The Près du Quai is a rum-forward reworking of New Orleans's Vieux Carré — the same stirred, bitters-and-Bénédictine architecture, but with aged Jamaican rum standing in for cognac and bourbon replacing rye to keep the pairing balanced. Per Difford's Guide, the swap started when bartender Collin Westgate mentioned trying rum in a Vieux Carré out of necessity, and colleague Roberto Brazzo liked the result enough to give it its own name: Près du Quai, French for "near the wharf" or "by the docks," trading the original's Vieux Carré "old square" reference for something more nautical. That account lives only on Difford's Guide's own recipe and forum pages — no independent cocktail-history source corroborates Westgate or Brazzo, and the earliest trace of the name is the site's own forum activity from August 2023, not a fixed invention date. Treat the credit as Difford's telling of it, not an independently verified history.
Possibly even better than the classic.
Difford's Guide reader commentA Swap Credited, Not Confirmed
The Vieux Carré itself is well documented — New Orleans, the 1930s, the Hotel Monteleone. The Près du Quai isn't that; it's a rum variation that Difford's Guide says came from a reader's comment and a colleague's follow-through, sometime before mid-2023. There's no bar credited, no fixed date beyond the forum's own timestamps, and no source outside Difford's own pages repeats the Westgate/Brazzo story.
What is verifiable is the mechanics of the swap: aged, funky Jamaican rum has enough weight and dark-sugar depth to fill cognac's role in a stirred, bitters-forward drink, and bourbon's rounder sweetness sits better next to that rum than rye's drier spice would.
The Spec
Built exactly like a Vieux Carré: equal parts base spirits and sweet vermouth, a smaller pour of Bénédictine for honeyed weight, and a mix of Peychaud's and Angostura bitters for the drink's Creole backbone.
Bourbon over rye
A standard Vieux Carré uses rye against cognac's fruit. Here, rye's peppery edge would compete with the rum's own funk instead of framing it — bourbon's rounder, sweeter grain profile gives the rum room to be the loudest voice in the glass.
Bénédictine's small but load-bearing pour
A third of an ounce is enough to add herbal, honeyed weight without turning the drink cloying. Push it much higher and it starts to bury the bitters; pull it out entirely and the drink reads thinner and more like a straight rum-bourbon Manhattan.
Bottom Line
Whatever the true origin story, the swap works on its own merits — a stirred, funky, bitters-forward drink that earns its place next to the Vieux Carré without needing to borrow its history. Just don't repeat the Westgate/Brazzo credit as settled fact; it's Difford's word, and only Difford's, for now.