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Forbes’ recent video tour of New Orleans’ cocktail scene reads like another glossy attempt by coastal elites to package Southern tradition for the weekend crowd, but there’s value beneath the veneer when seasoned bartenders guide the way. The piece leans on industry insiders to walk viewers through historic institutions and storied recipes, and it’s a useful reminder that American craftsmanship survives in places the media often overlook. Local pros like the ones featured deserve credit for keeping these drinks—and the working-class hospitality behind them—alive for the rest of us.
Start with the Sazerac at the Roosevelt, the kind of old-school bar that reminds you America once prized durable craft over flash. These are not cocktails for Instagram clout; the Sazerac and the labor-intensive Ramos Gin Fizz demand technique, patience, and respect for ingredients—values conservatives ought to celebrate. Where a coffee shop concoction can be made by an algorithm, the Sazerac still requires a human who knows his trade. Patrons who want authentic flavor and history should seek out these places, not the nearest tourist trap.
The Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone offers the perfect metaphor for the city: it’s a living artifact that spins while the world rushes by, and it’s also where the Vieux Carré was born—a cocktail that mixes rye, cognac, and sweet vermouth into a drink both bold and balanced. That drink’s origin story is a tribute to New Orleans’ cultural blend, not to some modern mixology fad, and it underscores how local tradition can be richer than any trendy takeover. If you want American history served neat, this is the kind of respect for the past you should be ordering more of.
Tujague’s and its Grasshopper remind us that some recipes are quieter, old-fashioned pleasures rather than attention-seeking novelties. The Grasshopper’s low-proof, mint-chocolate profile is an example of a culinary moment that endured because it pleased real people across generations, not because it chased headlines. Conservatives who value continuity and family-run institutions should take note—those places are anchors for community and memory. Preserving them is patriotic work that no moneyed magazine can replicate.
Pat O’Brien’s Hurricane is a lesson in American resilience: born from a practical need to turn an overstock of rum into something people would buy, it became an icon of the city’s resourceful spirit. That origin—finding a solution in lean times and turning it into a cultural touchstone—speaks to the same can-do ethos that built this country. It’s a reminder that many great American traditions began not in a boardroom but at the workbench of small-business owners.
Jewel of the South shows the healthy side of revivalism—skilled bartenders bringing a pre-Prohibition classic like the Brandy Crusta back into the light with care and respect for history. This is how a conservative approach to culture should work: conserve what’s worth saving, restore what’s been lost, and leave behind the hollow rebrands that strip a craft of meaning. When professionals like Chris Hannah center craftsmanship over flash, the result elevates the entire city and rewards patrons who value substance.
Not every stop on Bourbon Street earns praise. The Hand Grenade—bright green, excessively sweet, and more stunt than spirit—belongs in the category of tourist theater rather than true cocktail craft. There’s nothing wrong with fun, but Americans should be wary of paying premium prices for mass-produced novelty and calling it culture. Support the bars that employ skilled hands and long memories, not corporate franchising that drowns out local character.
Hidden gems like Erin Rose, with its famous Frozen Irish Coffee and a focus on honest hospitality, are the backbone of the neighborhood that still serves the locals who keep New Orleans breathing. These are the places that keep wages flowing, musicians fed, and generations connected; they deserve our dollars and our respect. If conservatives want to defend real community against homogenizing trends, this is where to start—by choosing substance over spectacle.
So go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras if you must, but bring some backbone with you: seek out the bars where technique matters, tip well, and remember that the city’s real treasures are the working people who have kept the lights on through floods, tough seasons, and fickle trends. The cocktail renaissance here is a lesson in American grit—one best honored by conscious patrons who value heritage, small business, and the honest labor that makes this country great.
