the new orleans deliciousness continues

The inarguable highlight of our second afternoon in New Orleans was a trip to a landmark:

YESSSSSSSSSS! More on that in a second.

Since it became apparent very early on in the trip that consuming enormous quantities of (often fried) food was going to be an essential part of my stay in New Orleans, I decided to just go with it and maintain some peace of mind by walking extraordinary amounts. Our po’boys and daiquiri fueled first day included an impressive 10.5 mile walk. Our second, a beautiful stroll down Saint Charles Avenue to the famous French Quarter and back, 7.5 miles or so. I’ll take it.

Especially when there were praline samples to be had to fortify us on our trip.

And, since Steve was there and needed second lunch, pizza options to explore.

[Don’t we love that casual pizza places in New Orleans have beer pairings?!]

I clearly missed the memo about Gulf shrimp. Again, these were not tiny! These were jumbo shrimp! (Oxymoron alert).

 

Now, back to that first picture… in case you couldn’t quite guess the contents of that bag…

Ohhhhhh yes. The famous Cafe Du Monde.

Let me first say that the walk through the French Quarter to Cafe du Monde is lovely. Beautiful homes and hotels to be seen, the music of street musicians wafting around (particularly amusing was a girl who was playing the accordion with impressive talent accompanied by a dude who sang wretchedly and was clearly stoned out of his mind. It was quite entertaining!), fun little shops to pop into (including the most extensive hot sauce selection I’ve ever beheld at one spot).

And Cafe du Monde, while clearly a tourist attraction, runs like a well oiled machine. (Note! Cash only. But cheap. It’s like $2 and some change for what we got, and if you’re looking at price per calorie it’s epic!)

As for the beignets.. If you haven’t experienced them this description isn’t going to do much for you but they’re… fried dough. With powdered sugar. And SO MUCH MORE. Guys, beignets are… they just… I can’t even put into words how good they are. Doughy in the middle, crunchy on the outside, yeasty, crisp, sweet…. they are just absolute heaven.

On the map I saw a place called the French Market, and I was all excited to meander around it, envisioning handsome men carrying baguettes and cheese samples and the like, but it was ultimately a bit depressingly touristy. No cat lady t-shirts (though there were a lot of places selling things like that in the French Quarter, being a tourist-oriented part of town) but the restaurants looked more designed to please every palate than truly impart the culinary quirks of Nola.

I did enjoy this pun.

Meander meander. On the one hand, I was all, “Look at those exquisite buildings! I would love to live in the French Quarter!”

On the other hand… Bourbon Street. Yelling. Puking. Spilling. Fighting.

It being a landmark and all, Steve and I both wanted to experience it… just to say we had, pretty much. So off we went to indulge in overpriced drinks in the company of the friendly and inebriated.

The first place we ducked into had a balcony (big plus, and why we picked it), live music (semi-plus; I love live music but wasn’t that dazzled by their sound, but according to Steve their between-songs rappeur was “hilarious”. I was in the bathroom and missed it) but no mojitos (big minus; New Orleans is HOT and you really just want a mojito).

Fortunately, the very cool bartender joined us in bemoaning the fact that most of the bars along that strip did not serve mojitos because it’s a pain to muddle lime… then referred us to one that did, Pat O’Briens. And told us which of the (several) bars on their premises to which to bequeath our hard-earned dollars, which he assured us would have the lowest prices.

And the mojitos were ours.

 

With a nice fountain view.

 

I have turned into a real lightweight and spent the entire walk back from the French Quarter (keep in mind, almost 4 hours) spontaneously breaking into dance, blurting out deep down emotional pronouncements, and laughing at Peniston Street. Again.

Fortunately, the absurd effects of my single drink (!) wore off by the time we did dinner with the family.

My sister recommended Ignatius, another lovely restaurant on Magazine Street. Once again, we sat outside.

  

Like many of the restaurant choices in Nola, they had an impressive small plate selection, so I opted for the shrimp and grits and a side of greens.

Lorrrrrrrrrrd those shrimp and grits were good. (Sidebar: have we been taking note of how much shrimp I ate in New Orleans?! Hoping I didn’t have any underlying cholesterol issues prior to this trip!)

The shrimp, per usual, were fat and juicy and cooked just right but WOWZA that gravy was sumthin’. Smoky, tangy, and rich. And the grits, while certainly serving as an impressive butter vehicle, still had a nice assertive flavor and texture of their own. This was GOOD GOOD GOOD.

The greens were my attempt at getting a serving of vegetables in for, oh… the first time on the trip? They were those lovely Southern-style greens. You know, cooked for hours and hours until basically devoid of nutrients.

Malindi got the same shrimp and grits along with a fried green tomato salad (!) that she shared. And both my mom and Steve got the Jambalaya, which was A+.

Cute story: I thought our waiter was kind of reserved or unfriendly or something, but then as he was clearing our plates, he noticed Malindi still had food left, shot her a grin, and told her to “keep nibblin’”. ADORABLE.

Final note, Steve TREATED everyone to dinner! Thanks pal!

Another crappy night’s sleep, involving a deflating air mattress (…) followed. It was just as well that I didn’t sleep much- more time to see what the lovely city had to offer. I snuck out of Malindi’s dorm room, leaving Steve to get a bit more shut-eye, and made the pleasant stroll to The Chimes once again.

Jill was nice enough to invite Steve and I for breakfast.

Due to a legal system that contains a certain amount of whimsy, The Chimes is not allowed to have any on-site cooking. So, Jill goes down the street to the French Bakery every morning and brings in delicious baked goods.

Nibble nibble nibble. I didn’t eat all of these… but more bread may have happened too :)

Then we were off to another bee-yoo-tiful neighborhood, Bayou Saint John. New Orleans is a little weird with the urban planning- you drive around and you’re on grimy, ugly, strip-mall-y roads, and then you take a turn and drive two blocks and BOOM, you’re somewhere GORGEOUS. It’s all a bit uneven.

This is a bayou. (Secret: I have no idea what a bayou actually is. My little sister spent four years in Louisiana and she does not know either, which makes me feel better).

We originally arrived to attend the Bayou Boogaloo street festival, with live music and the like, and the colorful sign looked promising:

But we turned out to be too early. So instead we took the recommendation of an incredibly friendly local who told us we could find what she considered the best po’boy in New Orleans here:

A LOT of people agreed. I heard some local types go, “Ugh, that’s right, it’s Tulane graduation this weekend.”

*cough* Sorry.

Some of the past visitors were famous!

(Can you imagine trying to eat a messy po’boy wearing a suit and tie?! Reason 203485720835602837502835 I don’t want to be president.)

After a long wait to order and then receive our food, I would’ve eaten just about anything, but these sweet potato fries went down real nice. Particularly, in a fun combination I made after raiding the condiments bar out of simple curiosity, with cocktail sauce.

As for my po’boy, initially a bit enigmatic..

Pulled open to reveal it was comprised of a roll, fried catfish, lettuce, tomato, and pickles…

The bread was only so so. And the lettuce was pre-bagged and seemed to be giving out in the Louisiana heat.

Not to worry. I just ate the perrrrrrrrrrrrfect catfish. Fish and chips lunch, Nola style. It was magnificent and in and of itself earned Parkway Bakery its fame.

Also: back in 2005, Parkway Bakery flooded six feet deep. So a toast both to their perfect catfish and their enduring spirit.

The post-lunch activity could’ve easily consisted of a food coma, but instead we took a stroll, to the City Park. We didn’t make it into the museum, but we checked out the sculpture garden, the old-fashioned amusement park (which was ADORABLE; I was heartbroken it wasn’t open) and peeked in at the film they were shooting (!) (Didn’t recognize anyone)

The best part, though, was the natural scenery. As my mom wisely pointed out, you can see where they got the inspiration for putting Mardi Gras beads on trees. The lovely Spanish moss makes that shape naturally!

More to come!

letting the good times roll

Sweet holy heaven, do I have a delicious looking series of posts for you.

The setting, as you may have inferred from the title: NEW ORLEANS! Aka the place with the food so good it ruins all other food for you. Forever.

In a decision that was a fun mix of naiveté, kindness, optimism, and my phobia of flying, Steve and I departed to and returned from New Orleans by car in an EPIC 16-HOUR-ROAD-TRIP. 16 hours both ways, that is. Epic. Crazy. The purpose of our voyage was to celebrate my sister’s graduation from Tulane and to have my trusty Camry available to tote her stuff home.

We opted to take a more leisurely pace on our way down, taking in the shockingly lovely scenery of Southern Virginia, Tennessee, Alabama, and Missisippi.

A billboard inspired us to take an EXCEEDINGLY fun detour to the Mayfield Dairy. Question: who among you WOULDN’T love to go on a tour of an ICE CREAM FACTORY?!

The tour was a fun mix of history- the now-enormous dairy company began humbly as the son of a farmer experimenting with dairy farming on a small plot of his father’s land- a look at the astonishingly efficient and mechanized assembly line of ice cream production, and of course, a sampling opportunity.

I had the blueberry pie ice cream, pictured above, and it. was. marvelous. Freshness I’m sure played a role, since the ice cream had been produced literally down the hall. Since the milk gets delivered daily (something in the family of the milk of 20,000 cows. Can you even picture that?! I cannot), it seems a logical inference that it was local and from a recently milked cow. And anyway, it was just exceptionally well-made ice cream. My blueberry pie one was creamy and perfectly (but not excessively) sweet. The blueberries tasted fresh and delicious and the pie crust chunks- which were more like a sugary cookie- were a delight.

Steve got a caramel one that was also incredible- you know the monumental difference between the rich, dark, ever so slightly bittersweet caramel that pools at the bottom of crème caramel and the high-fructose-corn-syrup ice cream topper rubbish you buy at the grocery store? This caramel was in the former category. Mmm.

After a stay at the Bates Motel (well fine there were no dead bodies) in Meridian, Mississippi (a town recommended by my car guy, who’d also road tripped to Nola. Yes, it had lots of hotels but all of them were bafflingly full- apparently a lot of businessmen traveling to work at the local power plant?!) we at last arrived in the Crescent City, motoring in over a multi-mile bridge looking out on Lake Pontchartrain.

With stiff legs, we were immediately raring to go.

My sister led us through her truly beautiful campus. Stunning live oak trees with the most amazing canopy of leaves surround the buildings and lawns. The buildings are lovely and fit perfectly with the landscape.

And, of course, there is a tree completely draped in Mardi Gras beads.

After we assured her we were ready for some authentic New Orleans cuisine, my sister led us to the awesomely named Cooter Brown’s.

On the menu? Po’Boys. Ohhhhhhhhhh Po’Boys. This is not your last look at them.

I opted for the po’boy with fried Gulf shrimp, and oh what an excellent decision that was. The sandwich’s exterior was a long roll generously sprinkled with sesame seeds, perfectly toasted and then drenched in what looked like melted butter. Then the shrimp, which were ENORMOUS (is it just me or are Gulf shrimp supposed to be small? Wasn’t the case here!) were expertly seasoned and had an irresistible spice to them. They were also perfectly fried and not at all greasy. Oh and there were a TON of them. On top was surprisingly fresh lettuce and tomato and perfect pickles.

What a sandwich!

 

During our meal, Steve and I mentioned that we wanted to see some levees to get some context about Hurricane Katrina. Malindi laughed really hard and led us outside. Fact: in many places, a levee is a big pile of dirt. A couple feet high, max. Really puny and entirely useless looking. How on earth the entire city isn’t entirely underwater already is beyond me.

This was reinforced as we strolled around after our meal and saw water… everywhere. The Mississippi… being really huge. The mega-lake. It’s all pretty but it’s also… weird.My mother and my sister, on a previous visit to the city, had taken a hurricane tour. I would’ve liked to’ve had more time to do it, because it sounds like an interesting, if sobering way to see the city. Apparently as you go along the Mississippi by boat, you are looking down from the water into the lower Ninth ward. And, even now, there are many blocks where you can spot a set of stairs leading to… nothing, where houses were entirely washed away and never rebuilt.

Anyway, New Orleans is a different kind of city. In many ways. I will wax philosophic about it more in future posts.

One key example of the uniqueness of Nola is that after our meal Malindi urged us to get daiquiris. Never mind that it was 1:00 in the afternoon; we were in New Orleans! Land of public drinking, where one can order a drink at a bar to go, then stroll down the streets sipping a daiquiri! Ridic.

Guess which one was mine and which was Steve’s?

 

It was a fun novelty enjoying a pina colada while walking around, but I knew sugar+booze+sunshine could give me one hell of a headache if I kept drinking. So I really only had a little. Steve finished his and was then sugar-stunned for awhile.

We kept walking.So you know how everyone talks about the New Orleans architecture? Yeah, that. It’s amazing.

We strolled along Saint Charles Avenue, a street that’s essentially a series of gorgeous old mansions. Now, I live in the DC suburbs, an area where god-awful McMansions are perpetually appearing, with their tacky vinyl siding extending to the furthest corners of their tiny lots. While these houses were huge, they were also stunning: high quality materials, thoughtful architecture, myriad oak trees and beautiful gardens lending perspective to their size.

I’m not going to lie, it’s a little disorienting seeing such a large, concentrated, publicly available demonstration of affluence in New Orleans, a city where poverty and crime are at a level I consider frightening and wrong. However, it is undeniably beautiful. And even more normal-sized houses have a unique charm in New Orleans.

 

We continued through beautiful Audobon Park, then over to Magazine Street, a great place for eating and shopping. I loved how stores were interspersed with pretty private homes. It was not too commercialized and very walkable. Blocks further down that were crowded with restaurants and the appearance of an American Apparel saddened me; I wish more cities had streets that were allowed to be pretty and distinctive, rather than falling prey to complete and total commercialization.

One of our favorite spots on Magazine Street- and something that I think should be a required stop in Nola for any food lovers- was Sucre, a truly amazing bakery.

 

Virtually everything for people who like sugar was there. Beautiful and uniquely flavored gelato (I once sampled a basil and coconut flavored one that tasted like Thai curry); beautiful pastries like you’d find in a Paris bakery; cupcakes; homemade chocolates. Wanting something light, special, and delectable, I opted for macarons!

Sucre’s flavors were amazing. Along with typical standbys- strawberry, pistachio, coffee and the like- they also had truly innovative flavors. I opted for three (I did share them… sort of): the hazelnut, which was filled with chocolate; the carrot cake (!); and the white chocolate with lavender (!!!!). On our follow-up visit to Sucre (necessary!) I got that white chocolate lavender one again. It is a winner of a combination; the herbiness really cuts that cloying sweetness of white chocolate. I envision some homemade ice cream inspired by this confection in the future.

The night ended with dinner cooked in Malindi’s apartment (our job was to use up her groceries; Steve did his best, eating something like seven hot dogs during the trip); a trip to The Boot, a bar right by campus that does triple shot drinks for four dollars (oh college); and creative sleeping arrangements due to me poorly communicating about a need for an air mattress.

The accommodations were considerably nicer at the bed and breakfast where we brought my mother after picking her up at the airport the next morning.

I mean come on when you go in through the courtyard you know this is gonna be classy.

The story of my family’s relationship with The Chimes, this truly amazing bed and breakfast, is a lengthy one. Some facts:

- We learned of its existence from our neighbor, a man who was in charge of logistics for Reuters during Hurricane Katrina. Reporters and photographers needed a place to stay and post their stories, so Larry arranged to just bring in a generator and rent out the entire bed and breakfast. And they had as pleasant an experience as anyone could during Katrina, because they had somewhere beautiful and harmonious to stay.
- When my sister’s appendix self-destructed last year and I was frantically trying to book flights and accommodations to New Orleans while my mom was frantically trying to tie up loose ends at her office, I called Jill, the lovely proprietor of The Chimes. She assured me that a room was available for my mom for the next two nights, and added that if she needed to stay after that, on a night they were fully booked, they’d just let her sleep in their daughter’s room (!)
- The shower in the room was beautiful and huge and had little pebbles embedded in the bottom of it, so taking a shower was like getting a foot massage; particularly nice with the amount of walking we did
- Carl Kassel’s voice is on their answering machine. Not because they won on Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, but because he stays at The Chimes every time he’s in New Orleans
- It is on Constantinople Street. That is awesome.
- Cab drivers LOVE Jill, because she always refers people at the B+B to a specific cab company, because they are the most reliable. One guy, who was giving my mom and sister a ride somewhere, said he was visiting his native country of Barbados and saw some beautiful seashell chimes. He said, “If those don’t cost a thousand dollars, I am buying them for Jill!” They cost 75, so he bought them, and they now adorn the courtyard with many other sets, and the sound is absolutely lovely when the breeze blows.

For those reasons and many more, we love The Chimes.

This is how my dream house will be decorated:

Once we got my mom settled, lunch was in order. Malindi continued her winning streak of restaurant recommendations by leading us to Baru.

We lucked out with a lovely table outside.

Looking out at gorgeous flowers (which were everywhere in the city).

The restaurant had lots of fun little things to combine into meals, which is absolutely my favorite way to eat. We began with a buncha small plates to share:

Trio de Causas

Chilled Tuna and potato salad / avocado / quail egg / peruvian olive aïoli 

 

I mean really?! Along with being stunning (lovvvvvvvvve the purple potatoes) the flavor was great. It offered the nostalgia of a deviled egg but had an extra dimension of flavor that was wonderful.

 

Mazorca

Roasted corn/ salao cheese/ pink sauce/ potato sticks 

Looked like a pile of french fries at first, but digging revealed the other ingredients!

Ostras

Deep-fried Louisiana oysters/ cilantro aioli/ caramelized onions 

Sauce on the side, for my cilantro-hating sister. LOVE oysters. Wish I could eat them every day. These were spectacular, especially with those amazing onions on top.

For my main dish of sorts (was already feeling pretty darn satisfied by the dishes above) I got one of their tacos, which involved big fat awesome shrimp in a remoulade sauce; avocado; and pickled onions. Fab.

 

Steve got their fish taco, which had a special sumthin’ sumthin’.

I couldn’t really handle day drinking for a second day in a row, but these sure looked good!

I think that’s quite enough for one post, so I’ll conclude with a spectacular display of immaturity.

Two pictures from the general vicinity of Tulane’s campus, presented without comment:

 

More Nola posts to come!

Have you been to New Orleans? Did you luuuuuuuuurve it?