How I fell in love with Cocktail bars (J.F. EditioN)
Fizzy, fresh, clear, leaving just a tingle on your tongue. Dark velvet and marble. I do vividly remember all the impressions and the moment that I discovered bars as something to dive into. For some of us it was a single point in time, an event, a conversation that sparked the interest. For others, it might have been a process and slow realization. I think the conversations between people who go on to become athletes or musicians or bartenders are in many cases quite similar. Whether it is that defining moment or subtle influences, I do believe they all can point to something that made them go ‘Yes, this is for me’. Even if looking back at it 5, 10 or 15 years later also brings back memories of embarrassment and how little we actually knew. That is part of it. I would likely feel the same if I went back in 20 years and looked at this article, and all the others article written here, laughing at my opinions or my style.
All the more exciting to dig in memories and relive what convinced me to go to more bars and read more about cocktails. Maybe some of you will want to do the same.
It was about 10 years ago, and I found myself with a free evening during a trip to Berlin with my father. Past the legal age of drinking in Germany, but just barely out of school, with little exposure to more than teenage experimentation with alcohol. Family and friends were sticking to beer and wine, and anything that required more than two ingredients was just ‘fancy show’. An attitude that still exists today, why deviate from a great wine at dinner or quality beer and ‘ruin’ these spirits? The curiosity was there however, not necessarily for the alcohol, but for the experience in taste, that seemed ‘locked’ away behind a different kind of experience. With coffee, I had already been on a path of discovery, ever since I started comparing the French Press with the Espresso that was served at my local coffee shop and I spent hours there during my school years. Quite the shame, that there wasn’t also a bar nearby.
Berlin was the place to be then. It is the capital after all, it should give you the best the country would have to offer. So I wandered around Potsdamer Platz by myself, always fascinated by its history post German reunification as a ’new’ kind of town square, an aggressively modern symbol of the millennial shift. I had no idea what kind of drink I even wanted. My imagination only went as far as what pop culture taught me, which meant Martinis, Mai Tais and Manhattans (If you had asked me back then what's in a Manhattan, I would have no idea). The inspiration came from a piece of media, as equally imperfect, as the surrounding cityscape, ‘The Great Gatsby’, which featured classic drinks of the American pre-war and prohibition era, extensively influenced by F. Scott Fitzgerald's own unhealthy drinking habits. At another time we can dedicate an entire article to the cultural significance of drinks in books and movies, I am sure that for many James Bond and his Martini must have been formative. So I decided, with unearned confidence, that I wanted something refreshing, in the style of all the Cobblers and Fizzes and Smashes that were being drunk by men in boater hats escaping the heat of the city beneath skyscrapers.
Imagine the feeling of fate, when I saw the golden letters of the Ritz ahead of me. What better place to have a classic cocktail, than a classic bar. A name that appeared in books and songs, that all the names on my bookshelf had gone to. I had no idea what kind of bar they had, of course. Up to this point, the only bars I had been to were also restaurants or bistros or cafés or the corner in the hotel you go to when everything else is closed. For sure, you don’t go there to drink, god forbid. The hotel bar is for overworked managers and washed-up movie stars. That at least was what I had been told. Time to find out for myself.
The entrance of the famous Ritz-Carlton at Potsdamer Platz
So I went through the entrance, past the staff, over the marble floor, to the reception, asked where the bar is, went left to the staircase, past the heavy velvet curtains and into Berlin’s The Curtain Club. I sat down at the bar, overwhelmed by the decor and ambiance. I received a menu and watched a man in a checked suit confidently directing traffic behind the bar. If you have read this far, it must mean you are aware of the inherent undercurrent of nostalgia that is impossible to get rid of when one is looking back at such a moment. Bias itself isn’t bad, not being able to recognize it is. I have no doubt, that if anyone of us would try to think back of a moment that defined us in our journey, that moment would be steeped in nostalgia as well. I do however believe, that it was a lucky choice on my part to walk into The Curtain Club and not any other of the bars that would have been listed online. Maybe at some point it would have happened regardless, maybe I would have visited a hundred other places that did not feel the same way until I would have found my way there. Let’s not forget, that there is no timetable telling us when to do what and if anyone decided to get into mixology at age ‘XYZ’, they should absolutely do so.
The old Curtain Club / Copyright: Chris Cypert | Ritz-Carlton Presse
Sitting there, going through the menu, it was clear to me, that there was far more to the experience, than just drinking or socializing. It was a space designed for a purpose, yet had character. So many of the bottles I had never seen in my life and there was a sense of excitement, that was very much different from a place where people get served food and drinks simply because they pay for it. With the idea of wanting something citrus-based, something ‘from the past’ I made my choice: A Gin Fizz. I did have Gin before that. Stale, room temperature, London Dry. I had Gin and Tonics too. Watery, bland. I had a ‘Gin Fizz’ before as well. In a pub in Brussels I received what was called a ‘Gin Fizz’, two shots of cheap Gin filled with bottled lemon juice and some tap water. The elements were somewhat familiar to me, and I was fully expecting to be disappointed again. Remember, that I had no idea what kind of bar The Curtain Club was, who Arnd Henning Heissen was or how to tell if the ingredients were actually good or not.
This is indeed not a Gin Fizz, but I drew this inspired by that drink from that day. /jf
That all changed. The moment I received my Gin Fizz, I knew it was good. Citrus blended refreshingly with sugar, Gin added depth and just the right dry aftertaste, which together with the lemon left a pleasant tingle. There was absolutely no booziness, nothing stale. The texture was smooth and even. If anyone ever went to a well managed fine dining restaurant after only eating in regular restaurants, it is that kind of difference.
Now, I know what you are going to say: ‘That’s nostalgia talking’. It sure is. A Gin Fizz, as pleasant as it is, as refreshing as it is, is not the height of cocktail culture. There are worlds between a terribly made Gin Fizz and a well-made one, yes. I would even argue, that a proper Gin Fizz, as described above, is better than a sad attempt at any kind of Old Fashioned. But at the end of the day it still just a refreshing drink and something to consume and to enjoy. What I believe truly made a difference, is the attitude and approach to taking something like cocktails seriously. I absolutely know that The Curtain Club was likely not even the best bar in Berlin or Germany for that matter. That day I had a conversation with Arnd and for the first time, someone who is often seen as being only there for serving, was someone I wanted to talk to. We talked about bars in general, what makes a good longdrink, what to wear when you are working in a bar. During my next visit, I also went to Fragrances, which added a whole new level to focus on a few signatures and sensory experiences. Fragrances had been Arnd’s second bar in the same building, offering a smaller selection of cocktails based on perfumes. Guests could smell the perfume and decide what they wanted to drink based on that impression alone.
There was never any attempt to push me into trying something that I was not ready for. Knowing now how much South American and East Asian spirits are a specialty for The Curtain Club, one could assume they would scoff at anyone not appreciating those. That was a journey for myself and something to figure out. Nowadays of course my favorite spirits are by far aged ones, with Whisky and Rum still far ahead of anything else. The Gin Fizz remains a nostalgic part of that journey, looked back at fondly, maybe similarly as an artist would look at their teenage year drawings. If anyone is curious about the legacy of The Curtain Club, it still exists as a good luxury hotel bar in Berlin with above average drinks. Arnd himself has opened up a new place not far away, you can read the article here. Even if the Gin Fizz is not my go-to drink anymore, and I have long moved past choosing my drinks based on what I see in books and movies, you can still use it as a benchmark for any bar wanting to take itself seriously. Underestimating basics can trip you up. If you don't use fresh ingredients in such a drink, it will be stale. If you use cheap Gin it will be flat. If you use bad ice, it will be watery. If you don’t have a sense of the importance of balancing sweet and sour, it will be either too sour or too sweet. If you don’t know your egg-whites (or any substitute) you will not get that texture.
Let us all take a moment and try to think back to such a memory. For the sake of nostalgia and what that discovery felt like, for the sake of being inspired to bring back some drinks, or for the sake of reminding us how far we have come and how we have changed.
/jf
