Opening the bar

It’s 5 o’clock somewhere

It was a Tuesday afternoon in July, 4:52 to be precise, and I was getting dinner ready for eleven people. We were in our rented beach house, all family — nieces and cousins and in-laws in every corner, but tonight, I was running the kitchen. Veggie lasagna was on the menu.

Eleven people in one beach house. Yes, you heard that right. Mostly adults, all over the age of 12. It was a big house, and there was a well-stocked bar. As is tradition, at 5pm, the bar is opened. (That doesn’t mean that you can’t drink before 5pm — but only that if you haven’t started by 5, someone should make an announcement, and begin cajoling the guests into choosing their first cocktails. Or at least pouring something.)

In my experience, traditionally it’s been a man who opens the bar. There’s no rule about it, and anyone who wishes to take up the mantle is welcome, but it just always seems to fall to one of the guys. I don’t know why.

I realize I haven’t explained what it means to “open the bar.” It’s actually quite simple. One stands near the bar, and says, “It’s five o’clock! The bar’s open!” The opener of the bar must be willing to take simple drink requests right then (especially for the chef in the kitchen who’s slaving over a veggie lasagna), but that’s really the extent of obligation.

Why do we have this silly tradition? Because it’s just another way to bring us together. The world over, five o’clock has long been the first-drink-of-the-day hour, the “sun is over the yardarm” signal. We may have all been together for breakfast, but probably not for lunch, and dinner is some time off. We should start thinking about reconvening. Ceremonially opening the bar brings the family and guests together with an opportunity for a few laughs and some creative mixology. And when you open the bar, while you aren’t required to make cocktails for people, you do get first dibs on what you like.

Here’s one example. On our last night visiting Block Island, we had quite a few liquor bottles that were not quite empty. Of course we didn’t want to have to schlep them home on the ferry — so what to do? We still had some citrus fruits and juices. It was five o’clock. One of the guests opened the bar, and suggested that he create a new cocktail, a “Block Island Iced Tea”. You’ve guessed it — empty all the leftover bottles and some juice into a pitcher. It was really quite tasty.

I worried, on that Tuesday at 4:52, that there’d be no one to open the bar. I was in the kitchen, and the house was relatively quiet. Some folks had gone to the beach, and some to the store. I called one of the nieces in — she’s only nineteen, but we don’t stand on ceremony. I told her that it was her job, at 5pm, to open the bar. At 5:04, I’d still not heard an announcement, but just then, one of the guys walked through the door.

“Bar’s open!” he said. Ahhh.

I’ll admit, that evening in particular was an important one to make sure the bar was open as early as possible. In case the veggie lasagna didn’t turn out so great, well, folks would be less likely to care, as long as the bar had been open a while.