Beijing Boyce

Email: “I think you may have saved me something in the region of 300 to 400 RMB by telling me how badly overpriced Face is. A girl I had a date with cheekily suggested the place! I counter-recommended the old Black Sun.” - JB

BB: Beijing Boyce is happy to help. Black Sun seems a rather extreme drop-off from Face, however, akin to skipping blue cheese martinis at Centro in favor of vodka and Red Bull at Kai Club or rejecting her suggestion of The Orchard for dinner and going instead to Steak and Eggs. There is middle ground and I recommend The Tree or Stone Boat as such. In any case, I hoped you kicked her butt at foosball!

Email: “I concur with the Stone Boat terrace option [mentioned in the last BB]. I went with two visitors for a wine ‘tasting’ on Saturday and the location is sublime.” - AH

BB: I was among the first people to hang out at Stone Boat (Amy and Jonathan era), not because I have a knack for finding new spots, but because former that’s Beijing Cai Guy and current ASC Fine Wines Guy Perri Dong introduced me to it. I was new to town and, given chilly nights and stressful days, Stone Boat was a warm and relaxed retreat from reality. It helped that I was in “tourist” mode, thus making a sedate Qing Dynasty-style teahouse set on a pond in a park in the center of a morphing world capital of fifteen million seem pretty cool. The Stone Boat also had (and has) wireless. However, those were the heydays of First Café. In The Legendary Battle for Beijing Boyce’s Liver, George and Echo’s martinis routed Stone Boat’s hot chocolates. Thus, I traded caffeine-laced serenity for a shadowy interior, dizzying jazz and blues, and intoxicating vodka potions. Oh, how young and reckless was I then!

Email: “This is the best place in Beijing.” – PA (sitting beside me in The Bookworm)

BB: The Bookworm has top-notch seminars, an excellent selection of food and drink, and a pleasant rooftop garden, but to be “the best” requires a crucial step: hiring me as a security guard with total discretion as to which patrons to bounce down that long flight of stairs. Take last night, when the woman across from me verbally galloped for an hour at high volume and with a voice reminiscent of a squeaky door. Bounce. Take last week, when two lovebirds sat in front of me and shared a toasted sandwich that they ate with mouths open, molars revealed and masticated tomatoes, cheese and bacon visibly and audibly on churning display. Bounce and bounce. Take the people who avoid sneezing on their own laptop screens and instead send the mist toward yours, who scream “Wei!” into a cell phone a half-dozen times, or who for hours lightly sing, hum or tap out with their pencil some annoying Black Eyed Peas’ song. Bounce, bounce and bounce. Thus, PA, until justice reigns – and service is more consistent – The Bookworm will only be “one of the best.”

Email: “This is Alex (the former American bartender at Phil’s)… I’ll be coming back to Beijing soon but I’m not too sure when. I’ll keep you informed.” – AK

BB: To those who missed it, Alex suddenly showed up at Phil’s earlier this year and for a few months helped Sally whip up cheap but good drinks. He also wore the diplomat’s hat and quelled rowdier patrons, making him a nice addition to a nice pub. Let’s hope he has time to mix a few cocktails at Phil’s when he returns to our fair city.

Email: “I always read your newsletter, but I too find it difficult with that font. Can you change it to Arial narrow perhaps?” - PM

BB: You got it. Ladies, Gentlemen and Barbarians, this issue of Beijing Boyce sports this fall’s most fashionable font - Arial narrow.

Email: “Congratulations on passing the 50,000-word mark, but where do you find the time?” — A.E.

BB: It’s easier than it seems. An average biweekly issue is 2,500 words and, since most of the material constitutes simple observations, I can write 300 or more words per hour. That means about thirty or forty minutes per night on the laptop, less than many people spend watching TV, one habit I somehow failed to acquire.

As for research, the key is to mix work and play, food and drink. For example, if I meet a business acquaintance at Browns for dinner, then walk to Q Bar for a drink with a friend, popping my head into First Cafe and Beer Mania on the way, then in three hours I end up with one meal, two drinks and four newsletter entries. I’m sure this is disappointing to some who imagine me pounding down a dozen cocktails a night and stumbling about town, pockets full of taxi receipts, to serve the communal liver. I do indulge in the occasional pub crawl, but alack and alas this newsletter requires taking notes and that requires some sobriety.

(From Beijing Boyce XX, first emailed on July 13, 2006)

Here is yet another reader story submitted in response to my tale of almost being lit on fire while “enjoying” a Flaming Lamborghini.

“A friend of mine was celebrating her birthday last year at [X bar in Beijing], upstairs on the deck. I ordered her a Flaming Lamborghini, which I’ve enjoyed in the past in a single glass. This version was like yours, a three-level pyramid of glasses on a steel board, where flaming alcohol is supposed to trickle down from the top glass to the lower ones, like a waterfall.

“The pyramid was lit, and alcohol started flowing. I thought this was very cool until some glasses exploded from the heat, and the table caught fire. Although we did manage to put the fire out relatively quickly, the birthday girl wasn’t very amused. Just proves the old saying: don’t play with fire… especially not liquid on fire.

(From Beijing Boyce XVIII, first emailed on June 8, 2006)

Two issues ago, I wrote somewhat humorously about the dangers I faced while being treated to a Flaming Lamborghini in a Beijing bar. To be clear, serving lit substances to patrons who are drunk, and usually showing off, is a cocktail for disaster (not to mention that it vaporizes perfectly good alcohol). Several readers proved my point, including one who submitted the following story:

“One winter’s evening a while back, I was in [a Tianjin bar] which drew a good crowd nightly to watch its bartender juggling and fire acts. This particular evening the bar added a special trick – the Flaming Champagne Glass Pyramid – which they set up on top of the bar.

“Lights dimmed, lighter ready, the bartender did his pour from his bottles of nitro (or whatever they were using that night) and the glass pyramid was lit into bright flames as the crowd went “Oooh” and “Ahhh.”

“As the bartender poured, and the cascading liquid flamed up, the manager added his own touch: he took a deep breath and blew at the middle of the flaming pyramid. Instantly a torch of flames shot straight out a good six feet or so. (If you have ever seen a World War Two movie with infantrymen using flame throwers, this is EXACTLY what it looked like.)

“Unfortunately, a customer happened to be standing in front of the act about five feet away. The flames completely engulfed his head and neck, and he now became the Torch Man. He was stunned for a second. Then he began to use his hands in a futile attempt to slap out the burning vapors. All of the locals standing around him just stared and the place went silent. What were they thinking – that this was part of the act?

“By this time (half an eternity or maybe ten seconds later), as singed hair and flesh smell started permeating the air, and realizing that no one standing near this poor chap was lifting a finger to help, I grabbed my half empty pint of Tsingdao, ran from the other side of the bar, and dumped it over the guy’s head. The flames receded somewhat, and as my eyes scanned the nearest tables for another pint to pour over the guy, another patron jumped into the act and beat out the remaining flames.

“Without going into all the graphic details, the bloke was standing there in shock, with face and hair singed and melted, and the staff during this whole episode (30 seconds?) did absolutely nothing. He was finally bundled off in a car to the local hospital, and the eventual news was that he did recover from severe burns.

“Moral of the story? Bring your own fire extinguisher to the ball, or if your friend wants to show you the latest 151 trick with a Bic, decline politely as you run for the nearest exit. At the very least, always keep a pint handy.

(From Beijing Boyce XVII, first emailed on May 27, 2006)

Email: “Blarney Stone and O’Malley’s are not ‘British’ pubs. They are Irish… Sorry for being so patriotic and stubborn.” - GP

BB: I knew something felt wrong when I put together that special Shanghai edition. Thank Buddha you clarified this before St. Patrick’s Day or I might have had a knuckle sandwich to go with my green beer.

Email: “I sent your newsletter to a few Shanghai friends… I note there were no comments on which are the best ‘pick-up’ places. Now, that is useful information.” - ME

BB: Being as pure as the driven snow, I’m an improbable person to pick out the pick-up places, but perhaps can peruse my pub list and propose some potential ports. If you are low on cash and/or like mates who trail toilet paper streamers, then Windows; if, in either whole or in part, you are a dancing fool, then Zapata’s; if you have a bundle of money and are willing to part with a good portion of it, then Bar Rouge or Park 97. And if you like the young expatriate professional types who talk so incessantly they don’t even realize they’re being picked up, then Cotton’s. Good night and good luck.

Email: “Well, I must admit Browns must be good since you have gone there ten times. But then again, if you are there ten times, aren’t you forgetting follow-ups to other bars? … And also, the year’s best bar, give [Browns] a couple of months before you declare it.” - DF

BB: Ah, the pitfalls of drinking and writing (yes, this email’s author admitted to having a few). I’m not sure how to respond. I go out to meet friends and we tend to stay local and Browns is in our vicinity, so… And while I try my best to venture to other areas, this newsletter is just a hobby, not a job, so…

By the way, I never “declared” Browns as the year’s best bar, but said it had the potential. And frankly, it is fulfilling it with each passing weekend. That’s not to say no challenges loom: Guinness and Kilkenny sell almost at cost (not the best business model); other players could target the same market, including Carnegie’s, of which Browns in a knock-off; the place could suffer the type of HR problems that have hurt other local bars, including First Cafe and Midnight; and so on. Having written that, I’ll close by adding that there is no Beijing bar that comes even close to having as much success, or impact, as Browns this year.

(From Beijing Boyce XIII, first emailed on March 24, 2006)

Email: “Just wanted to let you know I wholeheartedly agree that Taiwan Beer rules! (Picture me giving you the devil’s horns with my right hand).” - CP

BB: What makes Taiwan Beer great - and I refer to the draft in the big green bottles - is its freshness. This stuff is like milk in that it has a due date of a few weeks. No preservatives means better taste and fewer hangovers, my friends, and like many locals, I ignore the heckling of foreign devils and chuck a few ice cubes in my brew as I’m chowing down on some gongbao chicken. If anyone knows where Taiwan Beer is available in Beijing, please let me know.

(From Beijing Boyce IX, first emailed on January 26, 2006)

Email: [Re My statement last issue that drinkers who mix Chivas with green tea should be executed] Why should you have any problem with those philistines who drink mass-market blended whisky? Let them do what they want with it - you can make it any more bland or innocuous by mixing it with whatever Chinese ingredients you have lying around. That leaves the nice single malts to us! - KR

BB: A good point, but what if those people are on a slippery slope, at the bottom of which they start mixing those nice single malts with green tea? Not a pretty situation and one that is bound to increase prices. No, best to nip this in the bud, perhaps by death by poisoning. Then again, come to think of it, maybe that’s exactly what Chivas and green tea does to people.

(From Beijing Boyce VI, first emailed on December 14, 2005)

Email: In response to last issue’s story on 5:19 bar, the establishment’s owner writes:

BB: “…thanks for the mention in your last yet-to-be-named newsletter. I hadn’t thought of the 80s rec room analogy, but I like it. My only comment is that we have more wines than just the four Moldovan wines. Other than that, two of the draughts are now installed (Yanjing and Carlsberg) and we moved the sofas when darts are played [I was the first to break the “dart board above the sofa” story. Dow Jones and WSJ, eat your hearts out.]” - DM

Note: Based on the author’s friendliness, I’m guessing he would be willing to stand by during dart games and yell things such as “one hundred and forrrrrrty!“, like they do on TV.

(From Beijing Boyce VII, first emailed on December 29, 2005)

From the nimble fingers of more than a half-dozen readers comes the following query.

Email: Who else reads this newsletter?

BB: As of today, there are just over 200 people on the mailing list. This includes people who own, manage or work in bars, restaurants and food companies (9%), hotels and clubs (7%), and wine companies (7%). About 12% of readers are in the media and another 3% run groups such as the Beijing Cheese Society. The remaining 62% are mainly people who love to eat and drink, and include everyone from co-workers and business acquaintances to my friends (including my First Cafe buddies) and the people they’ve referred. I think it’s a nice mix of people involved in the food and beverage industry and patronizing it.

(From Beijing Boyce V, first emailed on December 1, 2005)

We get e-mail: more messages than you can count on several fingers on one hand. Here are four that made me furrow my brow and dedicate some thought.

Email: Is this [newsletter] a commercial endeavor? - FS

BB: Yes. And now that I just dreamed for one second that I could make money from my amateur observations of Beijing’s food and beverage scene, let me be honest. No. This is a financially nonviable endeavor. Its simple aim is to provide views and news about Beijing’s food and beverage scene, mostly in the Central Business District, with occasional tales about good and bad taxi drivers, housing, shopping, public spitting, and who knows what else. But if someone out there DOES want to pay me for this, feel free to indulge yourself.

Email: Your articles are really long. - LS

That was my gut reaction, too, but then I decided that too much food and drink writing out there is short, smart-alecky and aloof. Plus, I’m not beholden to sponsors or the need to fit into x number of column inches, as is the print media.

Email: Who else is getting this newsletter? - PS

Most readers are people I know, and people they know, who love not only food and drink, but also have quite a bit of disposable income to pursue that passion. They range from diplomats to homemakers to English teachers to entrepreneurs. The mailing list includes many people who own or work in bars, restaurants and wine companies.

Email: I would appreciate less prose and more recommendations of wines. - CD

This sounds as though it came from the “dog ate my homework” school, but I lost my Hilton wine tasting notes on a bus headed for the Great Wall. (No doubt, the driver is reading my drivel at the red lights.) I’ll try to include more specifics on wines, whiskies, tequilas and other beverages in the future.

Email: Why don’t you turn this into a blog? - Too many people to list

People have suggested I do this or add pictures to the newsletter. For now, I’m keeping it a simple, text-based newsletter, but if the readership keeps growing, I’ll go online.

(From Beijing Boyce II, first emailed on October 20, 2005)