The waiting game

Hi everyone sorry I have been really busy of late. With the birth of my baby looming I haven't felt that creative. I'm really stuck on a Manhattan poem and it's driving me mad! I have been debating the taste of Bacardi Carta Blanca from the 1920's, check out the war of words and feel free to have your say!

I had the pleasure of meeting Wayne Curtis and his wife they are just great people. If you haven't read his book : "And a bottle of rum, a history of the new world in ten cocktails" shame on you.

Anyways, I will be up and running shortly with some more poems please check it out and comment on the comments section. I had some nice criticism from a reader and will be looking into some poetry classes to improve my work!

Hayds

Breaking point

Hello everyone, well I have just finished another Saturday night and wow I’m feeling those aches and pains!Every single joint hurts and I have some kind of inflammation on my fingers which is itchy as all hell...
My motivation for this poem is pretty straight forward, I’m sure there are a lot of bartenders out there who could have been something else. Me I would have ended up as a builder like my father and when I go back to NZ, I do trade my shakers in for a nail gun and hammer... Oh and a cool apron with nails and stuff. I mean there are plenty of jobs out there that don't require skill, determination, intellect, patience, understanding and of course making a great cocktail. So here is my poem to all the girls and guys who have a passion for bartending. We all know how it feels to put our bodies on the line night after night! Please feel free to comment on what you might have been! I know Dave Wonderich would have made a great rock star and Robert Hess wants to be a bartender (Microsoft must pay badly)

My hands creek as they shake back and forth
My back is bent as I lean forward to pour
My fingers ache, freezing and frostbitten

I’m not an Antarctic explorer, I’m not a mountain climber
I’m a bartender, entertainer and drink maker

My body is weary, tired of fast movements
My head is heavy from too many conversations
My legs feel like they are cast in lead

I’m not a rocket scientist or a microsoft engineer
I’m your local bartender, listener and drink maker

My toes are cramped in shiny black shoes
My shoulders are locked from one too many hard shakes
My eyes are strained, make that double strained

I’m not a lawyer, school teacher or a doctor
I am the law, the teacher and I am the drink maker

This is a Hayden Scott Lambert original poem and cannot be reproduced without his permission

Catch 42

So recently I entered myself into the Belfast heat of the 42Below Vodka world cup. I didn't expect to win  although I thought alot of cash would help! I was sitting there in anticipation third was called out, then 2nd and then finally Ben Carlotto said "The winner is the big guy in the corner". Well for the people who don't know me im not very tall, my bum nearly touches the ground and I am heavy-set. I wish he had of just called out my name, anyways I digress this poem is about my winning drink the Catch 42. I was playing on the dilema set in the book Catch 22 written by Joseph Heller. It is a dilema that I face alot!

42Below you make me blue, Aotearoa im lost without you
Each passing day makes me sad, life with you wasn't all that bad
Minutes and days pass, colliding and crashing into months and years
I fear that, I can never return as me, they want that person I'll never ever be

It's all the things I want, yet none of the things I need,
It's a no win situation,a catch 22,
42Below you make me feel blue,
The longing for a home,a place to rest my weary head.
To feel my feet on Plimmerton beach,
To teach my children how to surf,
To run wild and free and play amongst the trees

No more two up, two down,cramped living spaces aren't for me,
No more noisy neighbours, gangs of bhoys standing,
menacing on street corners
No more craic, burnt out cars and joyriders

42Below you make me feel blue,
You have made me look deep into a place
I put out of reach, my home, my house, my beach my needs,
That burning flame that was almost dead has
Rekindled itself inside my head,
Here I come, a kiwi bhoy bound for home!

Catch 42;
Shake over ice: 50mls 42Below Vodka
                        50mls Homemade Tomato puree
                        25mls Passion fruit puree
                        15mls Fresh lemon juice
                        10mls Sugar syrup
Double strain into a cocktail glass with a salt rim. Garnish with a lemon twist and a spiked tomato
(To make homeade tomato puree, take five or six plum tomato's. Grate with a fine grater, then strain through a fine mesh strainer)

A bumper of good liquor

I have a small amount of old cocktail books which I skim through on a regular basis. In the books there is a trend to put quotes and small poems which in some way relate to drink. So on this post Im going to cover just a few of them. Ok so ages back I posted these to my facebook group. I thought it might be interesting as I know all you cocktail geeks out there would have come across a few of them from time to time! Most of the poems are selected at random from books by Ted Sauciers "Bottoms Up", Charles H Barker Jr "The Gentlemans Companion",Stanley Crisby Arthur "New Orleans Drinks And How To Mix Them", Anton Massel and Hugh Barty-King  "Rum, Yesterday and Today",
I have some new ones which I have added from a new batch of cocktail books I bought from Greg at Cocktail Kingdom

A bumper of good liquor
Will end a contest quicker

Then justice, judge or vicar.
              Richard Brainsley Sheridan

Ah, brief is Life,
Love's short and sweet way,
With dreaming rife,
And then -Good day!

And Life is vain
Hopes vauge delight,
Griefs transient pain,
And then- Good night
            Louise Chandler Moulton

Shake or stir it, long or short
With sugar,lemon, spice
Toddy, grog or planters punch
With bitters, juice and ice

Mix it hot or mix it cold,
And shake till kingdom come,
What makes the mix distinctive
Is being made with rum!
               Unkown


"From fam'd Barbadoes on the western Main
Fetch sugar, ounces four-fetch Sack from Spain,
A pint,-and from the Eastern Indian Coast
Nutmeg, the glory of our notheren Toast:
O'er flaming Coals let them tougher the heat
Till the all-conquering Sack dissolves the sweet;
O'er such another Fire put Eggs, just ten,
New-Born from tread of Cock and Rump of hen:
Stir them with a steady hand and conscience Pricking
To see the untimely end of ten fine Chicken;
From shining shelf take down the brazen skillet,-
A quart of milk from a gentle cow will fill it.
When boiled and cold, put milk and Sack to Egg;
Unite them firmly like the Triple league,
And on the fire let them together dwell
Till Miss sing twice-'You must not kiss and tell,-'
Each Lad and Lass take up a silver spoon,
And fall on fiercely like a starved Dragoon."
                                             Kitchiner

I found some great poems and they grace the pages of "The worlds drinks and how to mix them" Bill Boothby 1908. They apear under the chapter "Witty, wise and otherwise"

The profession of mixolgy
  is and art that's being lost
That's why this treatise is published,
  Quite regardless of the cost.
Regardless, too, of other things,
  For facts one cannot smother;
But what is the gospel truth to one
  Seems hot air to another.
There'll rise occasions every day
  When it'll be up to you
To persue the pages of this work
 And find things that you should do

IF YOUR CHRISTIAN NAME IS COHEN.

If you don't drink or care to smoke,
  Or eat free lunch and pickles;
And some old friend is treating you,
  Why!  Just take a glass of nickles.
                             James Montgomery Flagg
I'm not sure if this is two separate poems, this is how it reads in Cocktail Bill's book

The man who drinks whisky and water,
  Althought he drinks early and late,
Will live to drink whisky longer
  Than he who drinks whisky straight.
                          Unknown

Friend of my soul, this goblet sip,
 'Twill chase a pensive tear,
'Tis not as sweet as women's lip
  But oh! 'tis more sincere;
Like her, elusive dream,
 'Twill steal away the mind,
But unlike affection's dream
 It leaves no sting behind.
                       Unknown


There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish that I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth--
I think that perhaps it's the gin.
                      Ogden Nash

Pomp and Glory

Pomp
1. Dignified or magnificent display; splendor: the solemn pomp of a military funeral.
2. Vain or ostentatious display. See Synonyms at display
                        AND

Glory
1. Great honour, praise, or distinction accorded by common consent; renown.
2. Something conferring honour or renown.
3. A highly praiseworthy asset: Your wit is your crowning glory.
4. Adoration, praise, and thanksgiving offered in worship.
5. Majestic beauty and splendor; resplendence: The sun set in a blaze of glory.
6. The splendor and bliss of heaven; perfect happiness.
7. A height of achievement, enjoyment, or prosperity: ancient Rome in its greatest glory.

So recently as I took a small trip to Hamburg to unwind and work! Well I didn't work really hard. I washed a few dishes and helped out where I could. The fact of the matter is they really didn't need a Kiwi helping out. So I enjoyed the atomosphere and met some of the locals. Cool cool people, I just enjoyed the company... At my session in Bon Lion, Marcel did most of my selling and he liked my drink the P & G( Pomp and Glory) so here is a small poem about the P & G


Its's a simple drink with an elegant twist
It's unique, dignified and praiseworthy

A blend of lemon juice and fino sherry
It's the angostura and elderflower that makes it merry

It is worshiped by too few, and not known by many
It's a simple drink with an elegant twist

With just a hint of orange to bind it together
Stirred in a traditional and time honoured way

It's an ostentatious display of Pomp and Glory


P & G
Stir over ice
30mls Romate fino sherry
20mls St Germain
7mls Fresh Lemon juice
2 dashes of orange bitters
1 drop of angostura bitters
strain into a small cocktail glass about 3oz garnish with a lemon twist

Where the Le Lion feeds

OK dudes, I'm getting really sporadic at posting... Yip you guessed it LAZY and preoccupied! Last week I had the pleasure of visiting Le Lion in Hamburg. What a great place to hang out I was treated so well by everyone and was made to feel at home and at ease. I did a small session in Bon Le Lion a quaint and private bar deep in the heart of Cafe Paris. I selected a small sampling of Merchant Drinks and added a few of my own humble creations check out menu and the advertising its great .I haven't had any negative feedback so I'm happy that all was enjoyed! It was daunting at first as it isn't my bar but after about ten minutes, I mastered the bars personality and whipped it into submission. I would like to thank Heir Meyer, Mario, Torben and Marcel for all there help and there fantastic hospitality. I would also like to thank all the customers that came to hang out with a kiwi who lives in Belfast cheers und Danke!


Bon Lion

Its sits waiting
Jaws firm and tight

It's gaze deep and soulful
Paws sharp and dangerous

It roars, loud and proud
A call that is deep and deafening

It's pride returns
It sighs, relaxed

Calmed by familiar faces, smells
A flurry of activity

It remembers the sounds
Of ice on tin, liquor on glass

The pride at play
Late into the the warm night

Still he sits, tall, unmovable
A force to be reckoned with

An unforgettable image
An unforgettable time

He watches, a protector
A custodian a secret keeper

http://www.lelion.net/
As a rule the lion is heard roaring at night--"midnight listens to the lion's roar," (Byron;)

Saturday nights

Sorry I have been away from writing for the few months Feb,March and April just seemed to fly by. We had Jeff and Annene over, I just love them. If you haven't read any of their books you should they contain great original tiki recipes!

I thought I would step away from my usual poetry and try something a little different. I'm not going to write about a drink this month as I have been for the last few posts. I have been addicted to my xbox which really kills my creativity. But it is a great way to let of steam! Oh and I have been a little preoccupied with the news that I'm going to be a dad!

Warfare,
I prepare myself, deep breaths that calm
I tell myself that "I am battle hardened
a veteran of countless victories"

Deep in a trench I stand ready
The constant tick of the docket machine
Makes me keenly aware of the impending doom

My body is shaking in anticipation
My stomach unsettled
The onslaught begins

My movements are mechanical
My answers preplanned
There is no time to think

The moment arrives, overwhelmed
and outnumbered
We do our best to keep the pressure on
As we duck an weave

My arms tired and sore,my face red
My composure is slipping
My hands wet and fumbling

We dig in deep to finish this night
Our spent shells strewn around us
Innocent victims of this battle

We make one last push, to hold our ground
No retreat, the end is in sight
Our opponents are on there last legs

We emerge, wary and shaken
But visibly unbroken
There is a subtle silence that creeps over us

We clean down, we sit and laugh
But in my dreams I hear the dreaded
Tick of the docket machine

"This is a Hayden Lambert original poem and cannot be reproduced without his permission"