A Matter of Ordinary Technical Knowledge
Three sailors, in a Broadway bar, were partaking somewhat festively of strange.-looking drinks. Regular patrons, having beverages of the ordinary sort, looked on curiously while the fearless tars hoisted frequent glasses containing each a liquid combination that was milky white above and purple below.
“What in thunder was that they were drinking?” asked someone after they had gone out.
“It’s a new drink that’s a great favorite in the navy,” replied the head barkeeper. “It’s called a ‘submarine kiss.'”
Then he told them how it was made.
An hour later, in another bar, ten blocks up Broadway, some of the people who had seen the festive tars getting ready for a remorseful return to our prohibition navy, made a bet. The issue upon which the wager hung was whether or not a bartender is supposed to know, as a matter of ordinary technical knowledge, what a “submarine kiss” is. So they made their bet and asked an entirely new bartender if he knew how to make one.
“Certainly,” said he. “A submarine kiss is a silver fizz floated on a pony of creme yvette in a hollow-stemmed champagne glass.”
That was it. They looked at each other in silent amazement.
“Where did you learn how to make one?” they asked the bartender.
“Oh, I couldn’t just say,” he replied. “It’s our business to keep posted about new drinks. This one started in the navy, I believe.”
“Is there any paper or magazine that you can get the information from?”
“None that I know of. When a new drink- comes out you just hear about it in one way or another.”
“Say, boys,” said one of the party. “My business is easy.”
And his business is to pick out wall paper designs that are going to be fashionable next season.
Mixer and Server Published by Hotel and Restaurant Employee’s International Alliance and Bartenders’ International League of America., 1916.