It’s 7:00 AM and I’m at Newark airport. I’ve been up since 3:45. Even I am asking why I would subject myself to Newark this early.
But it’s a very special day. At the other end of my flight is New Orleans and Tales of the Cocktail, the annual gathering of industry professionals and cocktail enthusiasts. It’s my first year and I don’t really know what the expect.
Which is why I’m sharing it all with you. I’m going to be live blogging all weekend, sharing with you every historic factoid, adventure, and drink enough stumble the next few days bring. I’m kicking off with a seminar by David Wondrich and Jeff Berry about WWII drinking, and later on the weekend I’m attending a demo on prehistoric cocktail making techniques. Whatever that means.
Check back, stay tuned, and I’ll see you in NOLA!
10:15 AM I have been on site 15 minutes, and I’ve already been handed a drink. Its a Singapore Sling– cherry herring, Benedictine, lime uice and some other stuff. It’s spicy, like a fruit Bloody Mary.
“You can’t make a good speech on iced water.” -Churchill. You got that right, sir.
4:05 PM and I just woke up from a much needed nap. I’ve already been drunk and sober once–the morning lecture fed us 4 (half) cocktails total, and while I noticed the folks around me were pacing themselves by not finishing their drinks, the concoctions were too good and I am too frugal to let them go to waste. That combined with my early flight and the searing heat (which I kinda like)…well, I think part of being an adult is realizing when you’re fussy and need to be put down for a nap. I feel like a new person.
A few words on NOLA: there’s something so eerie and foreign about this place. The pulsating green overgrowth, the unreal above ground cemeteries, the accent like no other I’ve ever heard. Even the clouds are different here–pudgier and puffy. I though I was nuts but my brother (who is here too) noticed the same thing.
The conference itself is a madhouse, bedlam that I haven’t quite figured out. The Hotel Monteleone, where it’s hosted, is not a huge convention center, but an old labyrinthine hotel. I’m not sure where to be, or how to take advantage of the system. It feels a bit like the first day of summer camp, like I’m an outsider not making the friendship bracelets. Yet.
I’ll take some photos of the craziness later.
In my morning talk about WWII I learned:
- All the drinks seemed to have cherry herring in them. But more importantly it “wasn’t just prohibition” that ruined the American cocktail scene, it was also the unavailability of most liquors during the war. We became vodka drinkers, and most alcohols were produced locally–including Dubonnet, which is still made in the states.
- Dirty Helen
- Three dots and a dash
In addition the the Singapore sling, I so had a MacArthur punch and a PB2Y. And a potent martini.
And the event has an official scent? It smells like grapefruit and shrimp.
10:15 PM despite the fact that it’s a toddler’s bedtime back home, I am ready to turn in. Here are my notes, exactly as written, from this evening:
- Workers with drinks on the st
- Everyone is drunk and stepping on me
- No chill out space
- Bedlam
- Dudes
- Forcible removal (not me)
- Drink responsibly wink wink
- There is no shame here
- I am so sweaty I have to throw away my dress at the end of day
I realize it doesn’t sound like I had a good time, but at the pools party at the end of the day, I did! I went out to dinner later at Purloo, which focuses on regional Southern cuisine, then had a St. Germaine cobbler at Belloqc.Here are my photos from the evening:
And with that a good night.