The best bartenders are the ones who:
Make their Old Fashioneds with sugar cubes.
Cut their lime wedges fresh and to order on the bar.
Know the value of a muddler, even if they don’t have one of the wooden mashers behind the bar.
Say, “You’ll like my Tom Collins even if you don’t like gin” – and are right.
All that’s a bit old-timey, but it’s just refreshing to see someone behind the bar who takes pride in what they do. That’s certainly been the case with the great line of bartenders employed at the Cruise Room for so many years.
So it was a treat that I met Tram at Gaetano’s earlier this week. He immediately took an interest in our drinks. But I felt like I wasn’t challenging him enough with our simple order of Malibu-and-Coke and a Corona.
And so when my friend Angela showed up at the 70-plus-year-old Gaetano’s (3760 Tejon St., 303-455-9852), which recently underwent a makeover and change in ownership, it was time to experiment. My friends stayed with the tried and true while I moved to an Old Fashioned and a Tom Collins.
While I’m all too familiar with the ways of the Old Fashioned, I’m new to the world of the Tom Collins, which, at Gaetano’s, is made with Beefeater.
Caitlin said, “I think Beefeater is a bad word,” but I ignored her snide remark because I was immediately lost in this concoction, in which you can barely taste the devil gin. It’s soft and sweet and the ideal drink for this curiously humid weather we’ve been having.
The only problem: I’m almost afraid to order a Tom Collins from anyone other than Tram. Still, I’ll be experimenting throughout the summer and, as always, reporting back.
Staff writer Ricardo Baca can be reached at 303-820-1394 or rbaca@denverpost.com.
Funky: If you Google “Gaetano’s Denver,” the fourth selection is a fascinating ditty via AmericanMafia.com about Gaetano’s rich, mob-run history. It’s definitely worth the read, and it’s endorsed by The Post’s own local history buff, Dick Kreck.
Skunky: The restaurant could afford to close the kitchen door. We were in the bar area for a couple of hours, sitting at the bar and at a small four-top, and the blaring light coming from the kitchen killed some of the bar’s dimly lit beauty.
