I don’t normally put up links to articles, but there were a couple articles this week on local sources that you might not see if you aren’t in the Bay Area.
On a recent Saturday as I closed the bar I was thinking more and more about all of this. I’d returned earlier in the week from Miami where I was awarded a Rising Star at the Cheers Beverage Conference. I’d worked and traveled all week; and this night, I’d been on my feet for fourteen hours. I sat and looked around the place, at my back-bar full of bottles, several hundred strong, shelves lined with boutique and imported spirits, and there I sat with the lights all up, the saccharine scent of crushed citrus and burnt wax in the air; broken glass, matches and mint underfoot. And I recalled Toby Cecchini’s words from Cosmopolitan, A Bartender’s Life: “There is an ephemeral hour then when the bar, like a woman d’un certain age, cleverly cloaked in evening light to conceal flaws she knows are beneath consideration, glows with an imperfect, hard-used loveliness.” This was not that hour.