Category Archives: Booze

The Hot New Workout from Mexico? The El Jimador Burn! (aka How to Make Tequila in 6 “Easy” Steps)

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http://youtu.be/XvTflC3SMZs

I have to be honest with you, tequila was never my jam. In college there was too much of it, there was usually a worm involved and the smell just made me gag. It also causes a weird side-effect for me. It makes me go all vampire on people and try to bite anyone within a two feet radius. It’s not pretty.

However, in recent years, everyone I know has started drinking it – but on another level. Not as a cheap mixer for a margarita, or as a slammer (“lick it, drink it, suck it”), but as a high end liquor on its own, often without lime. I was confused. “But it’s so awful,” I said to my friend in Los Angeles.

Related: I Finally Learned How to Put on a Decent Skeleton Face For the Day of the Dead 

“Try it,” he said, offering me some 49-month, barrel-aged tequila. I took a deep breathe, steeled my stomach and… it was delicious. Like scotch. I was considering converting when an invite to the Herradura Tequila Factory in Amititan, Mexico came through.

“Sign me up!” I said and a week later there I was at the distillery (housed in an old school hacienda)  in the agave fields surrounding the Amititan Mountains.

The Herradura hacienda has been run by the same family for 184 years and is the perfect blend of old school and new technology. My guide, Ruben Aceves, hoisted me on a horse and we rode out to the Agave fields, where I started my “How To Make Tequila in Six Steps.”

“It’s easy,” Ruben said.

Ruben is a liar.

Click HERE for all six steps. PS: My arms still hurt.

How to Survive a 21-Hour Flight (Without Killing Anyone)

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What would you pay to be able to lay down? (Photo: Andrew Rothschild)

I had never been to South Africa before, and I was beyond excited.

I was running around in circles like a-gerbil-in-a-wheel excited. Then I got the South African Airways plane ticket and realized just how long the flight was.

For the uninitiated, the direct flight from New York to Johannesburg is 18 hours. I was not going direct (Although, I did on the way back.). I flew from New York to Washington D.C., and from D.C. to Johannesburg via Dakar, Senegal. People have given birth in less time than it took me to reach my destination.

That is a lot of time to spend in a small tube hurtling through the sky.

To spare you the agony that I endured, I have written a handy-dandy survival guide for hellishly long flights. Because (trust) the flight is worth the trip to South Africa.

1. Wear the right clothes, or bring something to change into during the flight. In business class, a lot of airlines will give you a comfy sleep suit to change into. Why not bring your own? Or wear one on the plane. There is nothing worse than having to suffer through a constricting pair of jeans as you start to bloat at 35,000 feet. Bring loose, comfy pants; a roomy, dark top (So when you pass out, you can slip that constrictive bra off.); and a nice dress to easily change into just before you (finally) deplane.

2. Pack your carry-on appropriately. Every carry-on should have: a travel pillow, a scarf (which can convert into a blanket), an iPad or books, a large bottle of water, some snacks, and slippers/slipper socks.

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An eye mask is just one of the essentials you do not want to forget. (Photo: Thinkstock)

3. Bring your own business-class-style goody bag. Pack your own amenity bag that includes: an eye mask, a toothbrush, toothpaste, earplugs, hand cream, eye cream, and deodorant.

4. Load up on distractions. Download some meditations on to your iPad, iPhone, or whatever gadget you own. Load up on books, games, and that television show that you have been dying to binge-watch.

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Zebra, Crocodile and Antelope Oh My! I Ate it All at Carnivore, the Meat Lover’s Paradise

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Where: Carnivore restaurant, Misty Hills Country Hotel, Conference Centre and Spa in Muldersdrift, Johannesburg. (There is also a location in Nairobi, Kenya.)

What: Carnivore, which prides itself on giving tourists the ultimate authenticity in African experiences, is the meat eater’s Epcot Center. You get to sample meats from across the African terrain, all with over-the-top pomp and circumstance: At least three times a night, the servers and other staff members beat drums and sing and dance across the dining area (which, in keeping with the theme, has zebra-patterned nylon seats). And the waiters will keep feeding you until you’ve stuffed yourself so much that you literally throw in the flag (there’s one on the table for that purpose) to signal that you’re finished.

What to eat: The restaurant serves a variety of game and domestic meats, skewered on what they say are swords Masai-tribe swords. Crocodile oddly tastes like fish. We’re talking fishy fish. And zebra? Stick some slices on rye with a little bit of horseradish mayo, and that would make a mighty fine sandwich. Ostrich is a red meat that tastes like venison. (In the Nairobi location, you can also eat ox testicles, which are weirdly pasty. Just hang on to your gag reflex.) There are veggie and fish options for those who aren’t game (pun intended). Your meaty meal also comes with soup, salad, sides, and dessert.

Downing Some Serious Moonshine with the legendary “Shebeen Queens”

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Shebeens, illegal South African neighborhood bars that originated under apartheid, continue to operate to this day under their female proprietors, known as “shebeen queens.”

Y’all know i can drink – I have drunk Vietnamese government officials under the table and even downed tortured turtle blood/gall bladder liquor. I’ve even dedicated myself to perfecting the art of drinking so much I searched the world and found the ultimate hangover cure. So when I heard about the Shebeens of South Africa I was like “I can handle it.” Then I heard they sometimes make their brew with battery acid, I backed off a bit… until I was assured that was “not done anymore” (wink).

Perhaps one of the most annoying yet smaller quality-of-life crimes of the apartheid era (especially for those of us who like a cold one on a hot day) was that nonwhites weren’t allowed to make or sell beer. The enterprising residents of Soweto did it anyway, brewing their own and hiding it under beds or in the ground when the police popped in every so often for a raid.

Click here for more on Pinky and her Shebeen… and the goat head I had to eat to cure my hangover (not nearly as amazing as the Vietnamese alka seltzer. Trust).

The Dubious Dawa Man of Carnivore

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The dubious Dawa (medicine) man of Carnivore restaurant – the ultimate tourist trap in Johannesburg which is like the Epcot Center of South Africa (providing you and all its guests with a real, live South African experience!) … promises his drink will soothe all your pans and ills and make you happy. Which it may. If you aren’t AA or an angry drunk.

Where: Carnivore Restaurant, Johannesburg

Why go: You’ve seen animals like zebra, elan, springbok and crocodiles from a Jeep, now why not experience them on your plate? Just like a real African! Carnivore, which prides itself on giving tourists the ultimate realness in African experiences, is the meat eaters ultimate Epcot center. Adding to the Epcot-ness is, at least three times a night, the servers and other staff with beat drums and sing and dance across the dining area (which, in keeping with the theme, has zebra patterned nylon seats).

Take Note: Crocodile oddly takes like fish. We’re talking fishy fish. And Zebra? Stick some slices on rye, with a little bit of horseradish mayo and that would make a mighty fine sandwich.

Fun fact: There’s a “Dawa Man” – dawa is the word for medicine, and the “medicine” on offer is a sickly sweet vodka, honey, lime and sugar drink. “It’s the medicine for everything,” our Dawa dude told us. “It makes everyone happy!” Unless, of course you are one of those people who are angry drunks. Or an alcoholic.

Don’t Forget: Your Tums. And perhaps a Cliff bar.

How To Survive Traveling With Your Parents – While Sharing A Room

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Someone is confused... What do you mean-o You-o Don't-o Getto My EYEtalian????

Someone is confused… “What do you Mean-o You-o Don’t-o Get-o My EYEtalian???? It’s Goddamn perfect-o!”

Last April, pigs flew. I boarded a cruise ship with my 74-year-old father. Let me rephrase that: I, who am terrified of boats and get seasick at the sight of water, went on an eight-day excursion from Barcelona to Monaco with a born-again, gun-collecting Tea Partier who [despite getting his uvula removed] snores like a drunken sow. And we shared a room.

[Ed Note: Seriously, do you know how many people die on cruises? The 2011 Costa Concordia disaster aside, every year during cruise season there’s like a story once a week about someone “accidentally” or drunkenly falling overboard – and don’t even get me started on the Norovirus… or the suicide rate of someone who has sat through one too many floorshows].

But then I was offered a cabin with a balcony (so I could always jump if need be) on the Azamara Cruise from Barcelona to Monaco. And before the Ambien I’d taken the night before could wear off, I was on the phone asking Daddy to go with me. When she found out, my older sister said what everyone else was thinking: “Have you lost your damn mind?”

BUT. Not only did the experience change our relationship for the better, we now have plans to do it once a year. And so, because I now think everyone should bond with their parents on a trip, I offer you some tips for how to travel with a parent:

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Guate-Hollah! Part 1

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Black sand beaches - so pretty, yet so sinister...

Black sand beaches – so pretty, yet so sinister…

 

GUATEMALA — a tropical, picturesque, adventure-filled destination — is what Costa Rica used to be. As in Cheap. Because the tourist hordes haven’t discovered it yet, Guatemala remains affordable. The Central American country, bordering southern Mexico, is still a spot where $100 can get budget-minded travelers their own bungalow and all meals for a day, with money left over for a turtle race (yes, a turtle race – and no, while some were molested, none had their throats slit).

At least all this is true in Monterrico – a town famous for its never-ending volcanic black-sand beaches, azure blue waters and a relaxed atmosphere. After the jump, molested turtles, six year olds driving four wheelers, Hulk Hogan’s illegitimate brother, and a seriously hungover Barbie:

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The Night of The Tortured Turtles (Or: How To Make Organic Viagra)

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The final concoction: Blood (red) and Bile (green) mixed with 120 proof liquor.

The final concoction: Blood (red) and Bile (green) mixed with 120 proof liquor.

During my trip to Hanoi, I got along so well with my guide Lan and my driver Thang that they invited me to Thang’s anniversary – and I (obviously) said HELL YES! I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Okay, these are the guys who took me to a brothel and introduced me to the hangover cure, so maybe I had a small clue, but damn, was I not ready for this mixology lesson.

The party was at a multi-floor restaurant 20 minutes away from my Hotel. It was the same crowd as the day before – except this time everyone brought their wives and children. The main entertainment was the torture of the turtles.  Two restaurant employees brought out a bucket of the doomed reptiles. While one held the wriggling body, the other employee took out a sharp menacing knife, grabbed the turtles’ heads and slit their necks – collecting the blood in a large glass while the dying turtle gave me the hairy eye ball [ed note: can’t say I blame him, but what was I gonna do?]. Minutes later a waitress took a hypodermic needle and extracted all the green bile-y goodness from the dying reptiles’ gall bladders. It was like watching the Coconut Tree Prison display come to life, with reptile stand ins for the mannequins.

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The Only Hangover Cure That Has Ever Worked: The Vietnamese Alka Seltzer. You’re Welcome.

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No, it's not a condom. It's the best damn hangover cure in the universe.

No, it’s not a condom. It’s the best damn hangover cure in the universe.

In my past life I went out for a living – as in out. Every night. All night. While it was fun and all, the mornings were not. Thus, about ten years ago, I started the quest to find the ultimate hangover cure. I worked at a company with many Australians who naturally suggested Berocca. Which, frankly, sucked. As in – didn’t work. Here’s a list of what else I’ve tried over the years which didn’t work:

  • A variety of “organic” hangover cure pills which vitamin companies tried to shill every year.
  • Alka Seltzer before going to bed and in the morning (okay, fine… it made me feel marginally better).
  • The hair of the dog (not to be done if you have to be at work the next day).
  • Greasy ham and egg sandwich followed by a V-8 and half a bottle of Visine (in the eyes, not the mouth).
  • Drinking a gallon of water before going to bed (which results in five trips to the bathroom that night, thus ensuring a fully interrupted sleep).

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