9th of Zi'da, Arc 720
Cierne was working with Delilah tonight. It had been requested of her to practice her mixology skills and Delilah was one of the best bartenders of the tavern, so it wasn’t surprising that Cierne was coupled with her to learn some new tricks of the bar.
She had arrived promptly for her shift, giving her a window of about ten minutes before she actually needed to start working. She wasn’t going to be tending the bar tonight, but she would be working alongside whoever did. So long as she didn’t get in the way, Delilah would teach her some fundamentals about crafting new drinks and how to serve them.
Cierne would assist whoever worked the bar if the night got too busy, but her employer hadn’t exactly sectioned off a specific time for her to practice. He had reasoned that the best way to learn would be on the job. The Naer was satisfied with this. Not only would she be getting paid, but she could also resume her normal schedule with the assistance of Delilah.
She strode over to the far side of the bar, the section where most patrons never sat, and tucked her coat in a cubby under the counter. She quickly tied her hair up into a ponytail and swept her bangs behind her ears with a nimble finger.
Delilah casually strolled out from the back of the tavern where she had been conversing with their boss about what techniques Cierne would be learning tonight.
“What are we starting with?” She asked, watching as Delilah put on an apron from a coat stand beside her. She was one of the few who actually wore aprons. They weren’t mandatory, but some people wore them because making drinks could be a messy duty.
“I’ll let you decide what we start with,” she responded with a glimmer in her eye. She was wearing a thick smear of kohl under her bottom lashes giving her an additional five arcs to her true age. She looked pretty, admired Cierne, though her stubbornness would never audibly admit it.
“How about some bar lingo?” She suggested, grabbing a clean dish rag and wiping down the counter in front of her. It had gotten dirty from the last person and they hadn’t bothered to clean their station before leaving for the night.
Delilah leant on the counter after Cierne had finished wiping it down.
“Well first of all, we like to call the bar the stick. Like, ‘I’m working behind the stick tonight’. That being said, sometimes we refer to the drinks we make as stick drinks, though I wouldn’t say that to any of our patrons because they’d probably just look at you funny.”
How strange, Cierne thought, stuffing the knowledge in a section of her brain for later use. She didn’t know when she’d apply these facts, but perhaps she could test it out with her coworkers to better fit in.
“Neat is a term we use when we pour a drink straight from the bottle into a glass. So if someone asks for a drink neat, that’s what they mean,” she continued.
Cierne raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “What’s it matter how the drink is poured?” She asked, throwing the dirty dish rag under the counter in a bin specially allocated for used towels.
Delilah’s eyes grew large. “Oh, it means everything! For instance, if someone requests a drink be made straight up, they want it stirred with ice before being poured into a glass. The drink gets slightly diluted that way. Or if you strain your drink.” Delilah flicked a nonexistent speck of dust off her shoulder and shrugged nonchalantly. “Sometimes we crush up herbs to make a drink and you don’t want that stuff getting into the glass you’ll serve to your guest.”
Cierne enjoyed learning about the lingo used in the bar. It made her feel more professional in a casual kind of way to be able to talk to people using slang. She remembered buying her first liquor at a store. She had to point to the bottle on the shelf above the cashier because she didn’t know what it was called. It was a large bottle of tequila, but there had been many other bottles of tequila right beside the one she had been pointing at. The cashier had asked her if she meant a fifth of tequila and, not knowing if that's what she indeed wanted, she just nodded her head feeling slightly embarrassed for having not known the correct term.
“Speaking of straining cocktails,” Delilah said, interrupting the Naer’s reminiscing. “You don’t really want to serve the ice you mixed your drink with.”
“Why’s that?” Cierne asked, joining her coworker in leaning on the counter.
“The ice is broken down and won’t last long, so straining is kind of important for making better drinks.”
That made sense. Ice melted which in turn watered down a beverage. That would probably make the patron angry considering they most likely came to a bar to order a strong drink to, well, get drunk.
“Which brings me to my next point. I’ve noticed you’ve been serving a lot of ice with your drinks.”
Cierne felt her cheeks get hot and knew they must have taken on a pink tone. She knew she was being accused of doing something wrong no matter how kindly Delilah came about mentioning it.
“People tend to drink their cocktails quick enough that an excessive amount of ice isn’t necessary. Plus, if left to melt, it’ll just dilute the drink faster.”
“That makes sense,” Cierne replied, making a mental note to correct her future actions of adding ice to her drinks.
“And you only need to garnish the first couple of drinks. After a while, not only do they just get thrown away, but your guest will be drunk enough not to notice if you skimp out on a few here and there. Saves us money if you do.”
Cierne had gotten in trouble before for not garnishing her drinks. Perhaps she had gotten in trouble for not garnishing any of them, but this advice Delilah was giving her was still contradictory to what her boss had told her. Who was she to agree with and who was she to follow the advice of? Perhaps, she thought, she’d stick to doing what her boss asked when he was watching and continue to limit her garnishing when he wasn’t. That seemed like a decent plan of action to her.
Cierne pushed off from the table and grabbed a clean glass from the drying rack.
“Can you show me how to properly rim?” She asked, holding out the glass for Delilah to take.
“Oh, sure! Rimming is one of my favorite things to do as a bartender,” she mentioned, taking the glass from Cierne and grabbing a clean plate from off the shelf overhead. She elegantly snatched a bag of sugar and poured a small amount out onto the plate.
“Sugar is often used to rim glasses of margaritas, but you’ll get the occasional individual who wants their drink rimmed with salt.”
Cierne watched her shudder.
“I can’t stand salt on my rim,” she continued.
“Why not? Aren’t you not supposed to eat it?” Cierne asked, backing up to allow Delilah some more space to work with.
“Well, your lips have to touch something when you take your first drink. But after that, it’s up to you if you want to finish off what’s on the rim. I personally like taking sips from different parts of the glass so each drink I take has a little sugar in it.” She smiled widely and chuckled to herself before taking the glass and applying water to the rim. She then gently set the glass down upside down so the rim was fully submerged in sugar. After it was submerged in sugar, she dutifully retracted the glass and showed Cierne.
“Viola!” She announced with an enormous amount of enthusiasm.
“There’s really not that much to it; no special technique. Just don’t apply too much pressure or you’ll be like Jacque and get in trouble for breaking glasses.”
Cierne opened her mouth in awe. She had heard of Jacque before. He was another bartender known for somehow making a lot of tips, but never had she heard of him breaking glasses. “He’s broken glasses before?” She inquired.
Delilah raised her hand and flung up three fingers. “Three glasses. Boss man eventually told him no more rimming so that’s where I came in, ha!” Her laugh was so beautiful, Cierne noted. It swam majestically through her ears. Oh, how she wished she had a laugh like that!
She admired Delilah and what a good worker she was. She obviously liked what she did and thus made a good role model for the Naer.
“Oh, before I forget, you can use the same plate to rim multiple glasses that way the sink doesn’t get filled with dirty dishes. I don’t know about you, but I hate doing dishes.”
Cierne chuckled and gave Delilah a look that told her she agreed. She hated cleaning in general, but knew it was required of her as mentioned in her job description.
She was so eager to learn more, especially from such a free spirited woman. Cierne pressed Delilah to continue with her teachings, thankful for once that her shift wasn’t even half over with.
“What’s next?” She asked with a beaming smile.
Delilah raised an eyebrow mischievously and smirked. “So much more.”
OOC
The whole ‘fifth of tequila’ incident is a true story, lol. I felt like a fool! :p
x
I might use some of it in my own writing as well!