Stella!!!

MICHAEL
AHEARN • 34
• Head Bartender • Stella • Boston’s South
End

Michael could be
having a bad day – worked ’til 3, up at 6 to mind sis’ kids,
bar’s a mess, distributors are delivering waaaaay too early
– but he’s upbeat, animated, witty, and his hair looks
great. We’re in Stella’s spiffy white plastic bar, huge
white acoustic panels baffling a high black ceiling. Bar
wines are mostly Italian whites and reds, like yummy blends
Monferrato La Ghersa and Falesco Vitiano. Dozen vodkas and
single malts surround a Hi-Def screen. Ahearn says candidly,
“Any night of the week between 6:3O and 11 this place is
jumpin’.” It’s only Tuesday at 11am, but, fueled by java,
Michael is moving smoothly through the glassware, cleaning
as we talk.

LIFE
on the WICKED STAGE I
was raised a Catholic schoolboy in Roslindale. I went to
Boston Latin (199O). I studied acting and theater – BA from
Fairly-Dickenson College in New Jersey – went into
broadcasting, got into acting, directed and produced shows.
I started a theater company called Thanks, Mom! Productions.
Guess where we got the start-up money? But it was more than
that – inspiration, too. We won Best Off-Off-Broadway Play
in 1999. I took waiting jobs (like Contrapunto) so that when
I had a show up I could get my shifts covered. It’s much
easier to get a waiting job than a bartender’s job. I spent
way more money than I had and left New York to pay off my
credit cards – and I’ve done it! The beauty of Boston is
that when you get off work at midnight, there’s hardly any
place to go and spend money; it keeps you honest.

THANK
GOD it’s FRIDAY My
first drink was probably peppermint schnapps stolen from my
mother’s cabinet. To put myself through college, I started
off at 18 waiting tables from the bottom up – 3O to 35 hours
a week at The Ground Round. Then I went to TGI Friday’s.
Snicker if you like, but if you want to learn how to bartend
when you’re 21, there’s no better place. Training takes six
weeks. You learn to make 3OO drinks, take tests, learn
‘flair’ (like flipping bottles). Before you’d get a shift
you’d do pour tests. They pulled out this contraption that
measures pours – 2, 1.5, 1 ounce – and you had to hit five
of each, exactly on point. Laugh, but it was rigorous. I
tell these kids who come in and want a job: “No experience?
No way!” They say, “But I went to bartending school!” I say,
“Great – waste of money!” I’ve never, ever heard of anyone
getting hired out of bartending school. It’s a racket! I
tell them: “Go learn the basics at Friday’s or Chili’s.” If
you’re competent, you’ll rise above it and move
on.

BAR
STOCK You can either do
this job or you can’t – I come from stock that has done
this. My grandfather was a bartender until he was ninety.
Grandpa’s Aunt Kitty Carr had a speakeasy during Prohibition
in South Boston called The Kiddie Car. My grandmother was a
hostess; that’s where they met. They’ve been married 7O
years and are still together. He’s got the right kind of
personality: he likes to talk to people, make them feel
good. He’s interested in them.

5O%
MIXOLOGY, 5O% PSYCHOLOGY
The old adage that your bartender’s your psychiatrist is
really true. People tell you their problems and ask your
advice. I can’t tell you how many people come in here and,
when their date disappears to the rest room, ask me, “So
what do you think?” Others come in and want to know all
about you. I try to keep the focus completely off me, and
tell them, truthfully, that my life is not very exciting.
Sure, they hit on you; it’s part of the job. It’s a delicate
situation. You don’t want to offend anybody.

REAL
DEAL The truth is, you
can pour a lousy drink and still be a great bartender. It’s
amazing how rarely you get the real deal. By that I mean,
somebody who can entertain, keep people happy, remember
their names, remember their drinks, and be fast and
efficient. When you pick your bar staff, you play to their
strengths: this one is good with people, put him on point;
this one’s really fast but not great with eye contact, put
him on the service bar. That’s where you generally start the
new kid.

CURRENT
ROLE Stella, the
restaurant, is a year old, and Stella (chef/owner Evan
Deluty’s baby) is 2O months old. Tonight there’ll be me, the
bar back in the middle, and a bartender on the point. My
assignment tonight will be to mix drinks for the 2OO+ diners
in both rooms and the patio and every one in the first four
seats at the bar up to this tap. But I’ve been bartending 14
years. Here we do pour more wine than the average
restaurant; nevertheless mixed drinks are hot: I’ll be
pouring gallons of mojitos and sangria will flow. But any
busy service bartender prays for orders of glasses of wine,
and if you ask experienced bartenders what’s their favorite
drink, they may say: ‘Bottle o’ beer?’

VODY
and SOUL I’m a vodka
guy. My drink creations tend to be vodka based. One we call
‘Fresca’ tastes like the soda, but is a cocktail with Skyy
Citrus, fresh lime and grapefruit juice, topped with Sprite
over rocks in a Collins glass. I like to make drinks where
you can’t taste the alcohol. I myself like vodka best, pure
and simple – with soda. My new favorite is Reyka. Awesome.
Minerally. Crisp. Clean. I love Gray Goose. I don’t know if
it’s better made, but it sure is smoother. So is Triple
Eight from Nantucket. Vodka is our biggest carry: Ketel One,
Gray Goose, Stoli, in a bunch of flavors. The market’s
flooded with vodkas now – it’s crazy. You only have so much
space on your bar; you have to feel out your patrons, see
what they want. They request things all the time, but
something’s gotta go. And of course people hear the buzz,
read about things on-line, are well-informed about
everything, the information’s literally at hand.

GIN
is MY SIN We get
requests for Hendrick’s Gin martinis with cucumber, too,
that reflects its flavor. But you’d have to force me to
drink it. Truth be told, my eighth grade buddies and I had a
free afternoon and we decided to steal some gin from our
parents. We poured it in a Sprite bottle and drank it. Warm.
At lunch. I can’t even smell gin now; when I make a gin
martini I hold my nose. Once burned on gin, you never go
back. A lot of people feel that way about Southern Comfort,
too.

WINE
TIME The sangria is
mine, it’s my favorite drink to make, to sell, to get people
excited about. We changed the recipe this month, and sales
spiked. There’s five different spirits in the mix; the wine
base right now is a Burgundy, but it doesn’t reward using a
terrific wine, because you’ll lose the nuances. When I first
started making it here, we ordered Spanish wine, but we
couldn’t tell the difference. I marinate it for days with
tiny bits of chopped pineapple, orange and apple. The
infusion process swaps the flavors of fruit and alcohol, so
you don’t taste the alcohol, but you may feel it when you
stand up! I think the infusion craze has played itself out.
I see a return to classic cocktails: Manhattans, Rob Roys,
Vodka Stingers. Our Southern Sidecar has Maker’s Mark
Bourbon, not brandy. For our summer drinks menu, we’re
bringing back Pimms Cup, with long Italian cucumbers that
we’ll cut with a flourish.

I’VE
GOT YOUR (BAR)BACK When
somebody’s hungry, they may not be thinking rationally and
may anger easily. The other night, my barback Walter handled
a situation beautifully, defusing the customer’s anger
before it got out of hand; he totally took the problem away.
Whew! That’s genius, but it’s the job: not to inform or
educate, but to make people happy. He’s the greatest guy in
the world. This place can’t run without him. He’s the kind
of guy who, when I’m pouring the end of a bottle, is
standing behind me with a full one. Oh, and meanwhile, he
can make any drink on the line. He’s invaluable, really:
we’ve negotiated a higher percentage of tip-out for
him.

DRINKS
REFLECT FOOD (Chef)
Evan (Deluty) and I absolutely work on getting the food and
drinks in tune. We have a brunch drink, Scorpino, in which
we mix sorbet. You’ve been to Italy, you know the Amalfi
coast has lemons the size of your head. We use a lot of
lemons here in the cooking and the drinks. This drink is
citrus vodka, mint, simple syrup, and lemon sorbet, topped
with Prosecco. Big hit. Things like this become staples. We
don’t stick to all Italian, we make a house Sangria,
Spanish, and Cuban Mojitos. I personally think Mojitos are
passe: have a Caipirina! (Brazilian cachaca, ground sugar,
muddled with lime and topped with gingerale). My background
is in Latin restaurants; I love the culture, music,
everything: 4 years at Bomboa, and before that Calle Ocho
(NYC), with it’s great Cuban chef, my friend Alec Garcia.
Coincidentally, Evan worked with Alec another
time.

NAME
YOUR DRINK If you know
what goes into a drink, I can make it. Tell me the
ingredients, and I can break it down into what the formula
should be. There are only a few measurements or ‘pours’: the
margarita, the martini, the cocktail, the rocks. The ratios
are the same, the 5:3, the 8:2. But if you make it up, I
won’t take it back. I think the chef feels the same way, if
a customer wants something and you can make it for him, do
it. We’re in the business of making dreams come
true.

CONSTANT
LEARNING I’m certified
in teaching, and I’m best with little kids, kindergarten
through fourth grade. I don’t enjoy kids once they reach
puberty. But I would love to turn people onto Shakespeare.
When I was an exchange student at Stratford on Avon,
students got the best seats to every play. But here at
Stella we’re not here to educate, but to keep an open
environment where people can feel comfortable. Our menu is
simple, classic, you don’t need to know what foie gras
is.

MODEST
MARKUP Our martinis
come in very large (7 ounce) glasses and are only $8, an
excellent price, for elsewhere in this neighborhood you’ll
pay $11to12. (If you want Grey Goose, yes, it’ll be
$11.5O)

FAVORTE
HANGS I’m a late diner,
rarely before 1O. Franklin Cae, Chinatown, Ivy – across from
Mantra – serves ’til midnight.