Encore, Maestro! For Guinness World breaking mixologist, Salvatore Calabrese, the bar is a theatre and hospitality is the ultimate art form.
BY GIOVANNA G. BONOMO
June, 2024
MAESTRO. Etymologically linked to teaching, music, and mastery, this word encapsulates the notion that an individual who attains mastery in their craft possesses an almost otherworldly gift. In the world of mixology, Salvatore Calabrese, widely known as “The Maestro”, exemplifies a nonsoché* quality that transcends bartending.
The inventor of the Breakfast Martini, and not only, regarded as a force of excellence in the modern drinks industry, has crafted cocktails for royalty, champions, presidents, and celebrities worldwide in search of a new emotion, a thrill of excitement, a fleeting moment to savour.
Like an orchestral conductor wielding a baton, Salvatore shakes up libations that captivate the senses and transport us from the bar to a theatre, crafting liquid masterpieces that transcend time itself. His ability to evoke awe and emotion through a drink raises the questions: Who is Salvatore Calabrese? Who was his first Maestro? And, what lessons can we learn from his extraordinary success?
Salvatore’s immersion into the enchanting world of hospitality began at a mere 11 years old, a pivotal juncture orchestrated by his father to steer him away from the Southern Italian streets of idleness. The gateway to this transformative odyssey unfurled at the illustrious Hotel Regina, ensconced along the sun-drenched shores of the Amalfi Coast in the picturesque town of Maiori.
Salvatore quickly found himself immersed in La Dolce Vita, where dreams took flight on the wings of possibility. In these times, and within the opulent confines of Hotel Regina, Salvatore meets a mysterious luminary, Mr. Raffaello. A Humphrey Bogart type, a well-travelled polyglot, shrouded in enigmatic allure and profound wisdom, who would present the foundational notes of what would evolve into a grand symphony of The Maestro’s burgeoning career in hospitality.
GIOVANNA: Why was Mr. Raffaello such an important influence in your career?
SALVATORE CALABRESE: My father passed away, one year after introducing me to Mr. Raffaello. I was 12. So he became a second father and mentor for me. He belonged to that culture that placed hospitality above all else. You see, much is said about the so-called Dolce Vita of the Sixties. These were some of the best experiences in my life because I can truly say I experienced the Dolce Vita – it was a special time, and there was an elegance about having a drink. I remember the customers who came to the bar after the sea, dressed elegantly for the aperitif. It was within this kind of culture that Mr. Raffaello served as my mentor. He taught me many things, starting with the art of hospitality.
What is one lesson Mr. Raffaello taught you about the art of hospitality that you still cherish today?
S.C: This is a story that I will never forget because it taught me the key to hospitality. One day I entered, and the chef was not sitting in his usual place, he was cleaning a huge fish. I greeted him as per my usual sunny self, and suddenly, he grabbed the fish which was half the size of my adolescent body and hurled the beast at me.
So there I was flat on my back with this fish on my pre-pubescent chest! This shook me, and all morning I wondered what I had done wrong to deserve such treatment.
When Mr. Raffaello arrived, I told him everything that had happened. Instead of sympathizing with me or reprimanding Chef Alfonso, he taught me one of the most important lessons in hospitality: “Don’t try to bring the sunshine to those who don’t want it.” You must first understand the person. If they want the sun, bring them the sun. But if they want to be left alone, leave them alone.”This is the art and essence of true hospitality: it’s not about offering what pleases us, what we believe is good or beautiful, but rather about understanding what our guests desire, and trying to satisfy them. It’s about observing first and acting second. From that moment on, anyone who came to the bar, I tried to figure out their character.
Mr. Raffaello also taught me the secret of the three scales . This means shaking the shaker first higher up, then in the middle, and then lower down, with a rotating motion and not pounding. I still see many bartenders who make these pounding movements, breaking the ice. With the “three scales,” however, the result is completely different.
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After the loss of his father at 12 years old, Salvatore found solace and purpose in the realm of service, initially starting from a modest position behind a bar and swiftly ascending the ranks to become the youngest maître d’ on the sun-kissed Amalfi coast by the tender age of 21.
Despite his meteoric rise in the hospitality world, Salvatore harboured a secret yearning to navigate the open seas as a captain. His heart longed for the rhythmic embrace of the ocean’s waves, the caress of salty winds, and the boundless expanse of the maritime horizon. However, destiny unfurled a sudden twist in his life’s course when a near-tragic accident threatened to plunge Salvatore into eternal darkness, jeopardizing his eyesight and eclipsing his dreams of commanding a ship at sea. Salvatore returned to his second calling in life—hospitality. In a poignant reflection, he confessed, “I often say I did not choose hospitality; rather, hospitality chose me.”
Embracing this serendipitous twist of fate with grace and fortitude, Salvatore embarked on a poignant journey to reinvent himself in the realm of service in London with his English wife, Susan. In 1982, a fateful advertisement for a Bar Manager position at Duke’s Hotel caught his wife Susan’s eye, beckoning him back to the enchanting world of hotels. “My wife saw an advert for DUKE’s Hotel which read, ‘Duke’s Hotel looks for Bar Manager’,” Salvatore recounted. A job that Calabrese wasn’t technically qualified for. ”So, I went there for an interview and obviously, my reference was far too much about being a restaurant manager more than a barman, but I was very convincing – I told them that bar work has always been in my blood.
Plus, Mr. Raffaello taught me his signature “three scales.” Calabrese prevailed. His natural charm helped him get through the door, but it was his wisdom, creativity, and touch of fate, that cemented his rise to superstardom. “I just thought, if they give me a go, I can show them that I’m the right person for the job.” And show them he did.
How did your career at Duke's take off?
S.C: The better word would be IGNITE. It was a very cold December, and a guest at DUKE’s asked the head bartender for something hot.The bartender decided to use the gas on top of the bar to make a hot drink for the customer. He ended up setting fire to the bar and to the customer. In the wake of the fiery mishap, the bartender’s career went up in flames, while mine was about to ignite...But getting the job was only the beginning.
Being such a tiny bar, averaging between £400-£500 per week, I knew I could not work with the quantity so I took take a closer look at my surroundings and focused on improving quality and serving something unique. Dukes, though completely unknown at the time, still had something rare. The walls were plastered in rich history and tradition. Reflecting on the portrait of the Duke of Wellington that loomed over me and the echoes of bygone eras I realized something was missing: LIQUID HISTORY.
You recognized an opportunity to craft a drink through history?
S.C: And Cognac! But what felt like a great idea to me, sounded like a horrible one to everyone else. When I first proposed the concept, the director and manager dismissed it outright, adamant that such an idea would never find its place within these walls.
How did you overcome the resistance?
S.C: I guess you can say it was my audacity to propose and believe in a revolutionary concept – the notion of "selling history in a glass" – that catapulted it into the limelight and the support of the owner of the bar who saw beyond the veil of uncertainty, granting his nod of approval. But let me be clear, it was by no means easy to pull off.
Can you explain the concept behind Liquid History?
S.C: Just as observing a painting by Picasso reveals the art of creation, delving into a bottle of vintage Cognac unveils the hidden artistry of distillation.I embarked on a quest to pair historical years with the Cognac produced during that time. The very mention of a bottle of 1812 vintage Cognac brings to mind Napoleon's ill-fated retreat from Russia. Out of the 550,000 troops that marched into Moscow, a mere 22,000 made it back. It was a truly momentous year. To my delight, I came across a bottle or two of this exceptional vintage... I wanted to pass on this feeling of excitement to my guests when I opened a bottle for them.
What was the result?
S.C: I took the bar up to £10,000 per table.
Looking back, what wisdom can you extract from this episode?
S.C: In life, eccentricity matters. You need to do things no one else thought about, even if it means dealing with speculation and ridicule at the onset.
“ Maestro Salvatore Calabrese is one of the foremost mixologists in the world. His reputation has led him to be sought after by internationally distinguished personalities, preparing cocktails for many Heads of State and Prime Ministers.
He is a true example of the Italian self-made man who has made his mark in the world through his talent, creativity, and commendable dedication to work. His talent and fame are internationally recognized making him
an Icon of Italy IN THE WORLD. ”
— DOMENICO BELLANTONE Consul General of Italy in London
Can you share Duke's naked/direct Martini story and the guest that catapolted you to a whole new career stratosphere?
S.C: It was 1985. I had a customer, a certain Mr. Delaplane who, on the first day he stayed at the hotel, came to the bar and asked me for a very very dry martini, and very very cold.
As I embarked on the quest to craft the elusive concoction that would meet the mysterious gentleaman’s discerning palate, I encountered a formidable challenge: that of finding the delicate balance between dryness and chill that seemed to elude me. From the first moment I attempted to make this drink for him, I could make it cold but not dry, I could make it dry but not cold – and Mr. Delaplane always used to complain.
I remembered Mr. Raffaello’s words, “It’s not what we want, it’s what the consumer wants, and it’s what’s called hospitality!” With his words echoing in my mind and guiding my efforts, I was determined to find the solution that would satisfy Mr. Delaplane’s request. But he was very specific and I was failing. And if I would have turned around and been a young arrogant bastard saying this is my way or the highway, I wouldn’t be where and who I am today.
So perseverance made the difference?
S.C: Yes, but not only. I was able to see potential in an everyday item. A dash bottle! I had seen a porter in the canteen meticulously dispensing malt vinegar onto his fish and chips with a dash bottle. I took the dash bottle, washed it out and put the dry vermouth inside so I could control exactly how much to add to the top of the martini. With the challenge of dryness conquered, I turned my attention to the crucial element of coldness.
In the small bar, there was a little domestic fridge and inside there was a little freezer – big enough to put one bottle of gin and two glasses. It worked! As Mr. Delaplane savoured the flawlessly executed martini and departed the bar, I couldn’t anticipate the profound impact that this encounter would have on the trajectory of my career and the reputation of Duke’s. After all, I didn’t know who the patron was or what he did for a living. A few hours later, Mr. Delaplane returned with a fax in hand, and this time, introducing himself.
“ My name is Stanton Delaplane,” he began, revealing his identity as a journalist with ties to illustrious publications such as the San Francisco Chronicle, the Los Angeles Times, and the New York Times. In the fax destined for San Francisco, he penned words that would resonate across continents and change my life: “If you ever go to London, you must make a stop at the DUKE’s bar, where Salvatore will make you the best martini on the planet. ”
THEN CAME THE BREAKFAST MARTINI...
Was the breakfast Martini an ode to your love of breakfast?
S.C: Quite the opposite! You should see me in the morning. The only thing I want is coffee made with my Bialetti moka pot—even when I am travelling I bring my Bialetti with me. But one day in 1996 - Susan, my wife, insisted I eat something for breakfast because I she didn’t like the way my face woke up that day.
Those were the years when many chemical and artificial products were used, while I was already working to ensure that everything was not only organic but also fresh.
Something about that breakfast taste struck me, I thought about that sweet and bitter taste together, and it came to my mind to use it for a cocktail. The jam was English, so I had the idea that for consistency everything should be English. Therefore, the gin. Then I used Cointreau and no sugar. A drop of lemon juice, and the jam...
“You look worn out. You need to eat,” she said. I refused, and she refused to listen. She prepared toast with jam. I ate it. And right then I realized the secret was under my nose this whole time. The secret is in the marmalade!
Let me explain...
Those were the years when many chemical and artificial products were used, while I was already working to ensure that everything was not only organic but also fresh.Something about that breakfast taste struck me, I thought about that sweet and bitter taste together, and it came to my mind to use it for a cocktail. The jam was English, so I had the idea that for consistency everything should be English. Therefore, the gin. Then I used Cointreau and no sugar. A drop of lemon juice, and the jam. If you ask me, the luck of this cocktail was in its name.
RECIPE
The Maestro’s Breakfast Martini
50 ml Gin
15 ml Cointreau
15 ml Fresh lemon juice
2 Spoons orange marmalade
In a shaker filled with ice, add all the ingredients and mix well, ensuring the orange marmalade is thoroughly incorporated with the other elements. Shake vigorously, strain the mixture into a well-chilled martini glass, and garnish with an orange twist.
“ I would be no one
unless the people
who work with me play the same instrument ”
— SALVATORE CALABRESE The Maestro
SALVATORE CALABRESE THE MAESTRO
In 2012, The Maestro created ‘the world ’s oldest cocktail.' The serve, known as 'Salvatore’s Legacy', is made using 1788 Close de Griffier Vieux Cognac, 1770 Kummel liqueur, c1860 Dubb orange liqueur, and c1930 Angostura bitters. And the price for seven centuries in a glass? £5,500.
Was your intention behind 'Salvatore's legacy' to create the most expensive cocktail on the planet?
S.C: I didn’t aim to make the world’s priciest cocktail. Between us, considering the ingredients, the selling price could have easily been doubled. My goal was to create the longest-lasting cocktail in the world. When you add up the production dates of the ingredients, it amounts to 730 years. That’s the record I truly acknowledge.
You have said that art and hospitality go hand-in-hand, how so?
S.C: Giovanna, Everyone can become a good mixer, but that doesn’t mean you can call yourself a bartender. As I see it, a true bartender must be able to handle two arts: that of mixing but also that of hospitality. They are like two hands: one alone is not enough. Because the bar is the greatest theatre there is: the shaker is our musical instrument, and when you play it, you must use your heart, not just show skill. I would be no one unless the people who work with me play the same music. When you enter the bar you have to feel an emotion. A shiver. You have to feel that place as if it were yours.
I want to tell you a story close to my heart...
It’s an anecdote about arts and hospitality. As you know, I have served many famous figures in politics from Queen Elizabeth to President George Bush, entertainment, and finance. Among these greats was Stevie Wonder, who began coming to my bar in the 1990s and returned very often. He felt so at home that one evening he asked to be led to the piano and started playing as if he were at his own home. He played for more than half an hour in my bar; imagine the magical moment for the customers. But the most magical thing for me was when I went to greet him, and, turning the situation around, he was the one who started applauding me. When I asked him why he was doing such a thing, he simply replied, “FROM ONE ARTIST TO ANOTHER ARTIST.” This honour of being compared to a great artist, I think I achieved it mainly thanks to hospitality, thanks to making an artist like him feel at home.
With a world-renowned reputation for excellence, a track record of accolades and recognition that far exceeds what seems possible for one person to accomplish in a lifetime, still, I have one final question:
Do you have any regrets?
S.C: My biggest regret is not being able to sit next to my dad and say thank you for giving me this opportunity—for introducing me to the theatrical world of hospitality.
Photos: Lateef Okunnu, Peppercorn Media London
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