The name’s Basu, Shatbhi Basu. Unlike James Bond, though, this Sean Connery “superfan” prefers her martini stirred, not shaken. And while her favourite fictional British assassin owns the licence to kill, Basu-India’s first woman bartender-must often clarify she does not have the licence to drink.
“That’s the most common misconception about bartending,” says the Mahim-based wine and whisky lover, who began serving cocktails four decades ago when Mumbai rarely saw men behind the bar, let alone a woman with a lethal smile and a diploma in hotel management.
The city’s textile mills were shutting and its bars were importing shiny disco balls from Europe in 1981 when this “through and through Bombay girl” became a bartender by accident. Clad in a sari that day, she was standing by the sideboard of a Chinese restaurant in Bandra, hoping to be a “Chinese chef”.
By then, her dream of becoming a veterinarian had long been diced and discarded. Since age 10, Basu had copiously studied maths and science so that she could get admission into veterinary college. Eventually, with a science degree, she did get the admission. “But my family doctor put an end to my dreams because of my allergies,” says Basu. “And since I didn’t have a plan B, it was suggested I go to hotel school since I had some interest in the kitchen,” says the 64-year-old who began working as a sari-clad restaurant supervisor at Chopsticks, a Chinese restaurant on Linking Road soon after finishing a course at Dadar’s Institute of Hotel Management.
Two weeks into the job, the restaurant manager threw her what now sounds like a premature masterchef challenge. He asked her to man the bar one day. While her gender never posed a dilemma as “there were barely any male bartenders” in the heady pre-liberalisation era, what made the glass half empty for her was the lack of information coupled with a small range of liquids and equipment. “But these proved to be challenges that helped in pushing boundaries and making me better,” says Basu who found her college chemistry books stirring to life through blurry beakers.
Each time she shook a drink with ice, she realised she was creating friction between molecules, which caused heat, and the alcohol helped the process, breaking down the ice. Each time she added more ice than the liquid, she discovered the process slowing down as the additional ice counteracted the heat. “The behaviour of atoms and molecules, solutions and suspensions, the outcome of friction and heat and how to suppress it-all the concepts I had studied made my learning of bartending much more intelligent and even more interesting,” says Basu, for whom beakers became a prism to the world.
Bartending changed all that. “It has taught me everything-traditions, technique, patience,” says Basu, who learnt to coolly deal with last-order drama with her unique signature blend of knowledge, professionalism and communication skills. “I think I had a great smile, too!” says Basu, whose loyal fan base includes a client whom she served twice.
That story goes back to a night in 2016: A man asked her to make him a “special cocktail” as he was a “great fan”. She asked him a few questions to get an idea of his palate and decided to whip up a cranberry and pineapple sour with rosemary. “While I was making his drink, I was also sending out other straight orders. I got all the non-alcoholic ingredients in, shook the cocktail, and served it. The guest said it was fantastic and my best drink ever when I suddenly realised that I hadn’t put any alcohol in it at all,” recalls Basu, who quickly made him another one. “He had a good laugh when I presented him the real deal,” says the veteran who became a mixologist after being steeped in bartending for so many years that she is careful never to mix the term ‘mixologist’ with ‘bartender’.
“These are words that should not be used synonymously,” she says. “A mixologist is not just someone who mixes cocktails but a person who deeply understands the process and the profiles of every liquid which allows them to use it precisely with respect and responsibility,” says Basu, who does not recall the names of the countless cocktails she has invented so far. They all flowed from a simple brief: “Make a drink so that it sings in the mouth. Flavour is everything.”
That brief underscores the six-month syllabus at her professional bartending academy, which began in Mahim in 1997 when India turned 50. “The country still had no academic value or institution for bartending then. This was 17 years after I began and I thought it was time for me to give back what I had learned over the years,” says Basu.
With gimlet eyes, Basu has watched the scene mature like fine wine over four decades. “Our nightlife culture is getting better and more evolved than ever. More than just dark, noisy places, bars are about great drinks, elegant surroundings and food to match. People, too, are more adventurous and appreciative of quality,” says the veteran ahead of World Bartending Day on Saturday, toasting the rapid growth of women in all sectors of food and beverage, including bartending, in the last five years. “The number is still very small, but it’s a fantastic start,” cheers Basu. “Things can only get better.”
“That’s the most common misconception about bartending,” says the Mahim-based wine and whisky lover, who began serving cocktails four decades ago when Mumbai rarely saw men behind the bar, let alone a woman with a lethal smile and a diploma in hotel management.
The city’s textile mills were shutting and its bars were importing shiny disco balls from Europe in 1981 when this “through and through Bombay girl” became a bartender by accident. Clad in a sari that day, she was standing by the sideboard of a Chinese restaurant in Bandra, hoping to be a “Chinese chef”.
By then, her dream of becoming a veterinarian had long been diced and discarded. Since age 10, Basu had copiously studied maths and science so that she could get admission into veterinary college. Eventually, with a science degree, she did get the admission. “But my family doctor put an end to my dreams because of my allergies,” says Basu. “And since I didn’t have a plan B, it was suggested I go to hotel school since I had some interest in the kitchen,” says the 64-year-old who began working as a sari-clad restaurant supervisor at Chopsticks, a Chinese restaurant on Linking Road soon after finishing a course at Dadar’s Institute of Hotel Management.
Two weeks into the job, the restaurant manager threw her what now sounds like a premature masterchef challenge. He asked her to man the bar one day. While her gender never posed a dilemma as “there were barely any male bartenders” in the heady pre-liberalisation era, what made the glass half empty for her was the lack of information coupled with a small range of liquids and equipment. “But these proved to be challenges that helped in pushing boundaries and making me better,” says Basu who found her college chemistry books stirring to life through blurry beakers.
Each time she shook a drink with ice, she realised she was creating friction between molecules, which caused heat, and the alcohol helped the process, breaking down the ice. Each time she added more ice than the liquid, she discovered the process slowing down as the additional ice counteracted the heat. “The behaviour of atoms and molecules, solutions and suspensions, the outcome of friction and heat and how to suppress it-all the concepts I had studied made my learning of bartending much more intelligent and even more interesting,” says Basu, for whom beakers became a prism to the world.
Bartending changed all that. “It has taught me everything-traditions, technique, patience,” says Basu, who learnt to coolly deal with last-order drama with her unique signature blend of knowledge, professionalism and communication skills. “I think I had a great smile, too!” says Basu, whose loyal fan base includes a client whom she served twice.
That story goes back to a night in 2016: A man asked her to make him a “special cocktail” as he was a “great fan”. She asked him a few questions to get an idea of his palate and decided to whip up a cranberry and pineapple sour with rosemary. “While I was making his drink, I was also sending out other straight orders. I got all the non-alcoholic ingredients in, shook the cocktail, and served it. The guest said it was fantastic and my best drink ever when I suddenly realised that I hadn’t put any alcohol in it at all,” recalls Basu, who quickly made him another one. “He had a good laugh when I presented him the real deal,” says the veteran who became a mixologist after being steeped in bartending for so many years that she is careful never to mix the term ‘mixologist’ with ‘bartender’.
“These are words that should not be used synonymously,” she says. “A mixologist is not just someone who mixes cocktails but a person who deeply understands the process and the profiles of every liquid which allows them to use it precisely with respect and responsibility,” says Basu, who does not recall the names of the countless cocktails she has invented so far. They all flowed from a simple brief: “Make a drink so that it sings in the mouth. Flavour is everything.”
That brief underscores the six-month syllabus at her professional bartending academy, which began in Mahim in 1997 when India turned 50. “The country still had no academic value or institution for bartending then. This was 17 years after I began and I thought it was time for me to give back what I had learned over the years,” says Basu.
With gimlet eyes, Basu has watched the scene mature like fine wine over four decades. “Our nightlife culture is getting better and more evolved than ever. More than just dark, noisy places, bars are about great drinks, elegant surroundings and food to match. People, too, are more adventurous and appreciative of quality,” says the veteran ahead of World Bartending Day on Saturday, toasting the rapid growth of women in all sectors of food and beverage, including bartending, in the last five years. “The number is still very small, but it’s a fantastic start,” cheers Basu. “Things can only get better.”