Mixologist who led cocktail revolution
Dick Bradsell was the ‘‘cocktail king’’ and godfather of a revolution that began in London’s trendier watering-holes in the 1980s and spread across the globe, via the bartenders he trained or who were inspired by his creations.
Starting at the Zanzibar club in Covent Garden – described as the first trendy bar for young people to open late and serve cocktails – Bradsell drew inspiration from London’s celebrated hotel bars to create similar standards of mixology. Most places did not have a clue, he said. ‘‘So we found the places that were making good cocktails, that did have a clue,
He spearheaded a movement that transformed a drab and unimaginative cocktail menu of pina coladas and bloody marys into the exotic modern science of mixology.
‘‘The flavours of the principal elements must be in balance. Between them are gaps in flavour. These gaps must be filled. We are trying to create one long flavour on the palate,’’ he said.
For the most part they did. Many of Bradsell’s creations became ubiquitous modern classics on cocktail lists from the clubs of Soho to the beach bars of Bali. Among the most popular were ‘‘the Bramble’’, made with gin, lemon juice, sugar, creme de mure and garnished with a slice of lemon and a blackberry, and the ‘‘Vodka Espresso’’ – also known as the ‘‘Espresso Martini’’ – a mix of vodka, Tia Maria, Kahlua and fresh coffee.
The Espresso Martini was invented in the early 1980s for a well-known American model who asked him to make her a drink that would ‘‘wake me up and then f*** me up’’. Bradsell espoused bartender-customer confidentiality with the solemnity of the confessional and never revealed who she was.
Another creation was an ‘‘International Rescue’’ cocktail, made with tequila, tomato juice, lime, orange and ‘‘a dash of whatever gave you the hangover’’, as well as the ‘‘Wibble’’ – ‘‘it’ll make you wobble, but you won’t fall down’’. When The Times commissioned an official cocktail in the 1990s, it was Bradsell to whom the paper turned. He came up with ‘‘The Thunderer’’, a delectably blended poison of Stolichnaya vodka, parfait amour and creme de mure, with flavours of violets, anise and blackberry. He described it as ‘‘the best drink I’ve ever invented’’.
For all his technical expertise, Bradsell maintained that the most important quality of a bartender was politeness. Other useful assets were good general knowledge, titbits of gossip – not to be dispensed to the wrong person at the wrong time – and some knowledge of self-defence. He practised martial arts – and always enjoyed a dirty joke.
Whether he was serving pop stars, models, Soho lushes or ‘‘trannies’’, he had what his close friend, the journalist Theodora Sutcliffe, described as ‘‘the protective carapace of the formal English bartender’’. He was, she said, ‘‘one part Jeeves, one part Lloyd from The Shining, one part eccentric schoolmaster and a dash of surrealist poet. It was as though he’d never been young, perhaps emerging from his mother’s womb in impeccably knotted tie, polished shoes and tailored suit.’’
Richard Arthur Bradsell was born in Bishop’s Stortford in 1959, but grew up on the Isle of Wight. His father, Peter Bradsell, whom he described as a ‘‘mad professor’’, was a radar engineer, while his mother, Margaret, was a chiropodist.
When punk insurrection erupted in the late 1970s, Bradsell became an enthusiastic adherent until his parents’ house was trashed during one particularly wild teenage party.
He was dispatched to London to work for his uncle, Peter Gurney, who ran the Naval & Military Club in St James’s Square, and was charged with teaching his nephew to ‘‘buckle down’’.
Under this stern tutelage, he learnt every aspect of the trade ‘‘from how to be a chamber maid to how to be a chef’’. He was given a copy of David A Embury’s 1948 classic The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks. Serving pink gins to retired officers ‘‘up for a jaunt from the country’’, he realised that he had found his metier.
He moved to the Zanzibar club, where his brief career in the kitchen came to a premature end when he poisoned the entire restaurant with Dover sole that had gone off.
However, he blossomed behind the bar and helped to create a late-night cocktail scene that became beloved of hedonistic New Romantic pop stars in the early 1980s. He went on to work at the Colony Room in Dean Street – possibly Soho’s most challenging job for a barman – where a demanding clientele look for a convivial bridge between afternoon closing and evening opening. Drinks were usually stiff; highfalutin mixology was discouraged.
Later he worked at the Groucho, the Soho Brasserie and spent six years as general manager at Fred’s Club, another fashionable Soho watering-hole. At each of them, he transformed the drinks list and left signature cocktails as well as a new generation of mixologists trained in his exacting ways. His starting point with any aspiring bartender was to watch them make a gin and tonic.
In 1994, he moved to Oliver Peyton’s Atlantic Bar & Grill, a subterranean restaurant that was the capital’s hippest hang out during the ‘‘cool Britannia’’ era – and renowned for its difficult door policy. Yet, he was in such demand that, after six months, he was off again, leaving for Dick’s Bar, which the venue had named after him. He later pitched up at the Pharmacy, the Damien Hirstdesigned restaurant in Notting Hill, where he created thematic cocktails such as ‘‘Cough Syrup’’ and ‘‘Detox’’ and served old favourites such as the Espresso Martini, which was renamed the ‘‘Pharmaceutical Stimulant’’. He ended with a long residency at the Mexican restaurant El Camino.
Diagnosed with brain cancer, he fought determinedly against his illness with the support of his partner, Eline Bosman, his daughter, Bea Bradsell, and his former wife, the jewellery designer Vicki Sarge, whom he had married in Las Vegas. They separated in 2000, but remained good friends. He is survived by his daughter who followed him into the bar trade and was collaborating with him on a book.
Dick Bradsell, bartender, was born on May 4, 1959. He died of brain cancer on February 27, 2016, aged 56.