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It’s true the majority of those who attend Mardi Gras aren’t necessarily interested in a lesson about municipal licensing. Or human resources staffing. Or drawing up a holiday’s menu. Or any of the countless, other topics that could be discussed when analyzing the behind-the-scenes action that takes place in Soulard prior to the neighborhood’s biggest business day of the year.
For those involved entertaining the masses, though, there’s no day that tests the internal systems of a restaurant or bar more. And, for that matter, there’s no bigger test of a staff’s resolve.
We stopped by Hammerstone’s on Saturday, a friendly place the rest of the year, a friendly-but-frenzied place in the hours after Mardi Gras’ Grand Parade. Checking in with three members of that team, we got a trio of quick takes on how the venue was able to deal with what, by some accounts, was an “off” year in terms of business for the neighborhood’s year-’round stalwarts.
Cory Hammerstone, General Manager
Asked how business was doing, it didn’t take Cory Hammerstone long to suggest that numbers were seemingly down for her family’s popular restaurant and bar, located on one of the linchpin intersections of Soulard. In fact, her body language seemed to say it all. Even if crushing crowds can put stress on even the best operations, those folks are pouring monies into Soulard businesses for year-’round budgeting. And on Saturday, her corner of Ninth & Russell was active, but not gangbusters. Not like some years.
Caught around 2 p.m., Hammerstone surmised that “it’s hard to say, but I don’t think it’s going to get that busy.” Asked if the crowd may’ve been repressed by the threat of wickedly cold weather later in the weekend, she was dubious, figuring that “I don’t feel that people who come down here think that way.”
The weeks - even months - prior to Soulard Mardi Gras are filled with details. Some are as obvious as construction of wooden walls that separate workers from the crowds. Others are subtle. Staffing sort of neatly splits the difference. And this year, even an eyeball test showed that the number behind that wall had been trimmed back to the a lesser number.
On “the line,” Hammerstone had “10 bartenders; normally we would have about 20. And there are four pourers; normally we’d have eight.”
Those back there were pouring beers, sure, but also staying vigilant to underage drinking, constantly checking IDs as the fresh-faced members of the Soulard street scene came up to order.
“It might just be because I’m getting older,” she said. “But they seem to get younger every year.”
Betsy Alsup, Front of House
A bartender at “eight or nine” Mardi Gras via her gig at Hammerstone’s, bartender Betsy Alsup has been working these events since the youngest drinkers were a mere 12 years old. She’s seen the busy years and those that have been a bit off. With that experience in-hand, she shared Cory Hammerstone’s feeling that the day was slower than normal. But the added room behind the wall “made things chaotic in some ways.”
And things were less chaotic on the street, too. Alsup, and all bartenders that work street-side gigs at Mardi Gras, have an innate sense of feel. There are years when the crowd’s obviously amped up and ready for action, in all forms. Then you have years, like this one, when there’s a mellower vibe. To those who’ve never been to the event, or who view it with disdain, even Saturday’s quieter mix could’ve been seen as crazy. But, in reality, it wasn’t crazy, at all.
“It’s been great,” she said of the vibe, “really good. The crowd this year is nice. There seem to be a lot of friendly people. Everyone’s here having a good time. It’s not an aggressive crowd and people aren’t looking for fights.”
After touching base, Alsup carded a young redheaded lad. She sold him a hurricane. He dropped a dollar in the tip bucket. It was a Mardi Gras exchange of extreme simplicity, both parties content.
Phil Mitchell, Back of House
Out along the line, bartenders don’t have to worry about too much, in terms of sheer offerings. On the exterior, it’s all about the official brands of each season. This time out, that meant selling Kraftig Light, Sailor Jerry’s Rum and Fireball Cinnamon Whisky. Straightforward stuff, with two food items complementing the limited drink selections; in 2014, Hammerstone’s offered a pair of Mardi Gras favorites, with crawfish gumbo and red beans and rice. Simple, expected Mardi Gras food.
Inside, partons were packed wall-to-wall; these folks had the entire back bar to order from, as well as a more diverse food menu. That meant that kitchen boss Phil Mitchell (below) had a two-headed monster to attend to, constantly drifting outside to check on the steam tables, while making sure to tackle all the orders coming from inside the bar. On Saturday, close to 2:30, things were kicking hard inside, even if they were slow outside. The band Hush was playing the some oldies and blues hits, with a full, elbow-to-elbow audience. And they seemed to be hungry.
Bartender Nicole Casper bounced into the frenzied action of the Hammerstone’s kitchen and joshed with Mitchell about a ticket. While the action seemed intense, at this hour, everyone was still smiling. Mitchell and his small crew of three were behind, but just barely. Chicken wings, it seemed, were in non-stop demand and another order had just walked through the door with Casper. Moving through the process, Mitchell got that batch underway, allowing himself about two-minutes to give some thoughts on the patio.
Asked if the day was as intense as most Mardi Gras, Mitchell gave a pleasant, yet direct response: “It’s very intense.” Even though that was true, he’d sent one kitchen hand home early, content that his crew would be able to keep up with the demands.
He figured that the people outside that big kitchen’s walls didn’t really know what was happening. Nor did they care. And he was okay with that.
“I believe that they don’t really have any idea,” about how hard it was, he said. “They’re here to come down, party and have a good time.”
For him, Mardi Gras is a time for serious work, but it’s not as if there’s a vacation on the other side of the biggest rush of the year. While keeping up with the appetites of the Mardi Gras post-lunch rush, he knew that there’d be prep work to do. For, gosh, Sunday.
“I’ll be working on tomorrow’s buffet,” he said. “I’ll be right back here tomorrow morning.”
And with that, he disappeared back into the kitchen. Those chicken wings weren’t going to wait.
