“Short Pours Are A Scam”
Am I the only person alive who still likes a strong drink every now and again? I hear you all about the whole new fad of not drinking at all, can’t judge you for that, that would be wrong. But paying £12 for a martini that is one sip?!!? Are we serious? No, actually, are we serious?
Short pours have presented themselves in every other new or trendy restaurant and bar I’ve come across. The worst of them, not even telling me that it is going to be short — nae, miniature. Who decided that this was a good idea? Who is signing off? Why are we sipping one fluid ounce of lemon drop and acting like it is the coolest thing a bar has done since the espresso martini?
They don’t taste as good as the real deal, the cocktail that you settle into, that develops, that grows onto and into the palette.
Mallory, Junior Food & Drink Editor
A cultural shift
Quality over quantity, I hear that. Taste testing in experimental cocktail bars, sure. Health consciousness, not sure if a short pour is going to save you, but whatever floats your boat. Whatever your defence, the reality of these short pours is that they are just concentrated alcohol with a hint of an expressed orange peel. They don’t taste as good as the real deal, the cocktail that you settle into, that develops, that grows onto and into the palette.
If you don’t want to get drunk, go no and low. Do not infest your teenie tiny drink mindset onto what could’ve been the best bar Hackney Wick has ever seen. What is so fun about two sips? Honestly, I am baffled. I can’t even wrack my brain for the appeal.
In my admittedly judgmental eyes, those who pay full price, or even half price, for a semi-full nanoscopic coupe glass represent the sheep of the going-out world.
The short pour problem
The true problem is the price, the scam of it all. I have seen short pour cocktails priced at £12. Some menus even call them “sips”, and you can’t even break a tenner for one. At their most evil, you won’t know that the drink is made for a newborn ant until it comes to the table in all its disappointing overcompensation. And, no, I am not after a fishbowl; I am simply after a drink. After all, I’m a low-ball kinda gal — if you’re gonna scam me, at least hide it behind a massive block of ice (don’t do that).
The aesthetics of it all
In my admittedly judgmental eyes, those who pay full price, or even half price, for a semi-full nanoscopic coupe glass represent the sheep of the going-out world. This questionable ordering choice in a thimble matches the vibe of XL balloon jeans and non-prescription eye glass frames, both of which will unfortunately be cramping a landfill come June (admittedly, a hopeful thought for the future of the short pour).
If the drink is half the size, why isn’t the price the same? Bars are shrinking the experience with no transparency. Short pour menu creators and defenders are diminishing the act of drinking with no second thought. Are we being pushed out? Is there a time limit on my backless bar stool? Or is it because the trend of non-drinking or zebra striping is creating a clever nook in the market in which cheap managers can nick an extra tenner off of us when, really, we’re drinking a £2 pour.
Do we no longer appreciate the elation of a finished martini and a blissful twenty-minute walk home / stylish hail of a cab Carrie Bradshaw style? Give me a break. More specifically, give me an overfilled Duke’s martini and cut me off after two.
And, no, I am not after a fishbowl; I am simply after a drink. After all, I’m a low-ball kinda gal — if you’re gonna scam me, at least hide it behind a massive block of ice (don’t do that).
My suggestions
In an effort to make this not simply a rant, here are my suggestions for what bars that want to highlight the short pour should do:
A: Be transparent. I mean, bold letters that say “This drink may last you under two minutes and will wash down not more than two olives… and don’t even think about a salty cashew. Your thirst shan’t be quenched!”
B: Charge us for what it really is (plus the service and sourcing). If the drink is ¼ of a Manhattan, say, then charge us ¼ of what you would a Manhattan. That means £3-£5!
C: Give us the option. I’m happy to let the semi-social soul cyclers have their fun with a short pour on a Wednesday afternoon, but if it looks like a nice mix, why not let me have a big girl one? Food for thought.
