A Streetcar Named Perspire

Two different ways of looking at NOLA, one a bit more romantic than the other, although I never felt much defended against--everyone seemed more than welcoming. Still, there's that part of New Orleans that seems a bit wild that makes it more thrilling, isn't there? The air feels a bit like sin.

Day 4, Saturday, July 28

Weather:

Today's daily downpour comes courtesy of the people who decide to shutdown their establishments for a week (or more--one place was closed since May 19!) in the summer. How European of them, and miserable for us, as we did a lovely hike that slowly converted into a miserable death march through the Garden District this day. Plenty of cool shopping and architecture and people watching along Magazine St.

One fun stop for a beer (see surprises). Then a lot of disappointment trying to find a place to: eat lunch, stop sweating, stop moving, avoid the deluge clearly on its way. Domilise's closed. Casamento's closed. Le Petit Grocery turns us away at 1:40 even though they supposedly serve lunch till 2:30 and we assume we look too bedraggled and be-touristed (caps! a big camera!) for their preciousness, or did I mean pretentiousness. (Ha, no good review for you!) A fourth place whose name is washed away by the beginning rain also on vacation. We wonder if we missed the "Garden District--Closed for Summer" sign when we entered. Luckily we find Slice, with solid pizza with an intriguing cornmeal-featured crust and a good enough salad. And a roof. Best restaurant feature, ever.

Quote o' the Day:

"After four days of cocktails, don't you want a beer?"

(Clever marketing by Newcastle, giving beers away at Happy's, which just happened to be a breastaurant, and schoolgirl outfits and beer after lots of drinking, well, they might just have something there if their goal is to part middle-aged men from their money.)

Event-and-a-Quarter o' the Day:

After recovering from our Garden Street debacle a bit in the hotel, we hike back out to the Hyatt Regency, which seems too corporate a place for Tales, in a way, but there's a Taste the World's Best Spirits Grand Tasting to attend. It's the kind of event where all the Johnnie Walker's are on a table for you, through the blue, green and gold, next to a table of the Classic Malts (when in doubt, seize the name and make them pry it from your peat-y fingers, I guess)--Talisker, Dalwhinnie, Lagavulin. Yeah, and that's just whiskeys and leaves out my favorite, Aberlour's A'bunadh, aged in solera casks and presided over by this dandy chap.

There was Lillet with their new Rosé, that you want to drink straight and fiddle with at the bar too, and Del Maguey Mezcal with a good 8 varieties to try and you want to linger just to play with their little clay tasting cups. Somehow, the only edibles at this event, though, were chips, popcorn, pretzels, and nuts. Seemed like they thought it was a light beer fest, and, alas, nothing was light about these fine sips.

So, our spirits emboldened by consuming the world's best spirits, we take the escalator down a floor and discover the Spirited Awards are beginning and no one is really paying attention if you want to sneak into the pre-event reception. We figure, as long as we don't go in and sit down for dinner, who will know we don't belong? Part of it is this is the first and last dressy event, so we might stand out a bit for being too casual, but cocktails make everyone civilized, as long as you don't cut in line when they're hoping to score a slider or grill cheese. We have some more drinks, one a pinkish straight martini, and that makes me wonder if I've had too much.

Not that we saw this while there, but it seems they really do the awards portion right, too, based on the videos they ran during the event that are kindly now on YouTube like this one, "Shit Brand Ambassadors Say":



Surprises o' the Day:

House Spirits Distillery out of Portland, OR doesn't just make Aviation Gin, and will make you a fine whiskey Bloody Mary. Conveniently this will be in an art gallery on your way to Cafe Beignet.

In swagland, the loot is always greener in another conventioner's hands. Where did those leather-looking books go at the Herbsaint tasting room? How did we miss that one attractive bag? Why do we think we need everything given to everyone at TOTC?

Parasol's is our dream of a neighborhood bar--big scary dog that's actually nice allowed inside, people of all ages and races, locals and us, smokers and not (OK, not my favorite part about New Orleans bars--I've become a true anti-cig Californian), a hipster bartender with a Dr. Who obsession, and NOLA Brewing beers on tap, including my new favorite, Hopitoulas...of course a West Coast IPA.

The Columns is nowhere near as fascinating when Susan Sarandon and Brooke Shields aren't staying there.

Best Food Non-TOTC Edition:

Even closer to the Monteleone, Cafe Beignet has better beignets than Cafe du Monde. There, I said it. Much doughier, less sugar, better coffee. It has nothing to do with having had three Bloody Marys before the first fried dough hit my stomach, promise.

We also had a lovely late dinner at Eat New Orleans, a place that takes the classics and freshens them without going frou-frou. A mustard green and artichoke gratin to start was everything you could hope--rich with the two different textured and tasting greens, just enough of a creamy sauce but not so much you need a defibrillator nearby, and some crunchy pita-ish chips to scoop it all with. Chryss has a butterbeans with shrimp bowl, I had the trio--cup of gumbo, cup of red beans, a roasted stuffed red pepper, rice, and a Caesar, and we both hailed our meals. Simple, satisfying, soul-quenching. We also got an inadvertent show out the window as a drunk crashed on the curb, letting his two dogs loose to wander out into Dumaine Street. Luckily, they didn't get run over; the cops visited the guy but left him; our waiter brought out a to-go tray with water for the dogs. Ah, the humanity.

Other Drinks Consumed Not Mentioned Above:

Eat is BYOB, so a six pack of Abita Jockamo IPA from the corner shop down the street did the trick. At one of the Saveur Snack Stand events we got a pleasing Breckenridge Rocky Mountain Rickshaw, zipped with some ginger. Martini (as in Rossi) concocted a very elegant The Monteleone Cocktail--not to be confused with the different one the Carousel Bar serves--of cognac, Martini Roasto Vermouth, Amaro Avena (which will be in the surprise list tomorrow)--and then a misting from a perfume atomizer. When asked, the one bartender said it was Chanel No. 5. (Actually it was Herbsaint--even better.)

And we finally got to the Sazerac Bar in the Roosevelt Hotel to enjoy the namesake drink in a truly swank location ringed by Paul Ninas Art Deco murals that make you expect to see some unholy drinking party of Huey Long and Noel Coward to wander in. A very civilized spot, and fine drinks, although their Sazeracs are much redder than mine--perhaps that's because I use both Angostura and Peychaud's and they only use the carmine latter. No matter, can a lovelier thing be done to rye than make it into a Sazerac? Even I'd be better with the perfect combo of bitters, citrus, sugar, and a bit of sticky Pernod.

Bugs, Bitters, Bacardi

Perhaps things get blurry, what with a Bloody Mary Bar open every morning at the Monteleone--a feature it seems every hotel needs. But let's get right into day 3, and note there's no Best Food Non-TOTC Edition section for today's write up as what we had was mostly meh--perhaps the idea of Cafe du Monde is better than the lost in puffs of sugar reality? Or maybe it's because their coffee seriously burned my tongue (horrors!).

Day 3, Friday, July 27

Weather:

It's NOLA. It's sweating weather. And there's a good drenching with some lightning every day; this day it's all done by noon. Well, not the sweating.

Quote o' the Day:

"What did I drink that made my pee smell funny?"

Event o' the Day:

The Bacardi 150th Anniversary USBG Hand-Shaken Daiquiri Competition made me like daiquiris more than ever before, although I still hate having to type the trickily spelled name. This party featured some yummy tuna tacos, with the tortilla shells pleasantly fried, plus poor young things in red dresses that looked like tightly wound windowshades about to pull up--there was no way for the outfits to be flattering even on super-slender, non-Bacardi-consuming models. But those bat belts they wore were Adam West cool. And, as part of the event, Bittercube let 10 people at a time make their own bitters, preferably one that would work with a rum-based drink. At events like this, it's easy to become bossy/pushy--simply talk more quickly and louder than everyone else, and soon your herb/spice choices are part of the mix. Supposedly we'll get a mailed sample of the bitters we helped concoct soon. Can't wait. It's like cooking for your cocktail's pre-goodness.

And if I'm allowed a second event of the day, and it's my blog, so I'm allowed what I want to, it's our visit to the media Lagniappe Room. That means a little something extra, but as with most of TOTC, a little goes a long way, and this room was like walking into a minibar. Which was free. And maxi, or it was like that great episode of Lost in Space when the Robot grew giant and Will had to go inside to fix it, then get out before it shrunk to normal, not fit for a boy to be inside, size (tell me someone else has seen this and I didn't make it up?). Plus there were free bags to carry all your loot, and stirrers and matches and mixes and shirts and and posters and keychains and olives and cocktail cranberries posing as cherries and bitters bottles so tiny you could smuggle one out in your nostril and still have room to breathe. Here's what that looked like back in the room. Even better, it got back home after riding in our suitcase through 2 plane changes.

Surprises o' the Day:

You can jog in New Orleans in July and not die. You simply won't do it again.

I'll drink your green kale smoothie...as long as there's Tito's Vodka in it. Thanks, Vistamix!

The Audubon  Butterfly Garden & Insectarium, or the ¡Insectaria! as we like to call it, is fun and not just for kids, although it's a crazy science turn on for the pre-teen set. You do not get to see the worm from the mezcal, but you get to see pretty much everything else. Do not go if you get the creppy-crawly hebbie-jeebies easily. Take photos of butterflies up close so they look like Son of Mothra.

Here's a semi-random picture of a huge tableful of oysters. Just to point out it was that kind of an event. Ile de Ré Fine Island Cognac is quite lovely, btw, but I'm not sure cognac goes with oysters.

There's something called crispy Armenian bread that's like a flatbread. What's no surprise is it's not so good burnt. (Sorry, Carmo, which tired very hard but didn't succeed quite enough.)

You can make seriously charged ice cream--say a Ramos Gin Fizz ice cream (now that egg does double duty) and mezcal chocolate ice cream. Or perhaps that was all an end of the day dream.

Best Food TOTC Edition:

We didn't take as much advantage as we should have of the media events in the Vieux Carre Room, high atop the Monteleone with views of the mighty Mississippi and most of NOLA. But this afternoon we hit the Taste of Italy Media Luncheon presented by the Spirit of Italy, which is evidently a typically handsome Italian guy telling you how special Italian spirits are while showing you slides of gorgeous Italian locations, all of which you want to visit on your next vacation, which has to be to Italy. We had cocktails made from Amaro Lucano, Luxardo, Distillerie Moccia, Distilleria Nardini, Pallini, Toschi, and Distilleria Varnelli--a lusciously vowelly mouthful of drinks.

But then there was an amazing buffet, too, starting with the ever present oysters, but also a lovely primavera pasta with fresh parmigiano grated atop, some redfish en croute, melon and prosciutto, etc. This was not your usual free spread, not in the least. We get to sit next to Amy Stewart from yesterday's presentation, too, and then ride in an elevator with Dale DeGroff, who hums his way to his floor. Oh, sorry, I'm dropping names, aren't I.

And as for a perfect bite, in the Angostura Bitters’ tasting room we enjoyed channa on bara (chickpeas on what else but fried dough--perhaps the savory island version of beignet?) at a Taste of Trinidad. 

Other Drinks Consumed Not Mentioned Above:

Sure we tried the recently imported to the US Edinburgh gin (smooth), and some St. Germain drink we missed the name of (it's that kind of party, TOTC), and some Abita at Carmo to be New Orleans-esque, but what I really need to talk about was my time at the Craft Distillers Tasting where so much was good I would have denied me Satan right there on the spot for only something approaching the godhead could man these stills. At the Anchor Distilling table I told them I knew and loved the Junipero Gin so I didn't need to taste it and the guy's eyes lit up. "Well, try this," he says, pouring me something that smoked as it fell into my glass. OK, it didn't smoke, but it was lovely, a new hops-flavored spirit. Beer-loving me heartily approved. Speaking of the beer-spirit nexus, esteemed brewers from New Holland, Michigan are aging whiskey in old beer barrels, and that certainly works if it seems backwards (and they admit it). And then there's Corsair Distillery, that features nifty Reservoir Dogs inspired t-shirts and a wonderful range of liquor, from gins to a red absinthe (you do taste the hibiscus, plus red means it's not green like everyone else's) to a Ryemageddon that is sure to please any rye lover and if you're not one you will be by your second sip. 

Someone’s in the Kitchen at Esperanza

The class, a wide-raging group from their twenties to their fifties, listens attentively as Chef Anita Krissel lectures, highlighting their notes about dry-heat cooking methods for chicken. As they are about to break from the lecture portion of the evening and move to the hands-on cooking, Krissel drills them: “What do you do first in the kitchen?”

The class responds: “Wash our hands.”

“And second?” she asks.

“Set up our mise-en-place,” they reply, using the French term for kitchen prep like it’s an everyday term.

Krissel pauses and then says, “And what do you do before anything else?” There’s a tiny moment, and one student suggests, “Have a cigarette?”

Want to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.

Let's Slip Out of These Wet Clothes and into a Dry Martini

No, that's not me after just one day at Tales of the Cocktail, that's Papa Gede at the Voodoo Museum, because when in New Orleans you need to know how not to become a zombie, let alone know enough not to drink one. (We won't even begin to consider the Hurricane--if you want to drink just to get smashed, it's cheaper to buy a mallet you can reuse and just thwack yourself in the temple with it and repeat as necessary.)

Day 2, Thursday, July 26

Weather:

Does this photo capture the thrill of t-storms tearing down the Mississippi? The rain eventually made it to our side of the river, too, and we tried to wait it out, but finally ran a single block in it, and were soon ice cubes, as we'd been soaked and then back into an air conditioned inside.

Quotes o' the Day:

"This Blackwell pool party is kind of like MTV meets rum--so many yo-ho-hos."

"Why isn't their promotional giveaway one of the Becherovka chick outfits?"

Event o' the Day:

The only seminar we attended, one called "The Drunken Botanist." It was a sneak peek of science writer Amy Stewart's next book, and she presented very well, doing that "I've come across a whole bunch of cool things, wanna see?" style of a "lecture." Her tag line was, "You're taking plants and putting them into bottles," but then she told the tales of some of the coolest plants we've done that with, including a bunch that might be a titch poisonous, like tansy and gentian. Yes, there was a cocktail, too, a Pineapple Surprise, redolent with a pineapple sage leaf as a garnish, and with that sage, tequila, Kummel, agave nectar, and lemon juice.

Drinking event of the day was the Diaego Happy Hour "A World Class Affair," like the Absolut party the night before, but not quite as magical even with a wider range of liquors used to make the 25 or so cocktails available to sample. And, for something odd, a strong drink with which the bartender offered a shot of granola back as a way to cut the kick.

Surprises o' the Day:

A mouthful of granola after a shot of strong drink is pleasing.

One scientist swears that the variety of apple doesn't matter, it's the type of yeast that makes the flavor difference when you make hard cider. It's not that I find that fact so odd, it's that somewhere on a college campus a professor gets to do this for his research. I want to start my career again.

The margaritas at what seems to be the tourist trappy El Gato Negro by the French Market are quite good, with actual pulp from the fruit that's supposed to flavor the drink (mine was pineapple-cilantro). So if you get stuck there in a rain storm, don't feel too bad.

DBA doesn't open until 5. So if the door is ajar and you walk in at say, oh, 3, and then walk back out, the guy who finally realizes you were in there will act like you were trying to rob the place.

Best Food, Non-TOTC Division:

This was our best overall day of eating, a very good lunch and even better dinner. We hiked out to Butcher, the deli component of Chef Donald Link's (also owner of Herbsaint from the evening before) Cochon. Now, this wasn't exactly the perfect place for pescatarian Chryss, but they kindly made a roasted turkey sans turkey (arugula, tomato, Fontina, and basil pesto aioli on 7grain) for her and even cut the price a bit. I went whole hog, and couldn't refuse the pork belly with mint and cucumber on white. This place even does white bread well, and since mint and cucumber are two of our favorites to play with in summer cocktails, this sandwich called out to me like a long lost edible friend. There was also microbew in bottles, totally needed after the walk out along Tchoupitoulas (its name is as long as our trek), and mine was particularly southern, a nut brown made with pecans. That cucumber-tomato salad side was summer, too.

Then, for dinner, Bayona. I've been a huge fan of Chef Susan Spicer since she published her cookbook Crescent City Cooking, so keenly anticipated this meal and it didn't let me down. To get in the mood I sipped a Bayona martini, Hendricks gin with a cucumber slice for garnish and a bit of rose water instead of orange bitters--very sophisticated. Then the food started, with Chryss having a special "salad," crabmeat with a jalapeno kick in an avocado soup.(Oh, excuse the no flash iPhone pictures--it's a classy place so we acted as restrained as we could.)

I had to try her famous sweetbreads, because I'm offal like that. She does have the recipe in her book, btw, but I haven't attempted to convince my butcher I need the "noix" and not the "gorge" sweetbread, or as she calls them, tenderly, the "heartbreads," aka pancreas. (Never underestimate the power of naming.) They are a wonder of eating, though, fried crispy, yet so tender inside. Again, in her book she explains a randy old chef taught her the procedure and that he suggested "they should have the feeling of a firm, young breast, and would say that looking directly at me to see me blush!" We've got all our hungers so easily cross-wired, don't we. But back to the plate, beneath the richness of the sweetbreads are little squares of beets and then super-crunchy pan-fried mushrooms, and those two totally ground the dish. The sherry-mustard butter sauce sends it all singing.

Trying to avoid going on and on, for mains Chryss had the triple tail special, done very New Orleans style over peas that weren't black-eyes, but certainly seemed to be.

I had one of the best pork chops of my life, truly done medium rare and not in the slightest chewy despite being very thick, with mango salsa and a deep sauce and great green rice--more Caribbean than New Orleans but totally delicious.

And we couldn't, ok, I couldn't, resist dessert, a classic chocolate caramel tart with the crust made with the wisdom of a thousand mothers, and hazelnuts, and for a bit of twist, some Earl Grey ice cream.

Other Drinks Consumed Not Covered Above:

Bloody Mary from the Absolut Bloddy Mary Bar (every hotel needs free Bloodys from 8:30 - 10:30--it's a reason to wake up); a couple of drinks at the "Tales of Two Cities: Bean Town and the Barbary Coast" thingee Anchor threw; a Woodford Reserve Bluegrass Breeze; some Blackwell rum drink; Becherovka, a Czech liqueur, so close to my Slav (no, not slob) roots; and an adult chocolate milk. Note: this day as every, many of these drinks I sipped twice or thrice and then put on the clean-up trays. Nonetheless, I am a professional food and drink writer, so do not try this amount of consumption on your own.

The Muse Is Always Half Drunk In New Orleans

Tales of the Cocktail is a marathon, not a sprint, as one of the drink descriptions at Arnaud's French 75 put it, but I did have to write the sprint version for the Indy, the long but not long enough feature that will run August 9. In the meantime, I want to provide some daily snapshots to give you even more of a sense of what a festival honoring the cocktail, in New Orleans, means for one's mind and liver and deodorant.

Day 1, Wednesday, July 25

Weather:

Post-plane touchdown thunderstorm, Thor v. Zeus division. Even after that, hot and humid, which I'm pretty sure is human-controlled as a clever plot to keep you inside in air conditioning, eating and drinking.

Quote o' the Day:

"This is insane--I've only been here two hours and I already have icing on my arm."

Event o' the Day:

Welcome Reception at the Contemporary Arts Center sponsored by Absolut

You know there's this dream in your head of the perfect happening party, the kind even movies never even seem to nail properly, when the setting is magical, the drinks tasty, the people fun, and a row of models greet you as you enter? Well, that was this shindig. It snowed. Inside. The blue lighting added to that effect, but then there were all these separate bars to go to, themed sort of internationally, like It's a Drunk World After All, but without the insipid earworm of a song. (Instead, a DJ not quite getting people to dance, but perhaps that's just because we were all too f-ing cool.) You could get temp tattoos (not many takers, as most people there didn't have enough un-tatted territory on their bodies for one). You could pose with New Orleans appropriate costuming (masks, etc.) for an Absolut ad photo. You could get a t-shirt silk screened with one of 8 designs. You could drink, plenty--probably 20 different Absolut cocktails, including one made with dry ice, one featuring ice cubes carved into diamonds. One spot featured Dale DeGroff and Audrey Saunders side-by-side making you drinks like the king and queen of boozy prom. The waitress with the little grilled tuna cubes remembered you liked them and that one of you was prescatarian and kept hunting you out with a fresh tray. All the models went back to your room at the Monteleone afterward. Perhaps I made a part of this up.

Surprises o' the Day:

At a tasting called Better with Age, where I somehow avoided any jokes about my magnificence because of my midlife status, during a blind tasting I actually preferred the young Glenfiddich to the 15-year aged one, mostly because it packed more punch so stood out in a room of fantastic tequilas, whiskeys, and Armagnacs, and a bit because it was aged in old Solera barrels, giving it a pleasing Sherry push.

You can make a lovely sipping whiskey...from wheat. At least Bernheim Original Wheat Whiskey can.

Evan Williams does a single barrel whiskey that you can buy for $21. Maybe the best value tasted at TOTC.

You actually can make interesting cocktails with vodka. It's a challenge, but that's the fun, no?

Best Food, Non-TOTC Division:

Herbsaint. We'd do further homage to Chef Donald Link on the trip, but this was on the way back from the Absolut party so we decided to do a bit of the small plate action and everything was pitch perfect with prime ingredients. Simply the fries, with pimenton aioli not so simple, were divine. We also enjoyed Seared Louisiana Shrimp with Summer Squash and Chili Oil and Butter Poached Gulf Tuna with Criolla Sella Chili and Lemon--the seafood clearly the stars of each plate, but all the other ingredients whipping up spectacular supporting symphonies. We had a dessert, too, that the receipt calls a BB tart a la mode, but somehow we can't remember what the BB is--butter and bourbon is what I'm going to say.


Other Drinks* Consumed Not Covered in the Above:

Tito's Cherry-Vanilla Limeade, Jasmine-Spiked London Lemonade, a Sazerac at Herbsaint, a Vieux Carre at the Carousel Bar in the Monteleone, and an Abita Turbo Dog draft at Acme Oyster House, where we ate after our long, foodless plane flights out, a soft-shell crab po' boy and an oyster po' boy and some raw oysters, too (see below)

*Note, this really does just mean cocktails and beer, so liquor straight is left out of the equation.

The Nichols Brothers Choose Sides

Makin’ bacon isn’t a crude double entendre for Jeff and Matt Nichols — it’s something they take very seriously at Sides Hardware and Shoes: A Brothers Restaurant.

“Prior to opening, serving breakfast was new to us, so we wanted to honor our commitment to made-from-scratch and working with the best ingredients,” said Jeff. “So we started playing around with curing our own bacon, the Brothers’ Bacon Steak. When you take a pork belly and go through the process of brining, roasting, and smoking, you then have a choice of how to slice it. Since our product is a cross between pork belly and bacon, it led naturally to a thicker cut.”

Want to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.

Professor Plum in The Kitchen with KCET

As you know if you read the Indy at all, we're a contest-loving bunch (coming soon: a contest to come up with the next best contest!), so I'd be amiss if I didn't point out there's a cool contest KCET is throwing to our south, and we're all welcome to take part. (I'm pretty sure this isn't a sneaky way to annex Santa Barbara, promise.) The prize isn't just glory, but also a basket of farmers' market goodies.

KCET is celebrating summer stone fruit season by asking viewers like you to submit your favorite plum, pluot, or apricot recipe. You've got till Friday, so go to the contest site for details and make Santa Barbara proud.

And did you know that when Luther Burbank dreamed up the pluot, he called it a plumcot? Perhaps Burbank knew best--that just seems easier to say, doesn't it? And if you're going to end up a hybrid oddity, the last thing you need is a funky, fake French name.