Sazerac Watch: Sweet, Dry and Just Right

As has been my tradition in New Orleans, I've tested a few restaurants on their Sazerac performance this year, and the results have been pretty damn sorry. Abysmal, in fact.

First off, apologies on these lousy pictures. Taking pictures of cocktails in dark restaurants ain't easy. My first failure was served to me at Jacques-Imo's Cafe, a very loose-limbed, funky and excellent restaurant in the Uptown neighborhood, right next to the famous Maple Tree Bar. They must have sloshed the simple syrup in out of a bucket, it was so tooth-achingly sweet. And I can't be sure, but I think they shook my Sazerac. It foamed like a rabid dog. (See above.)

The second disaster was at Coop's Place, a dive-like place on Decatur that serves excellent downhome New Orleans cuisine. To avoid my Jacques-Imo experience, I cautioned the bartender not to make the drink too sweet. "Why would it be sweet?" he replied. "There's no sugar in it."

Say what? I reminded him of the little matter of the sugar cube that's part of the recipe. He said they didn't make them that way; just put in a drop of syrup. OK. Worth a shot. But his Sazerac (below) was too dry and arid. It was missing a major component, and was quite difficult to drink.



But all was made well later that night at a party, when I had not one but two excellent Sazeracs, beautifully balanced and with a surface as still as an icy pond. Of course, I had to rely on a TOTC cocktail pro to do the trick.

Drink a Cocktail, Get a T-Shirt

It may be possible to attend an event at "Tales of the Cocktail" and not receive a t-shirt, but I wouldn't bet on it.

"I'm Over the Cocktail"

That's what a 20-something girl said to me in the elevator last night. She said it with a certain weariness, and added she was off to get some shots. I was surprised to hear her say it. At "Tales of the Cocktail," it seems, there is not one participant or attendee who ever gets tired of talking, thinking and drinking cocktails ever. Me? Well, it's Day Four and I think I reached the saturation point sometime today. Right now there's a Tiki Block Party over by the Harrah's, and, as much as I'd like to support Jeff Berry, the Tiki Titan who put it together, I need a break.

That said, the convention has been edifying and entertaining. The excitement and energy surrounding the event seems to have ramped up somewhat. Every seminar I've been to has better attended that last year's (more on the specific seminars later), and presentation has been polished up in some cases.

Enthusiasm—never in meager amount at this shindig—brims over at every corners. I'd like to think that this is, in part, due to a heavy contingent of cocktail bloggers in attendance. There are a couple dozen at least, including Chuck Taggart (Gumbo Pages), Gabriel Szaszko (Cocktailnerd), Craig Mrusek (Dr. Bamboo), Marleigh Riggins (Sloshed), Rick Stutz (Kaiser Penguin), Jeff Morgenthaler, Blair Reynolds (Trader Tiki), Seamus Harris (Bunnyhugs) and, of course, Paul Clarke of The Cocktail Chronicles, who in some ways has become the den leader of the cocktail bloggers. Extremely nice and open people, all, and fond of wearing hats as a group, I'm happy to say. Taking nothing away from the cocktail professionals, who, it goes without saying, are passionate about their field, bloggers are perhaps, it can be argued, more passionate, as they have little or no monetary incentive behind what they do. They'd probably write about cocktails if you told them they had to pay for the privilege.

The Sazerac Has Landed

So, I'm here. New Orleans. Tales of the Cocktail. Got up at 4 AM and flew through Charlotte. Bleary eyed, yes, but one ends up bleary eyed at this event anyway, right?

The first big event of the week was the official christening of the Sazerac as the first ever Official Cocktail of New Orleans. That's right—New Orleans has an official cocktail. Let other places have their birds and flowers—NOLA wants a cocktail. As some of you may know, TOTC's fearless founder Ann R. Tuennerman has been pushing this measure through the state capital. That's right! It was actually a bill passed by lawmakers. The guy was presented the bill was there: Senator Edwin Murray, dignified in seersucker.

The New York Times' Eric Asimov wrote a funny piece about the matter today. He confessed he doesn't like Sazeracs (What?!), and thought the Ramos Gin Fizz was a better choice for an official cocktail. But he's insane. Sazeracs are heaven. And Ramos Gin Fizzes, as good as they are, are much too difficult to make to be an official cocktail.

History was represented, of course. The drink is 150-years-old, after all. There were some cool Sazerac artifacts on a table, including this ancient bottle of Peychaud's Bitters.



Sazeracs, mixed up by a hardworking Phil Ward (Death & Co.), were passed around liberally. So were Punch & Judys. This last is the invention of Charlotte Voisey and is the 2008 Cocktail TOTC Competition winner. It's got a heaping helpful of ingredients (10!), including Cognac, rum, gin and three different juices. Almost on the Tiki side of things. Good, too. Dense.



Of course, half the room wasn't paying much attention to what was being said on the dais. To happy to see each other. A administrative tip: next year, don't hand out the drinks until the speeches have concluded! The crowd will stay focused that way.

The Riverside room the event was held in got really crowded really soon. I'm not claustrophobic, but I felt like I could be if I stayed, so I dashed out after the announcements. And left without trying a Sazerac cupcake! How'd that happen?!

New Orleans Bound

It's that time of year again, when every spirits experts and spirits journalist hops a plane and heads for the Big Easy to talk cocktails, think cocktails, make cocktails and drink cocktails.

"Tales of the Cocktail," now in its sixth year, will run July 16-20. For the first time since I've been attending, I will be there for the duration of the event. Last year I blogged the hell out of it. I may or may not this year, as I am on assignment for Saveur and must attend to paying, as opposed to elective, writing concerns. But I wouldn't be surprised if I post an item or two.

I will be there mainly as an attendee, not having risen to the level of a presenter quite yet. (And, frankly, I'm not at all sure I want to rise to that level. More work, less fun.) But I will make a cameo supporting appearance of sorts at St. John Frizell's
Sunday seminar "The Gentleman’s Companion: The Life and Times of Charles H. Baker, Jr.," all about the noted cocktail author. Some months ago I made Baker's recipe for Orange Bitters, and it came out quite well. St. John, who lives nearby, noted that he had never made that particular bitters of Baker's. So I gave him a bottle, which he said he'd use in the talk.

Needless to say, I am very proud.

When Wine Writers Gather to Party

The Wine Media Guild held their annual dinner June 16 at I Trulli Restaurant in Manhattan and I was happily in attendance. Everyone was asked to bring a choice bottle from their cellar, and I'm sure glad they were asked! For the WMG has a goodly number of veteran members and they possess some damn fine cellars full of treasures that make your eyes glisten with greed.

I arrived late, which could have been a bad thing, but turned out to be a very good stroke of luck indeed, because it forced me to seize the one available chair left. This was next to wine writer and educator Charles B. Rubinstein, a senior member of the Guild whom I had never met before. He proved good company, AND came equipped with a 1958 bottle of Gaja Barolo. That's right: a bottle of Barolo made by Gaja's daddy.

The evening began with some milling about. There was a table of pinot noirs for the taking. WNYC radio personality Leonard Lopate was in attendance for some reason. I was told he was the guest of our esteemed president Patricia Savoie. I watched him from time to time throughout the evening; he studied the room as if he might paint it.

The main business of the evening was the induction of the first honorees of the new Wine Writers' Hall of Fame. These worthies were Burton Anderson, Hugh Johnson, Edward McCarthy, Robert M. Parker, Jr., Frank Prial, Jancis Robinson, Kevin Zraly, and, postumously, Alexis Lichine and Frank Schoonmaker. (One Guild member stood up and shocked me by saying he had known well Schoonmaker, who was publishing books in the 30s and died in 1976! I would just like to point of here that Schoonmaker was born in Spearfish, South Dakota, simply because I like the fact.)

Prial was supposed to attend, but bowed out at the last moment. That left McCarthy (Mr. "Wine for Dummies") and Zraly as the two inductees present to receive their honors in person. They were introduced by, respectively, the leonine Charles Scicolone, and Wine & Spirits' Philippe Newlin. McCarthy's comments were touching and humble. Zraly ("Windows on the World") talked very fast and excitedly; one could see how he would make for an inspiring teacher.

After that there were just food and wine. Rubinstein also brought something labeled Pietro E Elena Riserva di Nozze 1999, of which he was very proud. He explained that the Piedmont winemaker who made it bottled the wine specifically for his son's wedding and that we wouldn't find it in any store. I didn't catch the name of the winemaker. The varietal Charles wasn't sure of. It was enjoyable, light and leafy, with notes of tobacco, tart plum and charcoal.

Also at my table was a 1982 Chateau Montrose from Saint-Estephe. It had a wonderfully fragrant barnyard nose. There was great breadth to the palate. Deep dark fruit, dark cherry and currents, and beautifully soft tannins. Heavenly smooth. I thought I was drinking just fine, until somebody said: Forget the Montrose! Get a load of the 1978 Haut-Brion that John Foy brought!

As good as the Montrose was, he was right. The Haut-Brion was the best thing I had that night. It began with a fascinatingly metallic, rusty nose, with touches of mustard and sulfer. The palate was equally complex. It came off like velvet rust on the palate, the texture of a very soft cat's tongue. It tasted of violet perfume, elegant and accomplished. Hmm. All my descriptors of this wine sound kind of crazy! But that's what I got. Good wines aren't simple.

There was also a 1981 Cheval Blanc with tasted of sour cherry backed by strong, but soft tannins; a 1974 Latour which was tart, piquant, with still a lot of fruit. And someone produced a Riesling Eiswein from Nahe that isn't being made anymore due to Global Warming. So we were drinking of an extinct species, which was both exciting and depressing. It was a Preis Goldener Staatsweingut Bad Kreuznach 2000. Nice stuff.

And then there was that Jerobaum of Stag's Leap Cask 23 1994 on the front table that everyone said must be a prop and was probably empty. But then it was suddenly opened and passed around near the end of the evening. Turned out, Zraly brought it.

I was a bit like a jack-in-the-box most of the night. Once I had tasted all the wines at my table, I kept popping up and prowling the other tables for likely bottles, filling my glass and then bringing back my bounty. This proved very helpful for a couple young ladies at my table, who were pinned in by the wall and relied on my expeditions to widen their understanding of the night's offerings. I was happy to share and felt quite the hunter-gatherer.

OK. But what about that Gaja? Rubinstein theatrically waited until the end to open the bottle and when he did the supplicants gathered round. I'm glad I was sitting next to him or I wouldn't have gotten any. The color was amazing. Absolutely pure rose. The wine was beautifully light. Dusty and floral on the palate. Purring tannins. I could see from other reactions at the table that it was not to everyone's liking, but I thought it was drinking beautifully.

Name?

As much as I think that the cocktail world's current fascination with secret, speakeasy-like spaces is a somewhat sophomoric phase that the industry must eventually outgrow, you have to admit that this peephole in the front door of Fort Greene's The Hideout is pretty cool.