Twice this week I’ve gone to a cocktail bar trying to get a decent drink and was unable to order even a basic cocktail. This place in King’s Cross (Sydney) didn’t even have a whisky sour on his computer menu. At least that guy was apologetic about it, acknowledging he should be able to, in theory, make me a drink even if he couldn’t give me a price for it. The bartender tonight had never even heard of an old fashioned.
The cocktail menus at these places list drink after drink with cream/chocolate/five different kinds of fruit, No I would not like a splash of Midori (gag!) in my mixed drink. I appreciate that your ignorant, “trendy” customers are accustomed to these godawful concoctions of arbitrary liqueurs given stupid names, but at the very least you could educate your barstaff to make the six or so basic types found in The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks for when the odd, unfortunate customer comes in who prefers something that does not taste like an alcohol Frappuccino.
Gee, you could have walked down the hill to Lotus Bar in Potts Point. If you choose to go to the bars that the prostitutes and junkies use expect to drink their favourite sweet shit.
I didn’t reckon it would be an original topic, but at least, your thread reads, you can get ‘standard drinks’ at a dave and busters
As for King’s Cross, not much choice there; we had an end-of-semester party and that was the location. The other bar in question is in Newtown; I’m not familiar with the typical Sydneysiders’ view of that neighborhood, but I like it.
See, this is why I never drink anything other than vodka or tequila, neat. Not many bars around that can’t fill that order.
Of course, I do have to deal with the strange looks that, for reasons I’ve never quite fathomed, inevitably come with ordering shots of vodka straight. Isn’t that how you’re supposed to drink the stuff? Fuck mixers.
The other night I went to my favorite, “everybody knows your name,” local bar and ordered a glass of wine. “Sorry,” the bartender says, “we’re totally out of wine.” Huh?! It’s 10:00 on a Thursday night. You’re a bar. Where people go to drink alcohol. I’m not asking for 50-year-old amontillado; I want a glass of the damn house red. What the hell do you mean you’re out of wine?
Ha! Good one!
Back in the day, I traveled from NC to Texas to attend Willie Nelson’s Fourth of July Party. I’m pretty sure it was 1976, so the Fourth was a bit special.
Anywhistle, me and my pal, The Kickin’ Chicken, went into a bar in Austin for a couple of cold ones. I cannot remember the name. I do remember that all they served was Lone Star Beer, I shit you not, which is some serious horsepiss brew. Worse than Coors Light, if you can believe it.
I have identified the problem. If the bar has a computer menu, you are screwed. You have entered the world of frat-tail mixer drinks full of sugar designed to get young women energetic, drunk, and lacking inhibitions. This then gets men to buy those women MORE frat-tail mixer drinks, which are priced so that the shot of canned fruit juice flavored product has a higher price per drop than liquid gold.
This is not a bar. This is not a pub. This is a meat market and has its own value in the marketplace.
A bar (or pub) should have a guy that does the math in his head, hands you your drinks, and takes cash. He then pounds a couple of numbers into an ancient cash register and slips in the money. You get change, he pockets the tip (or drinks the pint you bought him as thanks in UK), and is moving on to the next customer. He does NOT use a computer. That is what the golf pencil and pad of paper is for in case he has had one too many “tip drinks” over the course of the evening.
-Algher (once upon a time pulled pints in England and America)
Old Fashioneds are my favorite cocktail. I’m stunned at how many bartenders around the country never heard of it, since it is in every fucking drink guide ever published.
I’m even more stunned at how many heard of it and then don’t know how to make it worth a shit.
If I see one more bartender making an Old Fashioned using JERO mix I’m going to shove the bottle straight up his ass! :mad:
Reminds me of this time I ate at a Chinese restaurant that was out of rice. And this was in Taiwan, which is freakin’ CHINA! The waitstaff was extremely embarrassed…
Back before Rolling Rock brewery was sold, I walked into a bar in the Ligonier/Latrobe backwoods where all they served was rolling rock. I made a joke about it to my brother-in-law, but the locals didn’t think it funny, so we left.
This reminds me of a story from McCullough’s biography of Harry Truman. I’m telling this from memory, so pardon me if I muddle some details. It seems that Harry and Bess were found of an evening cocktail together and Bess’ drink of choice was an Old Fashioned. The White House butler was responsible for mixing the drinks. Bess was too polite to say it to him directly, but word got back to the butler that her Old Fasioned was not to her taste.
The next day, the butler tried more bourbon and less bitters. Still, word got back to him that it wasn’t to her taste.
So, on the next try, in her presence, he filled the glass with ice, poured bourbon over the ice, and handed to her. She took a sip and announced, “Now that’s how I like my Old Fashioneds.”
Ha! Back when I used to drink, I used to like a Planters’ Punch. While not a dry drink, it wasn’t super-sugary like the frou-frou drinks of today. It was more of a fruit/rum/fizzy/tart drink, and it was great on a hot day. Try to get a bartender to recognize this common drink nowadays, though.
