As a bartender, ahem! Excuse me, mixologist I believe is the proper nomenclature now. My apologies. As a mixologist, like any “ologist” we have a language all our own:
Up: In a martini glass.
On the rocks: Over ice.
Bruised: Shouldn’t a done that, mmm hmm.
Neat: No ice.
Muddle: Carpel tunnel culprit.
And so on. Want to order your scotch or bourbon with one ice-cube? Easy. It’s called a”medalio”. Want two? It’s called “two ice cubes”. However, last week a table fell victim to my humor and I not only created a term for “two rocks” but it has since started to be used. Follow me!
Last Monday a two mid-thirties couples sat in my booth. Eavesdropping on their conversation- yes, we hear everything– I heard that they were talking about sex.
“Good evening. May I start anyone off with a cocktail?” I ask.
“Ha! OMG, I am such a teenager right now-” giggled one of the wives.
The two wives at the table ordered their cocktails and I soon turned to the husbands to ask what they would like.
“I’ll take your most peaty scotch with one rock, please,” order one.
“One rock?”critiqued his wife.
“Yeah, one rock. It’s just enough,” he responded.
“You’re ridiculous. I’m sorry, my husband is clearly high maintenance.”
“Actually, there’s a name for that in the bar world,” I began, “It’s called a medalio or medallion.”
“Ha! See? It’s a thing, honey,” he said. “On that note, I’ll have your most peaty scotch, medalio-” he announced, correcting his posture into a more manly stance. His wife rolled her eyes mouthing the words I’m so sorry to me. I continued to the last gentleman at the table.
“And for you? What would you like?”
“I’m a bourbon man, myself. Give me your best bourbon only with two rocks, please.”
Laughter erupted from the table. “OMG, honey! You cannot be serious right now. You too?” groaned his wife. “I am so sorry. I don’t know when our husbands became so high maintenance.”
“Actually, I order my bourbon that way.”
Seriously, I do. One melts too quickly, still leaving the bourbon tepid. The water from two melted ice cubes cools just enough and the water dilutes a perfect amount. Also known as a Kentucky Iced Tea.
The wives’ laughter had done from crescendo to screeching halt; subsiding in an occassional “tee hee”.
“Is there a name for that?” asked one of the wives.
Now, there isn’t actually a name for just two rocks. You simply order it as such. But I couldn’t break the news to these two ladies that there was no fun name for it. They seemed like a fun bunch, and given their X-rated conversation from earlier, my witty little mind created a gem.
“Of course there is. It’s called a testiculo.”
I pressed my lips together fighting back the hyena-like laugh that was brewing in my lungs. Genius! I thought to myself. It’s too good. Two balls, two ice-cubes, one vessel! How do you come up with this stuff? Daft, daft sense of humor I have.
And apparently one that requires being bilingual. No one person at the table got my joke. Worse, they actually thought ordering a bourbon testiculo was the proper way of ordering that particular drink.
“BOOM! See?!” gloated the bourbon drinker, “My drink is a thing too. Take that!”
Short of the husbands chest-bumping, ripping off their shirts and crushing beer cans on their foreheads, the two expressed their manhood in the best way two men can sitting down: a high-five.
Trying to refrain from deafening the linguistically naive foursome with my laughter, I nodded and bolted behind the bar. I was beside myself. How could someone not get that joke? Oh, sure, because the words testicle and testiculo are soooo different. Of course. But, I must say, it’s one thing to not get a joke, it’s quite another to understand it as fact and gloat. It’s not my fault that the public school system failed them. I should in fact write the school system they attended and thank them for allowing me to indulge in my new-found sadistic humor. Why you ask? Because those two very gentleman proceeded to order their testiculos all night long.
One point, or rather, two points for the bartendress.