Bartender Arianne Fielder in her boozy lair (photos by Becky Stein)

“Expletive! If that stupid expletiver can’t expletiving bother to pick up that expletiving order then, well, expletive him!”

AJC Chief Dining Critic John Kessler writes about all cuisines.

So says a red-faced man to his friend as they sit across a narrow table from me — a piece of furniture on which he sometimes bangs his fist for emphasis.

Next to me, a woman receives a dish covered with melted, bubbly, robustly funky cheese — the kind of cheese that smells like a dark and dirty place. It’s something I might appreciate later in the meal but, good Lord, I need a drink first.

I’m at the “bar” at Seven Lamps, except it’s not really a bar in the common sense of a counter behind which shakers shake and in front of which tipplers tipple. It is, rather, this long, high table that fronts a showcase cocktail staging area where mixologist Arianne Fielder assembles her potent concoctions. It’s a …

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