28 things I've learned by my 28th birthday.

Today is my birthday. I thought about what to write for my entry this week. The following is a collection of 28 things I have learned in my 28 years that may be worth sharing.

1. Cold drinks are most delicious with plenty of ice cubes. Hot drinks are best in mugs you can wrap both hands around. This is known.

2. Whenever making a drink, keep flavors separate. Why make a lemon/blackberry syrup and chance screwing it up when you can make one that is lemon, the other is blackberry, and mix them at whatever ratio you want? There is a larger metaphor to life here somewhere. I'm sure you'll find it. Thanks, Bear.

3. You can graduate friends into family, but do it with caution. Often times we rush our evaluation of people; take your time to trust, but don't be afraid to do it. Thanks, Zach.

4. There are a few foods out there called super foods, but they aren't what you think. They simply make other food better. Some of these are bacon, cheese, red pepper flakes and Sriracha sauce. Apply liberally to your favorite dishes. This is important for morale.

5. You need to read more books. I don't care how many you read, you need to read more. Watching the movie adaptation counts as net negative books read.

6. Being an asshole knows no boundaries to race, gender, sexuality, nationality or economic class. Choose to dislike who you dislike based off the merit of how big of a douchebag they are and for no reason otherwise.

7. In every group of friends, a team, or a staff, there is an asshole that nobody likes but everyone tolerates. Much like the smelly kid in fourth grade, if you don't know who it is, it's probably you.

8. Stop complaining. It is a useless waste of time and you should be ashamed of yourself every time you do it. Don't like your job? Quit. Don't like where you live? Move. Don't like your life? Change. Complaints are simply excuses as to why you are too scared to make a real transformation of your life.

9. You can do anything for 30 seconds. This simple phrased was drilled into my head at Wai Kru MMA in Boston when I was learning Muay Thai. Kru Mark Nardone would yell this at us whenever it looked like we would quit in conditioning or sparring. 30 seconds would turn into 45, which would turn into a minute. Often time people quit before they try; you are capable of so much more than you know. Thanks Kru John, Nicky Boom-Boom, and Kru Mark.

10. Wisdom knows no age. Adults often forget the simple truths that children instinctively know. Examples of these: enjoy the little things, be kind for no reason, or if Mom says no, ask Dad.

11. It is highly likely that you were an annoying little shit when you were a teenager. It wasn't entirely your fault, but you will owe your parents apologies for those years for the entirety of your life. I suggest a nice vacation. Sorry, Mom.

12. Vengeance and retribution, while satisfying to the ego, are some of the most self destructive things you can do. Pain is an integral part of being human; feeling pain is part of existence. Hurting others robs you of your humanity. If I could change anything in my past, it would not be the ways that others hurt me, but rather the times that I decided to hurt others physically or emotionally.

13. Big ice cubes are always better than little ones. Why? Science.

14. Be content with spending time alone. It is good for the soul. Try to truly isolate yourself once in a while. That being said, too much time spent without meaningful human contact is not healthy. Alone and lonely are very different things.

15. Nature and sunlight heal the human mind. This is not an opinion, this is science. Go outside, preferably with a dog. (That is an opinion.) Things make more sense out there. Thanks, Joe and Rick.

16. The universe is not a malevolent entity. It is not out to get you any more than it is there to help you. It is ambiguous to your existence. It's not against you, it just doesn't care. Your time here is small and insignificant, so live humbly. Taking it personally makes you bitter. Bitterness leads to fear. Fear leads to the dark side. The dark side leads you to acting like an asshole. Seriously, I am a case study in this.

17. Listen to the advice of fictional characters. Yoda, Samwise, and The Dude have some serious knowledge to drop on you.

18. Stop idolizing the wrong people. America was at it's greatest when it's heroes were scientists, entrepreneurs, parents, and explorers, not entertainers, reality TV stars and those who became rich through dishonest means. Get your priorities straight; the next generation will follow your lead.

19. A good and honest life is filled with hard work, dedication, anonymous charity and love. Mr. Burke, thank you.

20. Have a buddy confiscate your phone when you are going out to do some serious drinking. It will save you the humiliation of apologizing to your boss, ex, or crush in the morning.

21. Never stop seeking the counsel of your parents. Ever. There is nothing a beer with Dad or a home cooked meal from Mom can't fix. If it doesn't work the first time, repeat until it is effective. Everyone else in your life may betray you, but they won't. Mom and Dad, I love you.

22. Learn forgiveness. For many it does not come naturally and must be practiced. Of course, this applies to the forgiveness of others but more importantly to that of yourself.

23. Don't apologize for how much you work, be it too much or too little. If you work too little, be prepared to be considered "lazy," but hey, at least you can enjoy your lifestyle. If you work too much, know that it will be stressful and sometimes damaging to your personal relationships. Even the idea of "too little" or "too much" is a relative term, usually defined by those that are not doing the labor, so take those terms with a grain of salt. Make your choice and live with the consequences.

24. Happiness is a choice and so is sadness. Don't forget that its sometimes ok to not be ok. Allow yourself room to grieve and mourn when it is appropriate, but know when to call it quits and work on moving forward. Don't let anyone put a limit on how long you "should" feel something. Thank, Julia.

25. Living in the past is shadowboxing with ghosts. Living in the future is a great way to set yourself up for disappointment. Learn from your choices of the past, cringe, laugh, and let go of your regrets. Make plans for the future, but don't do so at the detriment of the present. The only thing you can address in this moment is this moment.

26. Know when to ask for help and don't be too proud to take it. A smart person knows their limits of the knowledge, abilities and resilience; seek the help of those who know more or can see clearer than you.

27. When you were young, it seemed like the adults of the world knew what they were doing. You were mistaken. We are all just figuring it out the best we can as we go. The older you get, the more you should realize what you don't know.

28. Follow your own advice.

Thank you for the birthday wishes.

Regards,
The Bar Fight

Heartbreak, loss, and picking up the pieces.

2am, sitting alone in a closed restaurant, is one of the few places you cannot escape your own thoughts.

I can feel my heart begin to race with terrible anxiety even at the thought of writing this, however with the amount of people that have read this blog, a chronicle of my navigation through this industry, it was only a matter of time until I gathered the courage to be vulnerable again and let you know what is happening. You may have noticed it has been a considerable amount of time since I have written anything.

My wife left me.

Those four simple words have been the hardest thing I have ever had to write and has been the source of my nightmares for the last 5 months of my life. This post; however, is not about her. It's not about our relationship. It's not about blame and it's not about self pity because all of that has been resolved in my mind. I am finally coming back to a person that I recognize when I look in the mirror and whose voice feels familiar again. It's a funny thing, having your entire life yanked from under your feet. But as I sit here waiting for my batch of ginger beer to cook, planning my next batch of sodas (watermelon-mint, banana cream and honey cardamom, anyone?) for the busy season, I decided to write about this experience because strangely, you have a right to know.

The second time she left me and it was clear that she would not be returning, I did what most people do: I drank myself useless. I lived in the bottom of a bottle for an uncomfortable amount of time. I reverted back to a pathetic shell of myself and watched as all of my passion, drive, and dedication dissolved into a glass of whisky. It's so easy to hide away and blame the universe for your misfortune, and I did it without a second thought.

My parents, family, and friends all did their best to drag me out of it. It didn't work for a long time; it took a moment of clarity and emergency that I will expand on at a later date, perhaps when I finally organize this entire chronicle into a book I've long since been meaning to publish. Waking up to look at the empty closet where her things used to be, the gaps where pictures used to be, and the empty place that my dog used to sleep was almost more than I could bear. Life was difficult.

It's strange, walking around with a storm raging inside you and trying to appear "fine." It eats up your thoughts and demands every ounce of your attention. You find yourself walking dead, not sleeping, not eating, and wallowing in self pity dipped in booze. Selfish is the only word that can be used.

I have learned the painful lesson that grief and loss come in many different forms. I've been a student of this inconvenient truth since as early as I care to remember. Loss is a universal thing that effects us all. Your friends and family will die. Those you love may break their promises. Things will happen that you cannot control, and at a certain point, you realize there is a single course of action that can be taken:

Let go.

At a certain point when dealing with such loss and sadness, you make a choice. It was the words of my bosses that really brought me to the place. Moh would tell me every day that it would get better. Only recently did I believe him. Ahmad told me that you must be the captain of your own destiny, and to decide if you will sink or you will thrive. At the time, the words settled into my mind and sat there, untouched and unrecognized until much later. Then it hit me.

Of the 16,000 readers I have (and thanks to each and every one of you!) some of you may be going through something like this. Loss comes for us all.

Mourn your losses. Take your time to grieve, but at a certain time, it is time to put back on your apron and get back to work. Stuff can be replaced. Your life can be rebuilt, one piece at a time. Find something to pour yourself into again. I found a Great Dane named Lola who has become the light of my life. I started to make sodas and crunch numbers and mix drinks and remembered why it is that I love this job. I quit smoking cigarettes and started working out again. Every day you wake up, it stings a bit less, and you feel a bit stronger. You fall back on your friends and family and remember that you have worth.

I've long since had a favorite saying: "water finds it's own level." People usually look at me puzzled when I say this, but I always see it as a perfect ethos. Sometimes there are forces in your life that will rush in like a tsunami and wash away all of the things you have built in your life that may be good or bad. There is no stopping such huge forces, so you must let go and allow it to run its course. It will leave a wake of destruction, but at the end, the tide will roll back, the sun will shine the clearer, and the water will be exactly where it needs to be. Water finds its own level.

Have heart, dear reader. Life will likely never play out the way you hope, though it happens for its own grand reason. All you can do is experience your loss and try to push forward once again. If you take a single thing from this post, it is this:

Never forget that the sun also rises.

An ode to Mrs. Meagher.

Integerity. This is the word that I have been living for over the last few months as I open up Driftwood Kitchen, my newest endeavor on H Street. Every time I make a move or a hire or a decision, I bring that word to the front of my mind. Integrity.

I mention this to tell you about my staff. I have had the great fortune to have met, over the years, hundreds of talented people within the restaurant industry. I was able to hire a bunch of them to work with me at Driftwood Kitchen. Unlike most other situations, I trust these people. I have either worked with them before or have worked with someone who can vouch for them. And I have taken my keys off of my belt. Let me explain why.

When I was in 6th grade, I had a teacher named Mrs. Meagher. Admittedly I haven't seen her in over ten years and have no idea if she is still around, but she would be proud none the less. I learned a few things from that wonderful woman when I was younger. I learned that the "meanest" and "grumpiest" people are often the kindest and most compassionate. I learned that Sun Tzu is useful for daily life, and to "pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance." I learned that if you love your job that you must commit to it with every step.

"Oh my god, those keys are so annoying. You sound like a 90's janitor," Bear said to me a few days ago. I chuckled because my keys annoy everybody, me included. I hadn't been wearing them in Driftwood because I hadn't felt like I needed them. I'm pretty quick to give away my tricks to the trade because no amount of tricks can make up for good hard work, but it's always sound to have an angle to keep people you don't know honest. Let's go back a bit.

Imagine me as the popular kid in elementary school, surrounded by friends because I am the coolest kid in the entire school. Hard, right? Because I was a loser. Let's try that again.

I'm the tall gangly kid with the Dumbo ears and ridiculous hair cut in the top left of the photo. I got picked on. A lot. In this photo I'm with the Burke family down the street, that would later become my second set of brothers, sister, and parents. I'm on the top left, next to Zach, holding up Matt and with Carly. I love these people like I love my own family because that is what they are. Still. Not featured is Mrs. Burke, Cheryl, and Mr. Burke, whose first name I still dare not say. He is still Mr. Burke. 

Imagine at this age going to school. Mrs. Meagher was the scariest teacher in the entire school. We would line up at the top of the stairs, and somehow from the bottom, if you were goofing around, Mrs. Meagher could bellow your first name up the stairs and you would immediately snap to attention. When I was 17 I visited school to say hello to her. I asked her how she always knew when we were up to no good, and she said, "I would always ask the night staff to polish the tile in the stairwells extra shiny. At the right angle, you could see the reflection up the stairs. When you're dealing with kids you have to know all the angles."

I never forgot this. I started wearing my keys on my hips on a carabiner because I always had trouble remembering them. When I got into the restaurant industry, my staff would always joke that they knew I was coming because you could hear me coming from the jingling of my keys. All of this was on purpose. For the first few months I would always have my keys on me so that my presence was announced. Then I waited until everyone was comfortable, and I would take my keys off. Now coming around corners you never knew if I was there or not. Suddenly they would realize this and be on their best behavior at all times. I would alternate keys on or off during the shift and it kept everyone honest.

I have hired easily the most talented staff I have ever worked with. Driftwood Kitchen is comprised of true professionals and people that I trust. Keys on or off, these people act the same. With Integrity. This is one of the reasons I am most excited about this place. 

Sun Tzu wrote of appearing strong when weak, and weak when strong. Warfare is misdirection. These days, I just count on my staff to do their job because they appear to simply do it. What a luxury having a staff you can trust is. 

Stay tuned for more info on Driftwood; we're getting close. 

I've Never Had My Lunch Stolen

Admittedly, my goal in my life has always been to not work in an office. I compare it to a corporate claustrophobia. It was a funny realization I had the other night; I found a post on Imgur.com , a website that I spend an embarrassing amount of time on, about how in offices, people steal each other's lunches.

I had no idea that such a thing was a common issue in modern office life. I asked if this was a widespread thing and I got about 150 responses, short stories on their experiences. Some of my favorites were:

@giantmongoose: Yep, it's ridiculous. A grown ass adult sees your slice of key lime pie and JUST FUCKING EATS IT. But I'm not bitter or anything.

@babymuncher (where do they think of these names???) My dad worked in a car factory and this one guy ate everyone's sandwiches every day. So everyone put motor oil on their sand which one day

@LeSeyne Hi. My name is Louie. Yesterday, I had a delicious ham-and-cheese called "mike".

It's funny, with the exception of a summer stint working at a law firm in Boston, I've never worked in a true office. To give you an idea of the work I've done, I've cut trees, been a bike messenger, worked as a political consultant ("Office" is a loose term on this one...), documentary film maker, photographer, and then the restaurant industry.

I had no idea that Lunch Bandits were one of the many trip-wires in the office world that I have never been a part of. I told my wife this weird factoid, and the result was hilarious.

"Oh my god," she started, "[name redacted] has eaten at least 5 of my lunches. I know it was him. I just could never catch him. Motherf***er." Keep in mind this was about 6-7 years ago. Granted, I still remember every asshole who ever bullied my in elementary school, so I suppose it's not that hard to believe.

It's so funny, these little things that we experience that stick in our memory. In the restaurant industry, because you are serving food, you really don't bring it in to work with you, unless of course you are a health nut in which case you are weird. Some places do family meals at the beginning of the shift, where chef throws together a meal based on what he has in stock and is the least expensive. In fact, that reminds me that I need to ask my Chef about it.

Overall, I'm not sure why I found this little phenomenon so entertaining. I watch The Office, and it's hard for me to believe that half of the hijinks that occur on that show really happen in real life. It's curious, the world that we live in.

For bartenders, it's really Tip Thieves that are the bane of a coworkers existence. Bartenders usually split tips when bartending behind the same bar, but I've caught a few of the people I've worked with pocketing tips from their friends so they don't have to share with their co-workers or tip out to their support staff.

Do you have a great little story about something like Lunch Bandit's that occurs only in your workplace?  Post it in the comment section! I'm curious to hear what a strange world we live in.

Stay thirsty,
Eric

The Big Secret

Change is always a very exciting time.

As many of you may know, I will be opening Driftwood Kitchen on H St. NE - the neighborhood I've called my home since I have moved to Washington DC. It has been hectic and until we get closer to an opening date, I won't be releasing the details that so many of my friends, family, and clients are interested in. That will come later, I promise. I have learned something valuable that I needed to share.

I had a friend of mine who works a 9-5 job tell me, "Well, that must be great. They always say that if you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life."

That, dear readers, is a lie. Falsehood. Misrepresentation. Myth. Tall tale.

Bullshit.

I love what I do, and I know that I do. It is the type of steel-trap certainty that causes me to take turns doubting it, renouncing it, and coming back to it within a single thought. It's what made me realize a very simple truth:

If you love what you do, you will work every single day of your life.

Sometime since agreeing to open and run Driftwood Kitchen, I found myself answering phone calls and texts 20 hours of the day. I'm in there at 8am and leaving well after 8 to go to meeting with my owners, or to retreat to my couch to do more work on my computer. I don't have days off, I simply have a few hours every day where I can take a breath. There is always something to do. When I go out for dinner, I'm thinking about my dishes. When I'm at another bar, I'm looking for ideas and inspiration. I spend most of my time talking about Driftwood. I spend the rest of my time thinking about it. When it comes to operating a business, there are always a task in each hand and three more in the air that you are juggling.

Don't get it confused; I am not complaining about it. I am exhausted and put my head down and think about the task hand.

I have the fortune to be working with some of the finest businessmen and restauranteurs with the highest standard of motivation, dedication and savvy I have seen. Mo, one of the principal partners, told me when I accepted this position: "Get ready to work harder than you ever have." He was right.

What I have realized in this short amount of time about when you start your own business and really get down to it, you don't stop. Ever. You work every single day. Maybe I'm not in the physical business itself, but my mind always is. And that is the big secret. I have the absolute privilege of busting my ass alongside serious professionals  every single day of the week.

And that is loving what you do.

One of my first regulars died yesterday.

Life is a continuous balance of comedy and tragedy; something that we must all deal and cope with. It's funny how things end up. Some people are just taken too soon.

As a bartender, your financial success in the industry is predicated on building "regulars," or people who come to see you at least once a week. When I first started bartending in DC, I could make drinks faster than anyone I worked with and was really starting to come into my own creatively, but had trouble, much as I did when I was younger, "playing with others." In short, I was an asshole.

Now, the concept of a "regular" feels really wrong at first. It feels as if both parties are pretending. I am pretending to care about who you are and you are pretending that you believe that I care. The suspension of disbelief by both parties is just ridiculous. I, your bartender, begin to memorize facts about you, much like I would with a real friend, make sure I know your drink and your name and your likes and dislikes, and in return, you give me money. Yes, this feels absurd. Then something funny happens.

At some point, you look forward to seeing your regulars. While you were taking the time to learn details about them, they were doing the same, and in some way you have created a bond, and the money doesn't feel awkward; its an understanding.  I'm not explaining it right but if you've ever had a regular, you understand.

Val was one of my first regulars. She was good friends with a girl I was serving with, and always had a smile on her face. I was told on Friday that she was in a terrible accident. I only had drinks with her in a group of larger friends a handful of times, but she would come to every single place I worked at and grab a drink. Say hello, catch up, and let me know what she was up to. She asked my advice on the restaurant industry: (My response: Don't do it!) and would later on bartend at a mutual friend's bar. She would come to me later and ask my about bartending and tell me her recipe ideas and how much fun she was having.

To be honest, dear reader, I am not sure the point I have in writing this. It's 6 in the morning and I haven't been able to sleep since friday night. I've had more friends than I care to list depart this world before their time, and could not figure out why this one was so different for me. I'm still not sure, but here is a guess.

I see my friends maybe once a week for a few hours. Regulars you see more than once a week. There are some regulars that just annoy you, but Val was a friend. She was a wonderful, lively young woman who I genuinely always liked seeing. I saw her often years ago and less in these past years; I regret that. To see the outpouring of love from so many members of the DC community has been an incredible thing. It speaks volumes of her character and is a testament to her spirit.  It is my suspicion that I mis-titled the beginning of this post, and it should've read "One of my friends died yesterday."

Val, we all wish you well upon your journey. I'll make sure I have a shot out there waiting for you.

For any who read this and knew Val, my deepest condolences on your loss and my kindest regards to your family. I hope that you all find comfort; I am thinking of you all.


-E

A Sip in Time

I’m sitting in BWI right now sipping a passable Cabernet at an outrageous price, on my way back to Boston for the weekend, and something occurred to me.

Let’s be honest with each other for a minute or two. I know why you do it, and I understand the trepidations, but most of us have no idea about wine.  A frightening amount of wine lovers don’t know a thing. I learned this very early, because before I managed, bartended, or even worked as a door guy (a glorious 3 day stint before getting my ass kicked and being moved to bar back - that’s another story…), I sold wine. When I was 19. How did I sell wine at 19, you ask? Well I don’t know, but it was really easy. 

Between working as a bike messenger and playing lacrosse and being an RA, I needed more money, therefore I needed more work. I applied to stock shelves at the Downtown Shaw wine department, which was huge. They told me that rather doing that, I could sell wine. I met Bill, a swarthy Boston man, born and bred, who has probably forgotten more about wine than I will ever know.

“I’m not 21,” I told him. “Yea, but you’re in college. You drink.”

“Yea, but not wine,” I replied incredulously. “And I can’t drink legally.” He laughed and gave me a hearty slap on the shoulder, and said “Well, you sure can read, college boy. You look at least 23, just fake it.”

Understand, I am not the type of person to half ass anything. And it just occurred to me, that I didn’t need to be able to drink to sell wine, I just had to read. And lie. 

“If anyone asks you ‘what’s a good year,’ tell them that the only years that mattered were 1961 and 1982, and they only mattered in Bordeaux.” Bill told me as we perused the Old World section of the wine shop. I had heard the term thrown around, and never really knew what it meant.  (An interesting update, 2009 and 2010 were both also once-in-a-generation harvests in Bordeaux before the collapse of the Bordeaux in the Chinese market.) Bill broke down the regions, varietals, and would lecture as well of any of my professors at Emerson College. I would have my wine books and put them in the cue in between studying First Amendment Law with Professor Brown, Crisis Communication with Doctor Payne, and Political Theory with Professor Kimball. 

Looking back it was hilarious. I would shock and entertain my customers with the opinion that Bordeaux could produce nothing to even compare with an unfiltered Northern Rhone (because I had to sell 4 cases of it to make Bill his quota). I would amaze them with my knowledge of Old and New world, having literally only ever had a sip of the Concho y Toro Red that my mom would drink after work (which is not far off from what I enjoy drinking currently, except fruitier…) and never a sip more in my life. 

When I began to truly taste and study wine, it took me a long time to appreciate why there was so much reverence for some of these older vintages and why some people paid incredible amounts of money for a Chateau Margaux that was older than anyone I knew. It was because wine especially, is history. It’s this moment of realization that when you drink a wine from another century, it’s like opening a time capsule. It’s a connection with the past - a piece of history. It’s not an observance of history, its a PARTICIPATION in it, and that is something magical. 

Stay Thirsty,

Eric