Tamada

We have the custom of a toastmaker – the tamada, we call him. For the sake of order, he proposes all the toasts. Will you support me as tamada?

The tamada—the master of ceremonies—with practised skill opened a bottle and poured out half a glassful for himself with the explanation, "The tamada must drink first. If there's poison in this glass you'll soon know of it and save yourself."

A good tamada has a number of special qualities. First of all, a good tamada is one who is good with words, who speaks clearly and cleverly, who can say in a^([sic]) original way things which are heard over and over again at every supra. The best tamadas are extemporaneous poets.

A tamada, or toastmaster—an obligatory feature of any Georgian feast—Cholokashvili was proposing the ultimate toast, to the mystery and romance of the vine. [...] Unfortunately it is also traditional that all tamadas have to be obeyed, as I learned from Zezva Gochilaidze in Tusheti.

Although Georgians don't commonly determine any vocabulary which signifies specific states of intoxication, these states are mentioned indirectly by tamadas when they explain the difficult task of keeping drinkers' moods and inebriation at the table at an even keel.

This tamada had excellent rhetorical skills; he was fluent in both Russian and Kyrgyz and knew the languages of humor and honor.