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A Mix Master

To tend bar and stay in business, it helps to be discreet, crafty and fast

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ILLUSTRATED BY PAUL SCHMID

THE BARTENDER is an iconic figure, a unique combination of gracious host, cunning psychologist, master mixologist and discrete confessor. But there is a hidden side to the profession, and those who do it best do it most invisibly. For a good bartender must also be the guardian of social propriety, the watchdog who protects patrons from themselves, each other and the law.

Bars and restaurants are under constant scrutiny. One slip-up — serving one drink too many to the wrong person — can put them out of business. Yet some customers seem to take special delight in seeing how far they can stretch (or break) the rules. Enforcing the law without offending the customer is the most delicate aspect of any bartender's job.

Jim German began tending bar at the Broadway restaurant on his 21st birthday. He worked for years at Il Bistro, Place Pigalle, Campagne and 1200 Bistro, and then, suddenly, vanished. It turns out that he and his new bride had moved across the state, to the tiny town of Waitsburg, about 20 miles north of Walla Walla, where he quickly became the most-sought-after mixologist in town. German is a native of Louisiana, 45 years old, soft-spoken and courteous in the manner of the deep South. I've spent many pleasant evenings watching him effortlessly, quietly and graciously preside over a room packed with people. This is bartending raised to the level of art.

He credits Campagne's Peter Lewis as his bartending mentor. "With Peter Lewis," says German, "it went into a different stratosphere. He pulled the whole idea of honorable hospitality together, in every aspect — wine, spirits and food." That's a lovely phrase — honorable hospitality — one that encompasses the full scope of the bartender's calling. The hospitality is a further refinement of restaurant hospitality. Waiters welcome you, serve you, and then leave you alone. But the bar is a more casual room, and the bartender a more intimate companion.

There's a certain kind of person, says German, who will eat only at a bar. "They feel like a citizen of the world sitting at the bar," he explains. "Dining alone is anonymous, but the bar customer wants to participate, meet new people, to talk."

Problems arise when customers abuse the hospitality. Parents may sneak a teenager into a bar to celebrate a birthday. Or share their drink with a minor. Someone may have their first few drinks elsewhere, hoping the bartender won't notice. How do you uphold the laws, keep the business out of trouble and avoid offending customers?

"There is a dance between keeping the customer happy and just totally shutting them down," German explains. "People become very tricky; somebody who's ripped will speak very softly and say the minimal amount of words. They are really being careful not to reveal any physiological problems, but that in and of itself is a giveaway. It's as if they're doing tai chi!"

In a quarter century of bartending, German has seen it all. Recently a well-lubricated customer tried ordering "just one more" drink by explaining that since he was staying in the bar's hotel, he was more than willing to crawl to his room if necessary. "And he had a friend there, goading me," German recalls, "trying to get him blind drunk." The solution? "I gave him a glass of water. I said 'Let's see how he does with a glass of water.' Of course, he immediately dumped it across the bar." That ended the discussion.

Though he brushes aside any praise for being a good listener ("We are listeners by default because we can't really escape"), German still finds it fascinating. "People have amazing bar personas," he explains, "well-hewed caricatures that can be funny and entertaining. They become somebody quite different from the person you know at work. In the bar they have stories, jokes and witticisms about life in general." After 25 years in the business, German says he's tired of working out someone else's vision of a bar. He's ready to do it his way, to open his own bar, a tiny place modeled on the simple bars of the Mediterranean coast.

"I want it to be a Grail," he says, "a place I can run by myself, keep the standards that I hold dear, based on simplicity. There's a natural beauty here (in Waitsburg), a certain small-town Americana that is inherently romantic. I'll use ingredients from our garden, make my own prosciutto; there will be two different martinis and a myriad of classic cocktails. I want it to be a place for friends to have a respite, warm and personable." A place, he is too polite to add, where patrons treat the bartender as kindly as he treats them.

Jim German Bar is scheduled to open in November in Waitsburg.

Paul Gregutt writes the Wednesday wine column for The Seattle Times and covers Northwest wine for the Wine Enthusiast magazine. Write to him at wine@paulgregutt.com. Paul Schmid is a Times news artist.