Metro Pulse/Cover/The Drinking Issue

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Knox-a-hol over the Years
The saga of a city growing up with strong drink

Passing the Bar

Those Buckets O' Blood Have Emptied Out
All our rowdy friends have settled down

Drinking Factoids & Trivia

In 1794, visitor Abishai Thomas noted that Knoxville supported "seven taverns, besides tippling houses."

In 1879, it was estimated that Knoxville's 25 saloons served five thousand drinks a day, 'not including the night caps, morning gowns, cupboard appetizers, convivial punches, and toddies, champagne suppers, dinner wine, and last but greatest, 'bottle sucking.' —Heart of the Valley

In April 1981, there were 58 package liquor stores in Knoxville.

In 1966, a survey by the Tennessee Department of Mental Health stated that "100,208 Knox Countians drink now, have drunk, or will drink; 6,344 are, or will become, alcoholics; 952 are, or will become, unfit for employment; and 190 are so-called 'revolving-door' drunks..." (Knox County's population in 1960 was 250,523.)

In August 1975, the 1959 state "fair trade liquor law" (prohibiting any liquor retailer from selling products at less than 27.5 per cent above the wholesale price) was repealed. Little change was expected in prices in Knox County.

In Sept. 1980, Knoxville City Council passed an ordinance making it illegal to consume an alcoholic beverage in a public place (AKA the open-container law).

In December 1981, the state attorney general ruled that the sale of beer could not be prohibited in Knox County on election days.

1971: The legal drinking age in Tennessee was lowered from 21 to 18. 1980: The legal drinking age in Tennessee was raised from 18 to 19.

In April 1982, the state general assembly passed a law allowing liquor sales on election days.

Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the Surfer on Acid

by Adrienne Martini

Despite my booze-friendly last name, the mysteries of the world on the backside of the bar are foreign to me. I tend to stick to adult beverages whose ingredients are fairly straightforward, like "gin and tonic," like "Jack and Coke," like "beer." And, for me, the latter is frequently problematic if there is any sub-choice required. Dark is good—but I'm flummoxed if it has to go beyond that point.

I don't have patience for drinks that require any real skill to mix. My one (and, thankfully, only) attempt at mixing my namesake did not end well. (For the record, sloe gin is not an acceptable alternative to gin). Shooters are a mystery to me—both why one would want to take the time to pour them as well as why one would want to drink one. Fortunately, professional bartending instructor Dan Eastman can shine a light on my confusion. Literally.

Eastman is the mixologist's Yoda, a guru to those learning their way around the bottles. Unlike Yoda, he is tall and thin, with a long light brown ponytail and does not have a man's hand up his rear-end. He is conversant in the ways of the Irish Car Bomb. He knows how to give a Red-Headed Slut Good and Plenty so she'll drop her Silk Panties. He is equal parts booze encyclopedia and ribald sage and exactly the kind of guy you want behind your bar showing new 'tenders how to craft a good drink while never losing their aplomb.

East Tennessee's Professional Bartending School, part of the national Professional Bartending School chain (www.pbsa.com or 693-6609), is in a West Knox strip mall, the same one that houses Planet Xchange and Sugarbakers. The school is next door to a Marine recruiting center.

Inside, you could be in a dentist's office. There is a small waiting room, full of awards that the school has received. Step through the next door and you enter drinker's nirvana. A long bar, backed by hundreds of full bottles, takes up the most of the room. Stools are lined in front of it. The only thing that gives it away as a teaching bar is the lack of cigarette smoke.

This morning, Eastman's class is being initiated into the mysteries of shooters, those beverages made popular by generations of college students and club hoppers. The full course runs 40 hours total and covers such topics as cream drinks, highballs, after-dinner drinks, and responsible alcohol service. Sessions run in four-hour blocks either in the morning, after 5 p.m., or on Saturdays.

Shooter class begins with a brief discussion about chemistry, specifically the specific gravity of alcoholic liquids that enables them to float on each other, creating clearly denoted layers. Generally, bartending students don't work with real liquor, and instead craft their concoctions out of colored water. This is one of the rare occasions that the hard stuff will be whipped out, and then only for demonstration purposes.

With a steady hand and dry wit, Eastman makes an American Flag carefully pouring one layer of grenadine in a small glass, followed by one layer of crème de cacao, and one of blue curacao.

"If Beavis and Butthead taught us one thing," Eastman says, "it's that fire is cool."

There are four rules for setting things on fire when you are a bartending professional:

a) Never flame any alcohol over 120 proof.

b) Never flame on top of your bar mat, since it is generally soaked with spillage of the evening's previous drinks.

c) Never serve a drink while it's on fire.

d) Never flame a drink if you are intoxicated. ("It's going to seem like a really good idea at the time," Eastman cautions.)

(Editor's note: Metro Pulse does not endorse nor encourage setting things on fire and suggests having a nice warm glass of Ovaltine rather than attempting to drink any beverage mentioned in this feature.)

With practiced hands, Eastman pours a thin layer of vodka over his Flag and lights it. For those now foaming at the mouth at the very thought of setting an American Flag aflame, please rest assured that this drink is now called a Patriot Missile.

The next few shooters are then described and mixed by Eastman. Each has its own mnemonic. For instance, the memory crib for the B-52 is "Kill Bad Guys," which indicates that it is Kahlua, Bailey's, and Grand Marnier. A drink's name can frequently offer clues to its contents as well. Take, for instance, the Buttery Nipple. "All 'nipple' drinks are topped with Bailey's Irish Cream," Eastman explains, "and buttery always tells you that you need butterscotch schnapps."

We press on. Eastman makes a Brain, which is strawberry schnapps with Bailey's dribbled on top. When the cream comes in contact with the schnapps, it curdles, forming a nodule that resembles, well, a brain. Drops of grenadine can then be added to further freak out your guests. In some areas of the country, this is known as a JFK. When a JKF is served with a glass of water, it becomes a JFK, Jr. No, I'm not making this up.

On and on we go, with Eastman mixing them and the students, who are probably in their late 20s, taking careful notes and highlighting drinks like the Screaming Orgasm5. If you took them out of this setting, you'd think they were in psychology class. Which, in a way they are. Quite a bit about America can be figured out by studying our drinking habits. We are a country who loves to have a good Liquid Cocaine6 or a Smurf Piss7. As tasteless (on so many levels) as some of these concoctions are, this expansive coupling of pop culture and getting really shitfaced really quickly seems uniquely ours.

So the next time I duck into a decent looking watering hole, I may have to raise a Blow Job to the folk behind the bar who are keeping this country well lubricated and amused. Just don't ask me to mix a martini.