cocktail that featured 2 oz...yes 2oz of Peychaud's bitters, I was determined to find a platform for the historical bitters that hit my palate just right.

After pulling the top off the bottle and tasting it like a spirit, I noticed it has a nice digestif quality to it.  It reminded me of Aperol or Campari.  My first shot at a cocktail was a variation on my favorite drink...a Negroni.  Equal parts Gin, Campari, and Sweet Vermouth.  I substituted the Peychaud's for Campari and found the Gin and Sweet Vermouth a little too aggressive.  So, I substituted the Gin for Rye, and Sweet Vermouth for Dry vermouth.  I was on to Something here...I needed the Anise flavor to pop, and I needed a touch more sugar to balance the Bitters and Dry Vermouth.  My Third attempt became the Pey-Pal.

Peychaud's is a very light Anise drivin' bitters that was created in New Orleans.  It has a light citrus and floral aspect to it that isn't overly agressive.  Some bitters like Angostura and anything off the Fee's line can be really dominant in a cocktail, but I find Peychaud's to be light, and remarkably flexible. 

Recently I've seen Peychaud's used as a base ingredient in a Sour and in use with citrus and prosecco.  Experiment for yourself and let me know what you think.

The Spirit of Competition

On October 24-25 2009, the Oregon Bartenders Guild, and Rogue Spirits, hosted the Great American Distillers Festival at the Bossanova Ballroom in Portland, Oregon.  Integrated into festival of local and nation micro distilleries, was the 3rd Anual Mixmaster Challenge.

Twenty-Four bartenders from Oregon, Washington, California (Ali Tahsini), and Louisiana (Ricky Gomez) competed for a $1000 grand prize (thats a lot of frickin green) donated by House Spirits.   The contest began with the bartenders choosing their local spirit a few weeks ahead of time and developed a cocktail around that spirit, and had 7 minutes to create and execute 4 cocktails.  3 for the Judges, and 1 for the audience.  After 5 hours of competition, the four bartenders that rose to the top were, Evan Zimmerman (Laurelhurst Market, Portland), Ali Tahsini (Bourbon and Branch, San Fransisco) , Jim Romdall (Vessel, Seattle), and Andrew Friedman (Liberty Bar, Seattle).

On Sunday, October 25 the contest continued in the late afternoon, with the contestants not knowing what spirit they will use to compete for the $1000 grand prize.  The only thing they had with them were their, tools, the products donated by the festival, and their whits.  After some anxiety, and anticipation from the contestants, it was revealed that the final products were from the House Spirits Apothecary Line.  Evan Zimmerman drew first and chose the House Spirits White Dog.  A corn distillate that if aged eventually becomes bourbon.  Ali Tashini pulled Ouzo, Andrew Friedman pulled Palinka (a plum brandy) and Jim Romdall pulled the Gammel Kroggstad (a barrel aged Aqavit).

Each contestant had 10 minutes to create and execute 5 cocktails for a panel of Celebrety judges including Robert Hess (aka DrinkBoy) Christian Krogstad (House Spirits), Charles Munat, and Neyah White. 

After each bartender completed their cocktails, and after each cocktail went through the ringer of critics and judges, Evan Zimmerman's White Dog Cocktail came out on top.  He claimed his grand prize with a perfectly balanced combination of White Dog, Dolin Blanc, and Dolin Dry vermouth, Apricot Liquer, and Peychauds bitters. 

All weekend long the city's bars were buzzing with this congregation of bartenders, cocktail bloggers, and distillers.  There was a great feeling of community and positive energy that was created all parties involved in organizing, and participating in the event.  It was an honor to be a part of it and we are already looking forward to next year.

Trading Places at the Red Apple

A couple months ago a good friend of mine, Eric Hansen, and I spent about 90 minutes talking about all the restaurants we had worked in.  You'd think that a conversation like that would take, at max 5 minutes.  But when between the two of us we have 37 restaurants and 37 combined years of experience, just talking about where we worked turned into a lecture.

In the summer of 1994 I moved to Walla Walla, Washington after graduating from Dakota Adventist Academy.  (please explore this hyperlink and find the snow pictures...the dorms are under snow drifts for 3 months of the winter)  Never mind, I just added the hyperlinks...*shrug*.  I enrolled in Walla Walla College, and the first job that I got was working as a landscaper for the grounds department.  It was physical work, and I enjoyed it.  But it was a lot of hours for little money.  I didn't like being a clock watcher, and there is nothing more dreary to me than the thought and lifestyle of a 9 to 5 job. 

After, a month of working my ass off in the heat, digging waterlines, hauling dirt, changing sprinkler heads, mowing lawns, and watering flowers, I was bored stiff and needed some social interaction.  One of my first dining experiences in Walla Walla was at a restaurant called "The Red Apple".  It was a 1950's style greasy spoon diner in downtown Walla Walla that was open 24 hours.  They had terrible food that was cheap and it was a great place for college students to go, drink coffee, do homework, or just hang out.  I was enchanted with the place, and it was always busy, and for peets sake, they had the BEST CHOCOLATE MALTED ever conceived of.  It was great...they used high quality ice cream, and served it in those old-timey parfait glasses with the tin on the side that essentially had an extra milkshake left over...the malt was caked to the metal sides of the tin, and scraping it off with the silver spoon that they served it with was amazing...it was like being back in utero. 

While I did not have a ton of restaurant experience, I had worked at Pizza Hut for a couple summers, and worked in my High School Cafeteria, I thought that the Red Apple would be a fantastic place to work.  Think of all the free Malteds you could have....the opportunities were endless.  Needless to say I filled out an application, and a few weeks later got a phone call to interview (which really wasn't an interview...the manager asked me if I was available to work the following Sunday) for a bus boy position.  "Ok..." I think to myself, I can do that for a few extra dimes through the summer.

I report to work on a Sunday morning...I guess I was working Sunday Brunch but at the time it was all just breakfast to me...and I spent the entire day there.  I was there from 7am till around 6:30 that evening.  It was one of those situations where you don't really need any training, and they knew it. They showed me how to set up the table and from there I was totally left alone until the end of the day.  The Manager at the restaurant was so disinterested in what was going on that she never even bothered to ask me my name, then asked me to wait till after my shift to fill out paperwork.  It was a total shit-show.  It's amazing that it even functioned.  But it was a great learning experience for me to assess that not all places that you like are great places to work.  I never bothered to go back as an employee after that day.  I never filled out paperwork or even bothered to ask anyone about a check.  I did return as a patron and no one ever recognized me or said another word.  I took a job as a dishwasher at Jacobi's Cafe not long after, and worked my way up to Waiter in less than a month.

After reminiscing with Eric that night, for some reason that one day at Red Apple was sticking out in my mind.  I learned with great definition what I didn't want as an employee, and that may have been an important lesson for me.

I am briefly reminded of the '80's classic comedy Trading Places.  I think everyone needs to be on the other side of the service fence for at least one day.  You will find a new appreciation for what it takes to be a servant.  Everyone struggles with their own ego and compartmentalizes who they are as an individual, when you are busy scraping discarded food into a 30 gallon trash bin filled with 150 other peoples discarded food.  People would be humbled by the strung out dishwasher eating dead food from those plates (vulturing as we put it).  I think the most important lesson people would learn if they spent one day in our shoes, is that the great hierarchy that we put in place for ourselves, is just a facade.  It takes everyone to make the whole thing run, and I refuse to accept the fact that we as humans should ever be placed any kind of pecking order.  The "vulturing" dishwasher is often more at peace with who he is as an individual, than the hot shot 30 year old rich businessman, who will spend energy attempting to prove that they are a better person that you strictly because they have more money.  This has been a popular theme as long as there has been a wide separation between the 2%-ers, and the rest of us.  And with 6 billion people on the planet, it's easier to find something in common with everyone you come in contact with, than it is to dwell on our differences.  Thank you, Red Apple, for teaching me a valuable lesson of compassion, and equality.  And you didn't even have to pay me do learn it!!!

The Great American Distillers Festival Oct, 24th and 25th.

 If you haven't heard the Oregon Bartenders Guild is organizing a Mixmaster Challenge.  I would personally like to offer a grand tip of the hat to David Shenaut for putting in so many hours on this project.  The line up of bartenders is EXTRAORDINARY.

Put your skills up against the Best at the Bossanova Ballroom on October 24-25th.

2009 GADF Bartender Mix-Off Sponsors
Presenting Sponsors
Oregon Bartenders Guild
Washington Bartenders Guild
Imbibe Magazine
Rogue
Grand Prize Sponsor
House Spirits
2nd-Place Prize Sponsor
Hood River Distillers
3rd-Place Prize Sponsor
Rogue
Mix & Shake Cocktail Bar Sponsor
J. Witty Spirits


2009 GADF Bartender Mixoff Competitors
1. Suzanne Allard, Ned Ludd
2. Anu Apte, Rob Roy
3. Andrew Bohrer, Naga Cocktail Lounge
4. Lydia Crash, Independent Bartender NYC
5. Bradley Dawson, Bluehour
6. Alyson Dykes, Beaker & Flask
7. Kinn Edwards, Aqua
8. Brian Gilbert, Teardrop Lounge
9. Ricky Gomez, Cure
10. Jacob Grier, Carlyle
11. Jeff Groh, The Heathman
12. John Hearn, Cocktail Blogger (john-the-bastard.com)
13. Tommy Klus, Teardrop Lounge
14. Elizabeth Markham, Beaker & Flask/Victory Bar
15. Michael Robertson, The Driftwood Room
16. Jim Romdall, Vessel
17. Matthew Schuler, Cocktail Blogger
18. Dan Stern, Urban Farmer
19. Jeremy Stone, The Heathman
20. Ali Tahsini, Bourbon &  Branch
21. Joe Turner, Gilt Club
22. Andrew Volk, Clyde Common
23. Lee Watson, Alu
24. Evan Zimmerman, Laurelhurst Market

Work Nightmares.

I've always found work dreams fascinating.  They are almost all the same.  Mine usually consist of beeing in the weeds and nothing is in the right place, guests are moving around, there are weights around my ankles etc. 

I spent the summer of 1995 working at a restaurant in Walla Walla Washington at a restaurant called Jacobi's Cafe.  Jacobi's was a pretty big restaurant, it was built in a Train Depot with an actual train car attached to it.  It was a large restaurant, with a pretty complicated system of operations.  It ran on a primitive version of Micros (a retail Point of Sale System), the sections were big, and if you were working in the Train Car, you needed to navigate stairs, and a 40 yard distance from the kitchen at the farthest point. 

Now if you've ever worked in a restaurant before you know that the farther away from the kitchen you are the more "running" you're going to have to do, so your level of organization must be high.  You quickly learn to maintain all your tables at the same time.  The most difficult station at Jacobi's was Red.  (The stations were color coded and right above the service station in the train there were six colored lights.  The chef would turn on the light for the station who's food was ready, and you needed to haul ass to the kitchen to run that food or there was hell to pay.  Also there was very little teamwork in this restaurant so it wasn't unusual for the chef to start flashing the light if our food was dying.) Station Red was in the very back end of the train car, and it had six four tops, and a private dining room that could seat up to 12. 

During that summer, I was trying to make enough money to stay in school, and so I was working alot of doubles, and working up to 11 shifts a week.  It was alot, but I was 20 years old, and all I wanted to do was make some dough, so I was happy to stick with it for the summer, put some money in the bank, and grind it out until school started again. 

I was still new to that type of service.  Jacobi's had a little something for everyone.  They had interactive trivia, yards of beer, a salad case that was outstanding!!!  They had sixteen different types of salads and did a bang up job of executing them.  But one of the perils of it was that people would come in and order a salad dish, and you could have up to four different types of salads, and if you got an entree it automatically came with a salad choice, of which they could split their choice up to four times.  So It wasn't uncommon to get a entree order for a Chicken Parm, with a side salad of spinach, pasta, pea, and house salad with a vinaigrette dressing.  And every order was like this.  I became very efficient at taking people's order my memory, since I was that young, my brain was sharp and would often blow peoples minds by being able to memorize orders like that up to twelve at a time.  There's no way in hell I could do anything like that now, I'm already worried about how absent minded I may be in my later years...I digress.

Needless to say, at the end of this summer, after working my tail off, I was beginning to burn out...and that's when the nightmares started.  I would have dreams that I would walk into work, put my apron on, and the manager would walk up to me and say. "Neil, we opened another section on the other side of town and we quadruple sat you."

In my dream I would walk to the other side of town, and apon arrival everyone was PISSED.  "We've been sitting here for an hour and a half!!"  I would of course appologize and juggle for them, kiss their children, or do whatever I could to make them happy, get everyone's order, and begin the long walk back to the restaurant.  When I arrived back at the restaurant, the manager would walk up to me and say.  "We filled red, can you get on that?"  Enter Red, and repeat. 

This was a reoccurring dream until I quit Jacobi's in the Fall.  I've also had dreams that I was super busy, and my feet were buried in cement cubes. 

What are your nightmares?  Please post your nightmares on the Open Palate Blog instead of the Facebook site.  It's a little more central for everyone. 

"Is that good?"

One of the most confusing things I get asked on a weekly basis is people looking at the menu and pointing and asking..."Is that good?" 

Being a father of two and a loving husband, I've developed a sense of patience, and am still developing my ability to suppress my sarcastic whit and bite my tongue when opportunities flash me.  But this is one of those things that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. 

First of all, as professionals, we in the "non-corporate" restaurant business have control over what's on the menu.  So somewhere along the line, someone thought that the item in question is not only good, but delicious.  We are in the business of creating delicious.  The truth of the mater is, delicious doesn't come without trial and error, so most items you see on a menu has been through various stages before menus go to print. 

Second, I don't know automatically what you like.  Right now, I think Romazzatti Amaro is delicious.  But if I had a 21 year old drinker walk into the bar and ask for a delicious drink, I would not recommend it.  All items will be relative based on what your tastes are.  Know what you like before you ask the question "is that good?" 

Third, you may want to re-think that phrase into "What is this like?"  Totally understandable and reasonable question.  It happens to me all the time, when I walk into a restaurant, and it's like reading greek, I am happy to answer a lot of questions. 

Now I'll be the first to admit that I often know more about booze and wine than I do about food.  Clyde Common is constantly challenging my food knowledge, and there are always things to learn about opportunity to grow culinary knowledge.

So to answer your question "Is that good?"  My answer is "What do you like?".

The Do's and Don'ts of Tipping.

After 19 years in the restaurant business, I no longer look at tips in terms of individual transactions. The only time I'll ever notice a tip would be if it was non-existent, or grotesquely large. But, for the most part, I see my job as an average yearly salary. Hours worked vs. money made. For the Most part, I think that bartending is one of the best jobs you can ever have because of the social style of the occupation, and the amount of money you can make in a short period of time. It's perfect if you are (like me) trying to stay at home and have an active roll in raising children, getting an education, or supplementing your day job because it doesn't pay enough to pay your student loans.

The Do's and Don'ts of tipping.

Do - Give a little extra to your friends and colleagues. The service industry is small, and sooner or later you are going to run into your server again either in another restaurant, or in line at the Safeway. If you are in the industry be generous to the people serving you, and in return, you will notice that members of the service industry will return the favor. It's widely known that the people who receive the best service are already in the industry. There is a level of respect, and expectation we have for each other, and without community, it's just no fun.

Don't - Use a tip as leverage, even in a joking manor. It's like rubbing a steak under a hungry dog's nose. I know you have the stake, and I know you're going to give it to me. Just be happy I'm here by your side loyal and protective of you. Don't make me roll over, play dead, bark, or shake hands for tips. It's rude, and humiliating.

Do - Have cash available at a busy nightclub or bar. Cash is a fast transaction, Bartenders can see it right away, and it will often be the difference between getting served before that group of girls who all have their own credit card out. Not only will it get you your drinks faster, but we can also execute the transactions faster. The unspoken rule of cash, is that if you tip big cash on your first transaction (30% or more) you can get served right away the next time you approach the bar, and we don't even expect you to tip on the second round. (not that we wouldn't love that, but don't feel obligated) For the most part, bartenders are just happy you get it, and we are happy to serve.

Don't - Not tip at all. If you are hanging around a bar, and refuse to tip on your first round, I guarantee you will no longer receive prompt or adequate service. If you are too cheap to show respect, then your drinks will be weak, and you will be put to the very back of the line as far as prompt service is concerned.

Do- Tip on Bottle Wine Sales. This is a hot topic, but service staff get's taxed on a percentage of sales. If we get a couple bottles of wine on the bill, and the customer doesn't tip on those sales, after service share, and taxes, the bus boy will make more money on the table than the server, who knew why that bottle of Chateauneuf Du Pape needed to be decanted before serving it with your Lamb and Polenta. I see this alot, I would say 50% of people don't tip on bottle sales. If you've got the ability to pay for a bottle of wine in a restaurant, you can afford to tip on it. On a side note, recently a local Sports radio host spent two days talking on the air about how an NFL star had to tip on his $14,000 bill, most of which was wine. He argued and lamented that no one should tip on wine sales and that spending that much money on gratuity was ridiculous. His argument was painful because he was lobbying for these millionaire football players to stick it to the servers. Again, my argument is if you can afford to purchase the bottle in a restaurant, you can afford to tip the person serving it to you. If you feel so inspired, drop and email to Colin Cowherd @ (theherd@espnradio.com).  Again, last week he spend 2 days on the radio and on television lobbying for people to not tip on wine sales. 

The harsh reality of it is, we do rely on tips, it's expected, but cannot be demanded. Americans are extremely generous and 99% of all people who dine out understand these simple rules, and I see it more often than not, that in Portland, clientele, and service staff all understand that we are part of the same community, and there is so much mutual respect here.  I'm grateful to all of our clientele, and their generosity.

A Great event for a Great Cause.

The Oregon Bartenders Guild will be hosting a five course cocktail Pairing Dinner at Clarklewis Restaurant on September 19th, with proceeds going to the Cascade Aids Project.  Chef Dolan Lane and the bartenders of the OBG will be designing cocktails and food that feature the unique flavor of Makers Mark Bourbon.  Tickets are $95 and can be reserved by contacting the Oregon Bartenders Guild, or calling  Neil Kopplin at 503-318-6720.  Seating is Limited.

If you are an Official member of the Oregon Bar Guild send us a message to gain access to your discounted ticket price.

Makers Mark Dinner

Amusee

Grilled wild shrimp

with red melon and sweet pepper gazpacho

Kentucky Dusk

Makers Mark, St. Germain Elderflower, Lemon, Honey and Champange.

First course

Grilled Late Summer Peaches

with burrata, arugula, fried almonds and saba

Stone and Wheat

Makers Mark, Apricot Liqueur, Home Made Fig Liqueur, and Fresh Lime.

Second course

Braised Pork belly

with wild mountain huckleberries and Mulino Marino polenta

God and Country

Makers Mark, Homemade Huckleberry and Maple Syrup, Whisky Barrel Bitters, and smoked ice.

Entrée

Cascade Natural Beef

with sweet onion hash and chanterelle mushrooms

Homestead

Equal Parts Makers Mark, Ruby Port, and Cynar finished with a shaved Oregon Truffle

Dessert

Bittersweet chocolate and Fritz’s hazelnut torte

with Makers Mark ice cream

Louisville Latte

Makers Mark, Romazzatti Amaro steamed with milk, served with Stumptown espresso topped with shaved hazelnut.

Dolin Blanc is the new St. Germain.

There has been a huge blow up of St. Germain (elderflower liqueur) in the last two years.  It's a bright flavorful spirit that mixes nicely with nearly everything you use it with.  It can be intensely sweet when consumed by itself or if you use to much of it.  But a little bit will add an element to a citrusy cocktail the makes you go..."ohh...what's that flavor...it's....pleasant!".  I'll be honest, I love the stuff for it's versatility, and nearly every cocktail you make with it does something magical to the female palate.  Women love the stuff, and one of my philosophies is that if you make good drinks for women....they will come visit your bar.  And if women come visit your bar...so do men.  Let's face it, St. Germain is good for business.  These days it's a must on nearly every cocktail list in the Northwest.

One of my long time signature cocktails made with St. Germain.

Queen Bee (still on the menu @ Carlyle)
3/4 Vodka (try subbing, Gin, Rye or Bourbon they all work)
3/4 St. Germain
3/4 Lemon
1/4 Clover Honey Syrup
Shake and serve up
Top with 1 1/2 oz Dry Champagne

It's crisp, light, and has all these ingredients that women look at and say...oohhh...I want that.  It's a fabulous cocktail and have been guilty of drinking a few of myself.

Recently, the Dolin Vermouth de Chambery has released a line of Rouge, Blanc, and Dry that has quickly become the masculine equivalent of St. Germain.  The Rouge, is light, sweet and not too pungent or herbal.  Hints of orange and lemon aspects.  Has a nice weight to it, and just enough herb and bitter to balance off a lighter bourbon or rye.  Heavier Bourbons will swallow the rouge whole, and you'll loose the lighter notes that are the big pluses for this product.

I haven't had a chance to taste the Dry as of yet, but the Blanc is AMAZING!!!  The Blanc is a more elegant version of a Bianco Vermouth.  Essentially a sweet vermouth that hasn't been aged or fortified with the same herbs and spices that give the Rouge it's color.  It's light, and citrusy, with the most elegant clean finish of mineral.  Just drinking it by itself, over ice is a fantastic experience.  With a little orange, and lemon zest a couple cubes of ice and you would be able to pair this spirit with everything from a spring salad, to a nice piece of Alaskan Salmon.

It's also extremely mixable.  I find myself reaching for it in the same manor that a year ago I was reaching for St. Germain.  My most recent love and combination has been a staff inspired drink called "Mago de la Muerte".  In English this translates to "Magician of Death".

The Mago
2 oz Silver Tequilla
3/4 Dolin Blanc
1/4 Cointreau
1/4 Maraska Maraschino
1 of Regans orange bitters.

Stir and serve in a martini Shell with a squeeze of orange zest.

The Mago was named after Michael Staley a server/host at Clyde Common Restaurant.  Who has a fabulous story about a dishwasher that though his name was "Mago",which means magician in spanish,  for years.  One day after work he asked me for a tequila drink with no acid.  I was inspired and created the Mago.  There is a slight smokey mineral quality to the silver tequila that fuses effortlessly to the Dolin Blanc.  Dolin is really the legs of this drink.  It adds length and smoothness to the tequila that you normally don't find in tequila.  The maraschino blended with the coinreau in small parts are complementary flavors that adds a touch of sweetness.  The thing that excites me about this drink is the color.  When the coinreau is stirred and water fuses to it, it well ever so lightly Louche.  Which is an old term for what happens to Absinthe when you add water to it and it's color changes from green to milky green.  The same thing happens to the coinreau, it ever so slightly changes color.  So when serving the drink, you'll notice a slight mysterious cloudiness that adds to the cocktail.

Keep your eye on cocktail lists around the city.  As long as Dolin Blanc is available in Oregon, you will continue to see it on cocktails lists.  It's elegance, versatility, and affordability will make it a mainstay behind Northwest bars for quite some time.

Carpe'ing the Diem

If you worked in the restaurant business long enough, sooner or later you're going to be exposed to a celebrity.  Or at least someone who everyone in the house recognizes, and has to do a "Flyby" of the table, to check out.  Which is not to be confused with "Crop Dusting" which hopefully doesn't have to be defined.  Having worked in Hollywood, I've been fairly jaded to celebrity spottings, so it doesn't really quake me in my boots to see a recognizable face at my bar.

I've served people like Clinton Kelly, John Lithgow, Jamie Foxx, Jack Black, and Keanu Reeves.  (I'm experimenting with hyper-links, can you tell? What can I say? This blogging thing is new to me, *shrug*) All of whom were generally pleasant and polite the the exception of Jamie Foxx, who was kind of mean and a terrible tipper.  I know name dropping is kinda douchey, but for the sake of telling a good story, who cares.

I was working at the Bookstar while I was studying actor in my twenties.  It was a somewhat mind numbing job, but I loved to access to all the bios, plays, screenplays, and how-to books that came along with that job.  I could ride my bike to work, and it had some benefits.  But during the holliday season of '98 I was working one of the registers when one of my coworkers put an elbow in my ribs.  "Do you know who that is?" he asked.

I had no idea.  He was about 5' 9" dressed in a black suit.  Medium length black hair and reading glasses.  He was peering some new Historical Fiction book.  Just as I'm about to ask my co-worker who he is a tall lanky blond with a husky piercing voice emerges from around the corner where he's perusing books and says, "Shadow, look at this."  The man puts down his book and joins is blond companion around the corner and out of site.  My eyes got wide.  "I know who that is!" I thought to myself.

"Cover me." I said to my coworker, and ran into the back of the Bookstar to rummage through Old Rock Rags.  (magazines that don't sell and are out of date)  All magazines, if they don't sell, get the cover torn off, and sent back to the publisher for credit, and the rest of the magazines get thrown away or recycled.  There is always a stack of magazines two or three feet high that get thrown away every month.

I begin tearing through magazines, one after the other.  I finally find what I'm looking for.  A foldout poster that can be ripped out and autographed.  Perfect.

I run back up to the register to see if "Shadow" and his blond escort is still hanging around.  I don't see them anywhere.  "Bummer" I think to myself, "Christmas is coming and that would have made a great gift".

I check out a few more people,  and am getting ready to go on my break, when I look up and there is the dark haired man with his blond companion.  My whole body get's that shot of adrenaline like I've unexpectedly come across a snake.  I may have.

I help them purchase their books, and as they are finishing up, I pull the poster that I had stolen from the magazine out, and ask. "Can you sign this for me?  If my brother finds out I saw you and didn't get your autograph he'll kick my ass."  This is true.

"For your brother huh?"  Says the dark haired man.  "What's his name?"

I tell him my brothers name, and he signs the poster.  "Sweet" I'm thinking to myself, "I got my brother's Christmas present this year".

They leave the store, and as they leave I look down at the autograph.  It reads.  "To Chad, Rock All Night Long!!!  Gene Simmons".

"Do you know who the f$?k we are?"

I've only been fired twice. The first time was by this lady that ran a Hummus Restaurant in Studio City right across the street from Billy Banks studio. The owner fired me for being a smart ass, and hugging her everytime I saw her. I knew she didn't like me, but I'm kinda like a cat that way, if I know you don't like me, I can't change that, so I'll just hug you till you run away. Her brother ran the kitchen there and spoke very little English. He would always confuse the word "Kitchen" for "Chicken". He'd say. "If you need me, I'll be in the chicken". Sometimes, you just can't change it if people don't like you.

The second time I got fired was a completely different story.

Mexicali, is a Mexican restaurant on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. It's right across the street from an old movie theater that got turned into a bookstore. I waited tables there in '00 with my roomate at the time, Jimmie Lee (yes that's his real name) who was the bartender. It's a pretty happening restaurant that for some reason brings out the worst in people. Tequilla does strange things to peoples behavior, and there were some nights when I was working, that I swore the bottom of the restaurant would open up, and little impish demons would seep up from hell and start whispering in peoples ear to do awful things. It was no exception on the day I got fired.

In the state of California, if you are going to serve Alcohol outside, you must have it enclosed, so Beer Gardens are abundant. Mexicali had some outside seating, and there is a rod iron fence closing it all in. They squeezed as many tables as they could out there, and there was just enough room for one person to squeeze between the tables and the fence. If you've ever worked on a patio you know how challenging it can be, because you're so freakin' far away from the kitchen.

During Happy Hour, I had a couple sit down get their basket of chips and salsa, and order a Margarita to split between them. They weren't going to order anything because they were expecting some more people.

I think to myself "I understand that, happens all the time." No big deal. Well this couple blows through three baskets of chips in like 15 minutes. I could tell that was going to be dinner for them. I wasn't really bothered by that, it happens all the time.

Their Joiners finally showed up, and each one of them ordered a Margarita, and of course, more chips and salsa. They hung out for a while, and the rest of my tables were turning with diners, so I was doing fine, and makin' money. We were busy that night, and the reservation list was pretty full. It was an hour wait for most of the evening. Sometimes, when you get busy, it's kind of a blessing to have one table, just hangin' out, and not ordering. It allows you to catch up with your other table, and be out of radar range for a while.

But then, the original people who sat down at the table got up and left, leaving the new party there by themselves. And a few minutes later, a new couple, sat down with the two that were already there, and repeated the drill. Margarita, and more chips.

Now, I'm starting to get a little urked. This cycle went on for six and a half hours. By around midnight, there were 5 people sitting at the table that is only supposed to have 4, one guy, had taken a chair from table beside him, and put it on the end between the table and the fence. So every time I went by I had to squeeze my ass between this guys chair and the fence. The guy sitting in the chair, never once helped me out by leaning in, or had any idea that I would have to balance trays of drinks right over his head in order for me to get past him.

A little after midnight, I was trying to deliver some fajitas (if you've ever worked or been to a place that served fajitas on the hot Irons, you know how dangerous, and precarious those things are) and the guy sticking out off the end of the table was leaning back in his chair.

"What the" I'm thinking to myself. I stand right beside this guy for a moment thinking he's going to lean back in and let me squeeze past him. Nothing happens, finally, in fear of burning myself and someone else, I loose it. I kicked the back of this guys chair and said "Move it!!". Everyone at the table turns and looks at me. The guy slides his chair in, and I walk by and safely deliver the fajitas.

I turn around and have to walk back past them on my way to the kitchen, and the guy stands up and keeps me from passing. He says, "Do you have a problem with us?"

At this point I had two things running through my head. One, be humble, appologize, be a servant. Two, rage. I chose poorly.

"Yeah, I have a problem with you, you've been here for six hours, you've got a $45 bill, and you're not letting me do my job!!"

The guy looked at me and said, "Do you know who the f$?k we are?". People in LA are so bloated.

I fire back,"I don't care who you are, you are trashy people!!" I coldly stare. Another guy stands up and yells at me, "No one calls my woman trashy", (as if I wasn't also talking to him) and grabs me by the throat.

Now in my mind, I know he's not going to rip out my esophagus or strangle me, we're in public arguing about unimportant things, so my reaction, is to not react. I remember staring at him and smiling. Thinking to myself, "how surreal is this right now, how did I get to this point?" It was right about that time, that Jimmie Lee jumps over the bar and separates us before and punches were thrown.

That's the closest I've ever gotten to getting into a fight. I'm not a fighter by nature, and in retrospect, I was sabotaging myself a little bit because I was no longer happy in LA. I didn't care about my job, and I didn't really know what I wanted. I just knew that I no longer wanted to be serving fajitas on a patio. I knew I was wrong, I knew that was no way to act, but just once, I wanted to know what it felt like to say what you sometimes think, when peoples behaviors, break the unwritten rules we have in customer service.

As I'm standing behind Mexicali smoking a cigarette, Jimmie Lee walks out and says, "You know your fired, right?" I reply "That's a relief." I didn't even have to finish my shift, I just gave all my paper work and cash away. It was a pivotal point for me on many avenues. I may never know who those people were, but after that whole experience I had a much better understanding who I was.

My Achy Breaky Heart

I got my first real job in 1990, working at a book depository in Redfield, South Dakota. I was 14 years old, just the legal age to be slave labor in SD at that time. I made $2.81 cents and hour, ripping shingles, tarring roofs (getting the worst sunburn of my life), moving books and magazines, and hauling railroad tiles. I don't know if you've ever picked up a rail road tile before, but each one weighs between 120 and 160 pounds. They're beasts! By the end of the summer I was in fantastic shape, and how could you not be, you're frickin' 14 for peet's sake. This was the hardest work, I've ever done in my entire life, and at the end a work week, I earned a whopping $112.40.

That's obviously not enough money to pay for private schooling (a whole other chapter) so I had to pick up a job at the local Pizza Hut. Which was some of the finest dining in Redfield at the time. It was my first waiting job, and most nights were filled with serving cowboys wearing ropers, trucker hats, and smelling like a combination of motor oil, old spice, and horse hide. It was primal, but all I knew at the time, and I was greatfull for my extra $18 a night. I remember making $26 one night, $9 of which were in quarters, and wondering what could I do with so much cash. I think I spent that on "Days of Thunder", the epic summer Tom Cruise Vehicle.

One of my most jarring memories of that summer, was that the Jukebox of the Local Pizza hut used to play "Achy Breaky Heart" in upwards of 10 times a night. I'm pretty sure my sister (who was also employed there) had a secret thing for Billy Ray's mullet, and tortured us with this swingin' ditty of the day. To this day, if I hear that song, it sends me into an epileptic convulsion, that in order for me to break out of, requires a stranger throwing a half eaten pizza crust at me.

A couple of weeks ago my Sister-In-Law informed me that the Pizza Hut has finally closed, and some new Pizza restaurant has gone in. I was sad for a moment thinking about the two summers I spent there, and the amount of mischief that I was a part of. RIP Redfield Pizza Hut. Gone, but not forgotten.

Sunday Funday @ Clyde

All my years working in the service industry, every time I had to work Sundays, I used to roll my eyes, roll up my sleeves, and bite the bullet. In most restaurants, Sundays are sluggish and not terribly exciting. But Clyde Common has been the exception. The clientele, is mostly restaurant employees, bartenders and a odd combination of cocktail savvy tourists.

For example, last night later in the evening, around ninish, I had a group trickle into the bar, and they ordered a couple drinks, and one guy (who I didn't recognize) leans into the bar and asks, "What kind of Rye do you have in your well". Immediately, my ears perked up.

I thought to myself, "ok, this guys a bartender, but I don't recognize him from around town". Portland's a very small town and everyone knows eachother. I rattle off the rye that's in the well (old overholt) and grab a couple more options. Finally he say's "ok, make me some kind of Rye Sour variation."

Cool, I knock out a sour for him, he drinks it, likes it, leans in again about 15 minutes later and orders another one. "Different this time".

I love people like this, it keeps me creative, and I always learn something. While crafting his second cocktail,

2 oz Rye
1 oz Lemon
3/4 Lillet
3/4 Simple
1 dash Fees Lemon Bitter.

Simple, but really tasty. The natural flavor of rye Blends with Lemon nicely.

I made it for him, and he reaches out and shakes my hand, he says "My name is Sean". I greet him, and ask him where he works. He says "PDT (Please Don't Tell). One of the hottest bars in New York City. WTF? Why is a bartender from PDT rolling into Clyde on a Sunday night? It turns out he's from Portland, but living in NYC, and came up at PDT as a barback, and is now tending bar 3 nights a week there.

After geeking out together for about 45 minutes, he buys me a shot of Van Winkle "Lot b", and we geek out talking cocktails, and spirits for another hour before his posse' pulls him away and they roll off to another bar.

In talking to Sean, I was amazed at the amount of respect that Portland has in the National Cocktail scene. At Clyde Common, you never know who you're going to meet on a moment to moment basis. And these interaction tend to happen more often than any other restaurant I've ever worked in. And oddly enough, it mostly happens on Sundays.

Ok, I'll start a blog

I wasn't sure whether I would have time to do this or not, but I'm gonna take a stab at it since I'm the OBG Board Member not to have a Blog. Be patient as I'm still learning my way through this.

My intent on starting a blog, is that I feel like I have something to offer in understanding the History, and the evololution of the Culinary, and bar scene here in Portland. As I develop the theme for this blog, it's important for me to utilize the collective experience of the community.

Community has always been important to me, and that importance seems to grow as, I've seen the community really flourish around me. I'm looking forward to re-living some memories with this blog, and making new ones. Let's just enjoy the ride while it lasts.