Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

Last month Alie and I were asked to attend the Cleveland Fabulous Food Show and host cocktail demos in the spirits lounge. We always jump at the chance to attend these events. You get put up in a fancy hotel, driven around and taken to nice restaurants, and you're sure to meet interesting people...okay, they also pay really well. The Cleveland show was no different, only this time, instead of just walking off with a bunch of new friends, a bottle of the best BBQ sauce ever, a lovely bottle of organic olive oil, and some delicious elixirs, we also left with out most embarrassing story to date.

The story starts and ends with Guy Fieri. When we walked into the chef holding area on Saturday morning, we were excited to find that our trailer was right next to his.

We were introduced, and immediately felt badly for talking so much shit on those god-awful sunglasses he always wears on the back of his head. He was super nice, you see, and invited us onto the main stage to serve him a cocktail during his next demo (which held about 2,500 of his biggest fans).

We decided to make Guy our signature Thanksgiving cocktail, the Shoot A Wild Turkey. It's basically a concoction of whiskey, butterscotch schnapps, and pureed yams, which is blended together and topped with mini marshmallows that get bruleed with a blow torch. Fun, delicious, and festive.

I insisted that we come out with the cocktail already poured in its glass, and that we then use the blow torch that Alie had strategically strapped to her leg underneath her beautiful vintage dress to brulee the marshmallows. The crowd would love it, I told her, and we'd still have a fun certain something to wow 'em with (sexy legs and fire).

But noooooo, she was determined that we come out with the cocktail mixture in the cocktail shaker, pour the drink, and then top it with the flaming marshmallows. Alie is hard to argue with when she makes up her mind, so I agreed to go along with her plan, and we nervously waited behind the stage curtain to be called on stage.

Guy's audience was going nuts for him. I'm not prone to stage fright, but I must admit that a butterfly or two were doing lazy flips in my stomach as we waited.

The rest is pretty hazy. I remember walking on stage and waving to the crowd. We told Guy about our festive drink, and then...and then Alie went to shake the cocktail shaker full of the orange-hued concoction...I remember hearing the top pop off and looking over at Alie as the crowd went silent.


She was covered in the cocktail -- from the bottoms of the pretty curls in her long red hair, to her toes. We stared at each other opened mouthed and horrified, until I started cracking up...which thankfully the audience did as well.

We somehow finished the cocktail, and walked off stage, where Alie collapsed in a ball of mortification, followed by being forced to pose for photo with everyone backstage.

Chef Robert Irvine posing with the mortified Alie.

We didn't see Guy for the remainder of the weekend, and we can't imagine he's a big fan of ours.

Thanks to Bobby Dixon for the photos!...also for the wild hibiscus!