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Food&Beverage Magazine

The Modern Speakeasy: Reviving and Redefining the Cocktail Culture
By Ya-Roo Yang
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The taxi driver can’t seem to find Freeman Alley. Despite being shown the location on the Google map several times. In the end, his passengers walked. At the end of Freeman Alley, on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, there’s a nondescript little nightspot with delicious food and even better specialty cocktails; but unless you know it’s there, you may never find it. And, if you don't have a reservation, it's likely you'll be turned away from one of New York City’s thriving speakeasies that draw in cocktail lovers in the know.

Everyone knows that the Prohibition era speakeasy was an establishment where alcohol was sold and consumed illegally, and patrons gained entry only through introductions and secret codes. The term was supposedly derived from the manner in which patrons ordered alcohol during that era, when they were told to “be quiet and speak easy.” But Prohibition is long over and the idea of a secret drinking place seems rather outdated.

Or is it? Take a walk down quiet Doyer Street in Manhattan’s Chinatown on a winter’s night to find a long line of people huddling in below-freezing temperatures awaiting access to Apotheke-a modern speakeasy that calls itself a cocktail apothecary. At PDT, which stands for Please Don’t Tell, patrons struggle with the tiny phone booth within the college hot dog hangout that serves as the club’s entrance, but may find themselves turned away for lack of space. Milk and Honey became so popular after its unlisted phone number appeared on New York Magazine’s food blog Grub Street that the establishment quickly changed its number. Those thinking that this is a purely New York phenomenon may want to visit The Violet Hour in Chicago’s Wicker Park, PX in Alexandria, Virginia, Bradstreet Craftshouse in downtown Minneapolis, and Bourbon and Branch in San Francisco, where a password is required for entry and real bullet holes in the door recall its early days as a Prohibition-era speakeasy.

Charming indeed, but lining up in the cold only not to get in doesn’t sound appealing. So what is it about the modern speakeasy that draws them in? For starters, it’s about the cocktails. Unlike typical bars and pubs, where bartenders fill a glass by pouring together a few spirits and processed syrups, canned juices and food dye; the modern speakeasy’s mixologist crafts cocktails with potion-like precision, using fresh (often organic) ingredients, high quality spirits, and house-made syrups and bitters.

“My partner, Albert Trummer, would infuse berries and syrups for 28 days,” says Heather Tierney, a partner at Apotheke. “He would also use vegetables like green peppers that people would never think go into cocktails.” Trummer is not alone. Toby Maloney, a partner and mixologist at The Violet Hour, can recite the recipe of a ginger syrup he concocted that not only works in cocktails but doubles as an ice cream topping while Todd Thrasher at PX waxes poetic on making his own syrups and bitters for PX and creating the foie gras cocktail.

Jim Meehan, Mixologist and General Manager of PDT believes that the current interest in fine cocktails has more to do with American culinary trends than with bar trends. He says, “It’s a flavor experience,” says Meehan. “While these are drinks, and it’s a bar, and things that happen at any other bar happen here, what we are offering is a flavor experience in a glass with fresh juices and fresh ingredients.”

Meehan is only iterating a view shared by many mixologists and cocktail experts. “In the 80’s and the 90’s it was about covering the taste of the liquor," explains Maloney. "Now it’s about showcasing the taste of the spirits with fresh ingredients. What Alice Waters started in the 1970’s, using local seasonal organic ingredients in food, is now happening with cocktails.”

“Restaurants have educated people about ingredients,” says cocktail expert and consultant Simon Ford. Ford believes the modern speakeasy creates the equivalent of a fine dining experience in a cocktail glass. David Kaplan, an owner at Death and Company in New York City agrees, “People have more educated palates. They seek the same impact when they reach for a drink as when they reach for a fork and a plate of food.”

While the interest in high-quality, ingredient-driven cocktails may be new, the art of crafting cocktails to individual tastes isn’t. According to Maloney, one of the great things that came out of Prohibition was that women were allowed in bars, making it become socially acceptable for both sexes to drink together. “Women looked at cocktails differently from men,” he expands. “They looked at the color of the cocktail, the glassware, the flavors. They are more interested in taste (than men are).”

Maloney’s theory on the development of cocktails also brings into focus the social aspect of drinking - another major modern speakeasy draw. Given that many of the original speakeasies were frequented by the more sophisticated social classes, today’s room exemplifies the relaxed and civilized vibe that set it apart from the average trendy bar. “It’s not crowded. You are not waving your money at the bartender, trying to get his attention,” says Ford. “You are sitting down, enjoying a cocktail with your friends. It’s like going back to a time when a gentleman was a gentleman.”

While the demand for fine cocktails in gentlemanly style is certainly there, the recent proliferation of cocktail focused places suggests that fresh ingredients, house-made syrups and refined vibes are only part of the equation. Modern speakeasy bartenders must be able to deliver unique and sophisticated cocktails with consistent quality. Maloney mentions the 50 to 100 hours of training required before a bartender gets behind a bar. Other places such as Death and Company prefer to hire bartenders with extensive bartending resumes that include stints at Milk and Honey or Pegu Club. Kaplan enthusiastically refers to Death and Company as a “collective of efforts” rather than a “one person house,” as the bar staff is not only responsible for creating many of the drinks on the menu but also for the design and the glassware. With more than 60 drinks on the menu, plus the past drinks and the classic cocktails, Kaplan calls his bartenders “rock stars” and says they are the “concrete and foundation of the place.”

“The bartenders at Death and Company are the New York Yankees of the cocktail world,” concurs Meehan. “Each one of them can run his, or her, own place.” Despite his respect for his colleagues, Meehan believes in hiring for intangible qualities over experience. He opened PDT with a bar staff of cocktail enthusiasts rather than professional bartenders. “In this business, there are a lot of people who love making great drinks, and that’s what they get off on. But to find someone who is really interested in the history of mixed drinks, their stories and lineage, and mixing them in the proper proportions, who also really loves serving people, is tough. I can teach anyone to bartend, but I can’t teach anyone to be alert, bright, cheerful and really want to serve people. There’s something special about the best bartenders. They have this need to make people happy.”

Making people happy may mean coming up with perfectly sized ice chips for their absinthe or achieving the optimal sensory balance within a drink. Often, this skill and dexterity translate to elements of performance and showmanship. Gregory Dicum wrote in a recent New York Times article (dated December 28, 2008) on the ritual that went into creating his Mint Julep at Alembic in San Francisco. On a recent visit to PDT, a young woman shushed her companion mid-sentence to watch the bartender carefully swab pieces of orange peel over the rims of their glassware. At the Pegu Club in Soho, flickering flames floating on top of glasses never fail to dazzle those sitting at the bar. “It’s a different sort of experience,” says Tamara Wexler, a doctor with an interest in cocktails. “It’s fascinating to watch.”

Maintaining that experience is perhaps what drives the door policy of many modern speakeasies. Despite the long lines outside, and formal password / reservation policies, cocktail focused establishments are rarely crowded. “These cocktails do take more time than pouring vodka and soda,” reasons Kaplan when asked about the door policy of Death and Company. “We have 54 seats here, and if we are crowded with 74 people, the service would be awful. I don’t think it would translate to bigger dollars for us. I would rather see satisfied customers coming back. I’d rather be full on a Sunday and Monday because people have great experiences here on Fridays and Saturdays rather than just packing them in two days a week. I think the attention needs to be paid on all levels. It’s great if you can put out a quality product, but the quality experience is also something.”

“I never wanted standing room,” Meehan notes. “As much as I thought it’s an integral part of the experience at other bars, it detracts from the bartender’s ability to spend time crafting cocktails to each guest’s interest.” The reservation policy at PDT also serves to make PDT a destination bar. “I don’t want customers having dinner in other parts of the town to come here and not get in,” adds Meehan, who points out that the bar seats at PDT are filled on a first come, first served basis. “It’s not an exclusive thing. It’s about trying to be a destination with the bars being available to walk-ins.”

If the bar is not trying to be exclusive, then why the secret location and unmarked doors? Meehan dispels any air of secrecy, disclosing that PDT and Crif Dogs are owned by the same partners, “The reason why we have entrance to the side is because the liquor license is in a hot dog stand. If we had a front entrance we would have had to apply for a second liquor license, which we wouldn’t have gotten. We do business as PDT but it’s one business within Crif Dog. Besides, the phone booth is fun and people like it.”

“Our number is listed, and guests are served on a first come first served basis, so it’s a very free-flowing atmosphere,” Kaplan clarifies when asked about Death and Company. “We are shut off from the outside, but that’s part of the mystique and allure of the nightlife experience.”

Part of that mystique may just be “seeming secrecy” of many modern speakeasy locations. Tierney believes that Apotheke’s address on a quiet street in Chinatown helped to launch the bar and created a ‘word of mouth’ clientele. While community boards of downtown New York have taken tougher stances toward bars, the Chinatown community sees the addition of Apotheke as a welcome change. “Our liquor license is from CB3, which is the toughest board to go through. Because Chinatown doesn’t have any bars, they thought we were adding to the neighborhood and I had no problems with the community board. And, the fact that we are located on a hidden street in Chinatown creates a special experience when you do find us.” Like Kaplan, Tierney does not consider Apotheke a nightclub, or even a modern speakeasy, preferring the term ‘cocktail apothecary.”

All labels aside, the bar owners/ managers agree that, ultimately they are running a business, and the same concepts that apply to all businesses apply to them. “You have to be profitable,’ Todd Thrasher, owner of PX, puts it succinctly. “You have to control costs.” The upside, according to Tierney, is that the mark-up on alcohol is quite good so it is a profitable business model, and the key is to create a product or an experience that people want to come back to. “I don’t want this to be a fad,” says Meehan. “This is something that I’ve invested a lot of time and energy into. I’ll be so nervous when I open my next place. One doesn’t guarantee two and two doesn’t guarantee three. It’s one game at a time.”

Although the price of a drink is definitely less than the price of a cocktail, the current economy still takes its toll. When asked where the business is going, Tierney observes that the increase in number of places that doesn’t mean anything will fall away, and places that stand for something will stay. “New Yorkers are demanding a lot of quality. When all the excess falls away, the best of the best will be left.”

For those wishing to get into the business, Ford warns that the monetary reward may be less than expected. “No one is getting rich doing this. These guys do it for the love. You make a lot more money opening a regular bar that you can pack six people deep. The bartender makes more drinks in a shorter time and gets more tips.”

Tierney warns, “Don’t go into this business unless you like problem solving. Everyday, there is a new problem, and a new hurdle to jump, from the refrigerator that doesn’t work to the staff that doesn’t show up.” “It’s a lot of work for very little money,” adds Thrasher, who says he often does work for PX on his days off.

But for those of you who are still undeterred, Kaplan advises partnering with people whose strengths complement yours and build a team. A piece of advice that Meehan agrees with: “I can source bitters from Japan and build a cocktail menu. But, I can’t fix the toilet or work the finances.”

So, is this a sustainable business? As Kaplan will tell you, people will never get sick of quality.

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