I pulled up and parked along what passed for a curb. Really it was just a pile of asphalt, which certainly didn’t give it any air of edging permeance at all.
Surely, this couldn’t be the place. My friend pulled up behind me.
“Is this the place?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You’re sure?” said I.
“I’m sure,” he said.
The mostly plywood front door opened outward, and the faded live band flyers stapled to it flapped in the breeze created exclusively by its movement.
They say to never judge a book by its cover, and the same could be said of bars. Or more correctly not their covers, but rather by their front doors. I know of at least two bar/restaurants that have amazing newly remodeled facades. Unfortunately, the interiors are still the same tired old ones.
But once inside this out of the way spot, those bright lights lit up pool tables, video games and the bar. Much brighter than one would have expected from the other side of that plywood.
“Hello, fellas,” said the bartender, who could have been straight out of mixology central casting. Suspenders, scruffy beard, craft beer T-shirt and a black baseball cap. It’s not really a uniform, but it sure could be.
And he also seemed genuinely glad to see us.
“Table or bar?” he asked.
“Table?” we answered.
“Here’s some menus,” he said, handing them to us. “I’ll be over in a minute.”
He bopped in and out from behind the bar. Making drinks for the people scattered about the room and then delivering them. He was a picture of efficiency. His hands were never empty. Dirty plates gave way to full drinks which gave way to plates of food. In between there was plenty of hand washing, hands which he dutifully dried on the white towel slung over his shoulder.
One can get an immediate sense of a bar within the first 30 seconds of meeting the bartender. And this bartender worked like a well-oiled machine. It didn’t matter if the customers were at the bar or at a table. Everyone was attended to. There are some bartenders who won’t ever wait on tables, and there are some bartenders who get miffy about what cocktails are ordered. Mr. Central Casting was neither of them.
I’ve worked with many bartenders in many different establishments all over California, and this young man, in the most out of the way place imaginable, might have been one of the best that I have ever seen. He certainly understood the job, and he understood his role, and he intertwined both in the most fluid way possible.
There weren’t going to be any lectures on whiskey, or eye rolls about one’s choice of beer. I knew he was just as comfortable making a Cosmo as he was an espresso martini, because I watched him make both, in between serving pitchers of beer and plates of chicken wings. And everybody seemed happier for it, including both me and my friend.
“See you guys next time,” he said, waving to us, on our way out the door.
“Absolutely,” I said. I believed he meant what he said. And surprisingly, so did I.
Leaving me with these thoughts:
• “No matter where you go, there you are,” said actor Peter Weller as the lead character in the 1984 film, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension.
• Just because your Manhattan costs $20 doesn’t mean that it’s worth $20.
• If you only treat your customers like customers, then they can never be your friends.
• Sometimes the worst bar is situated in the best part of town, and ironically, sometimes it is exactly the other way around.
Jeff Burkhart hosts ‘The Barfly Podcast.’ More at jeffburkhart.net.
