On my birthday a few years ago, a friend who works in the wine industry bought me a bartender’s handshake shot at a bar.
“It’s a Ferrari — Fernet and Campari,” she said. The zesty, bittersweet citrus tamed Fernet’s menthol tidal wave in a way only a bartender could’ve known it would, making for an invigorating, surprisingly balanced one sipper. But more importantly, during the four-ish seconds it took us to toast and down them, I felt like I was in — like my connected friend had uttered some password that gave me a glimpse into the cool kids’ club called “What Drinkers in the Know Drink.”
Lest I reveal myself as an interloping poseur, I didn’t order a Ferrari until several years later, when it appeared on the menu at Cara Cara Club, a breezy aperitivo bar that opened this summer near my apartment in Chicago’s Logan Square neighborhood. In fact, I’ve started seeing handshakes all over bar menus these days: Ferraris and M&Ms (Mezcal & Amaro Montenegro) at Desert Hawk in Chicago; seasonal sake bombs and soju and chili oil Chinese fireballs at Jackrabbit Filly in Charleston, S.C.; plus G.D.T.s (a.k.a. Gangster Daiquiri Time, a.k.a. Snaquiris) and rotating House Amaro shots at a Des Moines bar called — wait for it — The Bartender’s Handshake.
Now that the secret password and unspoken ritual shared among bartenders is on display for all to see — and drink — has the handshake lost its cool status? Or perhaps being in
