Winning awards

http://m.interiordesign.net/projects/detail/2685-21-simply-amazing-restaurant-interiors-around-the-world/

Wow, it's been a long time since I rapped at you...

As always, dear drunken readers - sorry for the delay in what's supposed to be a weekly blog about bartending in Shanghai. As of recent I opened my first bar, called Logan's Punch a few months ago and I've been keeping my head down in the work grind. It's been a lot more challenges than I could ever have imagined and at the same time much morel rewarding. 

Which means for me so many more drunken nights in the beginning then were probably good for me. With that said, I got some great advise from a mentor of mine, a guy named George Chen who if you're familiar with San Francisco is a notorious (in the best way) restaurateur. What George told me was, Logan - you don't need to drink with all the customers. Meaning, I don't need to be downing shots with everyone but I can hold onto a cocktail Dean Martin style and cheers people with it. 

This is important to know if you're a bar owner or work in a smaller personality driven venue. This being China with super loose rules about drinking, hours of operation and what not it's really easy to go over the edge. It's better to show some restrain lest burning out replaces burning up. 

But, I did write a manifesto that we try to stick with:

Where is it written nowadays that when you order a drink at a bar it either has to be served to you by an unsmiling guy in a white tuxedo jacket who seems to stir a drink for twenty minutes or a douche bag with a waxed mustache who only wants to talk about his homemade bitters?

We say, fuck that.Bars are the last refuge of the tortured soul. Bars are for celebrating and for commiserating; bars are for loud off key singing in a room full of strangers and dirty jokes whispered behind the clinking of glasses and conspiratorial winks. Bars are your home away from home, the calm in the midst of the storm. It’s not about showing off or being pretentious; it’s about letting loose with your like minded, booze soaked brethren!We are here as a celebration of bars and the American cocktail spirit. We serve Punches, big glorious bowls of perfectly blended booze that dare you to do anything in moderation. We serve food, sexy, sexy food that’s like porn on a plate. We pour big, we play our music loud and we welcome you with open arms and raised glasses!

We’re not a speak easy, we’re a speak loudly!

Till next time

Delayed blog means the bar is on time

So my bar is finally opening up for business. Technically it's in soft open mode. So today's post is about menu's.

Because I'm one of the founders of my bar as well as the managing partner I found myself in the unique position to do what I felt was right as long as it revolved around two major points: 

Will it make money? Will it be fun?

First off, a bar is a business. Anyone that thinks that they do it just for the love is either so rich it doesn't matter or not responding in a revenue earning potential. Of course, I love making cool drinks and the art and technique of it all but I won't have these opportunities if I'm not make cash money every single day. If you're not hustling at the bar then you're just a customer at the bar. I really and truly believe bartending is art, you're physically creating a cocktail with your hands. Depending on the drink, you're using a pick to crack ice, you're slapping mint, you're measuring, you're tasting, you're appraising then finally when your drink is at it's pinnacle you serve it up to be judged by your guests. At the same time you're taking multiple orders as you look cool and jump around to the music. It's honest work for debaucherous souls. None of it means shit though if your pour costs are too high. 

This is where the joy, heartache and compromise of menu creation rears it's ugly head like a drunken Chimera. For my bar - I wanted to focus on cool cocktails that I wanted do drink as well as some unique Punches which is my theme. As one does I costed out my drinks onto an excel spreadsheet (yay math) and then rubbed my eyes and nursed several large gins as I methodically crossed out things that were way to impractical. In literary terms, it's called killing your darlings. After the wholesale slaughter of all my dream drinks (Louis XIII Sidecar anyone?) I needed to come back with some things that would work for my pour costs and keep a roof over my head. Instead of a lot of crazy esoteric alcohols that I needed to import or hand carry from other countries I focused on making crazy syrups, reductions and inventive uses for the common fruits I would be using anyway. One of the cocktails I came away with was a Smoked Grapefruit and Roasted Thai Chile Margarita which I could serve as a punch or even an individual cocktail. Costing out a margarita is pretty simple especially if you're using fresh home made lime juice, house tequila (mines 80RMB a bottle but still 100% blue agave) and cointreau. The costs of the grapefruit and thai chile were negligible as we're using them for many other things both in the kitchen and in the bar.  

From that eureka moment more and more drinks followed, Salted Caramel Old Fashioned's, Strawberry Green Tea Mojitos, etc, etc. I'm not trying to re-invent the wheel when it comes to drinks but I'll be damned if I do any more of that pre-prohibition bullshit. Yes, I'm aware Old Fashioned's are "pre-prohibition" but shut up.

With Punches, since they are volume drinks it came to be more like deconstructing a recipe, examining it's strengths and weaknesses as well as costs and prep time. I found drinks I can prep the day before tasted better and we're easier to serve in the volumes that I was looking for. I also used a lot of inspiration from David Wondrich's fantastic book, "Punch" to get the idea behind some recipes as well as the history. 

Then I made some drinks that are so amazing, so delicious that they defy the written word. My Punches turned out so well that in the history of humans interaction with alcohol this is the biggest thing to happen since someone thought to add ice to a distilled spirit. Possible hyperbole in that sentence. You'll have to come over and try though. 

So will my menu be fun? I've added the "F" word a lot because that's a fun word. I gave my drinks names like, Wheel Chair Assassins, The Bastard of Bolton and Naked Lunch. There's dirty jokes on the menu as well as literary references for the high society boozer. I think the menu defines one of your most important guest interactions. For the guests it's a little piece of this strange nightlife world that's explained to them in language they can understand. I don't care if your menu is in Chalk, Printed or scribbled on a sleeping hooker, what you choose to write reflects what you are about as a bar. Because I'm in Shanghai my menu is in both English and Chinese and so I thought it'd be interesting to play with the dual nature of drinking - the light and the dark. For the English, the language was rough and braggish and in Chinese instead of doing a direct translation I went the opposite and it flows almost poetically. Each menu item description lists the same ingredients but the message it conveys in the limited space tells a completely different story.

With every menu you should want to push it to the limits and show people that the best bars, no matter how well they're decorated or how shitty they look can always be Business in the front and Party in the back. 

Like a booze serving mullet. 

The Business of Booze

300,000 RMB = 50,000 USD spent in the club WTF

Booze is big business in Shanghai - it's not uncommon to see a table with 100 bottles of Dom Perignon competing with the table next to it with 101 bottles of Dom. These are Champagne wars and they're outstanding. But, the booze business is much different here then what I'm used to in the States and because of that, I don't know how I'll ever operate back in the west in regards to F&B. Like, China - it's just bigger. 

To understand the booze business you need to understand the drinking culture here. I think that it's a big trap that a lot of foreign companies fall into when they're looking to move into the China market. Booze companies see the staggering population numbers and feel like it's an untapped market. The truth is, outside of the major international 1st tier cities like Shanghai, Beijing and even Shenzen the market is pretty much non-existent. I read somewhere that 97% of the population only drinks local brands outside of the 1st and 2nd tier cities. Travel outside of Shanghai for two hours to a place like Mogan Shan (莫干山) and you'll see at the clubs the only bottles to be seen are beer. Cheap, local, plentiful and warm. 

Wait, hold up - this isn't a lesson in economics. For a moment I almost did some research. 
Let me change my train of thought. Here's Hooters Shanghai:

Creating a business relation in China or how I learned to love Baijiu

So, as I mentioned in the last post I'm opening a bar. This entry will be about business  dinners in China The key to any successful business relationship is trust. In my almost 4 years of living in Shanghai I've seen that the way the locals build trust is by getting completely shit faced drunk over a long dinner or a trip to a KTV. Oh, China...

Typically after you've got a solid business plan and investors you need to find a property in which to conduct your business.  Here, in Shanghai and I'd imagine most other places in China the next step after you acquire a property you need to meet up with the local government of your district and wine and dine them for specialty licencing

                             
       (Hairy Crab, getting business done in Shanghai since forever)

Now, several things will happen at these dinners, there will be lots of chain smoking, oceans of Baijiu (a sorghum based alcohol) and rivers of red wine and or whiskey. For some reason that I can't quite understand most foreigners do not like Baijiu I however love it. It reminds me of burning hot firewater that takes a root in your throat, lights up your esophagus and warms up your belly. It's delightful and not for the faint of heart. It tastes of lychee and watermelon and bright faced exhilaration, after several shots served in tiny little cups it feels like anything is possible and my attitude and my paltry Chinese suddenly get much, much better. On the other hand though, if you don't like it then you'll probably puke. 

              (Chicken feet and cigarettes, the final thing I remember)

                                               

I've learned in China it's not the end of the world to puke or pass out at a dinner as long as you puke in the toilet and pass out at your seat. Being drunk is not a bad thing but being drunk at a business meeting when you're supposed to hold your own and is looked down upon. Yes, they will be trying to out drink you and yes you will be the host/victim of many toasts and shots but you can not falter. This is where I shine. As a beverage master for more years then I'd like to count I can hold my own with anyone from local government. That's when it starts getting crazy. Human nature is about competition, when it's two different nations being pitted together in the brotherly act of business drinking there only two options. Either surrender or leave the table of battle as equals. 

Every business dinner starts with a sizing up of the opponents. Usually, it's evenly represented - each side with an equal amount of people. Cigarettes are exchanged, with the heads of both parties receiving priority followed down the ranks. Then comes the toasting. I was once told long ago by a translator that if I don't like to drink I should say something like I'm sick or blame it on my religion. As a foreigner you'll be excused for these things. But, I'm not sick and my religion never held me back for taking out a table at a business dinner. 

Back to the order of events though, So the dishes are coming served family style,because this type of meeting with government always takes place at a Chinese restaurant that you're paying for. If you don't like Chinese food then don't eat much of it, but remember when your with government people the chances are that they've already ordered in advance. This is no problem if you have yourself a hardy before hand. Even if you like Chinese food, and I do, it still doesn't hurt to carbo load before you go in. Try to grab a huge dinner of rice or pasta, anything that will help you absorb the torrential rain of booze that's headed your way. 

After many interesting dishes made of things that you might not be comfortable eating do to moral, religious or textural issues the food is finally finished. Some fruit is served and the drinking begins in earnest. 

Someone told me a trick once where every time you cheers with Baijiu your supposed to take the shot and then chase it with a sprite or even water and actually instead of drinking your actually just spitting it into the clear non-alcoholic chaser beverage. This is for beginners and I've never tried this before. Why waste perfectly good alcohol. Keep in mind, these bottles are about 100 USD per bottle or even higher. When you're doing business with local Chinese government it's not cheap. I'm not going to say the "B" word here but this another form of it, hugely expensive dinners that foster business ties. If you want to do everything right, make sure all the forms are filled out, all the mountain of paperwork processed then these are the steps you need to take. Also, it's not my culture so I won't judge. I just know If I want a legitimate business then I need to go through the legitimate channels and these are them. It might be different if you're opening a flower shop but I sling booze and that's that. 

By now, everyone probably had a few shots and there is some etiquette involved. If your the head of your side you should make an effort to cheer the head governmental person. If you aren't the head of your side then it's the head of your sides duty to cheers the head government guy. It goes like that naturally with other people from the government side cheersing both you and your colleagues much the same way. Over and over and over again till the room is red faced and smoke covers the air, at this point there should be a few lesser governmental officials sleeping at the table. The toilets should be covered in puke and if you've succeed in not making a total ass of your self or being to drunk then the head governmental official will say that it's time to go. Don't make the lead government person loose face by getting him too drunk unless he's the one initiating it. If he stops drinking don't force the issue. Later, there will be an effort on their part to pay the bill. Whatever happens don't let them. Discreetly pay, also pay for their equally expensive take away items that they've already pre-ordered and then start saying your heartfelt good byes. After the dinner concludes both sides generally like each other much more and even though there is a huge ocean of language and culture for those few merry hours of complete alcohol overload the ocean turns to a puddle that's that's easy to hop over as long as you don't throw up. 

Machine Gun Funk

Like all foolish things I set out to do this with the greatest of intentions, to dig deep and commit myself to writing about the nuances and craziness of bar tending overseas, of living the crazy American dream of little work, lots of money and a maid that comes three times a week. Then, the darkness crept up on me, I started to say simple little things like:

It’s cold here now in my second year of Shanghai and I’ve been racked with this terrible cough for the last few weeks. Before that I was food poisoned and even worse then that, I started playing my xbox religiously - these are excuses as to why I haven’t been doing any writing of late - haven’t been detailing my adventures in vigorous, whiskey numbed prose punching out words to a silent computer screen that reflects blood shot eyes and a devilish grin.

I had to stop that though - lying in bed all day, refusing either to go to the gym or to write and sleeping, truly sleeping in my desolation and depression was getting to be way to emo for me. The thing is that it’s not that I haven’t been having new adventures, new stories and favorite new concoctions but it’s just been that I’ve had no reason to write them down. Which is stupid because if I don’t write it out, experience it digitally again then sometimes the thing is like it never existed at all.

I’ve changed jobs since my last real posting, I left the half empty bar where no one would go except for my friends to a new crazy awesome nightclub where the only people I seem to meet are my friends or people who’ve always pretended to be my friends, bass music,vodka, champagne, loud uncontrollable nights that don’t end until way into the next day crowing themselves in the glory of the cold cloudy Shanghai winter days. In a way I’ve made my piece with the dawn, that ugly hour that sends us frantically scurrying to our homes in fear of the coming of the light. I’ve made my piece now with hangovers and wear them like a three piece suit, top two buttons clasped, last button open with a big pocket square.

I neglected myself for the last few months, I’ve put on a few kilos, got a few more grey hairs maybe stared into the mirror to much about my own mortality. Which means, while I’m unmarried and doing a job I love I should do everything about it to live the moment to its fullest, to grab the Jameson by the bottle and drink it up like life flowing from a shot glass.

Debauchery and diatribes ahoy...

American style drinking versus Chinese Style drinking

I have a good friend out here in Shanghai who is from Singapore, named Karl. He's very well off, educated in the UK and an all around crazy guy, the other day he asked me why Americans don't buy bottles at nightclubs here but instead individual drinks? He told me, he just didn't understand it. As a Lao Wei or a foreigner as well as a bartender I always thought that with the exception of a few select spots,the cocktails in the mainland just sucked in general and this led to it being smarter and better to buy a bottle. It's one of those things I've noticed my entire stay, if there are a group of Asians they will almost always order a few bottles of either Champagne or Whiskey and Green Tea or Vodka and mixers for their table. In terms of Westerners, it's always rounds of drinks.

I thought about it a little bit, maybe it was due to the fact that most Chinese people I know don't like to rent - they buy. So renting an apartment is frowned upon here - you stay with your parents until you have enough money to buy your own place. Why buy a drink in a bar for 70 rmb (almost 10 US) when you can typically buy a bottle for around 700-1000RMB (or roughly $100-$150)?
In  the nightclubs - the local culture is to grab a table with your friends, order many, many, many bottles, girls,fruit plates, as you smoke lots of cigarettes and party all night.

In the States, while it's not unheard of getting bottle service at the club it's just extra VIP, balla status. Not the norm. In the States a huge mega dance club will have a big dance floor, huge bars and a small VIP section. In China, where the people are a little more conservative with how they’re perceived, the dance floors are much smaller and usually packed with Lao Wei and bottle service reigns supreme. There are even second and third tier cities where there is no bar, just a small dance floor, 300 tables, lots of black lights and Lady Gaga.

Karl keyed me in the fact that the Chinese are very communal. This goes from the way they eat, in terms of big family style shared plates, the way the families live together as a group and how most holidays are centered around spending time with relatives and loved ones to the the way they drink. A bottle bought for the table is the ultimate showing of community. It's a little feudal as well, Karl explained to me, when he orders a bottles at the club, it's now his table - he's king of the table. The girls, the booze, he's host of the table and it's in a way holding court and  as always  I am the strange and ruggedly handsome visitor from a strange and far off land. There is more to it as well, at a Chinese table there are tons of drinking games, dice, things with your hands, all designed around getting everyone at the table, involved together, communicating, getting hammered drunk and bonding over distilled grain products.

In a western table with individual drinks the conversations turn more individual, one on ones. If we are westerners together at a bar are conversations are for the most part centered around groups of two's and threes. Obviously the exception is for birthday groups or bachelor/hen parties but that is not the norm.

So next time you're at a bar or a club in the States and you can afford it, or grab your friends and pitch in for a bottle. If anything, a shared bottle at a table is much like a campfire in that everyone gathers around it, it's sparks conversations that you might not of had before, it creates memories and hell, it's a lot easier then going back and forth for another round of Appletinis. If anything, you've got a story to tell. Play drinking games, cheers loudly with friends and bond over that booze - it's one of the reasons life is great in the first place.

I wanted to make some kind of bold statement about the differences in mindsets is that Americans are a nation of individuals, we've been told since our birth to be unique, to stand out whereas the Chinese are taught from the beginning that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down hardest and that conformity was the name of the game - I wanted to make some far reaching metaphor about Justin Beiber and Chairman Mao but it's getting late and both Karl and the KTV are calling and you never want to turn down a KTV with Crazy Karl....

Cheers,

Shanghai, I love you

Shanghai, you filthy, wholesome, intoxicating, red faced, cigarette smoking, green tea and whiskey drinking, neon overloaded, fake rolexed, pink money stained, freshly minted millionaire of a technical metal masterpiece, glass filled and people full metaphor of excess and traditionalism, this is my breathless and bleary eyed, bajiou breathed primal scream from the comfort of your warm embrace.

Shanghai, you are noodles in the evening, noodles in the morning and noodles, noodles, noodles, spilling out of taxis, snaking around long metro lines, into the streets, spilling hot soup that rises like steam from dumplings over Huai Hai Lu, the far off barely remembered sounds of rickshaws makes way to the click clacking of iPhone as the new generation of thieves and KTV girls mixes with the suits, the pioneers, artists hell bent to change the direction of the wind, cloud bursting missiles showering similes of better city better life over fake dvd markets and foot massages that go all the way up. In call tailors out call services, exploding over the night like with  all the persuasiveness of the homeless ladies screaming down the streets with flowers, half asleep babies dangling off their arms like cigarettes, grasping in the ice cold winter, hanging like icicles of the pockets of drunken lao wei, yelling indecipherable Chinese, lost on frozen ears in the madness of the boozy blackness.

Shanghai you  are a silk evening gown, the bottoms trailing along the Bund passing Euro Trash dick bags and immaculate Jazz age buildings kept between wars and revolutions, the sudden scream of bombing runs can almost be over head among the din roar of the gathered crowds of debauchees and custom made suits, tailored by chiseled hands, gnarled and stained and smiling with your Shanghai-ren secret language and sibling less children who are left to fend for themselves in the digital revolution, fading from Mao like the receding hairlines of so many of the fat Western business men that your daughters flock to in outstanding droves, lemmings rushing to the cliffs, champagne in one hand, pouty lips and big eyes, pale skin cream white faces, long, long, long, long legs and short, short, short, short skirts, embracing destiny stoic and chic.

Shanghai you are smog thick and graffiti free, recycled cooking oil and contaminated tap water, racist tooth pastes and a corruptible incorrigible, a super fine slick that sticks to the roof of the mouth, flicking with the tongue and foul odors that make way to mind blowing light displays, loud fireworks, loud life, quiet homes, clinically insane by committee, traditionally inappropriate by real politik, insatiable hungry for more and carrying the world on and on and on.

Shanghai you are beautiful, you are my mistress and third love, you are coquettish smiles and xiao long bao, you are like all others I’ve loved, doomed to be cheated on, older then me, wiser then me and way more wealthier, with more friends and intensely jealous of all my wasted potential, you are my booty call and current steady crush, wrapped up and steamed then slightly fried and sold back for 5 kwai, lost in vinegar, slurped up with broth in a dirty hole in the wall over cafeteria style tables and long bottles of green Tsing Tao and people hacking up spit, served with an soy boiled egg and some tissue paper.

Shanghai you are a mess, leftovers from the last nights party, waiting penitently for the Ayi to clean everything up in silence, cold water pipes bursting and flooding cozy french concession apartments with modern flat screens and squat toilets, outside kitchens and washing machines with no dryers, laundry left outside to air dry, lipsticked smeared champagne flutes softly spilled out on the ground, a hapless, single minded portrait of over filled ashtrays and puddles of vomit in the sidewalk

Shanghai, you are too much and you are not enough, a tug of rope of 22 million people and expired expats exhausting one last git into the calamity of the nigh time insanity, familiar and strange like weird flavored potato chips, cool cucumber, shrimp hot pot, beef curry and whitening creams and tanning salons, strange named locals, Yellow, Puppy Chow, Elvis, Gold and terrible cocktails, fake booze bottles, fake clothing and genuine people, looking for worldly outsiders to seduce and take away like a doggie bag.


Shanghai you give me hangovers in my soul, my spirit crushed after every nights heavy drinking, a little piece is lost of myself in every shot as the glint in the eye gets ever brighter and the ruckus starts again, long lasting superior night bred, whirling carousel of so many faces, so many girls and songs and bass, and bass and bass and there it is again, that dragon we’re chasing after, long serpent tail flickering threw the night, so close to reach out and grab it, one more shot, one more club, one more, it’s the only one, the one, then more, then one more the only thing, shots become bottles become buckets becoming crazy, one more, the dragon closes in and flirts in the night runs away tail zooming through the next door, the next club, spilling dice, taxi cab Chinese, trumpet blaring, singing down the street, that we are almost there, the dawn slowly opening its blood red eyes, the dragon just ahead of us, its Mao and the late nights, Brazilians and Nigerians, Models and ex Cons, so close to grabbing it, then the Sun is up in entirety  yelling at us like an old man to get off his god damn lawn, out of the corner of the eye you can see as the Dragon races back into the sky, chased but never caught, like every other night becomes shampoo instructions, wash rinse, repeat.

Article 4 for metrowize

American or American’t

Welcome back to the stunning conclusion of our decadent night and early morning debauchery in China, where we’re profiling a city that can’t sleep because of the heat and won’t stop because it hasn’t been told how.

When you run into fake liquor at a nightclub, it’s a lot like running into fake boobs at a night club, you smile, you nod and take the ride if you have to, never mentioning the obvious except in whispers that creep out when you think no one is looking.

You can tell when something is fake in terms of booze by the smell - if it’s absolutely rank smelling it’s probably a good indication it’s fake, especially if you’re drinking Macallan which I was. The cool thing is the bottle looked exactly real, the color pitch perfect, the labeling undeniable but as an international bar consultant and professional I could just tell. I tasted it and it was a bad burn, kind of like a mix of rubbing alcohol and the liquefied version of old Cracked magazines, in other words an awful, terrible imitation of something that was supposed to be so much more.

Gold my field guide and head bartender took it upon himself to argue with the staff in increasingly loud Chinese for about 20 minutes, as I sat with the imitator and watched the crowds of people in the nightclub around me, I was the only foreigner or Laowei in the club, that is until my good friend John Jameson joined me from my hip flask and helped skewer the rest of my senses of perception. We abruptly left the night club in what some would describe as a dead run, nothing being fully explained to me but between Golds broken English  something about the Bartender trying to fight him over the fake stuff is all I could get out of it from his panting between cigarette after cigarette on our cab ride to our  spot where shit got real.

We ended up at a KTV called Mr. Smiley  with a bunch of Gold’s friends, which meant scantily clad Chinese girls and scary looking dudes with broken English. Karaoke TV or KTV’s are integral parts of the culture here and it makes sense - who doesn’t like to get completely hammered and sing with their friends to all their favorite songs? Basically it’s a club broken down into a different rooms where you book the room for a few hours or overnight as was the case of the group I joined up with and sing, drink bottles of booze and eat strange food like duck heads and brined pigs knuckles. Now I’m no Andrew Zimmerman so I skipped the delicacies and opted for the hard liquor and fruit tray option.

In Asia they really have their Karaoke act together, there are crazy flat panel buttons you hit to change songs, multiple light switches that change the vibe of the room and if you go to certain KTV’s you also can find some companionship if you so desire. Rawr!

The place we were at wasn’t a dirty KTV much to my chagrin but for about an hour I drank on a bottle of Absolut and listened to the most depressing songs I’ve ever heard. I’ve been to several KTV’s now and it’s always sad sounding songs, to be honest I can’t understand the language and they could be singing about rainbows, lollipops and puppy dogs but it all songs I heard sounds like Joy Division mixed with baby tears. At some point I got so depressed I got up and sang, American Boy by Kayne West and Estelle, which is quite honestly the best song to ever happen to a traveling American boy. That woke everyone up enough to get another bottle and by the time we stumbled out it was about 6 in the AM.

In the States maybe this would seem excessive, dark sunglasses on during an early morning Wednesday but here in China, with the new millionaires being made every moment it’s just run of the mill. I freely admit I was a little wobbly by this point but as an intrepid Metrowize intoxicologist I knew I couldn’t cave out to a little sunshine.
Never fear the dawn. We rallied and Gold and some of the fairer sex headed with us to a breakfast spot where I discovered my true love Xialong Bao.

I don’t know if this enchanting dumpling is a breakfast food or a all day food or just mana from heaven but if I could mainline it I would - it’s that good. What we had in that early morning light was a fold out table and 3 small stools on the side walk out front of a little stand with a little menu and two mean looking old ladies and a steamer. Xialong Bao (pronounced Shaolong Baow) is a dumpling with a meaty soup broth inside of it. It’s hot and delicious and if given the option between them or Megan Fox I’d have to disappoint our boys overseas.
Some how during my feeding frenzy I blurted out something about Bajiou, that evil Chinese rice wine that somehow erases memories as it creates new ones in a sorgum cloud of fire water drunken out of lillputian sized thimbles and eagerly gulped down like wine at a Greek symposium.
It’s something I mentioned in passing between bites not something I asked for.

Now, I didn’t want to drink the damn stuff, I didn’t want to order the damn stuff and I didn’t want to finish the damn bottle but someone asked me, Are you an American or an American’t as they poured off the first round. The girls laughed at me and pointed, Gold my head bartender laughed at me and pointed, it was up to me and my all red, white and blue liver to stand up to these communists , which I pointed out to my pong yo’s (i.e. friends) and so I drank. Round after spiteful round at that little stand in the middle of the busy coble stone ancient street I drank and I drank for America till there were 3 passed out girls, two red faced guys who I’m not sure where I met and one bewildered restaurant lady. I was drunk, I was drunk for America. It was my Glen Beck moment.

Somehow at 8 in the Am I hoped a cab and headed back to home, my broken Chinese being belted out over busted baijo breath, bits of Xialong Bao on my shirt, fire in my stomach and the creeping thought that this is what it takes to be an American bartender in Shanghai.

Article 3 for Metrowize

American Bartender in Shanghai

Article 3

 

By Logan B.

 

Ever wanted to know what a pinball feels like when it's drank a bottle of counterfeit Macallan 12 and spent the last 6 hours bouncing from massive club to massive club in the hot humid neon filled arcade of a world that is Shanghai? Well follow along with us as we hit the clubs in Puxing, Metrowize style and you too can find out for yourself.

 

As a wandering rapscallion and part time trouble maker I've always been drawn to dive bars and bottles drank en out of brown paper bags, in the name of science though and for Metrowizes virtue I dared to subject myself to the night club scene in Shanghai, to discover how they do in this part of the world - what follows is an ear drum shattering oddessy of excess, betelnut, short shorts and ultimately Shailong Bao.

 

China, is over the top - its a mixture of two parts free range capitalism and 1 part communism with some expats thrown in the mix shaken and served neat in a rocks glass with a Tsing Tao chaser - which means, things don't end here - they just go on forever. I found this out first hand when I stepped into my first night club, Muse 2 - it's in the heart of downtown, in Hong Kong tower which is part high end shopping mall and part portal to la la land.

 

It's packed inside, the Dj's playing nothing but American hits, Jay Z, Biggie Smalls, Lady Gaga the normal club bangers on a massive system that just bleeds bass. I'm not sure if the club is free or not to get in, as a foreigner I find I can just waltz into most places - pretty casually as well. There are pretty women all over the world, beautiful women in some parts and absolutely stunning ones in Shanghai and since it's summer time they've all taken to wearing short shorts, short skirts and mostly follow a less is more attitude with clothing which is exactly the right attitude. The place is chock full of these signature stunners, a smile on my face  and blood being preparing itself to meet with a high alcohol content.

 

The big thing in the clubs is bottle service presented at your table - which I had arranged before hand - the good thing is the exchange rate is 1 US to basically 7 RMB so a bottle of Ketel One runs around 800 RMB which is a little over 100 US not bad at all for a bottle of booze in a hot night club. The cool thing is that at the clubs they'll have performers do live dance routines to some of the songs - or someone will come out and rap to a hip hop song, all sorts of entertaining things. On top of that they constantly bring you out fruit plates.

Now, I arrived at the club with one of my Bartenders, Gold, who was to serve as my trusted guide for the duration of the nights festivities. We showed up around 12 am and the place was packed - in a city of over 22 million everything is usually packed, this is a good thing. 

 

At our table they bring our bottle, 6 or 7 cans of Red Bull the Chinese version which is a smaller can, no carbonation and from the little chinese I understand is made with Bull Piss - which I hoping is what I heard because otherwise it's made with a part of the bull which doesn't belong in polite conversation. We start dowing the bottle, people join us, people leave, I find myself happy that the locals haven't yet discovered Ecstasy because I just don't what the effect would be on this many people in a club - what they have though is something called Betelnut. As a side note, I've only read about Betelnut in books and on the web - I've always wanted to try it, I've been waiting for this moment of betelnut discovery since I came to China, that it's finally happened has sent me into shock and awe.

 

Betelnut is some sort of nut that you put in the side of your mouth and chew on it as you drink, it keeps you from getting wasted no matter how much you drink - you're buzzed but you can down a few bottles and still be ok - it a wonder stimulant, it's legal in China (not the US) and like everything else out here, it's out of control. It give you an energy boost like caffeine but the down side is that it turns your teeth black after awhile. Needless to say, I'm investing in a teeth whitening session when I get back to the States.

 

With our new found Betelnut powers we left Muse 2 and went to Rich Baby, walking distance, louder bass, more beautiful women lots of singing dudes and this time at our table, fake macallan 12 and dice. There's a drinking game they play all over the place here called Liars Dice, I've seen it in the KTV's, I've seen it at Cafes - basically anywhere there is liquor there are dice and a cup. The gist is you shake a cup with 5 die in it and your opponent does the same, you then try to out bluff your opponent by saying you have a better hand - I didn't get all the rules because I was drunk - but that's the main idea - it's a drinking game so the loser has to drink, heavily.

 

Casual observations from behind a bar

It's funny the little things you notice that are different when making
drinks in Shanghai, the way some of the fruits are exactly the same as the stuff you have back in the states but yet not. For example, the apples are just not as sweet, the watermelon, while pink and vibrant in color is just dull tasting - almost lifeless. Or the imperceptible fact that the water is so polluted that rumor has it that if you brush your teeth with it your teeth will probably fall out due to the high amount of carcinogens and lead in the water which leaves everything to being made with bottled water and questionable ice cubes.

Then there are limes and lemons which are shadows almost of the citrus that we find in the States but this isn't a complaining article, it's just a thought. -a casual observation from someone who has been observing limes, lemons and other fruit related items his whole working life.

Then of course like anything else, there are the good things - fruits and flowers and smells I can't spell but will try anyway,  the Yao Mei berries, little red cherry looking bastards with the texture of the outside of a lychee but yet edible only available in Spring, the fragrant Guo Lai  flowers you can only find in Autumn who's heady smell is like a perfume that lays a heavy mist over the parks and lightens up my tea in the cold,  or roasted Chestnuts over a stone fire sold in street stalls in Winter - the stands and markets become something of an exercise in trust for me, a Lao Wei as I barely understand any Chinese but believe the smiling Wet Market hawkers when they tell me with wrinkled faces, crooked teeth and double happiness cigarette stained hands that yes, the carrots are only 3 Quai  for six, I believe them - because what choice do I have?

Other things pop up here, the fact that no matter where I go, or when I go there I always feel safe. Sure I have seen fights but not that many and none involving me. I've seen some traffic accidents but still I'm not involved. There is no graffiti, no gangs hanging out in corners and while I'm not naive enough to believe there is no crime I just don't see it ever and I'm someone who goes out looking for trouble, who gets black out drunk and walks down the street with thousands of RMB in his pocket without a care in the world down dark alleys and such looking for the sketchy clubs, chasing dragons under the moonlight as I dance with the devil and still I find it safe.

It's the people though that are the real difference, I'm not talking because they are different from me in appearance but in how they appreciate a drink, a meal and their time spent together. 

I'm fortunate to see from my perch behind the bar groups of friends or families or yes, lovers, who can sit at the bar or in one of the sofas at the lounge and really appreciate the time they spend together. That's something I admire in the Chinese that I don't find in myself - the willingness to take the time and hang out with  the people that are important in your life. I see groups of people sitting together for hours just enjoying each others company, sipping on new drinks I recommend, talking, making jokes with each other, texting, smoking and taking a step back, together. On the other hand, I'm like a Shark - always on the move, on to that next spot, meals only taking as long as it takes to cram food in my mouth and chew, drinks being absorbed almost immediately, no sense of pacing, no relaxation, just a constant search for something. Maybe it's a woman or another drink but I'm never still, always restless always going till I'm gone. 

With the new year around the corner maybe it's time we all take a second to stop, share our time with the ones we love, in the end, it's the only tip I've ever had that's been worth anything. 

drinking, bartending, Shanghai, China, expat, nightlife, adventure

A night in the life of An American Bartender in Shanghai

On a Friday in Shanghai 

The following account is all true

4pm

Get to work, generally make sure the bar is still there and that there hasn't been any revolts or coups going on in the restaurant

4:30pm

Staff meal and I debate between eating the free cafateria style food that my coworkers enjoy, example, Chicken Feet and and spicy "meats" with a side of what is sure to be stomach problems for me or spending 46 RMB at Wagas for some Pasta mei yo dysentery. 

4:32

Head to Wagas which is about a block away, pass the Apple store which is always packed this time of day, as is almost everything else on Huai Hai Lu, that is of course, except for my bar

5pm

Head back to work for our daily line up with the front of house staff. Talk with my Hao Pung Yo Benny for a bit, he shows me all the cool new apps he has on his iPhone 4, I have a stupid brick phone and so have no apps. Jerk. 

7pm

Try working on some recipes, start texting some friends back in the US

9pm - 12am

The bar is busy and we are debuting some new drinks I created, the Xiao Mei Mei being a personal favorite.

I realize one of the good things about what I do is that I constantly get to make new friends, talk to interesting people and generally as long as people are enjoying themselves I can consider my job well done. 

12:30

Finish at work and change into my street clothes. It's cold out and I have sweaters and jackets and such, but no scarves, which I need to grab.

Head across the street to M2 to catch up with a couple friends at their table. It's a packed local Chinese style nightclub where bottle service is key. It's way to loud inside and even though my Shong Di Adrian tells some beautiful Chinese women that in fact, I am Ben Affleck - I get a text and keep on moving on, after that is, playing some liars dice and drinking about half a gallon of Johnnie Walker Black Label and Green tea with some local girl with big, black contacts who tells me I am so beautiful and she loves all my films. 

1:15 am

I am starving and the noodle shop across from M2 looks deceptively inviting. I head over and order my favorite, vegetable noodle soup with tofu. This is a real Chinese hole in the wall, with shared seating in a 3 tabled little place. There are little orange stools you sit on that look like they were designed for pre-schoolers. The noodle slurping crowd inside is a mix of taxi drivers, KTV girls and red flush faced night clubbers, I as always, am the only Lao Wei, I'm stared at but for 9 RMB it's worth it. I have some absinthe from my flask and being the tallest and whitest man in the room I make my exit, always leaving them wanting more. 

1:30am

Take a cab to El Coctel, I know if I'm going out, out I should have at least one good cocktail in my system to wash away all the rubbish. One of the Japanese bartenders is a fan of mine, he caught some Hendrick Gin demonstration I gave a few weeks prior and has a bottle of Fernet specially on hold for me. I curse his kindness. 

2 am 

Hop in a taxi and debate whether I should call it a night or meet up with some friends at a KTV. 

Laugh at myself as I realize, no good stories start with, "well I was home reading one night"

2:15am

End up somewhere in bootsy  Shanghai at a Haoledie KTV for a friends birthday. Of course they are sining Justin Beiber and being the only Lao Wei again I realize it's my duty to due the Ludacris part, which as can be expected, I nail it.  I'm getting the creeping suspicion that I'm the token white friend

3 am

We have drank a lot of whiskey and I'm feeling woozy - it's time for some Western food and nothing is better then Pizza late night

3:15

Head to Velvet lounge for Pizza but the bar is dead - I have an old fashioned and try to plot out my next move. Squinting into the phone and trying to text if anyone is still out. 

3:20am

Success, I head to Mao to meet up with some girls I know. At this point I'm happy I don't need to wake up in the mornings

3:30 am

Stop in front of Mao and get some street noodles, for 5RMB per dish they are awesome, I don't know what is inside so I just point at what I want - I spend 15RMB gorging myself. 

3:40 am

Just before I walk into Mao a friend of mine at the Beaver Bar next to it waves me down, it's a Nigerian guy I know and he has a bottle of Jack Daniels that he needs some one to help him drink. I'm not a big JD fan but I help him out, for America. 

4:15 am

Run into a Taiwanese girl I know outside Mao and we head inside, I'm super amped on America and we buy a hookah and a bottle of Champagne at a booth. She practices her English as I practice not falling asleep. I snap to with a few red bulls and a some American music

6 AM

It's really time for bed, the sun is up and the birds are chirping, out on the street the former French Concession looks like someone took a bag full of party kids, shook them up and tossed them out on the road from a high altitude. There are people passed out everywhere, drunk models drinking Champagne and lost Germans singing songs about the heartland. 

There is a word for it, something to describe the polaroid of a moment but all I can think about is my bed or someone's bed, or just a bed. 

6:15 am

It's really bright and I'm finally headed home, another evening in Shanghai conquered. for a bu hao lao wei. 

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