Dave Broom's

Still Life

UK bars would do well to look at the Japanese approach to bartending and attempt to find their own niche. Dave Broom believes that it could be the key to their survival...

You don’t notice it a first, but as you tune into your surroundings there’s a background soundtrack to Japanese bars. It’s there, behind the muted conversation, behind the (inevitable) jazz, a scratching, a chinking, a chipping. A moment of quiet in service means it’s time for the barkeep to take out his tiny ice pick and start carving. Small blocks for the water, large ones for rocks drinks, balls for the Negroni. In Tokyo recently, I thought a bartender was going to burst into tears because the ice blocks he had made were slightly too big to fit into my glass. Perfection is the key.

It’s easy to dismiss this as deference, or suffocating politeness, but it’s not. This is service of the highest order which is done with a natural ease. Let me explain. Three of us walk into a Tokyo bar. I’m having a Martini, you are having a neat whisky with water on the side and the third member of the party, as the driver, is sticking to water.

Each drink is made with exactly the same care. All are served precisely and elegantly. In other words, the way that water is served is as important as the way a cocktail is. When was the last time you saw that happen in the UK?

Japan is the last great repository of classic bartending skills and though there is a polite battle underway between a new generation and the old school, even the most radical of the modernisers hold firm to the principles of classicism. That means that while you can find molecular experiments, or bartenders throwing away recipe books and relying instead on an intuitive flavour-led school, the importance of quality, presentation and service has not been diminished in any way.

The UK bar trade cannot replicate wholesale the Japanese approach. What barkeep could operate a one- or two-man bar which only seats a dozen people? That said, while the UK shouldn’t simply copy what works in another and very different culture, there are aspects which should be absorbed.

Those tiny Japanese operations have given rise to a bar scene where the best outlets are manifestations of the owner’s personality: the reserved bartender serving in old style classicism, the experimental cocktail king in his modernist surroundings, the garrulous saloon owner in his noisy boisterous kingdom. The chain mentality, the itchy desire for constant refits, the obsession with following trends, means that this concept of a bar growing organically with its owner is an exception over here.

These bars fill very precise niches, but the best do it perfectly. The bars which will hold on in a time of economic uncertainty will be those which have a niche, which have personality and warmth and, vitally, which know how important service is. We often confuse good service with servility. It’s not. Service may, however, be essential to your survival.

What I’ve been drinking...

For distillers, ‘use what grows around you’ is one of the maxims of the spirits world and, mostly, it works perfectly well: barley to whisky, grapes to brandy, cane to rum. What happens though if you are surrounded by tar pits? Weather-proof your houses I suppose. No-one in their right mind would make a drink out if it… would they? Trouble is, no one has told the Finns that.

‘As far as we know, you won’t find these products anywhere else in the world,’ says my new best friend Kaisu Luukkonen of Shaman Spirits (00 358 50 559 9956). You don’t say! ‘Tar has been used in Finnish folk-medicine as a remedy for all sorts of problems. We Finns have a saying that, “If tar, spirit (alcohol) or sauna doesn’t help, the disease is mortal”.’

As far as I know I was perfectly healthy when I tried the two samples she sent across. Terva Snapsi and Terva Wiina (I guess ‘terva’ is Finnish for tar, but since the only thing I know how to say in Finnish is ‘white postbox’, don’t take my word for it). Both are made with spirit, flavoured with tar water, other natural ingredients and sweetened with sugar.

Islay malt nuts will love the Terva Snapsi, which reminds me of a freshly tarred road in the sunshine. On the tongue it’s medium sweet and light (it’s only 21% abv) with well-balanced tarry notes. The finish is clean and there’s a hit of hot-smoked salmon skin. I like!

The Terva Wiina is stronger at 37% abv and has a fruitier nose mixed with thyme and, duh, tar but here it’s more dried bitumen and slight earthiness. The palate is bittersweet and is more akin to a cough pastille. Sweet to start, it dries into smouldering birch twigs on the finish. I’m going to stick my neck out here and suggest that these would be a very, very interesting addition to the barkeep’s armoury.

The using-what-surrounds-you theme continues with my next top tipple. St Nicholas Abbey is a Jacobean mansion in Barbados surrounded by cane fields and, as we speak there’s a distillery being built in its grounds. For now it is sourcing its rum from Richard Seale: the first release is this 10 year old (40% abv). It is hugely expressive with passion fruit, fried banana, honey and subtle molasses with balanced nutty oak. The palate is syrupy with more citrus alongside jasmine and a balancing sawdusty grip. Elegant and complex, this is a must-stock. (Vanquish Wine 020 7478 8954.)

A beer for every occasion

As it was my first visit, I didn’t really know what to expect from Canada, and as my destination was Toronto, which most Canadians seem to have a dislike of, I was even more in the dark. Dunno what they were moaning about. I found Toronto a fine place: great music scene, some suitably sleazy blues dives and a bonkers hostelry called The Red Light Bar.

The real jewel however was one of those echoing chrome and dark wood shells in the financial district. You know the kind of place: all suits and noise at 5pm then dead from 7.30pm. Not here. This is rammed every night until the 2am kick-out.

It’s called the Beer Bistro and has taken beer to a new level of sophistication. This isn’t just a pub with a massive selection, Beer Bistro approaches beer as if it were wine. The extensive list, assembled by beer writer Steve Beaumont is divided by occasion into 14 categories: Quenching, Crisp, Sociable, Appetising, Bold, Satisfying, Spicy, Robust, Contemplative, Soothing, Fruity and Unpredictable… then there’s smoky beers and gluten-free brews. Local microbrews feature heavily, but there’s bottled and draught from around the globe. Everything has a tasting note. All the food is cooked with beer and paired with one of the styles. That’s not just radical and innovative, dammit it’s sensible! So who’s taking up the challenge here?

Editorial feature from Imbibe Magazine - July / August 2009