At the dawn of the age of nouvelle cuisine, call it the early ’80s, servers at American restaurants took to boring the pants off us poor diners, reciting the chef’s every dish, every method, every ingredient down to its elementary particles in a such a precious, self-congratulatory tone that the only menu choices became: a) kill him; or b) kill self.

Don’t let this happen to you, bartenders (er, mixologists) of the world.

The American cocktail movement is exciting, no question, no reservations. I have nothing but admiration for what Dale Degroff, Audrey Saunders, Doug Frost, Dave Wondrich and my good friend, Gallant Gaz Regan, have done to elevate the craft. They, and others like them who are leading the way, are utterly sincere and motivated by love of quality and panache. What’s happening is exciting and new.

But as the simple bartender is elevated to Mixologist Guru, there will be a temptation by the newbies and hangers-on to self-seriousness. To elevate bartenders is to tempt certain of them to diva behavior. You’ve seen it: a bartender so full of him (her)self that customer service is no longer a priority. The spotlight is all.

I’m not saying this is happening, only that it could. And being Irish, a man who’s seen the inside of a saloon a time or two, including a few years as a bartender at places high, low and disco, I  cringe at the thought.

If it gets tricked-out and trendy, the movement could die. Trends come and go. What’s fabulous today looks dated, old and pathetic two days from now. That’s the American way—to put a fond spin on it, it’s our restless spirit. To put an unkind spin on it: it’s our short attention spans and constant need to reinvent and commercialize for the sake of cashing in.

Many years ago I was at a bar in New York’s Greenwich Village called Hogs and Heifers. At one point, the rockabilly music got LOUD and three or four of the cowgirl bartenders jumped onto the bar and started a line-dance-y-kicker-stompy sort of thing. They actually kicked their customers’ (the slow ones’) drinks off the bar. Splattered with beer, seeing a shot glass whistle past my head I remember thinking, this is kinda cool. And kinda stupid, too. They were treading that fine line that Spinal Tap explored so memorably.

Years later, that trend became Coyote Ugly. It turned into Disney. And it was done.

So if you don’t believe this wondrous trend of exquisite cocktails crafted by caring and charming mixologists can turn to mush in the hands of dilettantes and marketers, I have two words for you: flair bartending.

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