In: Beverage directors.
Out: Mixologists.
In: The overly enthusiastic stir.
Out: The elaborate up-down shake.
In: House distillations.
Out: House infusions.
In: The bartender beard.
Out: The mixologist mustache.
In: Faux dive bars.
Out: Faux speakeasies.
In: Reservations policies.
Out: Hidden doorways.
In: Cocktails on tap.
Out: 12-minute cocktails.
In: Fancy popcorn.
Out: House-roasted peanuts.
In: Tea-tails.
Out: Beer-tails.
In: Shots of malört.
Out: Shots of fernet.
In: Sipping vermouths.
Out: Sipping vinegars.
In: Centrifuges.
Out: Blowtorches.
In: Buttering.
Out: Fat-washing.
In: Garnishing ice cubes.
[pin_widget url="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/260434790923821374/"]
Out: Charging for ice cubes.
In: Resurrecting the apple martini.
Out: Resurrecting the piña colada. (Sorry, Rupert Holmes).
This article appears in our April 2016 issue of Washingtonian.