Irish Coffee

I come from a very vocal family and I love to engage others when I'm out and about. My husband knows this and thinks that I sometimes cross a line. I disagree. However, this time my inquiries were a little awkward...

This summer, my husband and I visited Portland, OR and discovered a restaurant, Huber's.  It is the oldest in Portland and we though, what the heck, let's give it a go! It's a very old world-feeling place with dark wood and old black and white photos - just the sort of thing we love. The waitress comes over and we (well... I) quickly let her know it's our first time and she starts to fill us in on the specialties of the house, one of which is Irish Coffee. It's not what you're thinking. It's a dinner-and-a-show-style pouring of coffee and various liqueurs, along with a setting fire of the rim of the glass, all table-side. The guy who does it has been there for 25-30 years. Sounded awesome, so we ordered it. 

When the guy comes to the table, I am already interested in his story and want to hear more. So, I ask, "What keeps you here?" In my mind, the response is a passionate story about a sense of tradition, loving the extravagance and showmanship of this very unique craft, of owning a little piece of history. My husband, on the other hand, sees an embarrassing train wreck just ahead. The guy looks at my bright and inquiring eyes and says, "I can't do much else. This isn't a very marketable skill." Queue images of crashing planes, breaking hearts and plummeting sound effects. Needless to say, the show itself was amazing, my husband was embarrassed, I was disheartened, and the guy got a really big tip.