LINE PASS: Cocktail safari

It began at Nora's Italian Cuisine. After we discussed the history of the Bloody Mary (born at Harry's New York Bar in 1920s Paris) and the shelf life of vermouth (very short), I asked what a mixologist was. I was somewhat disappointed to learn that mixing Capri Sun and Popov in college didn't qualify me, but Gleason encouraged me to keep learning. "Mixology is about a passion for cocktails," he said as our first round arrived, created and served by bar manager Gaston Martinez. Every drink brought up another nuance of the business. The Pisco Sour inspired a conversation about the history and economics of Peru, as Pisco is an unaged grape spirit from the country. The Aviation, a gin-based cocktail, started the discussion on classics like the Harvey Wallbanger and Tom Collins, staples all serious bartenders should know. Gleason later referred to mixology as "liquid art."

We examined, smelled and, eventually, drank. I mimicked his hmms as if I knew what I was hmming about. Martinez brought out a Caipirina, a Brazilian delight with Caçhaca, muddled lime and simple syrup. This somehow began a discussion of the role cinema has in mixology. "James Bond saved and ruined the martini," he said, referring to the notoriety the drink got from the spy, but also to the incorrect way it was made. Contrary to Bond's request, alcohol-based drinks (like martinis) should be stirred—shaking is for cocktails with juice elements.

We galumphed out, en route to Sidebar, discussing the importance of ice cubes for 30 minutes. Upon arrival, Gleason told the young bartender, "Make me your best drink." A Mojito; Gleason was pleased. "You see, that tells me he is a good bartender right there. That is not a quick drink to make; he takes pride in what he does." Then we started moving fast.

Over to Downtown Cocktail Room, where Gleason taught a young gal how to make a proper Old Fashioned. Then on to the Bellagio's Petrossian Bar, where bartender Darren Feth was excited to see a fellow mixologist. Like when a chef cooks for a colleague, we got a drink that was not on the menu
&mdah;heck, it didn't even have a name until I prodded him to make one up. "Level Lemon Drop," he said. Next was Le Privé, where Ray Srp, vice president of the United States Bartender's Guild, made up another round of drinks not on the menu. Employing Absolut Vanilla, Godiva, Chambord, Ty-Ku and Starbucks Coffee Liqueur, he mixed up one helluva drink. "Creativity mixed with respect to the classics, that's what makes a good mixologist," a satisfied Gleason said.

Finally, it was over to I Bar to round out the adventure; our designated driver was getting weary. All the young bartenders scurried when Gleason walked in. Peter Medina was eager to show the veteran his newest concoction. He mixed Absolut Peach and Vanilla, Cruzan Pineapple and Malibu Coconut with rock candy syrup and muddled pineapple. A great drink, but again too new to have a name. We eventually decided on Pete's Crazy Coconuts.

We started doing vodka tastings, and the safari started to get dangerous. Gleason didn't want to share drinks anymore now that I was hugging him. The designated driver—my girlfriend—thought it was time for me to go, and it was. Apparently, repeating "Pete's Crazy Coconuts" over and over again was only funny to me. "Balance," Gleason said, smiling. I think he was talking about my stumbling. "That's what makes a good cocktail. Not too sweet, not too strong. You should be able to taste every ingredient." My girlfriend decided that I had tasted enough ingredients for the night and put me into the car. Gleason is already planning our next safari ...

Justin Jimenez firmly believes we should draft beer, not people. And he always sees better through the bottom of an empty glass. The associate editor for Las Vegas Magazine, he can be reached at [email protected].