What a Morning

But man is not made for defeat.  A man can be destroyed but not defeated. --Hemmingway

Doing It Right

I constantly find myself wondering at 23 years-old where it is I will live next or travel to, or both.  There is a feeling of restlessness and a notion that I am not being challenged.

And then New Orleans comes back to impress me yet again.

With Tales of the Cocktail this week I have the ability to see what this city really as to offer.  No, not just cocktails and a party atmosphere and the potential to gather all of the world's great mixologist, but the untold talent to bring something of such magnitude to our city's image.

As I walked through the Monteleone yesterday afternoon I was sincerely impressed and moved by the functioning of the TOTC staff and patrons.  It is yet another example of the jovial details that only living in New Orleans can bring about.

I do not know why this party garnered so much of my attention, but to walk about the different stands of Fernet Branca, rum cocktail books, and the Ste. Germain truck (which by the way got towed.  Party loss) I felt extremely proud to call this my home.

Big names and even bigger wallets floated through the Carousel Bar ready to live life like one is meant to; drinking, talking, and learning.  I even happened across the reigning cocktail couple, Jared Brown and Anistatia Miller, directors of Mixellany Limited, as they were the first to sell out their book, Cuban Cocktails. It still resonates as I remember Ann Tuennerman speaking at the FQBA luncheon I attended to tell her story about the humble creation of TOTC and its transformation into one of the most premiere cocktail conventions in the world.  This story reminds me of why I chose to call New Orleans home, and will for a very long time.

I missed TOTC last year due to my work schedule and home location, but undoubtedly I will be involving myself as much as I can....definitely at everything that is free.  But do not be mistaken, yet another (I like to think mildly talented) mind from my generation is carefully watching and cultivating everything it can to learn and look forward to the time where more events like this are littered over the New Orleans' events calendar.

LaBaaatts

Cold water spells disaster for me.  I turn bitter and selfish to find warmth.  I imagine myself as the Hulk and fearful that I will push man, woman, and especially little children down to get away I do not tempt fate and steer clear of icy H2O. However, with the hot weather snap falling on the Midwest as I spent my first week in Michigan the river next to the cabin I was in was my saving grace.  The grass rooted in the rocks and swaying with the subtle gurgle of the current are indicators of only the clearest and most refreshing sentiments I can encounter in the woods.

I like to sweat and that I why I still have not left the humid blanket of the South and more specifically New Orleans.  Sure, I love the cold breath of the morning like anyone else, I just tend to do it below three different top layers while it is still 60 degrees outside.  Needless to say when I promised I would visit Michigan I made sure it was in summer.  And, seeming that I started this blog as my montage to all of my "so fancy I'm sure the entire world will want to hear about it" food adventures one thing did not surprise me about Michigan.  Meat.  I ate more red meat in one week there then I have in two or three months in New Orleans.  Yes, I understand that we have seafood and that I am too poor to be buying steaks, but seriously, I ate four hamburgers while I was there.  And THAT was on top of the pork meatball spaghetti, bacon, and ribs.

It probably would not have been as noticeable if one of the other cabin dwellers had not been a vegetarian.  Have you ever grilled a soy hot dog?  Now I have and to this day I don't know if it was "done".  It irks me.  Honestly.

But there was more to that trip than meat.  It was my saving grace, and that's saying a lot as two families with two 4- and 7-year olds, a 6 month, 100lb. Great Dane, and three twenty-somethings packed into a one bedroom with a loft and one bath cabin.  I drove in from Detroit (i.e. I rode as I am notorious for falling asleep in a car) to Branch and during those four hours dutifully fell asleep.  I awoke to rolling fields of corn and wheat, picturesque red barns....and no cell service.  On the opposite end of panic I was relieved.  I wouldn't have to answer emails, calls, texts, Facebook posts that need my "like", or the 1000th Mashable article on Pinterest to read.  I was free.



(Fast forward approxiamately 30 minutes after stepping out of the car.)

As I am off kayaking, fire building, BB gun shooting, and motorbike driving I of course broke into a sweat and no matter where in the world you are refreshment must be found.  I had previously given up drinking the two months prior to the trip but it's not very shocking how quickly it comes back.  Kind of like riding a bike.  I did not realize however that all this time as I have been "condemned" to the parallells far from Canada, Labatts Blue has never entered my company of beer choices.  Until Michigan.

Pilsner has the effect of tasting like carbonated horse pee or water to me, but Blue, I will hold your crisp  taste to my heart.  The one thing Canadians may have gotten right besides prescriptions and ice hockey is beer.