Our Story
Born on Bourbon Street
In the oldest corners of the French Quarter, gaslit, cobblestoned, and haunted by pirates with better manners than most tourists, a purple frozen daiquiri became a rite of passage. One cup, one red-and-white straw, and suddenly the night has a plot.
They call it the Voodoo Daiquiri. We call it The Purple Drank. It's the drink people fly in for, wait in line for, and lie to their coworkers about on Monday.
Now you don't have to wait in line on Bourbon Street. We bring the legend to you, trailer, ice, straws, and all the mischief included.








