"By the end of the semester, I had a repertoire of 30 cocktails."
L.I.S.A.: Professor Stelzel, you have published a rather unusual book for an academic. It is titled "The Faculty Lounge." The subtitle suggests that it is about academia: "A Cocktail Guide for Academics". Reading through the book, one finds many cocktail recipes with extraordinary, even witty names like The Forty-Minute Conference Paper or The Dissertation Committee. The initial question that arises is: How does a historian come up with the idea of writing a cocktail compendium? What inspired you? In what spirit did you approach this? Did it have anything to do with The Social Distancer, The Quarantini, or The Cogito Ergo Zoom?
Prof. Stelzel: "The Faculty Lounge" is not your typical cocktail book but rather a satirical take on academia, using cocktails and its “tasting notes” as the vehicle for humor. Its origins lie in the early weeks of the Covid pandemic and the shift to online teaching in mid-March 2020. One afternoon, after uploading my lectures for the next day's classes, I felt in the mood for a cocktail. While a Rye Manhattan and a Gin Martini are usually my favorites, that day I wanted to try something new. I had bourbon, cranberry juice (the tart version), and grenadine at home, and after mixing these ingredients over ice, I served the cocktail up in a coupe glass with an orange twist. Now it just needed a name. The Social Distancer came to mind, given the circumstances. I was pleased with the taste, and a photo of the cocktail amused some friends and colleagues on Facebook. Hence, the following day I decided to create another recipe. Inspired by an online post that referred to a Gin Martini as "Quarantini", I crafted my own version by adding a splash of absinthe to my Gin Martini. Why? Because I had it by myself, while everyone else was absinthe..
Having gotten into the groove, I continued this new "tradition" for the rest of the semester. Every weekday between 5 and 6 pm, I would come up with a new recipe and name it based on the theme "What challenges does the pandemic pose for a college professor?" Soon drinks like The Canceled Conference, The Inaccessible Archive, The Remote Instructor, The Self-Isolation Productivity Angst, and of course, The Cogito Ergo Zoom came into existence.
By the end of the spring semester in May, I had an inventory of just over 30 cocktails. Sharing the recipes on social media also became a means to stay connected with friends and colleagues during a time of social isolation. Yet I never imagined it would become a book.
A few months later, just before the start of the fall semester in late August, I posted a thread with my 25 favorite recipes on Twitter. With another pandemic semester looming, I thought some fitting cocktail recipes might come in handy. To my surprise, this thread gained a lot of attention and was shared thousands of times. About two weeks later, I received an email from an editor at Indiana University Press who had seen my thread and inquired if I was interested in discussing a cocktail book project.
We immediately agreed that this book should satirize academic life in general, so the chapters now deal with different aspects of it. Every cocktail has a "tasting note" or instruction. For The Presidential Platitude, inspired by the hollow phrases often heard from university administrators, the note reads, “Enjoy, and please know how much I appreciate your willingness to go that extra mile on behalf of our university family during these trying times.”
"In some cases, I modified existing recipes."
L.I.S.A.: Your book contains almost 70 different cocktails. Did you really compose and test them all yourself? Which three are your favorites and why?
Prof. Stelzel: Of course, all the recipes are my own, and I did try them myself. The principle (or methodology, to stay on topic) of most cocktails is a combination of a spirit, tart fruit juices (academic life can be tart, after all), possibly grenadine or simple syrup, and, of course, bitters. I deliberately wanted to avoid a book that would make readers spend a lot on exotic ingredients. To quote my introduction, "this book will not unnecessarily complicate the notion of a good libation but will instead challenge the hegemony of libational complexity."
In some cases, I altered existing recipes. The Forty Minute Conference Paper, for example, is a variation of the classic Sidecar, where I replaced the cognac with rye whiskey. And The Very Last Word is reminiscent of the Negroni, except that the one-third gin in this drink consists of 2/3 gin and 1/3 mezcal. These two are certainly among my favorites; as the third cocktail, I'd mention The Bored of Trustees (white rum, tart cranberry juice, lime juice, and grenadine).
"In German academic daily life, I could imagine Der Drittmittelantrag."
L.I.S.A.: The numerous recipes are divided into chapters, each corresponding to stages in the academic routine. There are cocktails "For The Graduate Student," "For The Faculty Member" or "For Researching And Writing". Why this division? What criteria did you use? Do you always need the right drink in the US academic routine to better cope?
Prof. Stelzel: I have tried to come up with cocktails that satirize all areas or situations of academic life. And I am convinced that this concept does not only work in the American context. In the German case, I could imagine something like Der Drittmittelantrag (the application for third-party research funds) which always has to be prepared by research associates, but then a professor drinks it. Or Das Wissenschaftszeitvertragsgesetz (the misguided law regulating fixed-term employment in academia) which would most likely consist of equal parts of schnapps and vinegar.
"Graduate students preparing for 'Comprehensive Exams' served gin and tonics."
L.I.S.A.: A quick online search revealed that the word "cocktail" for an alcoholic mixed drink first appeared in the English-speaking world around 1800, especially on the East Coast of the United States. In fact, numerous post-war Hollywood movies show that in the US there are always good and numerous opportunities to enjoy a drink. Is the drink also part of the academic habitus in the US? And, following up: Still?
Prof. Stelzel: I believe it is difficult to generalize in this respect. My impression is that regional differences exist. At the University of North Carolina, for instance, where I completed my PhD, there were very few academic events involving drinks, and if so, only beer and wine, certainly nothing stronger. At Boston College, where I worked as a postdoc, the approach in that regard was more relaxed, and at my current workplace, Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, the same is true. By contrast, the financial circumstances of individual universities in the US, which vary greatly, seem less decisive. Yet perhaps in some ways, caution has increased over the decades: a biography of Richard Hofstadter, who taught American history at Columbia University from 1946 to 1970, mentions that he served his graduate students gin and tonics while preparing for the Comprehensive Exams. I can hardly imagine that today.
"A distinction in intellectual style contains a grain of truth."
L.I.S.A.: Speaking of US academic habitus: As a European now researching and teaching in the United States, you know both academic sides of the Atlantic. Although entire treatises could be written on what distinguishes one from the other, could you describe two or three aspects that particularly stand out to you? What seems most characteristic for each?
Prof. Stelzel: Johan Galtung's often-cited essay “Structure, Culture, and Intellectual Style: An Essay Comparing Saxonic, Teutonic, Gallic, and Nipponic Approaches” is now over 40 years old, but his distinction between the Anglo-American ("conversational") and Teutonic ("contentious") intellectual styles still contains a grain of truth for me. I also would not be surprised if the percentage of colleagues who view "The Faculty Lounge" as unprofessional and therefore a somewhat inappropriate endeavor for a scholar is slightly higher in Germany than in the US.
"If you like gin, go for The Max Weber."
L.I.S.A.: Which of your cocktails would you recommend after reading this interview? The Fernand Braudel, The Max Weber, or The Werner Heisenberg from the chapter “Toast Your Favorite Intellectual” perhaps?
Prof. Stelzel: Not The Werner Heisenberg, as it comes without a recipe – after all, the cocktail's principle is uncertain (referring to Heisenberg's "uncertainty principle"). For those who like gin, I would recommend The Max Weber, which consists of the Protestant ethic (grape juice + sparkling water) and the spirit of capitalism (gin). And if you like citrus-heavy cocktails, try The Fernand Braudel, inspired by Braudel's three-volume work on the Mediterranean. But be cautious: “As a structure of one’s everyday life, this cocktail might cause a longue durée of intoxication.”