This Sommelier's Shift Drink Might Surprise You 🗣️🍷

Michele Thomas researches American bev-ways for today’s edition of her column, Bed Stuy Somm. Abe Zarate doesn’t get drunk anymore; nonetheless, he shares a silly way to say “You’re drunk!” in the Spanish of Laredo and Guadalajara.

Two Somms, Two Shift Drinks, Nothing Too Fancy

Read the essay at the bottom of this email to learn about Michele’s shift drink and her theories on how it became an “industry” classic.

When RT asked Abe Zarate, this week’s podcast guest, for his shift drink, he explained that getting sober in the restaurant world means at lot less lingering at his workplace. Abe still enjoys a cold one after a hospitality shift, he just sips it at home on his couch. Rather than reach for a sexy new de-alcoholized product, the @sober_somm craves something widely accessible at the end of the night: soda with bitters and a lemon slice. (He did name check a delicious non-alcoholic bitters brand.)

While today’s essay is set in the “local” she visits after a long day in retail, Michele counts her special drinks at home as shift drinks, too. She writes paeans to the at-home shift drink, complete with snack pairings, on her instagram @bedstuysomm.

If this all sounds delicious, help us keep serving up essays and interviews by becoming a paid supporter today.

“You have to like yourself. There is no other option.”

The most radical thing about sommelier Abe Zarate is not that he’s a sommelier who doesn’t drink. It’s the way he dispenses with the trope that recovery from drinking too much requires the self-image of a worm at the bottom of a rock.

“The Sober Somm” shares his story not to add to the American canon of alcoholic testimonies, but as a way to normalize a state of being that lacked representation at the time Abe realized he wanted to lose alcohol but keep his wine career. This is not to say that Abe doesn’t share the whys and hows of his journey, including a treasured relationship with his sister and the process of becoming comfortable in his own company.

Still, speaking openly about quitting booze in the beverage industry takes guts.

“You couldn’t hang,” is how Abe summarizes the typical judgment by drinks professionals upon their colleagues who quit booze and and slink away from the business. Taking up the public persona of The Sober Somm allowed Abe to become more confident than ever in his career by calmly announcing who he is and daring anyone to make it a big deal.

In the end, the response has been positive. Abe was recently named one of Wine Enthusiast’s Future Forty. Professionals from across the industry regularly send him private messages about choosing a similar path. Instead of shame, Abe’s sobriety has been associated with confidence—and community—from the start.

Season 3, Episode 8 of the Modo di Bere Podcast is a frank conversation about what it’s like to be a beverage professional who wants to change the way they drink. A focus on career freedom is also the motivation behind Abe’s volunteer work offering language classes for hospitality workers as part of his sister’s non-profit, Corporate Pero Latinos.

Listen for a soft announcement of the Spanish version of this podcast, for RT’s confession that she considered becoming a “sober somm” herself, and to learn how to use the Spanish word for “fart” to cut off your friend at the bar. (“Estás pedo.”) RT and Abe also summarize and discuss recent health news around alcohol and the industry’s response to that news.

Don’t miss this rich episode!
Listen: S3E8 “You Have to Like Yourself,” says Abe Zarate, Sober Sommelier

Right before recording this interview, Abe lost his job with the unfortunate closing of the award-winning restaurant Contento. If listening to this episode makes you want to hire Abe, reach out on instagram to see if he hasn’t already been snapped up.

Bed Stuy Somm

In a way, today’s column is the nighttime corollary to the previous day-in-the-life piece Michele Thomas wrote for this magazine about working in wine and spirits retail retail. You can revisit that piece, and all your favorite essays from this newsletter, any time at mododibere.com/magazine.

If you heard or watched to the Michele’s interview on the Modo di Bere podcast, you could clearly imagine how she and Rose Thomas decided to start working together on writing projects that very day (hence this magazine).

Michele Thomas holds an MFA in Creative Writing from St. Joseph’s University. She holds a Certified Sommelier credential from the Court of Master Sommeliers. Michele works full time as the General Manager and buyer for Greene Grape Wine & Spirits, in Brooklyn, NY and her writing has appeared in The New Yorker, Edible Brooklyn, and Activist Philanthropist.

She has taught English and Creative Writing at the Girls Write Now, Legal Outreach, Fordham University, and St. Joseph’s University, written science books for middle grade children and is the co-author of Culinary Careers for Dummies, with Annette Tomei and Tracey Biscontini (Wiley).

Formerly the executive editor for curriculum at the International Culinary Center (founded as the French Culinary Institute), Michele is currently working on a memoir of her adventures in food, wine, and family.

A Sommelier’s “Shift Drink” Might Surprise You

by Michele Thomas

It’s happened more times than I can count. Two or more hours after the “civilians” who don’t work in the industry clock out, I’ve finally settled onto a comfy bar stool at my local. Just before I take my first sip of the day’s first beverage that isn’t for business, one of my customers recognizes me. We lock eyes. They smile over their own glass of wine. I smile back.  

 “Fancy seeing you here,” they say. “What are you drinking?”

“Champagne of beers,” I say, holding up the iconic curves of a bottle of Miller High Life, decked in its signature white and green necklace bedazzled with the brand’s mascot, a lady— she looks like a cross between a witch and a cancan dancer—sitting on a sliver of the moon. This usually results in a shared laugh, its volume determined by how long they’ve been at the bar.

“Huh,” they say, quieter. “Well, I guess you’re off the clock. I figured you’d be drinking something different.” Left unsaid is the fact that “different” likely means expensive, or at least fascinating, something from a bucolic vineyard on the other side of the world. We share a toast.

“Nope,” I say, then take a swig, and sigh. They go back to their evening, watching sports or chatting up other friends from the neighborhood. 

My whole body relaxes as the beer flows down my gullet. The flavor is basic, but pleasing. Comforting. Perfect. It’s delicious, for no reason at all. If I’m lucky, I catch a nod from the bartender, who’s also brought me a shot of whiskey. 

Founded in 1903, Miller High Life has a storied tradition as an after-hours go-to for sommeliers, bartenders, and chefs. (In fact, just last year, Miller High Life became the official beer sponsor of “Top Chef,” the critically acclaimed reality show). There’s something magically refreshing about this beer’s gentle sweetness, soft bubbles and ice-cold, straightforward flavor after a long day—or night—working to make sure everyone else has a good time.

A plainspoken brew, Miller High Life fits neatly into the American mythos: The United States is a nation of proudly humble, hardworking folk who give their all in building community. When that work is done—we rest and drink beer, just like the good Lord intended. And nothing’s more American than turning a myth into commerce. 

The moniker “Champagne of Beers” developed as a marketing ploy. In the early 20th century, bottled beer was still a fairly new idea, especially in the U.S. Most beer was consumed at saloons or purchased, by those on the go, in metal or wooden pails. According to trademark forms from Molson Coors, the parent company behind Miller High Life, the beer first hit the market just ahead of New Year’s Eve. The pitch was an alternative to Champagne, for folks who didn’t like or couldn’t afford the stuff (which was, at that point, often cloyingly sweet and produced almost everywhere but France’s Champagne region). 

Golden-hued, bottled in a clear, long-necked bottle designed to evoke the upmarket look of bubbly, Miller High Life’s gambit worked. Americans took to the new lager, and within 3-4 years, the product had a new slogan: “Champagne of Bottled Beers.” Over time, the word “bottled’ was dropped, and the rest is hoppy history. 

So, how did Miller High Life become a bit of a “bartender’s handshake?” Like many aspects of beverage history, the real story is likely lost in the great beer steins of time. However, I have my suspicions about what happened. Throughout the 20th century, fine dining, haute, and nouvelle cuisine became democratized. Expertly executed dishes moved out of the kitchens of the nobility into restaurants. The working-class folks making those dishes, and serving the bespoke wines and cocktails alongside them, went from feeding one party a few times a day to feeding hundreds in a single night. 

After the last customers went home, these workers were reaching for something, anything, that was uncomplicated and for them. Think about it. After hours of precise chopping, stirring, tweezing microgreens and twisting curls of citrus zest, no one, not the chefs, not the bartenders, wants to make anything. A tasty beer with a crown cap? Yes, please, and keep ‘em coming. 

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