Too often judgement calls must be made when a customer walks into the bar. Before pouring a pint, building a cocktail, or pulling the tab on can of cheap beer the bartender must try and know his customer.
One afternoon, a few years back. A haggard waif of a man walked into my bar. He took of his jacket, folded it neatly and placed it on the bar stool beside him He was wearing short sleeve t-shirt that revealed arms mottled with cheap looking tattoos. He ordered a beer politely. And then retrieved a book from his jacket. I scanned the title and saw it was a Walt Whitman anthology. That is heavy reading that I might have managed three decades ago in a high school English class I disliked. The man had a few beers, read a few pages and then retrieved the Globe and Mail from the end of the bar and flipped to the editorial section. He turned the pages methodically, making sure not to crinkle the edges with his well wrinkled and rough hands. As he drank he always placed his glass exactly where he had picked it up from.
He asked me what I thought of the upcoming election and where I weighed in on the Reform Party. We discussed federal and provincial issues as well as developments in the Middle East. He was very well informed.
The man politely asked me where our washrooms were situated and limped away slowly. I guessed him to be in his early sixties. But I had to know. He did no look the part of university graduate, or librarian.
When he cam back out I asked him. “How long were you in for?”
“Thirty years. How did you know?”
” Just a hunch. Jailhouse tats, a lot of fight scars. The methodical way you do everything. You obviously had a lot of time to read because you are very well informed. A man in jail has a lot time to educated himself which you obviously have.”
“I was too dumb when I was a young man but spent my time getting smart. I’ve been out for a year or so and speak at schools about the importance of right decision making.”
I didn’t pry but he volunteered his life’s story and it was fascinating. I’ve run across several former residents of Club Fed and have been lucky enough to be regaled by their life experiences.
I treat every book the same. Until I read the whole thing I cannot judge it by it’s cover.
mrbarmaster
A mixologist is a cross between parent, psychologist, and priest. I am simply the guy behind the bar willing to listen and advise if asked to.
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MY BOURBON LOVE STORY
Bourbon was foreign to me until my first night in residence during university. One of my floor mates, who I would quickly learn was an alcoholic at a tender age, had packed a case of Jim Beam when he moved into residence, rather than clothing. His closet was full of bottles of booze, three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans and a beat-up pair of cowboy boots to go with a well, worn Stetson cowboy hat. I later was to find out that this “Marlboro Man Wannabe” was from an affluent family in Vancouver. Who knew there were cowboys in Vancouver? After he noticed my collection of scotches on my bookshelf we developed an instant rapport. We cracked open a bottle of Beam one night and I sipped on this liquid for the first time realizing I had been missing something unique.
The American cousin to the Scottish Whisky, or Canadian Whiskey, bourbon excels at being the black sheep of the whisk(e)y world. For too long it has been considered a poor man’s libation because it came from the rural world of Kentucky; a part of the United States that is known for mining and thoroughbred horses. Bourbon is needed by both hard workers and celebrants and therefore an obvious complement to the citizenry of this area of the world and a gift to the rest of us who get to enjoy it when the opportunity arises. I graduated sober, with my liver intact; unlike my floor mate who I heard dropped out in second year. My curiousity had been peaked and when bourbon was available on a bar menu I would try selections I had not tasted before. The selection available at the time in Ontario was miniscule as compared to today’s market in the GTA but nonetheless I sampled enough to appreciate the differences offered by different distilleries.
A few years after I graduated I was in Ohio at a pool tournament and went to a liquor store with my team mates to stock-up our hotel room. This trip was an eye opener. There were dozens of bourbons available. I selected a few based on the recommendation of the gentleman seated behind bullet proof glass with his finger attached to a string which was attached to the trigger of shotgun pointed at the customer under the counter in front of the cash register. He was knowledgeable, helpful and I avoided him having to use that hand attached to the gun trigger. I picked up some small batch bourbons and also a mason jar of something labelled as corn whiskey not aged more than thirty days. Amongst my purchases I clearly remember Makers Mark as hitting the mark in flavour and character. It was to be appreciated and not to be hastily shot down one’s throat like the cowboys of the old west. The corn whiskey was interesting to say the least and an introduction the unaged alcohol. I met a pool league operator who open my eyes to bourbon appreciation. He had been born in Kentucky and claimed to have drunk bourbon before mother’s milk. I was not going to argue with a purebred son of Kentucky. One afternoon, in between pool matches he introduced me to Blanton’s a newer bourbon labelled single barrel which meant no blending – this was as pure as the spring water it was made from. I liked bourbon before this. After tasting this libation I now loved bourbon and have ever since.
Our pool tournament experience was successful as well that weekend. My team mates and I finished third and collected $3500 for our efforts. We dined on a scrumptious steak feast with beers, bourbons, and lots of dessert before making the drive back to Canada but not before another stop at the string-attached-to-the-trigger-of-a-gun-liquor-store-clerk’s shop for a refill on Maker’s Mark and a several bottles of Blanton’s. I had become a bourbonphile. STORY TO CONTINUE!!
mrbarmaster
A mixologist is a cross between parent, psychologist, and priest. I am simply the guy behind the bar willing to listen and advise if asked to.
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