Once a year, spirits companies throw their biggest cocktail event. And you can come

How does a modest local event transform itself into an international festival?

For the answer, one needs to look no further than the annual Tales of the Cocktail held in New Orleans every July (this year July 19-24.)

Tales of the Cocktail had its birth in 2003 as an offshoot of a local cocktail tour which had been introduced the year previously. Expectations were modest — organizers hoped to draw locals and drive-in visitors from neighboring Gulf Coast states unfazed by summer’s sweltering heat and humidity.

Fast forward 23 years, and Tales is the world’s leading cocktail conference — a week devoted to one of the things New Orleans does best.

I was living in New Orleans when Tales made its debut, and eagerly joined other locals, who like me, were always in search of new entertainment, especially if it involved adult beverages.

In 2025, I returned for the first festival since those early years and discovered that the Big Easy had gotten even easier ... and much bigger.

Where once bartenders at the local dives swapped stories with a handful of their regular drinkers, I found seminars, workshops and panels attracting spirits professionals from New York City to Nigeria.

They were here to educate avid amateurs (some 20,000 from 50 countries) on the latest trends in drinking during 400 events hosted by 300 brands.

The Ritz Carlton Hotel has been associated with Tales since its beginning and hosted nightly cocktail events and most of the panels and seminars. One that proved especially intriguing was a panel titled Africa Rising.

If you think African nations haven’t progressed beyond the gin and tonic stage, a holdover from the continent’s British colonies, you would be mistaken.

This engaging panel was made up of young African cocktail professionals, including the founder of Lagos Cocktail Week in Nigeria (who knew that Lagos had a cocktail week?)

The panelists were accompanied by mixologists from bars in Accra, Nairobi, Johannesburg and Cape Town, who enthusiastically served their signature cocktails to an equally enthusiastic crowd.

Another of my favorites was the cognac tasting at the Sazerac House, which is both headquarters and a museum dedicated to the New Orleans-based company whose motto is “Distilling is a science; Blending is an art.”

The cognac was sublime, but the spirit that was on everyone’s lips in 2025 was more renegade than regal — mezcal, the smoky, artisanal Mexican spirit made with the heart of the agave plant.

Over the course of the week, I sampled mezcal in several locations — the most dramatic being in an Old-Fashioned during dinner one night at Commander’s Palace in the Garden District.

The mezcal-laced Old Fashioned wasn’t the only thing that caused a stir as a sudden thunderstorm blew in from the Gulf causing the power to go out.

Both staff and diners remained unflappable, with servers continuing to serve signature dishes such as turtle soup and pecan-crusted trout, and diners continuing to dine on them in the dark.

As for me, I watched a spectacular lightning show from the glass windows in the Garden Room, and while the palm trees swayed in the gusty wind, sipped that mezcal Old-Fashioned — unflappably, of course.

Bourbon continued to be a big draw as well in 2025. It was obvious by the number of festival-goers who flocked to Sylvain in the French Quarter for the pop-up bar hosted by Bardstown Bourbon Company.

Distillery staff had made the trek to the Crescent City from Bardstown to join up with sister distillery Green River in Owensboro, and a guest bartender from Manhattan’s Porchlight Bar. It goes without saying that a good time was had by all.

If the seminars and panels were for the serious discussion of cocktails, the parties thrown by individual spirits companies — whose budgets surely must have been akin to that of a Steven Spielberg epic — were for sheer spectacle.

How else can you describe it but spectacle when the Court of the Two Sisters Restaurant in the steamy French Quarter was transformed into a ski lodge Ice Bar, courtesy of Park City, Utah-based High West Distillery?

Or when the second floor of the historic Napoleon House became a venue for afternoon tea fit for a British aristocrat? What’s this — afternoon tea during a festival celebrating the cocktail?

Not to worry as the full name of the event was “High Balls and High Tea.” One of the highballs, a frothy concoction by Takuma Watanabe from Martiny’s in New York City got my vote for cocktail of the week. Watanabe, I decided, was nothing short of an alchemist.

My other favorite came during a festive lunch at Brennan’s, the pink palace on Royal Street. The appropriately named Birdcage, an elaborate Old-Fashioned served in a glass birdcage, was created by the mixologist in the restaurant’s Rooster Bar. The presentation alone was worth the $31 price tag.

The granddaddy of all the parties, however, had to have been the Cocktail Galactic Voyage at the Orpheum Theater.

Orchestrated (and there’s no other word for it) by William Grant & Sons, the Scotch whisky distillers, the theater where the New Orleans Symphony performs was transformed into a combination of the intergalactic space bar in Star Wars, Cirque du Soleil and Mardi Gras.

Dry ice created a mist that swirled through the room while translucent bubbles floated, and girls on trapezes swung from the rafters. When my companion and I exited, we were not surprised to see a three-block-long line waiting to get in.

Another hot ticket was the Third Annual Three Martini Lunch at Galatoire’s on Bourbon Street.

Alas, I arrived late and found every table at the legendary Creole restaurant completely full — some patrons already on their fourth martini. I consoled myself by retreating to my hotel — another French Quarter legend, the Monteleone, and popping into its equally legendary Carousel Bar.

I was fortunate to find an empty spot at the 25-seat carousel which dominates the center of the room and spins at a sedate pace to accommodate drinkers.

I ordered the Vieux Carre cocktail invented here at the Carousel, and reflected on the bar’s colorful history. Noted imbibers William Faulkner, Tennessee Williams and Truman Capote were regulars, and Billy Joel once timidly asked the bartender if he might be allowed to play the Carousel Lounge’s piano.

As I sat nursing a liquid reminder of how this storied city is like no other, I couldn’t help wondering how that early festival morphed into this international event attracting both producers and consumers of alcoholic beverages.

I shouldn’t have wondered. This is New Orleans after all and no city does a party quite like it.