Odd Jobs: the Tamada, or Georgian Toastmaster
Don’t mess with a toastmaster in the Republic of Georgia. You’ll wake up with the worst hangover of your life.
Zauri Davliandze (left), a legendary tamada (or Toastmater) in the Racha region of the Republic of Georgia, about five hours (and umpteen glasses of wine) into a Georgian feast. Everyone in this photos is drunk.
We may use the word “feast” when we’re sitting around a table with a gaggle of plates scattered about. But go to a feast, or supra in the local parlance, in the Republic of Georgia, and you’ll never use the word lightly again. A Georgian feast is an all-day mouth-stuffing, wine-guzzling extravaganza complete with a specific nomenclature, ritualistic drinking, dozens of toasts, and enough gluttony to cause an entire table to collectively develop gout in one afternoon. Supras are staged for special occasions – weddings, birthdays, funerals – or for no occasion whatsoever.
And for every supra there needs to be a tamada, or toastmaster. No one drinks until he (and it’s always a he) makes a toast and then you swig your wine until your glass is empty. And in a typical supra there are dozens of these toasts, most of which follow an order and are dedicated to things like dead relatives, children, and housewives, among other things.
You could say 56-year-old Zauri Davlianidze is a professional feaster if there ever was one. He’s been a tamada for the last 25 years, leading Caucus-style gluttony at least two times per week. Though the tamada is officially a “toastmaster,” he’s really more like a priest of partying, a reverend of revelry, a governor of gluttony, an expert enabler.
Just before he led me down the Georgian road of feasting debauchery, I asked him about his job.
Trip Out: What’s the key to a good feast?
Zauri Davlianidze: the food must be good, the wine must be good, and the tamada must be good – it’s the trifecta of an excellent Georgian feast. If one of those is off, it really dampens the spirits of the supra.
TO: What makes a bad feast?
ZD: When the tamada gets drunk before the others at the table. The tamada must inspire good conversation around the table and it’s harder to do that when you’re drunk.
TO: Feast attendees, in general, and the tamada, in particular are supposed to avoid showing signs of degraded facilities. What’s the secret to holding your booze?
ZD: It really depends on your mood. Sometimes when I’m really happy because I’m in a good mood, I’ll have too much emotion at a supra and I’ll drink more than I should. It’s all about balance, actually. Not too happy, not too sad, somewhere in the middle.
TO: Have you ever had to kick someone out of a supra because they were acting like a drunken idiot?
ZD: Oh yes, of course. It often happens when someone shows up mid feast and they feel they need to catch up to the others, so they end up drinking too much, too fast.
TO: Any advice for first-time feasters?
ZD: Don’t be nervous. The only person that should be nervous is me, the tamada. The key is to try to imagine the people around the table with you are old family members and dear friends – because we all will seem like it by the end of the feast. If you do that, it makes things easier for you and thus easier for me.
TO: What’s one rule of the supra no one should break?
ZD: The main thing is to listen to the tamada. Listen to each toast. Don’t interrupt and be respectful to everyone at the table, even when you don’t agree with something said in the toast. And then after, drink all the wine in your glass. You have to drink as much as possible.
TO: Why are you such a frequent tamada?
ZD: I love it. I’ve been doing this at least two times per week for the last 25 years.
TO: How’s your liver?
ZD: Let’s not talk about that [laughs].
To Read more about what goes on at a Georgian feast, read David Farley’s account published by National Geographic.
There’s sometimes so much food at a Georgian feast, dishes are set on top of other dishes and tables have even been known to buckle under because of the weight of the food placed on them.