by GRANT ACHATZ
T he classic definition of a cocktail is a beverage containing three or more ingredients, one of which must be a spirit.
Why?
Whether it be in art, technology, science, politicsmost things in lifethere are people who move beyond traditional constraints by not only challenging pre-existing models, but by asking the critical question that advances every field: Where can we take this?
In 2009, in preparation to open my Chicago cocktail bar, Aviary, I read about BarChef. I was intrigued and immediately booked a flight to Toronto. Upon entering the small, candlelit room, it was obvious that here was someone doing exactly that: pushing boundaries and challenging convention in the realm of cocktails.
Frankie Solarik.
BarChef is not just a place to imbibe a rudimentary drink or grab a beer on the way home from work. Frankie wants to turn the very idea of the cocktail upside down, and in doing so creates a sensoryemotional experience akin to walking through an art museum or closing your eyes and listening to a moving piece of music. Through passion, skill and imagination, he transforms not only a drink but the very definition of the cocktail and the experience of consuming it.
People often ask me if I think cooking and mixology are crafts or arts. My answer is always the sameboth. Art is a language, and the drinks at BarChef trigger your emotions to tell a story. By involving all of the senses, they make you feel, and because they make you feel, they also make you think. This is not Frankies story, nor does he want it to be. He is the conductor, the maestro supplying the tools that enable you to listen to your own narrative through a drink. Ten years ago, I would have laughed at myself for waxing poetic about drinks, for the absurd notion that a cocktail could provoke these feelings. Things change.
If you order a martini at BarChef, Im willing to bet that instead of a glass filled with clear liquid and an impaled olive bobbing about, youll get the Notes of Spring (page 130) featuring three small glasses, each garnished with elements of the classic martini. The olive has been dried and pulverized into a soil. An airy cloud of rosemary sits atop one of the glasses. Suddenly, youll smell the flowery aroma of chamomile. Spotting something familiar (an olive!), youll smile and think to yourself, See, this stuff isnt that out there. Youll let your guard down and bite into the sphere only to have your palate explode with the taste of rosemary, chamomile, and olive. Damn him, youll say under your breathwhich is exactly what Frankie wants you to think.
by STPHANIE VERGE
T he first thing youll notice when you walk into BarChef, a cocktail lounge on Torontos Queen West strip, is the deep, sweet smell of campfire. Next youll spot a tall guy in a fedora surrounded by a battery of items: apothecary jars, bell jars, a 100-pound block of icethe tools of his trade. Thats Frankie Solarik, co-owner and executive bar chef. The low sofas near the front of the room are more than adequate, but the long bar is where everyone wants to be, so youll head there. Thats where the patronssuits, celebrities, rockers, more than one couple on a first datecan take a closer look at the contents of those jars, ask questions about the menu and debate which drinks to try next. Best of all, its the perfect spot for taking pictures (which just about everyone does). Of Frankie chipping away at the massive ice cube. Of Frankie whipping out the blowtorch to light the hickory chips for his most celebrated concoction: the Vanilla and Hickory Smoked Manhattan, a rye and vanilla cognacbased cocktail that is smoked under a clear glass bell jar.
Since BarChef opened in 2008, Frankies profile has skyrocketed. Hes appeared in newspapers and magazines and on TV and radio shows across Canada. Hes been featured in Food & Wine as co-owner of what the American epicurean bible called one of seven innovative new bars in the world. Hes become the go-to guy for out-of-the-box cocktail recipes. His drinks can run up to $45 each, but no ones complainingthere seems to be an agreement that its a fair price for the new, the fresh and the unexpected.
Were in the throes of third-wave cocktail culture. Not since Prohibition and the 1950s has there been this much excitement about handcrafted, artisanal libations. For some, another golden age means digging up obscure recipes; for others, it means offering neat riffs on old classics. For Frankie, it means exploding the very concept of cocktails. Black truffle snow, coconut foam, mojito alginates and vanilla air? All part of his repertoire. Inventive infusions and bitters serve as the backbone for modernist, molecular twists that, following in the footsteps of dishes by superstar chefs Ferran Adri, Heston Blumenthal and Grant Achatz, are changing the game. For Frankie, sights, sounds and smells carry as much weight as taste; the experience you remember is as important as the experience you are living. Like a good bitter, the memory of one of his drinks is meant to linger until the next sip.
W hen I was 18 years old, I worked at a cigar bar in London, Ontario. Men would come in and drink scotch or cognac and pair them with a particular tobacco, whether Mexican, Dominican, Honduran, Nicaraguan or Cuban. I remember being fascinated by how powerful flavoursallspice, mace, vanilla, cinnamon, soilcould be conjured just by combining liquid and a cigar. That started the gears turning, but I wasnt serious about food and drink yet. I was coming off a year on the Canadian rock-climbing team and had set my sights on turning pro. So off I went to train and compete in Europe, where bartending was my means of income.
At one point, I was hired at a bar in England that served infused vodkas, an idea that I filed away beside the cigar pairing. When I moved on to New York a few years later, I was employed as a food runner at the famous fine-dining restaurant Tocqueville. Part of my job was to garnish dishes with greens and herbs. I can still recall the fresh scents and how beautiful the greens looked against the white plates and the dark meat and jus. And so the concept of presentation was filed away.
New York was where I first felt strongly about my work. I had always seen it as a way to make money, but there I was, surrounded by people who were tremendously passionate about their jobs. It was galvanizing. So when I headed back to Canada in 2001, I looked up the Rubino brothers at Rain. They took a chance on me and thats where I created my first cocktail program. I used to go in an hour and a half early off the clock just to make sure the bar setup was perfect, both technically and aesthetically. I loved placing a glass of rosemary sprigs next to a candle next to some wooden skewers. The combination of colours and textures pleased me, and it was a visual treat for the patrons.