Jeffrey Morgenthaler

It’s six o’clock at night in New Orleans and I’m sweating, hard. Not because of the heat outside, but because I’m inside, on a stage with a microphone in my hand. Eight of the best bartenders in the country are lined up behind me, hundreds of people are seated in front of me, and everyone in the room is staring at me. And at this moment all I can think about is my near-debilitating case of stagefright and how much I hate speaking in public. So I pause for a second and think to myself:

How in the hell did I end up here?

To answer that, we have to go back a year, to the previous gathering of bartenders, cocktail aficionados, bon vivants and drunkards known as Tales of the Cocktail. One similarly steamy night in July of 2008, after a long night of trash-talking with friends Daniel Shoemaker and Erik Adkins, we decided it would be a fine idea to have an impromptu three-man cocktail contest using only the ingredients found in my swag bag. So we grabbed a few friends, headed up to the pool, spread out a mind-numbing array of airplane bottles, syrups, sauces, candies and even (seriously) candles and proceeded to see who could make the best cocktail using only those ingredients (read more and even watch a video of the contest here.)

Anyway. It was fun, and dumb, and none of us thought much of it ten minutes after we declared Daniel the winner. But word spread, and our little throwdown became a sort of celebrated thing underground. Even David Wondrich grabbed my by the arm on the last night and said, “Hey, Morgenthaler, if you do that swag bag thing again next year, I want in.”

So, fast-forward four or so months – when I’m really not thinking about that night – to a cocktail party… in New Jersey of all places. It was there that I bumped into Ann Tuennerman, founder of Tales of the Cocktail. Ann pulled me aside and propositioned me about making the Swag Bag Competition a real sanctioned event at Tales this year. “Sounds good”, I said, and we put together a conference call to hammer out the details.

It was during this conference call that I was introduced to the folks at Grand Marnier/Navan and we all chatted about the event. Now, I’m generally pretty clueless, but I must have sounded like a real rube when I exclaimed, “Wait, let me get this straight – you want that thing I did on the roof last year to be the official Grand Marnier cocktail contest?!”

“Yes, you idiot”, must have been what everyone in on the conference call was thinking, but thankfully nobody spoke out loud. But what they did tell me was that they wanted me to design and host the whole thing: I was now in charge of picking the contestants, judges, setting the rules, choosing the items for the swag bags, and get up in front of the crowd and emcee the event – everything.

Well, shit. Fortunately I remembered that David Wondrich had wanted in, so I emailed him and asked him if he’d like to be a judge. But Dave wrote back and said, “I was actually hoping to compete.” Well, double-shit, now I’ve got James Beard award-winning author David Wondrich competing, and this is becoming, like, a real thing.

But if there’s one thing I’ve got going for me, it’s the fact that I’ve got a lot of good friends in this business. So I called up seven of them from cities around the country and asked them if they’d like to compete in my humble little Grand Marnier sponsored event. And you know what I love about my friends? Every one of them said, “Yes”.

And so there I was, on stage in front of Ricky Gomez, Paul Clarke, Misty Kalkofen, Neyah White, Todd Thrasher, David Wondrich, Giuseppe Gonzalez and Eric Alperin (who even went one step further for me and shaved a mohawk just for the competition).

On my cue, the eight of them opened their swag boxes and began working on a cocktail with the following disparate list of ingredients: Glenmorangie Scotch, Chopin Vodka, Don Julio Blanco Tequila, Hennessy VSOP Cognac, Tanqueray, Grand Marnier, Navan, Tabasco, Tea Forte Cocktail Infusions, Amarula Cream, Yellow Chartreuse, Alexia Chips, Freshies Bloody Mary Mix, Dirty Sue Olive Juice, Antigua & Barbuda Hot Sauce, Jalapeno, Chocolate, & Tropical Tanteo Tequilas, Kona Coffee Liqueur, Purista Natural Mojito Mix, Dum-Dum Lollipops and M&Ms

It was – in a word – insane. Wondrich immediately began building a little makeshift still out of a cocktail shaker and some aluminum foil and distilled Navan liqueur. I thought Misty was pouring a shot for me and herself, but she was actually about to infuse the tequila with Tea Forte tea infusions (we did the shot anyway). Thrasher was working on a reduction of Navan liqueur, and the whole thing went up in flames.

Alperin’s cheering section brought a boom box and was blasting music from inside the audience. The ladies of LUPEC Boston were standing on their seats and screaming for Misty. Our judges didn’t know what to think, I’m guessing it was the most unconventional cocktail competition they’d ever been involved in.

At one point I was asked to clear the stage of the people that had gotten up out of their chairs and were yelling at the contestants, but to no avail – the crowd had officially decided to bum-rush the show.

The whole thing lasted only an hour and a half, but it felt like it was over as soon as it began. The contestants presented their cocktails to the judges one-by-one and after much deliberation, they declared Giuseppe’s mixture of tea-infused Glenmorangie, Navan and Piña Colada mix to be the winner.

Special thanks to Brian Huff and David Shenaut for the use of the photos. Hopefully we’ll be returning next year with more.

My good friends over at Embury Cocktails were kind enough to stop by the Boca Loca luncheon at Tales of the Cocktail this year, and captured me on film while Jason Rowan grilled me after a late night and an early morning of prepping for the lunch.

Here’s the recipe:

2 oz Boca Loca cachaça
¾ oz lemon juice
½ oz simple syrup
½ oz egg white
1 tsp apricot preserves
1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake well with ice and double-strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

(Gosh, they look happy.)

Anyway – it’s July, which means that it’s that time of year, to take a week-long reprieve from the steamy swelter of Oregon and head once again to the cool lazy breezes of New Orleans. Tales of the Cocktail is a week of cocktail seminars, workshops, classes, competitions, food, fun, friends, and – for some – nearly lethal amounts of alcohol that flows freely through the streets like so much urine in the morning sun.

I’ll be there, working, playing, talking, laughing, and – if Keith Waldbauer has anything to say about it – drinking while I provide blow-by-blow updates via my Twitter account.

So join me, and I hope to see you next week at Tales.

Ah, Tales of The Cocktail. The greatest yearly gathering on earth for cocktail enthusiasts, bartenders, students of mixology and aficionados of fine liquors. Also, a logistical nightmare for those who have to plan the hundreds of events spread over those five days in New Orleans.

Shortly after to agreeing to sit on Paul Clarke’s panel, “Using Blogs and Online Tools to Raise the Profile of Your Bar, Brand or Career” I noticed that I was double-booked for a very important Boca Loca Cachaça luncheon – one at which I was the hired bartender on duty.

So I called Paul, and after his initial swearing and foot-stomping he agreed to let me off the hook – and instead found a much more suitable replacement: Bobby Heugel of the brilliant blog Drink Dogma and co-owner of Houston’s newest and greatest cocktail bar Anvil.

Bobby’s years of writing and bartending make him the perfect fit for the panel, which includes the effervescent, salty Paul Clarke and marketing guru Steve Raye of Brand Action Team.

My sincere apologies to the one person who foolishly booked a ticket expecting to hear my drivel, and I assure you (whoever in the heck you are) that Paul Clarke has done his duty by filling my head with disgusting imagery and lewd commends. That man is an animal.

See you at Tales.

I absolutely hate it when someone sends me a box full of sex toys in the mail. Sure, it might sound like fun to some of you (you know who you are), but receiving a big box of free sex is much more trouble than it’s worth. Believe me. So I get a little guarded when unannounced packages arrive because, you know, I’m worried that they’re going to be full of sex stuff.

Just a couple of months ago, such a suspicious package arrived and I opened it to find – much to my delight – not a box full of sex toys but rather a new pear liqueur called Xanté. That’s fine, I thought to myself, at least it’s just a harmless pear liqueur and not something more salacious. So I opened the envelope, and there was the standard non-sexy note from the liquor company:

“Xanté is an intimate love affair, a passionate encounter, a lifetime commitment, a ménage à trois between virgin pears, the finest French cognacs, and soft caresses of vanilla from French Limousine Oak.”

Huh, okay, an intimate, passionate ménage à trois with soft caresses from virgins or whatever, nothing terribly naughty about that. Guess I’ll open the box.

Xanté comes in a sleek black box, carefully secured with a long, silken gold ribbon. It is my understanding that this ribbon is not meant to be used as a blindfold, gag, or method of restraint, but rather a simple and affordable alternative to, say, a piece of tape to keep the box closed. The box is emblazoned with the G-rated slogan “Unimaginable Pleasure”.

Inside is a little booklet full of stories about pleasure and very tasteful photo essays of women in the sporting life, surrounded by young shirtless boys and quotes comparing non-sexual leisure activities to the enjoyment of pear liqueur:

“Any croquet player of distinction knows it’s crucial to always keep her eyes on the balls and peg, regardless of how distracting the surroundings may be. Sight is an equally important part of the Xanté experience; its rich amber colour makes it apparent to anyone that looks do matter.”

…and:

“Just like a day at the croquet grounds, stroking coloured wooden balls across manicured lawns, Xanté is uncompromisingly unpredictable.”

Apparently all of this ball-stroking can whip up an insatiable thirst for the consumer, so I guess the next thing to do would be to open up the bottle. Nestled in a non-suggestive coffin of black satin sheets is the bottle, standing proudly and erect in its velveteen hole.

The opening nose is reminiscent of pears poached in cinnamon and wine. The first sip reveals a moderate amount of heat, which dissipates quickly leaving behind an extended finish of basic sugars, pear, light caramel, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and banana. Or, in the words of the company:

“…with its touch of vanilla, the perfect penetration of pear, and the slow, tender mating process which seals the great conception delivering a flavour and taste beyond all known experience.”

I don’t know, maybe it does sound kind of dirty after all.

“Here, see if you can make me something with this”, the liquor rep taunted as he dropped a bottle of aquavit on the bar. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t really work that well under pressure. I try, but it literally takes me weeks to come up with a new drink that I’m happy with. Maybe I’m slow, maybe I’m a perfectionist, doesn’t matter: I hate it when I have to work under pressure.

So I was especially vexed when this particular wiseass handed me a bottle of aquavit. For those of you who don’t know, is a traditional Scandinavian liquor flavored with caraway and – typically – other herbs such as fennel and anise. It’s delicious, but it’s unique and isn’t known for its superb mixability.

However, I knew the liquor boob was insinuating that I might not be able to rise to the challenge, so I whipped this up (after about three false starts). A small handful of visitors to the bar at Clyde Common have suggested that it might be one of the best drinks I’ve come up with so far, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. I just think it tastes delicious.

1 oz aquavit
1 oz applejack
¾ oz sweet vermouth
¼ oz yellow Chartreuse
1 dash Angostura bitters

Stir ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail coupe. Garnish with a large twist of lemon peel and serve.

Hey folks, if you’re reading this post, then you’re officially a reader of this website. And that means that I could really use your help. In order to lure potential advertisers over to the dark side that is my, uh, sidebar, I need to prove to them that my website is mainly frequented by consenting adults.

So, whether or not you’re of legal drinking age, would you mind doing me a favor and filling out this quick survey? I’m not going to even ask for your name or email address, so rest assured that it’s completely confidential. Because more advertising means more money, more money means more liquor, and more liquor means more late-night booze-fueled ramblings both here and on my regularly-updated Twitter feed.

Thanks, folks. Stay tuned for more drinks and stories.

Just when I think I’ve run out of things to say, my friends over at Imbibe Magazine drop me a note telling me that there’s a new video up, and it’s almost like the content writes itself.