New Year, New Rules
A quick break from Dry January
Earlier this month on a whim, I entered a cocktail competition at a local distillery in Albuquerque.
Chopped rules, the owner announced. 16 bartenders in head-to-head brackets. Secret ingredients, blind judges, the works.
They encouraged prep; any syrups, shrubs, garnishes, bitters, or whatnot we wanted to bring. But all spirits or liqueurs had to be in-house.
After each duel, the owner would auction off both competitors’ drinks to the audience, to build the prize purse. Brilliant.
It’s been years since I stepped behind any public bar. But hell why not. I’m supposed to be gearing up to promote a book about cocktails, right?
Time to dust off the old shakers…Dry January can take a day off for this.
Round 1: Pick a classic cocktail from a hat
The first matchup drew Tom Collins. One of my favorites; and both competitors made something pretty interesting.
The next pair got Old Fashioned. Then Whiskey Sour. Then Margarita.
My turn was up.
What’s left still…Daiquiri, Manhattan, Sazerac, maybe Sidecar…?
My opponent reached into the hat and withdrew a scrap of paper.
Martinez.
We both stared at it for a moment, brains whirring. Then she whispered to the emcee that we didn’t have anything for Luxardo Maraschino liqueur, because the distillery could only serve its own products.
He agreed, and she drew again.
Moscow Mule.
I kept my face impassive, heart plummeting behind my favorite bar Tshirt proclaiming Fernet About It.
Then I turned to the table stocked with ingredients and the selection of distillery vodkas and got to work…
I went with their fresh pumpkin vodka and ginger simple, after muddling half a lime with Black Walnut bitters. Topped with generic gingerbeer from the ingredients table…and finished with a tajin rim. Which seemed like a good idea at the time, until you sip from the copper mug and realize Moscow Mules are probably best enjoyed through a straw.
I won’t tell you how long it took me to find our ice bucket…or about my struggle to open the sealed new bottle of bitters…or how I totally lost track of time and almost didn’t make it…
Whereas my opponent was smart enough and knew the audience well enough to bring her own gingerbeer and glassware, and managed her clock better and trounced me in all categories.
Many hats off.
Second rule of craft cocktails
Moscow Mule is not a craft cocktail. It’s a flavor mask for soulless vodka so it can slip into the classy party.
That said, what my opponent turned out was pretty damn good. I’d look twice at it on a menu. And I have never in my short life ordered a Moscow Mule.
I sat back sipping my version and enjoyed the rest of the competition…the secret ingredients and incredible drinks put together spur of the moment by talented bartenders under the lights. The energy of the room, and the lively quips from the owner emcee, the raucous laughter of service types gathering.
Next year in the whiskey room
I’m already raring to compete again next year, being more prepared and knowing better what to expect. Just let me make it to the true improv rounds…
The owner mused about fishheads as a future secret ingredient. Okay sure, let’s do it—weird is where I shine.
Plus the stakes will be much higher next year; by that time I’ll be promoting a book. And winners sell more copies, I’m told.