What’s shakin, cocktail fans?
Welcome to Episode 280 of The Modern Bar Cart Podcast! I’m your host, Eric Kozlik. Thanks for joining me for this audio essay episode, where I select one topic from the vast sweep of the spirits and cocktail universe and delve into it curiously and deeply on behalf of you and all our other listeners.
This time around, I’m excited to finally start easing our way into a cluster of topics that’s been nagging at the corners of my attention for quite a while now, those topics being the more future-oriented aspects of the drinks world–stuff like Artificial Intelligence, emerging beverage technologies, and the simple, yet slippery question of what bars and drink culture might look like in the future.
My hope is to make this an occasionally recurring mini-series of episodes, kind of like our “Breaking Bloody” series on the Bloody Mary that long-time listeners will recall. Ideally, I want to feature a whole spectrum of voices and perspectives, just like I did in that other series, but for right now, I’d like to do some introductory work on the subject. Essentially, I’d like to introduce you to this notion called “cocktail futurism.”
So in the spirit of kicking off this new project, I hope you’ll join me over at the bar so that you and I can whip up a preparatory drink to speed us on this journey.
Prologue
I’m not sure if you can relate to what I’m about to describe, but recently I’ve been experiencing this sensation that’s a little bit like the slow release of pressure that’s been built up for such a long time that I’ve simply gotten used to it. Like when your sinuses finally open up after a long illness, or that knot in your back finally relaxes and you can stand and breathe normally again. If there’s any baseball fans listening, it feels like I’ve been warming up in the on-deck circle for a long time–years, if we’re being honest–and now that I’ve removed the weighted donut off the barrel of the bat, it feels almost comically light, like a toy in my hands.
Now, the thing about the human body and brain is that it never takes long for a person to become accustomed to a new baseline state. But in this precious window of time when I’m still delightfully cognizant of the shift (when my unconscious brain hasn’t quite caught up to the rest of me), I’ve found myself, for the first time in a LONG time, thinking optimistically about the future.
And there’s probably some of you who are thinking right now: how can you say something like that during this tire fire of an election year? Or What future? The earth is literally burning down and climate change is killing us. Or Didn’t you hear? Fascism is on the rise worldwide!
And unfortunately, all I can say is that when a pressure comes off, you can feel it. And for me, that feeling is happening right now. And it’s making me curious, in kind of an upbeat way, about the future. So I figure: why not lean into that?
I suspect that a lot of other people and businesses in the spirits and cocktail world might also be able to relate to this feeling. I mean…it’s not easy out there. And I’m certainly not implying that we should just pretend the pandemic didn’t happen and go merrily on our little way. Obviously, things are different now in the drinks industry than they were before. The rise of No-and low-ABV cocktails, hard seltzer and RTDS, QR code cocktail menus and ordering drinks from your phone…just like a forest fire scars the landscape it consumes, we see visible evidence every day that reminds us just how transformative the last few years have been.
But in the wake of a fire, there’s also new growth. When the flames have subsided and the land has had a little time to heal and recharge, suddenly there’s an explosion of life. In this quiet, humbled pause following a disaster, we so often observe a spurt of novelty: new ideas, forms, and designs crawling out of the woodwork to fill the voids left by the catastrophic event.
As I wrote this, and now, as I’m recording it, there’s this massive, aggressively blooming dogwood tree in the neighbor’s yard across the street shamelessly flaunting its pink flowers against the blue sky outside my window. And in the face of such vibrance following the mushy cold and gray of winter here in the Mid-Atlantic, all this burgeoning has me hungry and on the lookout for novelty everywhere I turn.
From a thermodynamic perspective. Novelty is the emergent spirit of the universe. It’s what you get when you take an ordered system and sorta “mess it up a bit” – create more surface area, more possible ways for bits and particles to interact. And it’s also what you get when you take a disordered system and give it more structure: you take all the disparate, free-floating, chaotic bits and pieces and chunk them together in ways that create meaning where previously randomness prevailed.
This is how a physicist would think about the emergence of novelty, and they’d think about it as occurring subject to what the legendary astronomer Sir Arthur Eddington coined “the Arrow of Time.” This is the notion that, no matter how hard we try to find a way around it, time seems only to flow in a single direction: toward the future.
And I guess this would be an appropriate time to air a gripe that I’ve had with cocktail culture for about a decade now. Since very early on in my participation in the drinks world, I’ve been sensitive to the cyclical, revolving way that beverage trends or fads capture the imagination of the drinking public. Maybe you can relate to this. Right? It seems like every year, the cocktail community has a new darling to fawn over. One year it’s milk punch, the next year it’s spritzes, the next year it’s tiki…wait, no, tropical drinks, then spicy margaritas, then espresso martinis, and on, and on, except nothing actually changes. We just pick a different thing to focus on from the finite, but sprawling menagerie of drink formats and techniques that have been at our disposal, in many cases, for over a century.
So does this revolving attention constitute novelty? Sure, I guess. But novelty like my two year old daughter experiences it when my wife or I take one of her toys and stick it up in a closet so that we can break it out in a few weeks and she can enjoy it like it’s new again.
But I would contend that there’s a deeper, better way to think about novelty than this “cycle of recurring fashion,” which is a term used in the fashion world to explain when certain styles of jeans or hair or wedding dresses will become popular again.
I would argue that, as useful and externally valid as the Mr. Potato Head theory of “riffs on a classic” cocktail construction may be, I’m personally way more interested in the bizarre notion that a different, more interesting potato is waiting somewhere just around the corner to be discovered. And I hold in my mind the distinct possibility that it may not look like a potato head at all and that it could perhaps completely re-write the way we think about cocktails in the first place.
For lack of a better term, I call this kind of thinking “Cocktail Futurism,” which is a way of being in the drinks space that’s influenced more by quantum physics, science fiction, and magical realism than it does from Punch, and Eater, and Michelin.
In a broad sense, futurists tend to be multidisciplinary and perhaps even a bit avant-garde in their thinking. And I mean that in the literal sense: they want to place themselves in the vanguard – on the bleeding edge – of technology and culture. This is in service of imagining and perhaps even giving birth to better futures than we might otherwise achieve if we were to simply maintain our current modes of living and operating in the world–instead of just sitting, waiting for the “cycle of recurring fashion” to loop around again.
There are professional organizations for people like this, such as the “Institute for the Future” and the “Association of Professional Futurists.” There are conferences and summits where these folks all meet to discuss ideas and create working groups. And so for the remainder of this episode, I’d encourage you to imagine yourself as a “cocktail futurist” and that the topics I’m about to present to you are seminar listings for a conference you’re about to attend. These are emerging and very real topics of debate that will have very real impacts on the future of the drinks world. And perhaps, if we approach them with the right mindset, we can use them to drive true novelty in our community and create actually new forms of beverages and experiences so that twenty years from now, we don’t find ourselves saying, “Huh, looks like spicy margaritas are popular again.”