No matter where I am, home or away, I’m always looking ahead to my next trip. I can’t help it. There’s so much in the world that I haven’t seen, and I can’t understand why we spend so much time standing still. I mean, sure — I’m cozy on my sofa right now listening to Sparklehorse‘s It’s a Wonderful Life and I’m considering another Fluffernutter, but I’m also thinking about Saigon, I’m also thinking about Singapore, I’m also thinking about Cebu.
I’m also, as it turns out, thinking about the time Keith and I spend in New Orleans last week. I had visited the city with a friend nine years before and had really loved the it, so I was eager to see what Keith thought.
Got on the plan in warmer-than-usual-but-still-incredibly-cold Boston and got off in wet, windy and chilly New Orleans. I swear to you — temperatures in New Orleans were lower than they were at home. Hopped a cab to the W on Poydras and, once we got to our room, immediately crawled under the covers. After a nap, debated which within-walking-distance restaurant to check out for dinner and settled on the Cajun cuisine at Cochon. Walked the half mile in absolutely torrential rain that soaked us through our raincoats in spite of our overworked umbrellas. Tried to dry off while sharing small plates of fried rabbit livers with pepper jelly on toast ($9.00) and caramelized onion and grits casserole ($9.00). Neither Keith nor I could decide on entrées so we opted to be That Couple and also split our main courses. Ordered the eponymous cochon with turnips, cabbage and cracklins ($22.00) as well as the oyster and bacon sandwich ($14.00), thus beginning my week of fried-oyster-eatin’. Of course, by dinner’s end the rain had stopped so we slogged our waterlogged selves by to the hotel for a warm bath and bed.
Woke up to a dry city… that was utterly freezing. Pulled on as many layers as possible and wished I had packed a pair of gloves, especially as we walked to the French Quarter. In spite of the cold, wandered around before popping into Faulkner House Books on Pirate’s Alley, where Keith picked up a really nice Flannery O’Connor anthology. Lunch at Mr. B’s Bistro. Made a little meal out of appetizers — creamy mushroom soup and (more) fried oysters — while Keith drank a $1.50 vodka lemonade while eating gumbo and barbecued shrimp. Got couple-y again and shared bread pudding for dessert. Headed to the Audubon Aquarium of the Americas to hang out with the penguins, stingrays and sea otters, followed by a Sazerac and a not-as-gingery-as-expected ginger mojito at The Living Room. Finished reading M. F. K. Fisher‘s Long Ago In France: The Years In Dijon while Keith took a pre-dinner nap. Dinner at Brigtsen’s: an oyster and artichokes gratin ($10.00) and the signature seafood platter ($32.00), which was comprised of drum fish with a crawfish and pistachio lime sauce, shrimp cornbread with jalapeño smoked corn, a baked oyster smothered in shrimp and crabmeat, a baked oyster Bienville, shrimp with jalapeño coleslaw and a panéed scallop with asparagus coulis. Continued the twosome streak by divvying up a piece of pecan pie drizzled with caramel sauce ($6.00). Drinks at The Swizzle Stick Bar, then bed.
Finally, a warm and sunny day! Grabbed coffee, chai and a croissant before catching the St. Charles Avenue streetcar to the Garden District, where we took a walking tour led by someone who must be the most informative, interesting guide working for Historic New Orleans Tours. Couldn’t resist having lunch at Commander’s Palace, what with its famous — and famously strong — 25¢ martinis, so ordered one with extra olives and the special of turtle soup and citrus-glazed gulf fish ($16.00). Turned out Keith and I were on a roll with the dessert-sharing since we split the bread pudding soufflé ($8.50). Walked down Magazine Street to the amazing National World War II Museum before riding the streetcar back to the hotel for a second pre-dinner nap. More fried oysters, this time on a po’boy from Mother’s Restaurant. A French 75 at the French 75 Bar, where bartender Chris Hannah suggested we check out the Sazerac Bar and its cocktails; we headed over and I drank something called a “French Quarter” — pear vodka, pear nectar, brandy and sugar — before calling it a night.
Slept in and got off to a late start, but that’s what vacations are for! Lunch at Stanley, whose owners also run Stella — get it? — but was on oyster overload so got crazy and ordered the “world famous burger” ($8.75), which was more fine than famous. Sampled fragrances at Hové Parfumeur before selecting Rue Royal and Verveine as my favorites. Midday cocktails at the Carousel Bar in the Hotel Monteleone; since Chris Hannah had told us to order milk punch and the Ramos Gin Fizz, we did and loved them. Hailed a cab to take us to the Audubon Zoo, where peacocks and pelicans roam free. Streetcar back to the hotel for — you guessed it! — a nap, though I was too busy reading Marcelo In The Real World by Francisco X. Stork to sleep. Dinner at Lüke. I loved my rabbit and duck liver pâté ($8.00) and was satisfied with my crabmeat-stuffed ravioli and its Meyer lemon sauce ($19.00) but was appalled by the sloppy service. Drinks at Napoleon House before ending up yet again at the Sazerac Bar with another Ramos Gin Fizz since Bar Uncommon was hosting an event. Tipsily walked back to the hotel.
Wanted to sleep in but didn’t have that much time left in Louisiana so hauled ourselves out of bed to make the mandatory pit stop at Café du Monde. Took one look at the dining-in line and politely elbowed over to the take-out queue; although also long, it was less than half the length of its rival. Sat on a nearby bench with our bags of beignets and my cup of chicory café au lait, taking care not to sprinkle myself — and my dark clothing — with the excess powdered sugar. Dodged shoppers at the French Market, which wasn’t nearly as produce-heavy as I would have liked and instead seemed to focus on kitschy souvenirs. Picked out Mardi Gras beads and a matching mask for our niece, as well as pralines from Aunt Sally’s before stopping by Central Grocery to buy a muffuletta to eat on the plane. Got a ride to the airport the nicest taxi driver of all time. Disembarked in Boston, where the temperature raised itself to welcome us home.