New menu testing
There’s a strange tension in the days before a new cocktail menu is finalized. You're past the playful experimentation but not quite at confident launch mode. The flavors are close, but something’s missing—maybe a sharper finish, a softer entry, a better name.
So instead of guessing, we decided to open the doors and let the guests help shape it.
New Menu Testing was an invitation into our process. A night where regulars, friends, and curious newcomers were given access to what usually happens behind the bar—prototype cocktails, half-formed ideas, unfinished names, and total honesty.
A flight of first drafts
Everyone who joined received a set of four unnamed drinks. Each one came with a small card: a working title, a rough sketch of ingredients, and a space for feedback.
The names were cryptic.
Velvet Knife. Moonwater. Smoke Theory. Room 11.
Some might stay. Others might vanish. That was the point.
Bartenders didn’t just serve—they wandered the room, asked questions, listened to reactions. We weren’t chasing compliments. We were chasing clarity.
One guest described Room 11 as “a drink I’d order when I want to sit alone but look interesting.” Another said Moonwater “tastes like a spa but in a slightly haunted way.”
“It’s like the kind of drink someone makes you after a long day, but you’re not sure if they love you or want to poison you.”
— Guest feedback on Velvet Knife
Playing without a theme
Most Velvet Shaker menus have a core idea—an ingredient, a city, a color palette. This one didn’t. We were just following instincts and obsessions.
Some flavor directions we explored:
Carrot shrub with ginger and miso
Butter-washed mezcal
Roasted banana skin and saline
Coconut cream smoked over clove wood
Some drinks landed right away. Others didn’t. One had a strange metallic aftertaste we couldn't explain. Another was beloved but undrinkably strong. That’s why we tested it.
Guests turned into collaborators
By the third drink, something shifted. People weren’t just filling out cards—they were debating. Some compared notes. Others asked to remix two cocktails. One group moved tables just to argue more loudly about Smoke Theory.
It was chaotic. It was insightful. It was exactly what we needed.
There’s something special about watching guests become co-creators. When someone leans in and says, “I don’t know why, but this reminds me of a church in Lisbon,” you’ve struck a chord. Even if you don’t understand it, it means something is resonating beyond flavor.
