Jeff Burkhart: Who’s laughing now?
Three martinis were ordered, and three martinis were made. One was requested wet with both olives and onions. And sure, that could be classified as a Gibson, but in my business, arguing a point like that is moot, as long as the customer gets what they want — especially if it’s three deep at the bar.
And it was. A sailor, a man with an ascot, a woman with an ascot, two bicyclists in riding gear and two bikers in leather added to our already eclectic crowd. The confluence of a film festival and a major military event can mix people together willy-nilly. Maybe mixing is the wrong word. In the food industry, there’s what is called an emulsion, where two non-mixable items are broken down (usually in blender) and seem to come together. Oil and vinegar salad dressings are one of the best examples of this. Given time, they naturally separate, but for a brief, wonderful moment they appear as one. I looked around the bar. This moment was an emulsion.
Adrenaline is a strange thing. When it kicks in, things seem to slow down. In some cases, they almost seem as if they’re moving in slow motion. Adrenaline is a byproduct of the fight-or-flight response in humans. And in the restaurant business, a busy dinner rush can trigger a similar response. Any server or bartender who has been at it long enough can tell you about it. I have heard it called “being in the zone,” and it certainly feels that way. When people talk about the business being addictive, this is the feeling that they are talking about.
Floating on that feeling, I passed through the back kitchen doors. Standing there against the wall was John, one of the servers.
“What are you doing there?” I asked.
“A customer asked me if we could do a half order of duck,” he said.
“What would we do with the other half?” I asked.
“I know,” the server said. “It’s a stupid request.”
“So, what are you doing back here then?” I asked.
“You didn’t really ask the chef about that, did you?” I added.
Something like that could certainly trigger a change in the mood of a chef, which would then change the mood of the kitchen, which would eventually come my way.
“Of course not,” he said.
I sighed loudly in relief, not that anyone could hear that — certainly not in the din of a busy back kitchen.
“So, why are you back here then?” I asked.
“I told the customer that I would check,” he said.
“But you didn’t,” I said.
“I know, but he doesn’t know that. He thinks I am,” he said.
It was then that I remembered that this server was also a part-time teacher at an elementary school. And when it comes to behavior, it really can be said that we don’t really grow up, we just get older. Truer for some than for others, I’m sure, but add in some alcohol and an awkward social situation and, voila, many of us are right back there.
“That’s pretty clever,” I said before heading back out the door and into the fray.
“Please don’t pick that up,” I said to the woman in the ascot, before telling the man in the ascot not to put the hot handwashing towel in his mouth. Adult behavior at its best.
“Can I dance on the bar?” asked a woman somewhere between my age and my mother’s.
“No ma’am,” I said.
“Why not?” she asked.
A better question, of course, would have been, “Why?” Why would we let you do that?
Eventually, the oil and water began to separate, both in the kitchen and in the bar. The crowd began to dissipate. The bikers clapped the bicyclists on their backs, proving that alcohol really can be a social lubricant, and opposites can attract. The two sailors squaring up to each other proved exactly the opposite.
“Hey, John,” I said. “Do you have any coffee drinks left?”
I needed to clean the machine and didn’t want to do that until we were in the clear.
“Let me check,” he said.
A minute later, I walked through the back kitchen door and saw him standing there in the same spot he was standing before.
It took me a second or two to finally realize why.
Leaving me with these thoughts:
• Reverse psychology works great, until they figure it out.
• If it’s only funny when it’s happening to someone else, then it’s not really funny, it’s just mean.
• Mayonnaise is an example of an emulsion that never separates, at least not until it goes bad. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.
• I became a bartender because I liked not knowing what to expect at work, and, at least on that point, I have never ever been disappointed.
Jeff Burkhart is the author of “Twenty Years Behind Bars: The Spirited Adventures of a Real Bartender, Vol. I and II,” the host of the Barfly Podcast on iTunes (as seen in the NY Times) and an award-winning bartender at a local restaurant. Follow him at jeffburkhart.net and contact him at jeffbarflyIJ@outlook.com