Gastronomy in the Crescent City

First of all, I do apologize for the lack of updates. All the good intentions are intact, trust me. I just usually end up with one of two scenarios: an interesting observation and no Internet connection or an Internet connection with tremendous writer's block. Yes, there is such thing as writer's block for amateur bloggers! Who knew!?!? When the scenario of an idea combined with no connection arises, Adrianne (and my friend Dave Curry) suggested I pre-write my blog posts in Microsoft Word and then paste them when the Internet returns. Well, that just made way too much sense and I have never tried it.

Anyway, I have hesitated on this post regarding the F word for some time now. I have hesitated because I am not even close to feeling like a local yet. I have hesitated because of an uneasy feeling about the possible response from my friends here in New Orleans who might actually read this post. I can picture them patting me on the back and saying in a kind but annoyed tone, "Jason, you don't have the faintest idea of what you're writing about." You see, food (the F word) in New Orleans is pretty darn sacred. It's something that the locals, rightfully or not, believe the city has mastered and is something that does not rely on national or international trends. What do I mean by that? Well, really good Mexican is somewhat hard to find here. Really good BBQ (as defined by Southern standards) is not plentiful or really ever talked about. There are some good Sushi places but there are only three or four that people consider acceptable. Those are a few cuisines that are missing, yet even without them, the city is truly a food lover's dream. You see, New Orleans food is so uniquely New Orleans that it alone justifies why New Orleans is called America's Most Unique City.

As a guy from Atlanta, adjusting to food in New Orleans has been an immensely pleasurable challenge. Here are just a few observations that will (the whole point of this blog) hopefully make some of you come visit sooner rather than later.

Seafood
First of all, we don't see much fish and seafood on menus in Atlanta. We actually have fish and seafood places in Atlanta (like Atlanta Fish Market) and we say things like, "who has good seafood?" to one another. Down here below sea level, seafood is everywhere and the ways in which it is presented are mind blowing. Soft shelled crab, chargrilled oysters, BBQ shrimp (not what you think it is), redfish and more and more and more. It's on every menu and as an outsider, I go for it every chance I get.

Po Boys
Let me just get this out there to anyone considering a Po Boy restaurant - your bread had better be top notch or you'll never make it. The bread that these Po Boys are served on is what makes them special. Here's the other thing about Po Boys. They are the most ubiquitous item in the city. Everybody and their brother sells Po Boys. Seriously. You drive by the Shell gas station and you see along the front of the building ICE BEER SNACKS PO BOYS CIGARETTES. I love the Po Boy sandwich and I will take you to get the best one ever. And then we'll go some place else for the second best one ever. Or was it the best and the first one was second best? Just remember, it's all about the bread.

Coffee and Chicory
Let me just get this out there. Coffee and chicory is terrible. I love this city so much and they usually knock everything out of the park when it comes to taste, but this stuff is awful. It's like you should hear people say, "back during The Great Depression, times were so hard we had to drink coffee and chicory." It is still interesting to see it on the shelves in the grocery store.

Sno Balls
I didn't leave the w out of snow on that one. They're called Sno Balls and they are what the rest of the world would call a snow cone. They sell them everywhere. There are entire businesses that specialize in nothing but sno balls. There are little stands set up around town selling them. Strange, huh? Remember this. It gets hotter than hell fire down here in New Orleans and a cup of shaved ice with some flavor like raspberry added sometimes really hits the spot. I don't expect any or many of you to buy a plane ticket tomorrow to come experience this, but it is uniquely New Orleans and should be mentioned.

Remember what I wrote about the locals taking pity on me for trying to write about food in New Orleans? Well, that's precisely why I am going to stop this entry right here. I need some more time to think through this topic and will add to these thoughts when I am more well versed in how this topic should be communicated.

In the meantime, I will mention a few restaurants that absolutely ROCK in case you have a friend coming to town and you want to give them some names of places where locals go instead of the expected Commander's Palace, Brennan's, etc.

Dante's Kitchen - all locally grown vegetables and locally caught fish and seafood. Outstanding.

Coquette - has only been open for five months and is incredible. It has a very simple menu in a small, simple dining room with wonderful thought put into every thing they offer. I love this place!

Vizard's - this is a great place that has an eclectic yet expensive menu. It's good for a splurge night out on the town. They have a dessert that is chocolate cake infused with blue cheese. It's pretty amazing.

Domilise's - remember those Po Boys and the bread and all that? Check this place out. It's a total hole in the wall and it is delicious.

Well, that's it for now. But just remember...you love food. I love food. New Orleans loves food. Come visit and let's eat!

Thanks for reading.

Joy in the Crescent City

People driving down Perrier Street in New Orleans last night were met with an unexpected sight. They witnessed a balding man in his mid-30's doing some sort of jerky, uncoordinated, boogie down dance in the middle of the street. He danced the way someone might dance during a Friday night tent revival in Mississippi. He didn't seem drunk and there was no music playing. He looked like he had just scored a touchdown, but it was the second week of May. He tried to do a handstand but that didn't really pan out. Who was this man and what had driven him to such joyous, awkward celebration? Well, that was me and I was celebrating the fact that we finally found a place to live. Yes, the search is over. The eagle has landed. Amen.

(I wasn't really dancing. It was way too hot to dance in the street yesterday.)

We didn't just find a place to live. We found a SWEET place to live and it was well within our price range, in a safe area and full of that architectural charm New Orleans is known for. We also have two off-street parking spots. That is almost unheard of for renters here in New Orleans. I feel a little like kicking myself in the butt for all the bitching I did about finding a place to live. (I am not limber enough to kick myself in the butt...bad knees.) Yes, it certainly was hard and we looked at six billion places (that's a high estimate) and we met some freaks along the way and learning a new city is a challenge. But, it worked out and I should have just known that! I swear, if someone ever invents a time machine, they are going to sell a ton of those things.

Here is a picture of our new abode:




We have the upstairs section of the house and it includes a huge front porch, a backyard, working fireplaces and tons of storage. Here's the best part. We can't move in until July 15th because of all the "improvements" the landlord needs to make. Like what? Well, there was a brand new refrigerator and a brand new stove both sitting in boxes that he will be installing. We can walk to the streetcar and are close to a small park and very close to tons of great bars and restaurants.


It's just great the way things work out sometimes. Sometimes they don't, of course. But you have to take your small victories and spike them in the end zone and do your terrible touchdown dance. And, of course, you have to use them like a shield when you got knocked down in the dirt. That will happen - guaranteed! I read somewhere that today is the anniversary of Bob Marley's death. He used to sing that great line "every little thing's gonna be alright". Thanks, Bob. Thanks, New Orleans.

Thanks for reading.

Internet in the Crescent City

For anyone who has been reading this and wondering why I have not been posting, please know that I fully intend to update this blog as much as I can.

Here's the deal, though. I got booted off the wireless Internet network I was stealing from a neighbor. The nerve! Here I am trying to keep a blog updated while spending zero dollars on Internet per month and some stranger who goes by Boilermaker denies me. The jerk store called. They're almost out of you, Boilermaker.

I do have Internet at work but blogging from work in this economy would be downright idiotic. Don't think I haven't been tempted!

Anyway, please be patient. I will update soon.

Thanks for attempting to read.

Celebration in the Crescent City

2009 New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival

Let me just start by saying that I somewhat of a festival nut. I am not going to say I am a festival aficionado because there is probably no such thing, but I love music festivals and art festivals and the such. I have never been to a renaissance festival and like to laugh at renaissance festivals behind their backs, but if you took me to one I would probably be gnawing on a turkey leg and jousting within about ten minutes. But, why? Why would I want to deal with port-o-potties and the heat and expensive, low quality beer and...all those, those people!?!? Well, it is actually all those people that makes me like festivals. I love seeing all those people coming together for a good time. I love seeing all the smiling faces and the expressions that say "I took the day off" and "I have zero responsibilities today". It's thousands of people with the same goal - to have a great time and forget their troubles for a few hours. Granted, there are some total idiots out there. I am aware of the teenager getting drunk via fake ID and the biker who looks like he's ready for a fight, just as soon as he finishes his corn dog and thirtieth Bud Light. I am able to filter those people out with my trusty festival goggles when I am in attendance and my short term memory allows me to forget about them after I leave. What doesn't leave my conscience, though, is the collective fun had by many and the multiple layers of creativity people come to see, hear, taste and share. This entry is starting to sound like hippie gibberish so I will just stop and clarify. I love festivals and this year would be my first time attending the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.

"Take it easy, man." - Jeffrey Lebowski

There is one important rule music festival attendees should try to keep in mind and it can make the difference between a great time and a frustrating time. This is not ground breaking information but it's helpful: go ahead and and plan on missing some of the great music you intended on seeing and hearing in exchange for some surprising introductions to artists and musicians you have never seen or heard. Keep that in mind and it will help you relax and enjoy the total environment. Remember, it's not a concert. It's a festival. Rather than nervously staring at the stage schedule and your watch while muttering "Dave Matthews starts at 5" over and over, you might just end up catching some really cool gospel band from Arkansas. Or, you might just sit around and laugh with your pals. We don't get many recess days as adults. It's best to not turn them into an intense effort.

Music followed by more music.

In terms of musical diversity, New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival does a great job. However, for any jazz nuts reading this it would be good for you to know that here in 2009 (after forty years) the "jazz" aspect of the festival is best represented in the name. There is a specific jazz tent and there will be some great jazz shows, but it's really more about diversity these days. There are rappers, country acts, rock acts, DJs, funk bands, gospel groups, Native American music groups, bluegrass bands, reggae bands, and more. In terms of celebrity, there were some heavy hitters this past weekend: James Taylor, Wilco, Dave Matthews Band, Joe Cocker and several others. Next weekend (the closing weekend) will bring Bon Jovi, Sugarland, Neil Young, Tony Bennett, Emmylou Harris, Buddy Guy, Ben Harper and many others.

There were several musical highlights for me, personally. I finally got to see The Del McCoury Band and they sounded great. Big Chief Monk Boudreaux surprised me and I was a big fan of the brief section of his set that I caught. I have liked Hugh Masekela for a few years now and I enjoyed his set, even though he was promoting a new album and I did not know many of the songs. Joe Cocker gave it his all, and while the years have not been kind to his voice, he certainly has an excellent catalog of songs that all of us know. Dave Matthews Band was good and his stage presence is always contagious to a crowd. His music is not really my favorite, but people really dig the guy and he seems genuinely appreciative. I'm cool with that. There were a few others mixed in there that I also enjoyed but they were more or less background music for time spent gazing at the various art booths, chatting with friends and enjoying the surprisingly mild weather.

D is for Delicious

I could try to give you a bunch of art and music reasons to come down to New Orleans for the Jazz Fest. To be completely honest, my invitation would be sincere but I think you can also find great art and music at other festivals that don't require hotels and plane tickets. But, there is one aspect to Jazz Fest that can not be replicated because it is uniquely New Orleans and uniquely Jazz Fest. The food. It's simply the best, most creative, most surprising, most delicious food at any festival I have ever attended. Let me start by telling you what you will not find at Jazz Fest. Don't come here looking for funnel cakes or corn dogs or pizza slices or Dippin' Dots (yeah, I went there) or french fries. You simply won't find them here. What you will have to choose from are soft shell crab po boy sandwiches and crawfish puff pastries and pork chop sandwiches and frozen mango and tons of other delicacies that can only be found at this event. There are two creations that people rave about before, during and after Jazz Fest. These two foods cause people's eyes to tear up when discussing their ingredients. It's quite impressive how excited people get when it comes to the food at Jazz Fest.

The first delicacy is called Crawfish Monica. It's basically a pasta dish served in a heavy cream sauce and mixed with fresh crawfish meat. It's very filling and it would be hard to imagine eating this on a very hot day but people love it and lick their spoon when they're finished. The second is a sandwich called Cochon De Lait Po Boy. First of all, Cochon De Lait means "milk fed pig". Unless you're a vegetarian, you should be drooling at this point. Basically, it's a roasted pork sandwich served with a cole slaw dressing and a spicy mustard sauce. It's as good as it sounds and is the number one, most popular food at Jazz Fest. I ate it, loved it and cried after the last bite. And I never once missed those Dippin' Dots.

To sum it all up, Jazz Fest didn't have to do much to win me over. I was already a fan of the idea. People + Music + Food + Art all in one place. They just had to execute well in order for me to be impressed. And they did execute well. Very well. After forty years, they have figured out how to put on a great event. All of the reasons I like festivals were present and accounted for and I am excited to go back next weekend.

Thanks for reading.

The Housing Challenge in the Crescent City

Risky Business

Trying to find a great, more permanent place for Adrianne and I to live in New Orleans is proving to be very difficult. New Orleans is a unique place. Sometimes, the reasons for that are wonderful. Sometimes, they can be frustrating.

The living situation here in New Orleans is vastly different that the one in Atlanta. The main reason is the fact that we are still dealing with post-Katrina New Orleans. Yes, a lot of progress has been made and a lot of the city is alive and kicking. But mixed in with all the positivity are the corpses of homes and businesses that are still unoccupied, boarded with plywood and spray painted by the National Guard. You've all seen the symbols, right? Here is a photo of what I mean:

After Katrina, when the city was evacuated, the National Guard literally went house by house and checked for survivors. The date of the search is at the top of the X. I am pretty sure the CBP stands for the National Guard unit that searched the house, but please correct me if I am wrong. The 0 at the bottom of the X stands for the number of bodies found in the house. It's pretty eerie. Granted, 98% of the symbols have a 0 at the bottom but knowing there is the potential to see a 1 (or a 3) is unnerving. The point of this information is that with all of these unoccupied homes, you have a what can be called a "lack of desirable inventory". In addition to a lack of inventory, you have areas where the bare minimum has been completed in order to restore occupancy. Someone moved back into their house. Yippee! But the street looks like Kosovo and there are seven other houses around it that need to be destroyed. I saw a FOR RENT sign yesterday and pulled down a side street to check it out. Yes, there was a nice home available and it was attractive. The rest of the street made me think that if I waited for the sun to go down, zombies would come pouring out of the buildings looking for human flesh. It can be creepy and I am rambling.

We all understand simple economics. What happens when you have very little inventory and a lot of people who need it? If you guessed high prices then you're a winner! The amount of money people are asking for rent here is much, much higher than we would have ever paid in Atlanta. This is also not relative economics because of the city's neighborhoods and their design. It would be easy to take a deep breath and say, "OK, we're going to pay a lot more but live in a nice place in a nice area." Any resident of New Orleans will tell you (it's almost a rehearsed speech) that when you find a nice place to live, there is no guarantee you will have great neighbors. You can literally see a $5 million mansion with rundown houses occupied by shady people just one block away. And even if you have great neighbors on either side, you might walk eight houses down the street while walking your dog, make a right, walk another five or six houses and suddenly feel very vulnerable and a little scared. There just isn't any rhyme or reason to the living situation here. If we wanted to get crazy ridiculous, we could find a place that was literally three times the cost of our mortgage in Atlanta and live safely and comfortable. We would also learn to live off of bread and water and probably not enjoy our new life here very much. It's complicated.

For those of you reading this that care about our safety and well being, it would be easy to read this post and be worried for us. Please don't be worried and I will tell you why.

Back in middle school, our family was heavily invested in orthodontics for me and my sister. I had braces and head gear and retainers and rubber bands and all this crazy stuff. For an airhead 13 year old kid, it was all very confusing and the responsibility that came with it was beyond my grasp. I mean, there were times when I missed the bus back in seventh grade because I could not find my shoes. We're talking like 12 or 13 times. I just could not keep up with anything. So anyway, one time we were at this restaurant and it was the kind of restaurant where your food was on a plastic tray. I took my $250 retainer out of my mouth to eat, ate my meal and then promptly threw my food scraps, napkin and $250 retainer into the trash. The family drove home and I announced what I had done right as we pulled into the driveway. Well, $250 was a lot of money (and still is) so my parents drove back to that restaurant and tried to ask about the retainer. The restaurant people probably pointed to the garbage cans and shrugged. My parents ended up digging through disgusting restaurant trash for about an hour trying to correct my mistake. And guess what? They found that retainer and everything was okay. It was nasty but they worked through it together and they persevered. And guess what? Adrianne and I will persevere, find a great place to live and everything will be okay. I hope my strange analogy makes sense for what we are dealing with here in New Orleans. We're going to have to dig and we're going to have to sort through some trash but we're going to find a great place and we're going to love it here.

This city has a hundred nicknames and they are all applicable. After talking to people about Katrina and what has been happening here since 2005, I have another nickname. The City of Perseverance. This place went through hell and there are some places that are still smoldering, but people are smiling and music is playing and birds are chirping. It's going to be okay. I think the lifelong residents of New Orleans have had to tell themselves that more than a lot of Americans. I live here now. Adrianne will live here soon. We will need to add that phrase to our repertoire.

Thanks for reading.

People in the Crescent City

Politeness and Piracy

I'd like to start this post with a shout out to all the people in New Orleans who have been so nice to me. My co-workers, my neighbors, the assistant manager of Rite Aid Pharmacy, my landlord, the waitress who served me a fairly bad salad this evening, the old dude with the keg last week and all the other people I keep meeting. These people are so nice and polite and just friendly in a real, sincere way. I feel like I have "New guy. Go easy." tattooed on my forehead! It's great and I am so thankful. A special thanks goes out to the guy who saved my butt by yelling "one way street" from his porch the other day as I zipped by his house. Thanks to him, people in New Orleans have remained nice to me. Mainly because I have not hit them head-on while driving the wrong way down a one way street.

Here's one other thing about a small sect of people in New Orleans. It's an observation and a belief of mine and it is being shared as a motivator for people to come visit. Ready? OK, here's the deal. There are real, in the flesh, true, legit pirates living in this city. Seriously. I'm not talking about peg legs and parrots and guys who drag out the pronunciation of Art Garfunkel to a hilarious degree. I'm talking about people who have no real need or use for modern laws, hygiene standards or shoe laces. People who are scoundrels in the most respectable way. People who live by a code that I am positive I could not understand. People who, if you stopped on the street and offered $100 for them to tell you what year it was, would stare you down and then mumble something about rum and pork chops. People who would find it perfectly normal to trade three fish hooks, a shotgun shell and a piece of pizza crust for a pack of cigarettes. It sounds like I am talking about mentally ill, homeless people. And this would be true in other cities. Not in New Orleans. Specifically, in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

As I walk the streets of the French Quarter during my lunch hour, I notice these people. The observation that sticks with me the most is that they don't stand out as peculiar or weird. Why? Because of their surroundings. (The tourists in their Crocs and cargo shorts are the ones who look weird.) They really do look like pirates, though! Crazy beards and sunburned faces and wild eyes and clothes that look like they're from the 17th century. I have not seen any swords or those little pistol muskets, but I'd bet anything there's a weapon there somewhere. It's OK, though. And they are standing in doorways of homes and peering out of windows and sometimes zipping by on ancient bicycles. They are the part of the French Quarter experience that comes absolutely free of charge and is one of the real reasons the place stays so popular. They're legit. They're living, breathing history in the roughest sense. They are not going to tell you jack squat about the city's history but they will probably have an opinion or two on all the ways the city has changed for the worst. It starts with me, my Crocs and my cargo shorts. (For the record, I do have Crocs but do not have cargo shorts. I'm pretty sure I got that one backwards in terms of being cool. It's OK.)

These modern day relatives of Captain Hook fit in perfectly fine and look perfectly normal in this one little neighborhood in this one strange port city in this one massive nation. Rip them off of Royal Street in New Orleans and plant them on Piedmont Road in Atlanta and they would probably be surrounded by the cops pretty quickly. There are only a few of them and I never take their photo because I am sure I would be verbally abused if caught in the act. (You'll have to come visit if you want to see one. We'll go out for drinks and pirate sightings.) They don't beg. They also don't look desperate or hungry or particularly pained at all. They do seem a little annoyed with all of the people like me. And they do seem very out of touch with all of the borders that touch their little enclave. But maybe that's one of the reasons people flock to this city from all over the world. Maybe it's good to get a little out of touch from time to time. Just a thought.

Don't worry about me becoming a pirate. I just find it interesting to see people who should be considered odd suddenly appearing very normal because of their home. The full or part-time pirate lifestyle is not attractive to me for the following reasons:
1) I have to shower pretty much every day.
2) The idea of contracting scurvy scares me to no end.
3) I could not grow a beard if you paid me.

Thanks for reading.

Scenes from the Crescent City

Vanilla ice cream with a drizzle of chocolate sauce.

I continue to be amazed at the paradoxical nature of this city.

Everywhere I look there is beauty and history and quite possibly the most gorgeous concentration of architecture that I have seen in our country. (OK, if you are exhaling deeply and naming off other cities with better architecture then let's agree to disagree right now. Geez.) Then there are the trees! These massive, imposing giant oak trees with the longest branches/arms stretching out over every street. They are so comforting. There are the beautiful homes, thousands of them, tightly packed into neighborhoods with named boundaries that start and stop in the middle of streets. It's quite possible in New Orleans to live in a house large enough so that your front door is in one neighborhood with a special name and for your back door to be in another. I love to exaggerate. I'm good at it.

But then there's a little bit of ugly mixed in...in a good way. Imagine a perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream in a dish. It's flawless. It's from heaven. Then you drizzle some dark chocolate syrup on it. You have totally ruined the pristine scoop of ice cream, but in a wonderful way. Does that make sense? That's New Orleans when it comes to the charming, historic city and its desperate plea for attention from tourists. You have to forgive the obvious addiction to outsiders because without them and without their unbelievable lack of good taste, the city would not be itself.

For example, let's gaze at one of the most gorgeous buildings I have ever seen. In this case, an ancient hotel called Monteleone. This photo does not do it justice. It's truly magnificent.

If my camera lens was wide enough, you would be able to see a daiquiri bar and a little shop advertising "3 T-shirts for $9.99". (Note to friends and readers: If you ever see me wearing a t-shirt that you suspect cost only $3.33, be alarmed, be very alarmed.)

Please come visit and we will walk together through New Orleans and you will have your camera and we'll have to wait for a (large) man from Michigan to finish his "yard of beer" and step aside before you can photograph Hotel Monteleone.

Sometimes, you just feel lucky.

There is a New Orleans culinary tradition that sometimes take a back seat to crepes, oysters and other unpronounceable entrees envied around the world. It's just as delicious. It's just as special. If you have read Confederacy of Dunces then you know what I mean. I'm talking about Lucky Dogs.

These are available everywhere down in The Quarter and pretty much all the time. Seriously, like until the sun comes up. When the fancy-shmancy restaurants close in the Garden District and you're still hungry, we'll go down and get one. There is a strong chance I will sleepwalk down St. Charles one night and get one.

The Streetcar exhibit.

Back in Atlanta a few years ago, we had the "cows" exhibit. There were these lavishly decorated cows all over Atlanta, placed on random street corners or in the middle of pedestrian areas. I tried to convince people that Atlanta had a huge Hindu artist population but nobody believed me. One day they were just gone. I asked a few cops if they knew where the cows were and they answered me with "step away" and "pour out the beer". I never really considered that an acceptable answer. Whatever.

Here in New Orleans, I am now seeing these lavishly decorated street cars all over the place. The name of the exhibit is called "Streetcar Named Inspire" and they are really neat. I took a picture of one. (Note the Mardi Gras beads on the neck of the statue behind the streetcar. Someone either spent hours trying to do that or had a lucky shot followed by about fifty high-fives.)

Well, that's it for today but I have to tell one more story that does not have a photo with it. I finally went and found the disc golf course here in New Orleans. It's OK and I think it will grow on me as a home course. It needs to because it's the only one. I was spoiled in Atlanta. Anyway, I ended up partnering up with two college kids and we played about eight holes together until our round of golf took us by a park pavilion where a lone, older man was hanging out with a keg of beer. He offered. The college kids accepted and started filling up cups. I stood several feet away, expecting the game to continue. I'll cut this short and say the round of golf stopped there. I ended up drinking keg beer with two college kids and a man old enough to be my father until it got dark. It was so weird but the conversation was good and I still get a kick out of the accents. This older man was straight up Cajun. I felt like a vagrant drinking in a park with strangers but it also felt natural in New Orleans, LA. It was a spontaneous party and a really nice form of generosity. Back in Atlanta, I would have been glancing nervously for any police presence. Not in New Orleans. It's perfectly legal to drink anywhere as long as you don't have a glass bottle. By the way and in case you are wondering, the older man was a caterer and a corporate event had just ended under the pavilion. The beer was leftover but they "barely touched it" according to the older man and he didn't want it to go to waste. People in New Orleans have their heads on straight.

Thanks for reading.