Laissez les bons temps rouler!
I’ve always wanted to get to New Orleans but until last week, well, let’s just say that I am now sorry for that oversight. Without a doubt it is our most unique city. A blend of cultures, mores, and juive de vivre that grabs you right in the soul and doesn’t let go. It’s the heat, the rain, the quiet of early morning with only the sound of the street sweepers washing away the night before. It’s beignets at the Café du Monde, with chairs still stacked on the tables, before the lines stretch down Decatur and reach their wannabe competition on St. Peter Street that poaches the weary from the end of the Saturday morning line with promises of a “pig-nay”, a sausage cooked inside a beignet — which I do have to admit sounds interesting…But do not be fooled, dear traveler, get the original. It’s worth it. Even if you do oversleep and face a daunting line.
It’s both the traditional muffuletta at Central Grocery and the version that rocks your world at Cochon Butcher. It’s GOOD live music around every corner that overlaps to give you a jazz soundtrack as you walk the French Quarter. It’s sitting next to strangers who then become people you know. It’s the pain that is still visible in the Lower 9th and the pride that drives someone to not paint over the iconic rescue symbol from Katrina, but to leave it there for the world to see, or to have it forged in iron and hang it on their door. It is to never forget.
It’s the people that are here; those who have stayed, come back, or who are new and have come to be a part of what is happening. It’s old things like the Sazerac and Preservation Hall and new things like Herbsaint and Restaurant August. It’s a city that’s still what it always was and It’s a city that doesn’t care what you think. And that, makes it special.
Below are a few things that I learned during my stay last week in New Orleans:
I’m a Crystal Hot Sauce guy.
It tastes better than Tabasco and is 1/5 the price. The first ingredient on the list is not vinegar like Tabasco, but peppers. And now you know the secret…
Outside of the French Quarter, New Orleans is truly beautiful.
Don’t get me wrong, the Quarter is beautiful but there is a whole city out there and it deserves more than a look. Like a person who is beautiful down to their soul, New Orleans has deep beauty; Treme, Meterie, Uptown, Algiers…each a different flavor, and each deeply beautiful. If you can go to these places and not be charmed, I do not wish to know you.
I like crawfish, but shrimp are a better return on the peeling investment.
Being a son of Maryland I know how to pick seafood that is long on work but short on volume. A crab feast is just an excuse to sit around a table with family or friends and drink beer while you occupy yourself with unlocking succulent morsels of seafood that, when combined at the end of the evening, MIGHT give you three full sized crab-cakes. I’m suspicious that crawfish might be the same. I like them, but I found BBQ shrimp a much better time investment. And for the uninitiated, BBQ shrimp are not what you think…it’s a delicious blend of butter, Worcestershire sauce, pepper, rosemary, and secret spices that is poured over the shrimp once they are properly boiled. Have some, have some now.
Donald Link knows what he’s doing with a pig!
We don’t, but that’s okay as long a Cochon and Butcher stay around for a long time. I went to the Willy Wonka of pig and walked away with bacon pralines as an after dinner treat. And yes, they are as bad, and as good as they sound. I wanted more but had visions of the blueberry girl in the movie replaced by me inflating with bacon and restrained myself. The thought of pig costumed Oompa Loompas rescuing me brought me to my senses.
I found something better than bacon pralines.
Praline bacon! The person who invented this should be vilified or sainted — I can’t decide which.
They have the best way to celebrate a wedding and morn a funeral.
Both require a different type of celebration, although in the rest of the country we tend to morn instead of celebrate a life well lived. In NOLA a second line is the answer to both. One extremely joyful, the other more somber, but still a jazz band with all of the pomp and circumstance that fits the occasion.
Alligators love marshmallows.
Who knew? Just eat ‘em up. Albeit a bit more aggressively than you and me*.
*for the grammar police …yes, I know…did it on purpose.
You need to see the Rebirth Brass Band, preferably at the Maple Leaf.
They’ve been around for 30 years…what are you waiting for? If you don’t know who they are, check iTunes, Amazon, or Google them. If you can’t see them live, give a listen. If you are in New Orleans on a Tuesday night and don’t go to see them live, I, again, do not wish to know you.
Music lives in our world.
Almost everywhere you go in the French Quarter you will find good, live music. Frenchman Street…it is an entire block of the Blue Note in New York. But even everywhere else, starting in the evening, you will find jazz that will make you pause and give attention. During the day you will find great bands on every corner of Bourbon and Royal streets that will command you to stop and listen. Drop a dollar!
Daiquiris will give you the WORST ice-cream headache.
MUCH, MUCH, MUCH worse than a milkshake headache, but if you give it enough time, the alcohol kills the pain. Although, it does begin a new pain. My trick? Squeeze the slush through your cheeks and teeth to warm it before you swallow. Try it. Really. It works.
The open container law should be changed in most of our cities.
If you’re walking, you should be able to carry a drink outside as long as it’s not in a glass container. All of the most civilized cities in the world allow this… In London you can have a pint outside of the pub, in Paris you can have a bottle of wine in the park, in NOLA you can take your drink to go as you explore the neighborhood. There is something refreshing and adult about being able to take a drink outside of the confines of a bar and into your own private circle of friends. Even if that circle is a friend of only yourself.
There is a reason why the tourist traps that have been around since the twenties are still around…they’re not all traps.
Pat O’Briens has three bars. A tourist bar, a piano bar, and a bar for the regulars, all in the same compound. The prices reflect the market… the regulars pay the cheapest. They invented the hurricane and even though it is mass-produced in their factory (they go through hundreds of GALLONS a day so I’ll give them a pass) it is still the place to get one. For no other reason than to see the three pronged delivery device they invented to fill three cups at one time…You can see it in the main bar, which, by the way, is the regulars bar mentioned above. Sazerac: $4.50.
There are three cities in America.
According to Tennessee Williams they are New York, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Everything else is just Cleveland. I tend to agree.
We need New Orleans.
New Orleans is uniquely American. In some ways I feel it is a part of our deep soul that keeps us anchored. We might not know it, and most might never visit, but it is still there, holding us to the rock that makes us special in the world. It’s both the best and the worst of us, and it is what it is. I know it’s a bit cliché but since I think we could all use a little more juive de vivre in our lives — Laissez les bons temps rouler!
