Day 3: The Pain Begins.
I was quite hungover on Saturday and there was no relief to be had. A group of us headed to Mothers for brunch. It was hot and there was a longish line so I was quite worried about my ability to make through till an owner type popped out and suggested we come on in and get some bloody marys to keep us busy while we were in line...marvelous. I had po boy number 2 (for those of you keeping count) and did me just right. Refreshed, we did a little hat shopping and Meyer the Hatter (great!), bought some Gold Bond and wound out way to the Swizzle Stick Bar at the Cafe Adelaide. I had a couple of fabulous Whiskey Smashes courtesy of Kevin who was kind enough to recommend them even though his ice crusher was down and he had to break cubes by hand in a bag with his muddler. Other drinks sampled (House Swizzle, Julep, Pisco Sour, Sidecar) were all a tad on the sweet side for me, but that seems to be the way of it in New Orleans. I can tell many bartenders want to make their drinks a bit more serious, but the American drinking public demands more sugar.