Tag Archives: booze

Girls Gone Ojai: Beef Jerky, Booze and Hippie Hunting

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Ojai Valley
The Ojai Valley (Photo: Ken Lund)

My friend Trisha lives in Los Angeles, Jackie lives in Dallas, and I am in New York City — basically, it’s hard to get together. So when Trisha suggested a girls getaway in Ojai, Calif., just 75 miles north of Los Angeles, Jackie and I jumped.

At first I was skeptical.

Ojai has gotten an annoying rap in the past as a healthy, vegan, spiritual hippie hangout.

And there are still some things that make you roll your eyes and giggle a bit. The “No Talking!” signs posted alongside the anti-cellphone warnings at the famed Meditation Mount lookout are a bit much, as are the plethora of signs warning you that everything is organic. (Doesn’t it all become a little like a double negative after a while? Like: “organic organics,” “vegan organic,” “farm fresh organic vegan.” At some point you just want to say, “Come on — I know this is all made from genetically modified cow hoofs!” Except, fun fact, vegans don’t have the most developed sense of humor and probably wouldn’t think that’s funny. Must be the lack of protein.) Or the shops that sell dream catchers alongside crystals and spiritual self-help books.

But I was about to get schooled.

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The Ojai Valley Inn is a little slice of heaven. (Photo: Ojai Valley Inn & Spa)

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The 3 Must Hit Spots on the Ultimate New Orleans Booze Tour

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New Orleans is a drinking city. From the oldest bar in America, to legally being able to take your drink outside in a “go cup,” to drive-through daiquiris, and the invention of the Sazerac cocktail, NOLA is all about booze culture. But where to go? The city is packed with bars, so on my recent visit with my dog Karl, I checked out quite a few — and now present the top three spots. Continue reading →

Hospitality or Hazing? Surviving a Vodka Fueled Night in Mongolia

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When one thinks of hazing, one usually thinks of college fraternities and sororities. But, my friends, the American Greek system has nothing on the Mongolian nomads.

During my trip to Outer Mongolia this summer, I learned about the Nomad Code — which, according to my guide, Timur Yadamsuren from Intrepid Travel, is basically, if anyone rolls up on your door, you have to give them food, drink, and shelter. “If you don’t, they might not survive. And the next time you are traveling, they will give you shelter — or you might not survive.”

Hospitality or Hazing? Surviving a Vodka Fueled Night in Mongolia

The road trip started off so well… and sober. 

Related: How to be a True Nomad: Milking Camels in Mongolia

My crew and I called on this Nomad Code outside of the Singing Sand Dunes in the Southern part of the country, with a friendly ger (yurt) family headed by Ankhaa. We were quickly joined by his curious neighbors. But Timur had neglected to tell us about Mongolian hospitality — or, as Americans might call it, hazing.

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The local poison sold at every kwickie mart in the country. Photo credit:  Richard Hirst/Flickr.

After eating camel milk curd, drinking camel milk tea, and then milking said camels to replenish the liquids we had downed, my crew and I were about to go on our way when we remembered the bottles of vodka we had bought for presents to give out to helpful families during our road trip. Our host Ankhaa and his neighbors definitely qualified, so we whipped out a bottle of Chingghis Khan vodka for the families.

What we didn’t realize is that if you present a bottle, you are also expected to drink it with the host. We also were unaware that Mongolian “shots” are soup bowls, and you are expected to down it in one go … and that you cannot have just one.

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My producer Nicola with her fifth bowl of vodka. Togtoy! 

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The Best Beer in the World is in Greenland? No, REALLY!

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Anybody who knows me knows I don’t drink vodka. I don’t do tequila. And I’ve never been a big fan of anything that comes with a garnish. I am, however, a beer girl. Raised in Cincinnati, a town with German roots, I have a deep love of hops, and over the years my tastes have been refined fromHudepohl and Schlitz to craft beers. Don’t get me wrong — when stuck on a riverboat for a bachelorette party in, say, Austin, Texas (thanks to my sister Emily), I will still happily down a Bud, a Coors, or a Schlitz. But I have learned to appreciate the fine craft of beer making and love a small-batch brew. So on my trip to Greenland, when I heard there was a craft brewery in town, I made a beeline for it.

Related: Finger Pulling and Kick the Seal — Welcome to the Arctic Games!

Taste-Testing Greenland’s Finest Microbrew Beers

The Godthaab Bryghus brewery is in a building that conveniently also houses a dive bar called Daddy’s. While “Daddy” is a great guy named Gert, the actual brewery is run by Mikael Sorenson, who swears that the beer there is made with glacier ice that is at least 2,000 years old.

“Yes, we have men who go out onto the ice and cut slabs off the glaciers for us and bring them back here for our beer,” Sorenson said.

[Side note: Apparently ice cutting is a big business. Down the street is an ice cream shop that also uses 2,000-year-old ice. “Ice cream in Greenland?” you may be asking. “Isn’t it cold enough?” No. It’s not. Greenland has the second largest ice cream consumption per capita in the world, second only to Finland. Go figure.]

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While there are no official stats on how much beer is consumed in  Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, judging by the crowds in the bars and the continual snow, I’d say it ranks right up there. And frankly, I can’t say I blame them — the weather is rough (see previous episode: “Snowmageddon 2015: Cabin Fever Hits Hard in Greenland”), and the beer is delicious. At the time I visited, there were five beers on tap, including the Musk Ox, the Eric the Red, and the Polar Bear (they like to name the beers after local animals). And here’s a tip: While they are all delicious, if you ever find yourself at Daddy’s in Nuuk, ask for Gert and Mikael and get them to give you the unfiltered versions of all the beers. They may smell like dirty feet, but they taste like heaven.

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How Single Ladies DO in Jordan (Yep, There’s Tinder)

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Most people assume single women in the Middle East are — how shall we say this? — stymied; that it’s difficult for them to have a social life, date, or go out at night. In Jordan, at least, people who assume that would be wrong.

WATCH: Ladies’ Night in Amman, Jordan — Not as Tame as You Might Think

Amman by night (Photo: Thinkstock)

On a recent trip to Jordan, I met up with my single friend, Muna Haddad, in the capital city of Amman to hang out on a Friday night. While Muna still lives with her parents (single women do not live alone, not just in the Middle East but in many places in Europe and South America as well), her life is not dissimilar to a single woman’s life in much of the United States. She attends parties, shops, and goes to clubs and (as she is Christian; many Muslims do not drink alcohol) bars.

Related: A Broad Abroad: How to Go Full Local in Jordan

Our first stop was Hashem Falafel, which is so good even the King of Jordan eats here, despite it looking decidedly un-kingly.

Afterwards, we shopped and then headed to Jordan Bar, Jordan’s oldest bar, established in 1945, for a beer and a glass of arak — a traditional Jordanian alcoholic drink that’s clear until it’s mixed with water and turns a milky color. Despite alcohol being labelled a controlled substance, it is still freely served in the country’s many bars and nightclubs.

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I love San Juan, But Damn, Pigeons Freak Me Out

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Just a few hours away from New York City is a history lover’s dream: Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. Founded by the Spanish over 500 years ago, it’s a perfectly preserved time portal. Walk around Castillo San Felipe del Morro, the ancient Spanish fort that surrounds the old city. Inside the walls, ramble through narrow cobblestone streets and past the cathedral (where Jennifer Lopez married Marc Anthony) and pick up a piragua — a Puerto Rican snow cone that comes in flavors like passion fruit, mango, and tangerine.

Half the price of Miami and without the club music booming through the streets, Old San Juan is the perfect place to get away from it all — no passport required.

Just watch out for the pigeons. One of the most popular spots in the old city is Plaza de Armas, located up the hill from where the cruise ships park, it is the main point of entry to the old city for many tourists. It is also a pigeon mecca. Thousands of the birds flock there and, despite Puerto Rico having a large cat population, they waddle, sit, and roost unmolested. This would be fine if they also hadn’t gotten into the habit of hanging out, sitting and roosting on people. On any given day, tourists will throw breadcrumbs and turn into living pigeon trees. This is problematic for so, so many reasons, least of which is THEY ARE BASICALLY FLYING RATS! Do you know how many diseased pigeons carry? (answer: LOTS!). That and they have no sphincter muscles so the poop just flies at will. Enter that park at your own risk.

WATCH: Old San Juan — the Best Quick (and Cheap!) Weekend Getaway

Old San Juan has absolutely everything you need for the perfect getaway. (Photo: ABA Staff)

Here’s everything you need to know to do the city properly.

Warning: From 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., the cruise ships hit and certain areas of the old city are packed with cruisers. Hit the shops before or after this time to avoid a massive headache.

Stay: Hotel El Convento, the Chateau Marmont of the Caribbean. Housed in a former convent, the rooms surround an inner terrace with huge trees. The rooftop pool offers some of the best views in the city, and the restaurant is legendary.

Shop: Ole Curiosidades. This famous hat store lets you get measured, pick your ribbon color, and walk out with a personally fitted, handmade Panama-style hat for around $70 — three times less than almost anywhere else in the world.

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This was not the first hat that Paula tried on. 

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An Idiot Proof Guide to an Epic British Pub Crawl

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When visiting England, there is nothing more fun than an old-fashioned British pub crawl… and if you’re going to do one (and you should), the best place to do it is in Yorkshire, which has pubs that reek of ambiance and history and have been serving the public for hundreds of years.

Be sure to get a driver, so there are no issues getting home, but — bonus! — all of these pubs are also inns, just in case you need a nap.

WATCH: An Idiot-Proof Guide to an Epic British Pub Crawl

We knew from the start that this was going to be a long day. (All photos by ABA crew)

I decided to start my pub crawl in Haworth, home of the Brontë sisters in the mid-19th century. Charlotte, Emily and Anne, the three daughters of the village parson, were immensely talented writers, best known for Wuthering Heights (Emily), Jane Eyre (Charlotte), and Emma(Charlotte). They originally wrote under male pen names, as Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell, but won such fame that they were finally able to publish under their own names. Their unfortunate brother, Branwell, was also said to be a talented artist, but he was much overshadowed by his sisters’ fame. He resorted to drinking and drugging his way through life before dying of (severe) alcoholism at the ripe old age of 31.

Related: Haworth, England — the Tiny Town that Inspired Every Single Brontë Novel

So, after visiting the Brontë house, strolling across the moors that inspired the sisters’ books, make your first stop:

1. The Black Bull, Haworth

119 Main St., Haworth, Keighley, West Yorkshire, BD22 8DP, United Kingdom

This is the pub where Branwell drank himself to death. In a lovely macabre English twist, they have kept his favorite stool in perfect condition. The pub is conveniently located across the street from the village apothecary, where Branwel would get his opium before stumbling back across to the bar.

It doesn’t get more authentic than this. 

2. Haworth Old Hall

Sun Street, Haworth, Keighley, West Yorkshire, BD22 8BP, United Kingdom

Located in one of the oldest buildings in the village, Haworth Old Hall has been standing since the 16th century. These days it’s not just a pub, it’s a gastro pub, with locally sourced farm-to-table food. It also has a ghost that wanders around after dark. Not kidding. Just ask Alan, the manager — he’s seen her.

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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.

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.

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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