New Orleans, I Love You

How I lost two pounds this week, I have no idea. Maybe it was the combination of fun, excitement and prevalent sauna-like conditions. Whatever it was, I'll definitely take it!

There were a lot of forces against me going to Tales of the Cocktail this year, but the biggest one to be reckoned with was Mother Nature herself (you cruel bitch!). Severe summer storms threatened, but luckily planes managed to work around them at Newark Airport last Thursday. I know my friends leaving Laguardia had a much rougher time arriving. For once, luck was on my side, and I made it only a couple of hours late to start another great adventure in the Crescent City. 

Sadly, I missed the Macallan Ice Ball Plunge, but I arrived just in time to quickly change and recharge for the spirited dinner cruise aboard the Creole Queen on the Mississippi! Beautiful faces new and familiar, substantial grub, high proof drinks, great chats, stunning river views and even a little swing dancing (sorry, Robert Simonson, I promise to be a more trusting dippee next time) set the tone for the next few days of bibulous fun. 

My first drink of the trip! A Four Roses julep. 

An unusually mild day followed an early rain storm on Friday. I took the opportunity for beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe du Monde followed by a breezy, leisurely stroll. Which landed me at the French Market to stock up on hot sauce.

And also outside Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville, which is such a loathsome entity in a beautiful city, I won't even honor it with a link or a picture. But then I saw this sign outside Road Kill store, and it instantly brightened my mood. 

After a day of TOTC tastings, great grub (including a visit to my beloved Coop's Place) and bumping into friends in almost every corner of the French Quarter, my local pal, Mike, swept me away Uptown. Amazing Thai meal at LA Thai (where fresh vegetables, local protein and Asian tastes converge in New Orleans!) followed by music at Tipitina's. Friday is their no cover night. The Tulane kids are pretty onto it. 

This is where I met the long lost, close-talking, Cajun cousin of Keith Richards, who stumbled out the artist's door just in time for a smoke, unintelligible, consonant-free declarations and ogling, then crashed right back in again. Mike, his pal Ian and I just looked at each other, shrugged, and carried on talking outside. From there an unsuccessful visit to Bon Temps Rouler, where they had technical issues for music. But we did pass McKeown's Books, which has a wonderful sign. Read the bottom line.

Saturday morning, I needed some grease. Badly. Which is where Clover Grill came in. Short-staffed and slow, but just what the stomach called for. No, it sure ain't NYC. Thank heaven for that. (Read the fine print.)

Just enough time to meander. Balcony envy on the corner of Royal and Dumaine. 

Team Spirit, NOLA style!

A little friend came out to visit. By then, it had gotten very hot and I had orange fur stuck to my ankles. Such a cutie. 

That afternoon, I attended Tasteless: How Taste Alters With Age, lead by Darcy O'Neil and Wayne Curtis. This was a fascinating look into how everyone's taste and flavors receptors differ, how they change as we grow older, and how this translates to drink culture. As someone who now prefers spicier, bitter and more salty food (when I once wanted mostly sweet), I am still haunted by this lecture. It made me hyper aware of how my own penchants have evolved, the habits of the people close to me, and why bartenders shouldn't expect everyone to like the same drink made the same way. O'Neil: "I know a bartender who once made a cocktail that made a girl in Colorado cry." Great lecture. 

Further stops that day included Meyer the Hatter, The Bon Vivants Pig and Punch Party in Washington Square, the "sardine-packed" Imbibe Happy Hour at Arnaud's French 75, oysters at Bourbon House and a trip to see the lovely lady Abigail Gullo at SoBou. This is where I ate one of the greatest hybrids ever: pork cracklins with red pepper queso. Hey kids, sometimes you just gotta go with it. 

Know what you need after a night like that (Chart Room was involved too, unfortunately)? More Clover Grill! This was spotted along the way back to the Monteleone, a.k.a. TOTC HQ. 

Bartenders, I do love you so for all you do and put up with. But seeing y'all half naked at the Milagro pool party on the rooftop? There are no words. I do have pictures, but, well, let's leave that out for now.

OK, maybe with some cat paint enhancement. Just one. 

I needed something cold, sweet and refreshing. Know what's better than ice cream on a hot day? Frozen Irish Coffee at the Erin Rose, that's what!

I might have missed a Sazerac at the Carousel Bar and a good Po Boy on this trip, but there was no way I was missing the splendid garden scene at Bacchanal. Luckily, Mike and our pal Jason picked me up to take care of that need. Although it seems all of TOTC was onto it too that afternoon. At least we had our own shady table behind a large rubber plant. Here are my boys. Almost exactly three years to the day our great friendship chemistry was born. 

Sunday night already? How is that possible!!???? I didn't want this adventure to end. But as all good things must, that time was fast approaching. But a wonderful trip was ending in the most wonderful way: hearing Mike play trumpet with the Ernie Vincent and the Top Notes at dba on Frenchman. 

By now things were really swirling. NYC and New Orleans worlds colliding. People meeting. Alcoholic substances mixing. Dogs and cats, living together...

Note to self, no more early morning flights out. 

Special thanks to Ann and Paul Tuennerman, a.k.a. Mr. and Mrs. Cocktail, who have made this grand bender en masse event possible for ten years running. 

Extra special thanks to Mike Kobrin and also the Chart Room. I don't know if you saved my life or made it just a little shorter, but you certainly reminded me what fun (and in the case of the Chart Room, back-bending hospitality) is all about. Until next time, New Orleans. I sure do miss you.

Laissez les Bons Temps!

When I announced my eleventh hour decision to attend Tales of the Cocktail this week, I was met with a lot of questions. Besides the usual "What is that?" "Where are you staying?" and "So do you have to drink all day?" the one that puts the "frequent" in the AQ is "How do you prepare for a cocktail convention in New Orleans in July? What does that do to a body?"

It's been three years since I've been there (after I swore I'd make a point of visiting every six months or so. My circumstances kept changing, what can I say?). While I like to believe my overall Amanda-ness is pretty much in tact, I am also a changed person in many ways. On a physical level, I have lost nearly forty pounds since then, and my eating and drinking habits are more regimented. I will not be attending as many seminars. I will know more people (many of whom I met at Tales last time and have continued to be great friends and supporters.) I will have a clearer agenda instead of attempting to smoosh everything into a drunken, steamy package within a short amount of time. I may not be wiser, but I am at least older and a little more practical.

In 2009, New Orleans was not only hot, but it was experiencing a bonafide heatwave.

To imagine what the air feels like, remove the plastic coating off a large piece of dry cleaning (If you don't have this, a really big trash bag will do.) Turn on your shower using the hottest water setting and close the bathroom door for a few minutes. Now fully clothed, put the dry cleaning plastic over your head and stand in the bathroom (which, if you live in New York City, should absorb all this steamy air nicely since it has the approximate square footage of a gym locker.) For added authenticity, turn on a hair dryer full blast and blow that into the bag too, aiming slightly away from but at the same time close to your face.

An added bonus, especially if you're as heavy as I was back then, and sorry to be so explicit, but these conditions are prone to a distressing degree of chafing.

Now, have you ever been drunk during the daytime on a steamy summer's day, when you start to feel loopy and slightly undead, all thoughts moving as though trapped in a block of jello? You will feel this way for the duration. Last time I don't think I was completely sober again until around Thanksgiving. It may not be so extreme this time, but still.

Oh, and the cuisine is not exactly known for its gossamer delicacy or lack of sodium. You will gain an average of five water weight pounds a day. Tip: pack clothes made from stretchy material or billowy cotton and wide shoes.

Sounds like fun, right?

But it is. It's wonderful. Hundreds of bartenders, brand representatives, journalists, chefs, promoters and drinks enthusiasts from around the world are all in this with you, united in one of the greatest cities in the world that just happens to be a tad warm. Because they want to be. We are celebrating a remarkable industry with a theatrical past and exciting, delicious future. These are (mostly) people who produce smiles for a living, and (mostly) make each other smile in their downtime. This has been a huge year for me, how could I not be a part of this?


I'm arriving a bit late, but at least I will be there for a good portion of the shenanigans to come. Hopefully with some time to experience more of the city and hang out with local friends. Yeah, there will be some level of good for my body that will leave a bit undone (I actually have to eat more in the days leading up so my body doesn't go into total shock.) But it will be well worth it. To quote INXS, "I've missed the people; I've missed the fun." Can't wait to see you all on Thursday in New Orleans!

"Scream for me, New Jersey!!!!!"

What is going on this picture? There's big stage with pyrotechnics, a giant, costumed General Custer on stilts, a bunch of guys in skinny pants... and guitars. If you guessed Iron Maiden concert, ding! ding! ding! If you ever guessed I would be attending one, in Newark, New Jersey no less, you are quite the clairvoyant, my friend. 'Cos I never would have believed it, even a few months ago.

But I'm so glad I went.

I somehow found myself with a ticket after one of those late night, drunken "Holy shit! That sounds amazing!" ideas that most of the time never really (thankfully) come to fruition. (If they did, I would be the proud owner of an otter and a kiddy pool, a frustrated Duran Duran rock musical playwright and probably stranded somewhere in Chile trying to find my way home from Easter Island.) The idea of seeing Alice Cooper open up for Iron Maiden indeed sounded pretty amazing. Even the next day. After all, I heard Alice still puts on quite the theatrical show, something I've wanted to see since his Muppet Show appearance in the 70s. If you're gonna see a heavy metal act, at least pick one that didn't polarize all their fans by changing their sound, performing with only half their original members or shutting down a popular music sharing website. In other words, see band that straight up just performs a kick ass show. With fire and lots of rubber props.

And if you're gonna be in Newark, might as well take advantage of a traditional meal in the Ironbound. John's friend, Louise, had a great recommendation for Seabra Marisqueira, just a few minutes away from the PATH train. As longtime fans of Portuguese food, we've been used to city portions in relation to menu prices. But this is a family joint. And thus, everything is family sized. Fact: the Portuguese are not known for having small families. Here's John with mixed seafood and vegetables, with impressive inverted skewer presentation:

Traditional pork and clams with potatoes. Incidentally, all washed down with Adriano Ramos Pinto Duas Quintas '09.

But on with the show!

Alice Cooper was a ton of fun. Admittedly, the guy is looking a little long in the tooth, but he still sounds pretty good. Here he is in classic "No More Mr. Nice Guy" with live boa. (Incidentally, although our seats were pretty close, any closeup shots are grabs from the nearby video screen.)

He did the guillotine bit, which was awesome.

And to the delight of the crowd, appropriately appeared in a Devils jersey for his closing song, "School's Out." 

I have to say, Iron Maiden really brings it. Lead singer (and aviation businessman) Bruce Dickinson, now sporting more stylish shorn locks, is in terrific shape both physically and vocally.

One of the most fun aspects of seeing Iron Maiden live is their stage props. For this tour, they resurrected many of the vintage sets from previous outings. 

Performing the classic 1982 hit, "Number of the Beast." I can't imagine how hot it was onstage since even up in the tiers there was a menopausally noticeable temperature change. 

Bassist Steve Harris performing "Phantom of the Opera," from the 1980 self-titled album. Each record had its own giant backdrop, which would switch out between songs, cluing the audience in to what came next. 

Here's Bruce performing "Can I Play With Madness" from the 1988 album Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, complete with psychedelic crystal skeleton ball and giant glowing wizard.

From the same record, this prop can only be described as a giant rubber thing holding a giant moving rubber Belial in Basket Case-looking thing in its palm. On fire.

Adrian Smith on guitar.

Drummer Nicko McBrain.

Dueling guitar action. 

But of course, what makes it all worth it is an enthusiastic crowd. As these veterans clearly knew, the best way to handle one in Jersey is to work "New Jersey" into as many lyrics as loudly as possible. "Scream for me, New Jersey!!!!!" Here (and you can also almost hear as) the crowd responds.

I was proudly among them, albeit from a considerably higher vantage point. Enjoying every last blast. Special thanks to John's pal Howie for putting this all together, and one of the most entertaining rides back to Manhattan ever.

Sip Scotch and Sail

I tend to be wary of booze cruises. There can nothing worse than being stranded on a boat for hours, surrounded by drunk people as provisions dwindle, waters chop, stomachs turn and restrooms fail. But since there was a promising forecast and the fun folks at Bowmore were in charge, last Saturday's Sip Scotch and Sail event with Liquor.com sounded like a great time. We couldn't have asked for a lovelier summer's day to be on the water with this fine city as a back drop, and great time it definitely was.

While most of last week NYC was covered with thick, gray clouds, the ones in the sky this day looked as though they were personally fluffed by giants. Utterly magical.

Our captain at the wheel. He found volunteers on board to help his small crew raise the huge sails that allowed for a steadier cruise.

A cheers to New York City with a glass of punch, made with Bowmore Legend, from a recipe created by cocktail historian David Wondrich.

Lady liberty in the distance among the fluffy clouds. 

Campari America Whisky Brand Manager Robin Coupar tossing messages in a Bowmore bottle. (Photo courtesy Gabi Porter and Liquor.com)

After an hour and a half of strong sunshine, oysters and Scotchy goodness we docked once again at Pier 17 and headed on foot to Demi Monde bar where the festivities continued down below.

There we were treated to Bowmore Rob Roys and a refreshing, minty Scotch cocktail by beverage director Alex Day, as well as yummy treats from the kitchen (I especially liked the sweet and salty steelhead trout and wasabi nougat bite.) We also tasted through the Bowmore line, including one of my Top 10 favorite Scotches - the Bowmore 18 Year (ever complex and the perfect balance of sweetness, smoke and brine) - as well as the fine and distinguished Bowmore 25 Year.

Steph and me at Demi Monde (photo courtesy of Gabi Porter and Liquor.com).

Robin and Whisk(e)y gal Nicola Riske of Edrington Group (photo courtesy of Gabi Porter and Liquor.com).

Head bartender Scott James Teague and Alex Day (Photo courtesy of Gabi Porter and Liquor.com).

A brief pitstop to Adrienne's Pizza Bar after the event. Then a short train ride to Clark Street made it possible to take in the view from the other side of the harbor, just as the sun had set. Nothing better than a breezy, Saturday evening stroll (and a cool shower, sorry, no photo included) after a long day of sun and fun.