Bring your own drinks recipe

The drink you order says a lot about you. So does the way you order it.

“These things are an epidemic,” read a recent post in the r/bartenders subreddit.

The "thing" in question was a business-sized card printed with the specs for a cocktail. In this case, it was for something called a Fire & Ice, which called for six mint leaves, two cucumber slices, two jalapeño slices, and three wedges of lime. These were to be muddled in a mixing glass, to which two ounces of Tito’s were added. Shake, then double strain into a glass with a large cube of ice, and top with soda water. Thank you!

Images from r/bartender

For the past few weeks, bartenders on Reddit have been reporting that these cards have been cropping up more and more. Customers come in and slide them across the bar with a knowing nod, one that says, here’s my drink, buddy. Make it nice. Reports of this small plague began with a card from someone evidently named Frank, who wanted a perfect Manhattan variation, apparently at a bar in Las Vegas. His preferred Manhattan involved four ounces of Crown Royal, a half-ounce each of sweet and dry vermouth, and two cherries. “I’d appreciate if you’d measure. Thanks,” the card added.

That brought out other bartenders who’d been subjected to these uninvited marching orders. One requested a drink made with Ketel One and Red Bull (“no sugar free”), and another with Tito’s and “a swirl of vermouth,” shaken vigorously.

What’s going on here? Circumstances sometimes call for such cards — a patron may have speech or hearing impairments. But that typically hasn’t been the issue with these. They seem more a play for status and stature.

A clue might be found in the history of what were once called social cards, or sometimes calling cards or visiting cards. These date back to early Egypt — well-off visitors to temples left ceramic tiles with their names and titles. Paper versions ran rampant in France and England in the 18th century and were “essential social accessories for the fashionable and wealthy,” according to one account.

In the Victorian era, when you wanted to visit a person of some importance, you couldn’t call or email ahead. You arrived and knocked on the door and someone — butler, servant, house manager — would answer. You presented your card, which suggested that you, too, were a person of some means. The someone would close the door on you and retreat inside, while you stood awkwardly on the stoop, awaiting to find out if you were deemed worthy of an audience — and, as such, where you fell in the social pecking order.

These cards were social markers. And these cocktail cards may serve a similar purpose.

Images from r/bartender

Here’s what I suspect the bearers of such cocktail cards are thinking when presenting one:

"I am a man (note: almost always a man) of great refinement and superior tastes, and possessed of a certain sophistication, which puts me above the rabble in this bar. I would appreciate it if you would adhere to the standards I have set for myself, and make this drink to these exact specifications."

Of course, for bartenders, the message is somewhat different. The cards say:

"Hello, I am an insufferable idiot so crippled by social anxiety and other pathologies related to my status within my friend group that I must arm myself with these faux-sophisticated cards printed at home on my Epson printer. I cannot afford a Cybertruck, but I can afford these cards."

The bartender responses on Reddit have not been wholly favorable. Among them:

"I’m not gonna count the fucking mint leaves dude."
"I would love to rip that card in half and tell them to order a real drink like a real human being."
"Fireball and Rumplemintz is what you are getting."

Some replies have been more charitable. “At least for once the customer knows what the fuck they want and is able to communicate the information efficiently,” wrote Megacodzilla. “Nothing like being four deep on a Saturday night and some dipshit is wasting your time trying to describe some cocktail they had three years ago in some other city.”

Curious about how widespread this “epidemic” was, I reached out to a half-dozen bartenders around the country to see if they’ve noticed a locust-like plague of cocktail request cards. They have not.

“I only had one experience with them and that was in the early 2000s,” reported a bar owner in Georgia.
“My staff in Chapel Hill report that no recipe cards have been presented,” wrote another.
“We’ve definitely seen it,” said a bar owner in Maine. “I dunno how common it is, or if it’s increasing.”

I should note that all the bar folks I reached out to operate or work in bars that are among the craftier of craft bars, places where customers typically migrate because they want to taste what bartenders at the top of their form can produce. Bringing in your own specs here would be like going to Alinea in Chicago with a written request for your preferred burger toppings.

If these spec cards are increasingly common, as Reddit seems to think, it may be that this afflicts mostly midlevel bars — not quite dives, but neither contenders for “50 Best.” After all, the drink cards reported on Reddit have typically been for vodka drinks, or focused on boosting potency (“4 ounces of Crown Royal”). The goal doesn’t appear to be obtaining the ideal drink, but boosting your status among your peers, just as social climbers sought to rise from the middle class in the 19th century by adopting the perceived habits of those on the rungs above them.

However, I may be reading too much into this.

How to respond if you’re behind the bar? Maybe think like a butler, ca. 1880:
"I’m afraid they’re not receiving just now," was a gentle way of sending an unwelcome caller onward.

Perhaps this response can be repurposed for those who find these cocktail cards irksome. I’d suggest: Hold the card aloft for several seconds and give it serious consideration. Nod, then take it down to the other end of the bar and consult with your barback — or really, anyone who happens to be handy. Then return and say, "I’m afraid we’re not receiving these cards right now." If you’re feeling loquacious, you can add, "We’re too busy," or "We don’t have all the ingredients." But that’s optional.