Bartending 101

I’ll admit it straight up – I’m a cork dork.

That’s what my bartending teacher calls those of us who are wine snobs - those of us who already know which wines are varietals, which should be served with dessert and which should be heated, even before he writes it on the board. It’s a plus that I know “grigio” in Italian means “grey.”

Wonton, our teacher, and as far as I am concerned, our drinking buddy, teaches the University of Florida’s bartending class for two hours on Wednesday nights. The class – a motley bunch of 21-and-older frat boys, wanna-be bartenders, curious souls and borderline alcoholics – each came with a different purpose, but all with the coveted idea of learning a thing or two about college's true takeaway, alcohol, without a killer hangout or a burnt-out pocket.

Each week greets us 30 students with a different alcohol – vodka, whisky, tequila, rum. After a bit of history, mixology and description, we get to taste and try what we learned. Tonight, for our first class, we began with wine and beer.

Reds, whites and blushes span the wine scale. Chianti, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Riesling and all others were described to my fellow classmates. Optimal serving temperature and food pairings were glossed over, and wine wasn’t served (another class at UF is dedicated specifically to wine). Bummer for us cork dorks.

Beer, on the other hand, was in abundance. Little plastic cups dispersed at the end of the lesson were for sampling the smorgasbord of cold ones.

Kona, from Hawaii, left a lasting impression, perhaps just because of its origin. Guinness in a can, with its ultra-cool, patented CO2 filter, showed its skills in making packaged beer taste like draft. Shock Top took the place of Blue Moon. Bottled apple cider and Bud Light Golden Wheat were easily identifiable as the ladies’ heartthrobs. Local beers from Key West and Tampa somehow squeezed their way in, but couldn’t quite hold their own next to the standards like Red Stripe, Yuengling, Samuel Adams, XX and Stella Artois. Gluten-free and organic beers showed just how far the ale and lager industry have come. Flying Dog Tire Bite and, dare I put it in the same category, Old Engine Oil, were too bold to be truly enjoyed. And missing from the crew were Corona, Heineken and Bud Light. Perhaps they were too drunk to come to class.

My personal favs (and no, I am still not a beer drinker) included Wild Blue, Newcastle and a raspberry-infused brewski that, with each sip, tasted like a sun-kissed field. I regret to say I can’t remember its name.

If my beer-tainted mind from tonight’s class is any indication of future lessons, I cannot wait until next week.