Jeffrey Morgenthaler

It’s Friday night. I’m closing the bar tonight, so I’m not required to be there until 6. Lately, on Fridays, it’s been kind of slow, so I saunter in around 6:15.

Of course, it’s slammed.

The printer is chattering off drink orders for the restaurant, the bar is full of customers, and my bartender is running around like a crazy man.

There’s a group of regulars at the end of the bar, and they’re celebrating. The ringleader, a slow redneck-type that comes in occasionally, is buying drinks for the whole group, and for everyone he knows that walks by.

Now, this group’s tab is starting to skyrocket, and we’re starting to get a little nervous. We’ve gotten shafted by this guy on numerous occasions, and it seems that the higher his tab is, the less of a tip we get.

But we don’t have time to worry about that, because they’re making us work. Hard. Mojitos for all his friends, margaritas all around, beers, shots, wine, you name it. And Redneck’s putting everyone’s drink on his tab, like the King of Siam. Everyone loves a big spender.

Eventually they start to wind down, and Redneck asks for his tab. The other bartender presents it to him and he freaks out.

“There’s no way we had all of these drinks”, he says.

“I’m sorry, but we ring in every round into the computer when you order them, so the tab should be accurate”, my bartender tells him.

“Well there’s no possible way we had all of this.” He starts to try to tally how many drinks everyone had, while drunk, of course. “You had, like, four or five beers, right? And how many mojitos did you drink between the three of you? Four? Five?”

This guy is getting to be a problem, and we’re still really busy. So he informs my bartender that he refuses to pay for about 30 bucks worth of drinks. Fine, whatever, says the bartender, and comps them off of his tab. The guy’s a friend of the owners’, we’ll just call the bosses and tell them what happened later.

But here’s the clincher: after running us ragged for three hours on a busy Friday night, after whittling down his tab by refusing to pay, after cleaning up his friends’ spilled beers and putting up with their drunken antics all night, he left us (drumroll, please) ..

Four dollars.

Karma works in strange ways, pal.

Two of my favorite local food bloggers, Brownie Points Blog (when are we getting together to play with the liquid nitrogen tank, Jocelyn?) and Accidental Scientist are in the Eugene Weekly today. I highly recommend reading both their blogs for fun insights into home cooking, local restaurant reviews, and even a scathing comment or two about my neighborhood pub’s french fries.

Read the full article here. Congratulations, you two, you really are the creme de la creme of Eugene blogging!

I get so many emails through my website from people asking me bar-related questions that I thought I’d start printing them here with my special brand of witty response. If you have a question you’d like answered, please feel free to contact me and I’ll print your question here.

So, without further ado, here’s the first installment of Ask Your Bartender:

What should I do if a man I have less than zero interest in buys me a drink via the bartender? It seems wrong and rude to drink it, if I plan to tell the guy I’m not interested. Do I decline it?

K

Hey K

Some people, most of them men, seem to think that buying a drink for a woman at the other end of the bar is an old, chivalrous thing to do. I call bullshit.

Nothing says “Date Rapist” like a man trying to get a woman drunk at a bar. However, some women don’t realize this and even go so far as to make a point of going out to see how many free drinks they can amass.

That’s why at my bar, I tell my bartenders to use the following bit of decorum:

“Miss, the gentleman at the end of the bar in the backwards baseball cap would like to buy you a drink. You don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to. Would you like another?”

Nine times out of ten the woman declines, and the guy ends up leaving in a huff, offended that the bartender wasn’t playing along with his creepy little game. But you know what? I don’t care. I love the fact that our bar is known as a comfortable place for women to come enjoy a cocktail, and I’m not going to do anything to change that.

But here’s an important thing to remember, K: even if you do accept a drink from a man, you’re under no obligation to say anything more than “Thank you” to him. You don’t have to talk to him, and you don’t have to go home with him.

Just do me one favor if you accept a drink from a stranger, kiddo: make sure he hasn’t touched it, and that it was delivered personally by the bartender. Oh, and if your bartender doesn’t ask your permission to serve you a drink sent by a stranger, you’re probably better off just paying your tab and leaving.

Good luck, and be safe!

It’s summer here in Oregon, which means barbecues, camping trips and river floats are on the agenda for the next few months. I always love showing up with a gallon jug of pre-mixed margaritas for the party, so I’ve decided to share my recipe with you, the loyal reader.

[Update: I just realized - three years later - that there was some confusion about the amounts specified due to my suggestions regarding how many bottles to purchase for the recipe. I hope it's more clear now, but just in case... You will need to buy two fifths of tequila and measure out six cups (you should be left with about two ounces), and you'll need to buy one fifth of triple sec and measure out 2½ cups (this should leave you with about an ounce). I hope this helps, and sorry for the three years of confusion.]

When I can’t find a one-gallon cooler (my preferred system of delivery when camping) lying around, I just buy a gallon of distilled water from the grocery store for 88 cents and use the water to feed the plants.

6 cups tequila (you’ll need to buy two fifths for this)
2½ cups triple sec (just buy one fifth, please)
2½ cups fresh lime juice
2½ cups fresh lemon juice
2 cups simple syrup

Mix ingredients together in gallon container. Don’t forget to refrigerate! When ready to serve, pour mixture into a 16-ounce glass filled with ice. Salted rim is optional.

Makes 21 margaritas.

Try to avoid a man who drinks apple martinis. He’ll never give you an orgasm. Not intentionally, anyway.

Wow, this is really great. Gary Regan of Ardent Spirits did an article about orange liqueurs for Wine Enthusiast magazine, and he included some of my thoughts and a recipe, for our Mexican Sidecar at Vaquero. You can read the article here for now, but I highly recommend picking up the June issue and seeing the gorgeous photograph of our drink!

Thanks so much, Gary and Wine Enthusiast. I’m beside myself!

Sophie Soong of KVAL here in Eugene interviewed me last night for a short piece on tipping here in Eugene. You can read the brilliant soundbite I gave here.

Thanks, Sophie!

The first, and pretty much only thing I really wanted to do during my short stay in Los Angeles was to go to Trader Vic’s. As you undoubtedly have noticed, I’m a huge fan of Trader Vic’s drinks, and his overall bartending philosophy. So I begged and pleaded with Sarah and Jenny to take me to the place where modern-day cocktail culture was spawned in 1934, Trader Vic’s.

The first thing I noticed about the bar was that it was classy. Sure, there are lots of palm fronds, the bartenders are in Hawaiian shirts, and they’re serving drinks out of mugs shaped like human skulls, but with the low lighting and the overall professionalism about the place, it gave an air of class.

We sat at the bar so I could watch the bartenders working. There’s a restaurant attached, and the bar was pretty full – there might have been about 40 people in there – but what struck me immediately was they had four bartenders working. That’s a big staff. At Vaquero, we must do double the business with half the staff. But what you’ll find at Trader Vic’s as opposed to most places is a sense of calm behind the bar. They’re heavily staffed. Nobody ever stressed out, you never had to wait for a drink, there were four older gentlemen back there to make sure the drinks came out well and that everyone was taken care of well.

Jenny and I started with Mai Tais, and Sarah grabbed a Maui Fizz. The drinks were, in one word, amazing. Absolutely incredible. The Mai Tai was the best I’ve ever had, way better than mine. I’ll print the recipe here when I get home to my Trader Vic’s Bartender’s Guide. They came with crushed ice and we gulped them down in two seconds. The Maui Fizz was light, refreshing, and flash-blended.

Next, we ordered a Singapore Sling, a Hot Buttered Rum and a Tahitian Coffee. The Singapore Sling left something to be desired, it was a little syrupy for my tastes. The Tahitian Coffee was incredible, Sarah went crazy for it. I’ll have to say that Jenny’s Hot Buttered Rum didn’t have enough flavor. We used to make one at Red Agave that was incredible, I’ll print that recipe as well.

Next we ordered a Brandy Alexander and a Piña Colada. They were both superlative, the best versions I’ve had from another bartender, ever.

In short, the drinks at Trader Vic’s are the best I’ve ever had, anywhere. And as you all know, I’m really hard on other bartenders. The professionalism employed by the staff was top-notch. I highly recommend making the journey.