James Joseph Emerald’s Entry

[Be A Character In TalysMana Contest Entry -- http://TalysMana.com -- James Joseph Emerald's Entry]

I’m a creator. I create pleasure, fun, excitement. I’m a performer. I amaze, enthrall, entice. I have the imagination of an artist, with the detailed knowledge of a scientist. I use whimsy and precision, together, to approach perfection. Every time.

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “boy, this guy sounds like he’s got the most glamourous job in the world!” Well, you might be surprised. I am a bartender. And although it can be glamourous, it’s probably one of the most frustrating things a person could ever work as. At least, it is for me.

I invent cocktails. I am what some would refer to as a “mixologist”, though I always found that term to be silly. A fancy word just for the sake of it, with no real meaning. It isn’t even accurate. Being a good bartender — even making a good cocktail — isn’t just studying what to mix with what. Maybe it’s just pointless perfectionism, but I find there is so much more to it. I’ve put a lot of research into the science of taste, and I have a degree in psychology (which isn’t exactly relevant, but it shows where I’m coming from with this), so I put a lot of thought into every drink I pour. I try not to bore people with the details, but it goes beyond balancing tastes and colours, into the realms of the unfathomable. The basics are instinctual — like anything one is truly good at, I could hardly explain what I’m doing half the time — but the beauty is in the nuance. The ability to pick up on the mood of a patron, and make small alterations to the recipe, to account for it, is something I pride myself on. Sweet, sour, savoury, salty, bitter — all of them have effects on the human psyche. It’s part of a survival mechanism: sweetness is comforting (appetitive, signalling desirable food), bitterness is exciting (aversive, typically signalling toxic or harmful foods; danger), et cetera. The perfect cocktail is in the mouth of the beholder, after all; a matter of taste.

I’ve worked in a lot of bars around Dublin. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I’m famous, or anything, but I have a reputation in certain circles. The main obstacle is my outlook. You see, bars in Ireland fall into two categories: “trendy bars”, for spoiled pretentious yuppies, clad in designer outfits, who haven’t done an honest day’s work in their life, and need to have model-quality good looks just to get past the bouncers; and the rest, which are simply outlets designed to capitalise on our national pastime — binge-drinking. As I’m sure you can tell, I have no love for either, and there really isn’t a middle ground. So I drift from bar to bar, trying to find the right place for me, pretty much starting over every time. I have a few fans, but like I said, I’m not famous.

I do have a signature cocktail, in case you were wondering. Or two. The first is the Emerald Miracle, which is a pun on my surname (and its colour), and the second is the more popular Cobalt Miracle, which is another pun, reflecting both its colour, and the fact that Cobalt Blue pigment is a poison, like alcohol (of course, there’s no actual Cobalt in the drink!)

The recipes are quite simple: the Emerald is just melon liqueur and gin, while the Cobalt is Blue Curacao, Cointreau and dry Vermouth. Simple and easily remembered, means easily varied. But the key to them — and what makes them popular and exotic — is the ‘Miracle’ part. The miracle fruit is a berry native to West Africa, which contains a certain chemical called ‘miraculin’. Nobody knows quite how it works, but it is able to bond to the tongue’s taste buds, ultimately making everything taste sweeter for the next half an hour or so. (Article: http://www.imbibemagazine.com/Miracle-Fruit) The Emerald, which is already quite sweet, becomes overpowering — a mistake I learned from, though some people seem to enjoy it, oddly enough — but the Cobalt Miracle works perfectly, as the bitter liqeuers are magically transformed by science. It’s a majestic duality. And it’s a reminder that despite all our technological advances, nature still has plenty of mysterious wonders to offer.

But as satisfying as it is to invent a new, out-of-the-ordinary cocktail which people really enjoy, and as challenging as it is to make each one as great as the last, it is also very frustrating. Few are daring enough to try new things. The kids all want their alcopops and ciders (that’s the high-alcohol European kind), the yuppies all want the latest faddy drink (even if it’s terrible, they’ll force themselves to “acquire the taste”, the irony being that the fashion trend will move on before they even come to stand it) and the men all want their familiar beers (yep, you guessed it: Guinness). The sad truth is that when it comes to alcoholic beverages — especially in Ireland — nobody cares about passion or finesse. They just want to either look cool, or get drunk.

But I don’t dwell on it. After all, your average paperback reader just wants mushy clichéd romance novels, or brainless slashers, but that doesn’t stop talented writers from going out and pouring their hearts and souls into their work. I pour mine into a glass. Don’t ask me why. I guess my father was always the old fashioned type: loves drinking good whiskey and smoking cigars — even brews his own honey mead — and it rubbed off on me a bit. Drinks are one of the big things we talk about. But ultimately, it’s a great creative outlet. One of the few that engage all five senses at once.

So there you have it: James Joseph Emerald, the bartender. Perhaps not what you were expecting, but I hope I’ve made a worthy case for the creativity — and conflicts — involved.

[999 words (Not including header and footer, in bold). Kinda cheeky, eh?]