Font ResizeI took a look at the group of six people in holiday garb making their way slowly toward the bar. A glance at my co-worker and a nod of understanding between us and I was off to the back to grab coffee glasses, hot water, three tabs of butter and some brown sugar.
When I returned she was standing in front of a couple explaining the nightly specials. The holiday six-some had made it no closer to the bar in the three minutes I was gone. There seemed to be some sort of discussion among them.
I began to assemble my hot-buttered rums, first pouring hot water into the glasses to preheat them, a step often missed that leads to lukewarm hot drinks.
At that moment, the matriarch of the six-some stepped toward my co-worker who was still jotting down the seated couple's order.
“Two Manhattans, two beers, a glass of wine,” the matriarch said, squeezing between the couple, “a Shirley Temple, a root beer and a scotch.”
“I'll be with you in a second,” said my co-worker, still writing and gesturing to the couple.
It didn't faze the matriarch. “We also need …”
“I'll be with you in a
“Mom, he's taking their order,” one of the six-some said, feebly.
As the matriarch pouted, I continued with my task, pouring out the hot water, adding the tabs of butter and a measure of aged rum for each drink.
The patriarch of the group then stepped forward. “A gin martini, one beer, white wine, a Shirley Temple, a root beer and a scotch.”
“Are you two together?” asked my co-worker, at this point finished with seated couple's order.
Meanwhile, I was busy adding a pinch of ground nutmeg, a cinnamon stick and a few cloves, thinking how having those available spices behind the bar is truly a testament to how different bartending has become in the past 10 years or so.
“I'm ordering,” the matriarch said.
“No, I'm ordering,” insisted the patriarch.
My co-worker looked from elder to elder.
“You don't know what anyone wants,” the matriarch said.
“No, you don't,” he countered.
There was much finger-pointing between and around the poor couple sitting at the bar as the two family leaders battled for control of the drink order.
My co-worker looked at me helplessly.
I added the hot water to my concoctions, stirred them once and layered some whipping cream on top (to cover the unsightly oil slick that typically occurs). Pushing them through the service window, I arrived just in time to be of minimal aid to my co-worker.
The patriarch and the matriarch divvied up the fruit of their labors.
“I don't like root beer.”
“I didn't want white wine.”
“I never drink gin.”
Soon enough the family headed off into the dining room lead by the matriarch, while the patriarch turned to my co-worker. “It's really a shame that you have to work on a holiday,” he said, the pity weighing heavy in his voice.
Glancing at his retreating clan, bickering all the way to their table, I immediately thought:
— Letty Cottin Pogrebin (one of the founders of Ms. magazine) wrote in her 1983 book “Family Politics,” “In a democratic family, those with superior knowledge and resources (i.e. power) use them to strengthen others in the family. In authoritarian families, power is used to ‘tame' and control others.”
— Given the dynamics of some families and taking Pogrebin's words into account, working on the holidays might be more of a “get to” situation rather than a “have to” one.
RECIPE
Jeff's pre-emptive holiday buttered-rum batter
1/2 pound softened unsalted butter
1/4 pound brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground clove
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
In a non-reactive bowl fold mixture together until evenly combined. Cover and refrigerate.
To use: Add a heaping tablespoon of batter to 6 ounces very hot water. Stir to combine, add a measure of aged rum (not dark rum) and pour into a preheated tempered glass. Top with whipped cream; you'll have plenty of time to aid co-workers.
Jeff Burkhart is an award-winning bartender at a Marin bar/restaurant and an author. His columns appear weekly in Here. Contact him at jeffb@thebarflyonline.com.
