Chris Walker Vs. Disappointment At Thomas Keller’s Bouchon, And A Brief Rumination On West Coast Cocktail Culture
Photo: Domino Digital Studio
“When you have a moment, I’ll take a Vesper.”
The waiter looked at me, confused. “A what?”
“A Vesper.” Still no recognition. “The cocktail?”
“Oh! You’ll have to show me; I’m not very good with the cocktails.”
I cracked opened the drink menu and pointed at the Vesper.
“Yes sir; right away.”
Seven or so minutes had passed when the waiter returned, dropping off a chilled cocktail glass. Peculiarly, I eyed its contents. My “Vesper” had been garnished with a cherry and bits of lemon were floating on the surface of the alcohol. Considering the Vesper contains no lemon juice and is garnished with a lemon peel, I was suspicious. I took a sip. It was not a Vesper. How could this be, I wondered? I was at Bouchon, a Thomas Keller restaurant, a focal point of culinary superiority, surely they wouldn’t make a cocktail as classic as the Vesper incorrectly, would they? I questioned myself; had I had the recipe wrong all along? I took another sip. Luxardo. That’s what I was tasting, Luxardo: a maraschino flavored liqueur.
When the waiter returned I politely told him that the bar had made me the wrong drink. He apologized but then informed me that some things at Bouchon are made a little differently than what people are used to. I told him that was understandable but, in this case, it wasn’t so. For starters, a Vesper is garnished with a lemon peel, not a cherry; it was the wrong drink. Reluctantly, he picked up the glass and said he’d have the right one made.
After another five or six minutes, the waiter returned with what appeared to be the exact same drink — bits of lemon and all — only this time it was garnished with a lemon peel instead of a cherry. I tried it. Again, Luxardo. All I wanted was a Vesper, damn it. A Vesper is a clean and simple cocktail: three ounces of gin, one ounce of vodka, half an ounce of Lillet Blanc, shaken, and served with a lemon peel. I checked the Bouchon drink menu again just to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind. Lo and behold, that was exactly how it was described.
Another sip and I was certain I had an Aviation, a drink composed of lemon juice, gin, maraschino liqueur (like Luxardo), and Creme de Violette. Not a bad cocktail… but not what I wanted. The waiter was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t even been by to see if I was satisfied with the second attempt. For a moment, I decided I’d just shut up and drink the Aviation but I was at Bouchon, where they hold themselves to a higher standard in all aspects of the dining experience, where they also charge $14 for a drink. I took the drink up to the bar.
“All right guys,” I said, approaching the two bartenders. “I need a Vesper, I’ve tried to get one twice now and –”
“Yeah, that’s a Vesper,” said Bartender Number One.
“No, it’s not. You’re using Luxardo, right?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s no Luxardo in a Vesper. A Vesper is three ounces gin, one ounce vodka, and –.”
“Lillet Blanc,” snapped Bartender Number Two. Bartender One and Two started flipping through a stack of drink recipes that were stapled together. Bartender Number One looked up at me.
“You know what, I’ve been making the wrong drink.”
At last, I had my drink; it only took around thirty minutes. I had forgiven and nearly forgotten about the Vesper mishap until the end of the meal when our waiter arrived with the bill. Setting it down, he apologized again about the drink situation but then, for the second time, proceeded to explain that some things at Bouchon are made differently than customers are used to. Essentially, what he was implying was that I was wrong; I was, perhaps, too unsophisticated to ‘get’ what they were doing at Bouchon, unwilling to appreciate their culinary ingenuity. This was coming from a guy who, until I pointed at the word “Vesper” on a menu, didn’t even know what a Vesper was.
As the waiter walked away I opened the bill. I had still been charged for the Vesper. This bothered me. I’m not looking for handouts but after two failed attempts, after having to go to the bar myself, after being insulted, no gesture was made to compensate for my inconvenience? It was a slap in the face. All of the delicious food we’d eaten — the pork belly, the chicken and waffles, the pomme frites, the omlette with sausage and tomato confit — was instantly overshadowed. It’s been said that good service can make up for bad food but good food can never make up for bad service; that statement is unequivocally true. For the second time, we left the Las Vegas Bouchon dissatisfied (the first time was, surprise, also because of poor service).
I don’t know, maybe reading too many Michael Ruhlman books has given me unrealistic expectations of what a Keller restaurant should be like. I know Keller isn’t in the kitchen of his Las Vegas Bouchon but I’d like to think his insanely high standards are still being upheld. Obviously, they are not.
The next night, I found myself in the bar of a restaurant called B&B where I ordered a Negroni. I watched the bartender build what appeared to a Negroni (gin, Campari, sweet vermouth) until she reached for a bottle of Crown Royal. Realizing it wasn’t my drink, I turned back to my conversation. The bartender put the drink in front of me.
“This is mine?” I asked, eyeing the ice-filled highball, garnished with a wedge of blood orange.
“Yeah, you ordered a Negroni.”
“You put Crown in this.”
“Yeah, I just figured you wanted our specialty Negroni.” There was no specialty list in sight; I’d been given no cocktail menu. “I can make you a traditional one if you want.”
“No, no, that’s okay,” I replied. “I like Crown; I’ll give it a shot.”
While it wasn’t a Negroni, the blood orange, Crown laced cocktail the bartender made me was good. I wouldn’t order it again (not that I had in the first place) but it was nice while it lasted, and I did get to sample a few Amari (Italian herb liqueurs) on the house so no harm, no foul. That being said, the experience coupled with the Bouchon incident made me wonder, are Vegas bartenders just making it up as they go along, or was Toby Maloney, head bartender at Chicago’s Violet Hour, completely right when he said, “The East Coast is rooted in tradition … where the West Coast is more experimental”? East Coast, West Coast, personally, I’d like to think that at any decent bar I wander into, when I order a Vesper or a Negroni or a Manhattan I’ll get just that. And if I want it made differently I should have to specify, not the other way around.
At least it’s good to know that a gin martini is still exactly that.
RECOMMENDED READING:
The cocktail divide: West Coast and East Coast cocktail cultures couldn’t be more different – right? by Gary Regan.
Posted: February 6th, 2009 | Author: Chris Walker | Filed under: Alcohol, Food | 8 Comments »
wow. This is what happens when you throw a typewriter into a cage full of monkeys. A Negroni with Crown, a Vesper with Luxardo… how about a pork chop made out of chicken? How about a beer made from wine… what. ever. Oh, and by the way, please pay for our mistakes….
Yeah, both experiences made me long for a cocktail at the Velvet Tango Room, where they’re made properly, where they’re made perfectly. These experiences also made me want to address a couple other issues but, more next week.
When I returned from Vegas I went back and re-read that Regan piece I link to at the end; all I could think about was I need to spend some time drinking in East Coast establishments. Perhaps, a lot of time. All of this lack of care for craft and worthless experimentation over here just isn’t cutting it for me.
You know what I would have done? I would have screamed, “This aint the Colenol’s secret recipe!” I then would have demanded satisfaction in my finest souther drawl. If they are going to treat their patrons as ignorant fools then I would serve them up some of my finest ignorance. I can fight their arrogant fire with my own retarded fire.
I do think that the chicken at Bouchon would have blown my mind. It would have tasted like KFC only… more expensive and a little crispier.
This reminds me of a meal I had in Reno where two gents (from Los Angeles) sent back their drinks because they’d ‘asked for Malibu rum’–an ingredient their ‘cocktails’ appeared to be lacking. Their origin, I suppose, had nothing to do with the situation or how comical I found it to be, but it happened, and they were Hollywood types. Just saying.
Last week I sat down for my first dining out experience in New York City in a very, very busy tapas restaurant in Soho. They brought me a dish I didn’t order, admittedly their mistake, and let me keep it in addition to the one I wanted–on the house. Blood orange is in season, from west coast to east (which completely filled me with unadulterated glee) and I saw it appearing in cocktails everywhere, but I ordered a beautiful glass of Spanish wine that came to me blood orange free. At the end of the meal, the server brought me complimentary dessert, a blessing to my first meal in New York. Needless to say, it was a great experience. I loved that the server felt like it was worth it to give me, a solo diner new to the city, outstanding service. What separates the mindset of the west coast with that of the east? Anything? I’ve had several good meals on the west coast, but part of the allure of New York was for me to gauge and explore the differences.
With that in mind, I am going out for drinks in Union Square tonight with a group of people from work. I think a cocktail ordering experiment is in order; perhaps I should start with a Vesper.
That sucks. I have yet to here one good review of the Vegas Bouchon. But in Keller’s defense I’ve been to the one in Yountville a couple of times and have walked away in a glazed over, satisfaction induced coma. From the service to the cocktails everything was what I, or Ruhlman for that matter, would have expected. In my experience Vegas does it bigger but rarely better. Stick to Northern Nevada my man. Even my worst bartender can make a killer vesper.
I took the liberty of telling The Bouchon Bakery a la the Time Warner building about the incident (as I am here now… originally I was just making conversation about my experience with Bouchon across the country). The hosts were happy to say, ‘I told you so’ to one another about sending an email about Vegas (partially because it might get them a trip down there for assistance with service or something to that effect). As a brilliant ploy to never make a bad cocktail (undoubtedly), they only serve beer or wine at this installment.
I ordered a negroni the other night at Chapel and was pleased to hear the bartender ask if I wanted “the Chapel negroni or a traditional negroni”. I believe they sub Aperol for the Campari in the Chapel negroni, and it was so nice to be given the option. Although I do enjoy a classic negroni, I chose the Chapel negroni and was quite pleased with its slightly more mild taste.
On another note, I can’t say that I’ve had a really bad experience at Bouchon Las Vegas. I’ve been to the Yountville location two or three times and the Vegas location six or seven times. (I’m really stuck on the croque madame.) However, there is no excuse for improperly made cocktails. Twice. Without comps.
I have to agree about the vegas Bouchon. I ate their recently, and although the food was good (although a little boring) the service was awful. Please beware!