Barchemistry 101

The most frequent question I hear as a chemist behind the bar is "does that all really matter?" The shaking technique, the counting of revolutions for stirred drinks, and the compulsively precise jigger measurements all seem like superficial (for the engineers out there, "negligible,") adjustments to a cocktail that could not possibly have a distinguishable effect on the cocktails final form. As an engineer, I understand the impulse towards this method of thought: the difference in ice melt, or the difference in flavor due to 1/16 oz. difference in citrus added can be so small that it is ignored. Mixology is like the Peng-Robinson equation for cocktails: for most people and most situations, the ideal gas law (i.e., normal bartending) is acceptable and even useful. For the well-defined palate, however, PV = nRT just does not provide a strong enough model. Sometimes, you need to take out the big guns.

Cocktails are like paintings where the tongue is the canvas. Combining a series of spirits and modifiers using different equipment in tools is the same as combining different colors onto an easel using a series of different brushes. It takes time and experience to develop both palate and taste for them. One must constantly be adjusting and experimenting if they are to unlock the true experience of a proper manhattan or a martini, just as the artist produces a prolific amount of work before they are satisfied with a final product. Unlike wine, beer, and scotch, however, they are not treated as a cultural experience - people drink cocktails most frequently to get drunk, and get drunk easily. People think of cocktails as simple mixed drinks to help the medicine go down, and they're not entirely wrong. During prohibition, cocktails were often invented just to mask bad moonshine and bathtub gin, making what was completely undrinkable into something that could be drank and could get one drunk. Alcohol is no longer illegal, however, and is produced in methods both massive and artisan, with no need for over-the-top mixers just to mask a foul taste. Now, cocktails are designed to produce a specific taste rather than hide another, and the results are deep and layered.

The bar at night

The cocktail drinker needs to have a wide palate and a good mind for his own taste. The difference between the two is that your palate you are born with; it is how your taste buds receive flavors and how those flavors are processed by your subconscious mind, eventually making it to your conscious mind as a corollary memory. Taste comes completely from the conscious mind and is a result of one's own personality and decision making. What someone chooses to like can be just as important as what their tongue tells them they should.

For instance, "dirty, dry martini" is a frequent order. Now, it's probably best to get the basics out of the way for my non-bar-educated reader right now. A martini is exactly one thing, and one thing only: gin and vermouth stirred, strained with either an olive garnish or a twist garnish (more classically olives.) A martini is not made with vodka. A martini is not made with olive juice. These are optionally adjustments that completely change the nature of the drink. A dry martini is a martini which has a higher ratio of gin to vermouth. Martinis are almost exclusively ordered dry. At this point, most people tend towards bone dry, meaning either no vermouth at all or the lightest splash the barchemist can manage. Martinis I make nowadays are essentially stirred gin. I have never had somebody order a martini "proper" from me (a martini made with the original spec for vermouth.) Why is this?

The answer seems to lie in the heart of taste over palate. Many drinkers out their know they like gin because it suits their palate, and consequently drink martinis. Here we arrive at a subtle psychological point: the drinker orders a dry martini because they are interest in ordering a "dry martini," not just a "martini." People like to say aloud "I'd like a Hendricks martini, dry, dirty, up," so the other patrons at the bar, and the bartender, can hear them say it. It's the same effect as walking into a coffee shop and ordering a "wet, flat, cortado with two shots of soy" (a meaningless drink.) In part, they are paying to be seen and heard with their booze. That's where their taste plays in over their palate.

My other bar.

Myself, I prefer a martini in its original form, or a bit dry. I do not like gin straight (unless I'm doing a tasting), and consequently I prefer the vermouth to be stirred in. I stir my martinis exactly twenty five times, but that can change depending on the ice quality. Ice with a lower surface area to volume ratio will need to be stirred for less time as the ice will melt faster upon adding internal energy to the solution.

Cocktails, like any well thought out drinking endeavor, take time and experience to gain a full understanding to. Enough attentiveness, however, and a level of complexity and diversity becomes apparent to the drinker, their palate finally beginning to understand the way the different ingredients in the cocktail coalesce to provide a unique experience. Each spirit or liquor is like paint, and the tools used by the bartender are the brush. The ultimate product is a result of the combination of those paints and brushes, and if enough practice and thought is put into it, with a bit of spirit, a true masterpiece can be created. So yes, "it all matters." Every stir, every flamed zest, every lash and every drop all paint the canvas differently. It's simply up to the drinker to notice.

_theBarchemist