The Bartender Named It After Himself, and That Is the Problem with THC Cocktails and Everything Else
I want to talk about a crime. Not a law crime, the other kind, the kind where somebody does something so brazen and so wrong in front of your face that you have to write it down, or you will never sleep again. This is about THC cocktails, regular cocktails, and specifically about a bartender who named a drink after himself as if that is an achievement a person should be proud of.
The drink was seventeen dollars. It had exactly four ingredients, one of which was ice, and ice is weather. I am not paying for weather. Weather is free. I checked. And yet there I was, staring at a menu that said, quote, "The Marcello." In italics. With a little description underneath that said, and I am reading this word for word, "Marcello's signature balance of smoke and citrus, a true expression of his craft."
His craft. MARCELLO'S craft. The man shook a bottle over a glass and put a burnt orange peel on it like he was leaving a trophy at the scene.
What a Name Is Actually For
Here is what a name is for. A name tells you who is responsible. That is the whole job. My name is Lou. When something goes wrong, people know where to point. When something goes right, same thing. Very simple system, works perfectly, has worked for thousands of years, and then Marcello showed up and decided his name on a drinks menu was a personality.
You know what earned a name? Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned. That drink has a name because I have opinions, I have been consistent about those opinions for decades, and the drink reflects exactly what I think a cocktail should be. Classic. Not fussed with. Not improved, because it does not need improving. Bitters, orange, oak, and 8mg THC because we are not animals, we are adults, and adults know their dose. The name is a statement of fact. "Damn right." That is not ego. That is documentation.
Marcello's name on a seventeen-dollar glass of smoke and citrus is not documentation. It is a monument. There is a difference.
The Part Where He Explained It to Me
I made the mistake of asking what was in it. Marcello, who I will remind you is a person with a job, stopped what he was doing, put both hands on the bar, and told me about his "process." He used the word "balance" four times. He said the smoke was "intentional." I did not ask if the smoke was intentional. I assumed it was intentional. I was not worried he had accidentally lit something on fire and handed it to me.
He said the drink was "a conversation." I said I would like a different conversation. He did not laugh. That is what happens when a bartender names something after himself: he loses his sense of humor, because the drink is now serious, because it is art, because it is Marcello's.
I left. I went home. I opened a Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned, which was in the fridge, right where I left it, not explaining itself to anyone.
The Whole Thing Is an Ego Problem Disguised as a Menu
Here is what I think is happening, and I have thought about this extensively, which is more than it deserves. These bartenders, these "mixologists," they watched someone else get famous for something and decided the path to fame runs through the cocktail list. So they name a drink after themselves and they wait. They are waiting to be discovered. At a bar. By someone ordering a drink on a Tuesday.
Nobody is coming, Marcello. Nobody is coming to the bar to discover you. They are coming to the bar because it has been a long week and they would like something that tastes like an old fashioned and does not give them a headache tomorrow morning. That is the whole story. There is no second act.
If you want to try the thing that actually solved this problem, it is sitting in the fridge right now. Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned, 8mg THC, no alcohol, no hangover, no bartender explaining his process to you. Just a classic cocktail that knows what it is and is not apologizing for it. If you want something with bubbles, Herb went and put his name on a peach bellini, which is a different argument for a different day but at least Herb admits he likes bubbles. Jane has a pomegranate cosmopolitan. Mary has a double espresso martini. The whole crew is represented. We did not name any of them after strangers.
You can grab a four-pack of Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned and skip the whole Marcello situation entirely. Or if you want to see what everybody else did with their names, the variety pack has all four, which is either a party or a very good Tuesday, depending on how the week went.
One More Thing About the Name
Marcello's drink will be off the menu in six months. Either Marcello moves to a different bar, or the bar gets sold, or the bar gets a new menu and they lose the one with the italics. That is what happens to drinks named after bartenders. They are temporary. They are the concept car: impressive in the showroom, gone by Thursday.
Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned is named after a man who has been stubborn about the same things for thirty years. That is not going anywhere. The watch on my wrist stopped in 2009 and I still wear it, because something that knew what it was at its best does not need to change to stay right.
The drink was the same way. It knew what it was from the beginning. Classic. Straight up. Eight milligrams. Damn right.
That is not an ego. That is a track record. There is a difference, and if you need me to explain it, you should probably order a drink first.
Herb and Lou's THC cocktails contain 8mg hemp-derived THC per can. For adults 21 and older only. Not for sale where prohibited by law. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Please drink responsibly.
← Back to all opinions