Ivy Mix, who works at Brooklyn’s Clover Club, serves root-beer absinthe floats at the Pernod Absinthe tasting. (Gabi Porter)
Peter Adam Simon of Brooklyn’s Industry City Distillery takes a dip at the Zubrowka vodka gathering. (Gabi Porter)
“Did bartenders create civilization?” moderator Derek Brown asks a panel of “paleococktails” experts. The DC bar owner is playful but unsurprised by the response from Pat McGovern, a UPenn archaeochemist who helped discover a Neolithic fermented beverage in China (rice, honey and fruit; absorbed and preserved in pottery).
To paraphrase: quite possibly.
This is Tales of the Cocktail, the annual liquor convention in New Orleans, perhaps better known for moments like hottie spirits promoter Charlotte Voisey on an elevated stage, above a crowd of 600 at the William Grant & Sons Cocktails in Film Festival, joining a band to play the bass tab of “Seven Nation Army” on a tuba.
To illustrate: blonde, with a British accent, in a red dress, straddling a large horn.
It’s the combination of silly (masks, capes, Sailor Jerry rum’s take on the White Russian + bowling lane = ode to The Dude) and seminars (topics include bar margins, garnishes, hospitality and why American whiskey should not feel inferior to scotch) that make the five-day event such a draw for nearly 20,000 bartenders, producers, distributors, brand reps, journalists and others, including self-described “cocktail enthusiasts,” who make up about a quarter of the attendees.
Like Patti Milner, a sparkling retiree who now vends pralines, whom we meet at the Mandarine Napoléon Imperial Battle of the Sexes. One of the male contestants no-shows, so Dev Johnson of NYC’s Employees Only steps in. His “cocktail,” a laid-back (the drinker lays back in the chest of the bartender), is a straight-from-the-bottle pour directly in the mouth of the judge. (Everyone at the event tastes each of the eight cocktails, and votes.)
“That was my first Mandarine Napoléon, but not my first shot,” says Milner, approvingly. She likes to mingle with the folks from different cities and try all the drinks, a sentiment echoed by just about everyone, which is why beverage companies of all sizes come down to show off. This is the most important week of their year.
“You can’t drink all day unless you start in the morning” reads an invite for a 10:30 a.m. tasting of nine vermouths. Cocktails begin whenever you make it out of bed, but it’s the Tasting Rooms (like the female-dominated battle of the sexes) that help you change gears. Here “rooms” are anything from in/around a rooftop pool (Zubrowka vodka) to surrounding a street-side taco truck (Olmeca Altos tequila) to a portable child-sized wagon with Jacques Torres cookies (Fonseca BIN 27 port) to the New Orleans Pharmacy Museum, the site of the apothecary of America’s first licensed pharmacist (pharmacymuseum.org). Fittingly, Pernod Absinthe set up shop, amongst the bottles of potions and leeches and powders and the former soda fountain, with Green Beast Sno-Cones and Absinthe Root Beer Floats.
We try to leave after one (Tales veterans suggest never drinking more than half of anything, and napping whenever the need strikes), but it’s sweltering and we’re easily seduced. Plus, we’re talking tiki with the proprietors of Manhattan’s invite-only Rhum Rhum Room: Nicole and Joe Desmond. It’s their eighth Tales (out of 11 total). They’ve not signed up for a pre-noon event since year one.
Snacks and lunch can happen all day — Pimm’s Cup and muffuletta at Napoleon House (napoleonhouse.com); iced tea and fried chicken at Willie Mae’s Scotch House (2401 St. Ann St.); frozen Irish coffee at Erin Rose (erinrosebar.com); Cubano sandwich at Cochon Butcher (cochonbutcher.com); Abita beer and muffuletta (yes, again) at Central Grocery (centralgroceryneworleans.com).
Accordingly, “tastings” like the Wild Turkey midnight-2 a.m. turkey sandwich giveaway (150) are well attended. “Correctly” answered questions (favorite Thanksgiving side: creamed pearl onions) result in moments of face-stuffing ecstasy.
Then there are bustling bigger events like the Bare Knuckle Bar Fight (with NYC’s the Daily, led by Naren Young, beating out six other bars at Jax) and the Diageo World Class US Happy Hour at Gallier Hall, a three-story Greek Revival structure that once was City Hall. With so much going on, it’s understandable to cut short even this event with its 33 drinks by 33 bartenders — the greatest overall selection — to shower and dress for your Spirited Dinner. Most are in restaurants. One’s on the 190-foot Creole Queen: Cruise the Mississippi with live music, a mediocre buffet, cigars and cocktails by 10 incredible bartenders.
As the hours and days pass at Tales, you find yourself overhearing and discussing all manners of interesting things: I’m not getting arrested, this year. Is chocolate milk a hangover cure? What do you call that paddle-wheel behind the boat? My goal for tonight is for my room not to spin. Should there be baked potato and Champagne parties? Is the sun up?
Boarding the plane home with the other hungry, tired and poorly repacked, it seems a big break is needed before your next cocktail. Yet shortly after the most necessary of all naps you start thinking about that Sicilian Negroni at SoBou (sobounola.com) — and regard the souvenir “Mardi Gras” keychain a girl gave you after you loaned her your phone (and before she asked for any spare cash) — with a longing for another.