if the horse don't pull you got to carry the load

9 shifts completed in as many days. Tomorrow, actually later today, I finish the streak. I'd complain but my GM is spending her day off opening the newest restaurant in the group up in Napa. No thanks. I'll take our room with my normal busser and normal server. Change is for those working 40 hours a week.

I'm not sure there's much to learn from these marathon work stretches. It's a constant rush from bed to laundry to work to dry cleaning to work to the post office to bed. The email inbox overloads, loved ones are ignored, and you unwittingly earn the approval of the Central Americans in the kitchen. Mucho trabajo, they say as we slap, punch goodnight.

Tonight I went to retrieve a steak for B3 and found Juanito sound asleep on a milk carton. He wasn't slacking, it was his break. But two hours later, as he was leaving and I was closing up, we said our goodbyes:

"Manana?"
No, senor. Hasta el viernes.
"No trabajo manana?"
Si, senor. A16.

And then I remembered, he works two full time jobs, every week. No blog posts for Juanito. Not enough time.

Overheard

"What did you do on Sunday?" NBBM
"I took my shirt off." D sums up his Pride experience and explains his sunburn.

"I can bartend, I can work construction...(no response from the pretty girl to his left), yeah, I can do manual labor." Customer flaming out in front of the previously interested girl. Should have told her he was a producer.

Two shifts into a ten shifts in ten days run. Already tired. Already worried about dry cleaning, sleep, my other job suffering and fitting in time with the girl. Waking up in horror to find I'm already two hours behind schedule.

How did it happen? Co-workers taking vacation and I have a hard time telling my GM no. We're a small crew but almost everyone can fill two roles, DL does three: manages, tends bar and serves. So, unless we figure it out among ourselves the GM runs permutations and slides people from a Monday night managing shift to a Wednesday day server shift and almost always finds people their day off. Not this time. She's willing to endure the phonecall from corporate HQ in Napa asking why NBBM is getting overtime, again. And just now in writing this I remember I'll get OT two weeks in a row. My help isn't entirely altruistic.

It's cliche but true: working weekends and working extra is beating the Yankees. You make more money and don't spend at the usual rate. At the end of this run I'll have restocked the cash happily lost to the girl's birthday weekend. And when I need a week to travel the GM will remember this. If she doesn't I'll remind her.

Ten days also seems unreal. In some ways it's easier than working one or two extra nights. You just give up, submit to the schedule and the room and the customers.

Overheard

"I don't gamble. I'll bet on a horse but I won't gamble." Friday happy hour regular to his bartender who doesn't drink alcohol. He'll have a beer and a glass of bourbon but he won't drink.

"They're talking about moving the 49ers to Santa Clara." TD
"They should move the 49ers to Cuba." PdL in stride. Not sure who he wants to punish, but can't resist the obvious, haven't the Cubans suffered enough?

"It's difficult selling to a whore." Business traveler lamenting the truth.

Champagne manifesto

Just reread 7x7's excellent post about champagne glasses. It's one of my very favorite articles of his and very difficult to argue with. Opinionated and quirky, well done.

Rogelio Chan Benefit

Thieves Tavern is hosting a fundraiser for the 19 year old dishwasher recently diagnosed with an operable brain tumor. The doctors have judged he has 4 months to live without the surgery.

This Sunday, June 14th at Thieves Tavern, 496 14th Street, SF, CA 94103, the pool tournament starts at 4 PM and the raffle starts at 8 PM. $10 donation at the door.

Inedit

A North Beach ex-regular, now corresponding from Biarritz, sent in this link today. Aside from the pretentious and odd storage notes this beer sounds delicious. Chefs collaborating on beer? Where's the bad part? Trying to find bars and restaurants which carry this. Stay tuned.

Easy Living - St. Helena

After burgers on the lawn at Taylor's Refresher we walked across town for a nightcap. It felt like a luxury, walking from dinner to the bar, although the same is easily accomplished in almost every neighborhood in San Francisco. Maybe it was leaving our table in a grove of oaks as 4 year-olds chased balloons, walking quiet sidewalks along quiet streets, feeling the air cool as twilight turned to dark. Yep, Napa is pretty polished and that turns some people off, but on a warm, early summer night it feels like America, 1958.

Our local friend leads us into Market. It's text book St. Helena: exposed stone wall interior; dark wood back bar; anonymous jazz on the hi-fi. And the service is good. Our bartender is trying to clean up and close but he's patient. I had a glass of Blanton's. More heat than the Black Maple Hill I've been drinking lately but still delicious.

The bartender recommends it, saying, "It's my favorite." Hmmm. If a customer, after the first sip, approves of the drink, it's appropriate to say, "Yeah, it's my favorite." But I never know what to make of that line as an opener. Will I offend him if I choose something else? What if I follow his lead and then hate his favorite? What if his favorite is coincidentally the most expensive pour in the house? Is it then his favorite because of taste or because of the increased ring?

He compounds my confusion by listing his unsolicited, personal, tasting notes ending with "charcoal." Now he's in my head. As I take my first sip instead of thinking of the girl to my left, or the ride through the vineyards of Pope Valley, I'm thinking "charcoal." And it's there, sort of. (I'm always put off by charcoal when discussing bourbon. One of the distillers at Wild Turkey in Lawrenceburg spoke to me of Jack Daniels' charcoal filtering with outright disdain bordering on anger. I know Kentucky bourbon picks up some charcoal during barreling, but still...) My friend JA who drinks better wine with Chinese takeout than most people drink at their weddings -not an overstatement- refuses to engage in the Crayola jumbo pack of tasting drivel: neither burnt sepia for him, nor black currants. He's the Greek count in The Sun Also Rises. And I've come to learn that as much fun as talking is, sometimes it's more fun to savor.

But I'm being too critical of our bartender. He kept a spotless counter and graciously offered us last call at ten past ten. We declined and went home to bed. Country living.

Chris Libby named Bartender of the Something by SF Examiner

Chris is indeed an excellent bartender as well as a riding buddy and sounding board. I've long admired his ability to make consistent, high-quality drinks at a very quick pace. Those of you who have sat at my bar know on the bartender-mixologist scale I lean heavily towards the former. Speed(-ish) and efficiency triumph over flourish, nuance and art. The ideal would be a combination of these skills, but I have yet to find anybody who has them all in equal measure. Chris - and the rest of the crew at Solstice - come very close.

He's taken to wearing a jaunty cap behind the bar lately. Not sure why. Maybe he's just celebrating his good press. Next time you're in for a drink ask him what the above smile is called.

Overheard

"I really want a cigarette." GM, trying to quit.
"You should smoke a joint." Assistant Manager not trying so hard to quit.

"They keep the Sabbath on Saturday." Customer describing Seventh Day Adventist town Angwin, CA.
"So they can drink all day Sunday." PdL