Went to the media tasting for DeVito's Limoncello on Friday. The little man was sort of trapped behind the bar and engulfed in a thicket of paparazzi and camera men.
For about 30 minutes all I could hear was his DeVito's amiable but disembodied voice talking about making Italian food, how he Rhea love to cook, how his kids stay at George Clooney's place in Italy. The best part was when he showed how the label on the bottle is like a scratch n' sniff sticker.
In that span of time I managed to suck down two flutes of the sweet liquor, which reminded me of a melted pack of lemon-drops spiked with alcohol. When DeVito was permitted to emerge he was escorted through the crowd to the bathroom and then to a table in the back.
The ratio of photogs and ascot-wearing waiters to celebrity: about 30 to 1.
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