December 26 cont’d
We strolled over to Antoine’s, which isn’t far
from the hotel. The French Quarter is packed with weird stuff, like the cop in
the gorilla suit, or maybe gorilla in a cop suit, who we met earlier today. But
the Quarter is small, so nothing’s very far.
Antoine’s is world famous. There really was an
Antoine, who came from France (where else?) and started the business around
1840. This, recall, is riverboat gambler heyday. We were told by the waiter
that the same family still owns the restaurant. The walls are covered with
pictures of celebrities who have visited, including one of my favorites, Father
Guido Sarducci. I couldn’t find Mark Twain or William Howard Taft, but they
were probably here too, before or after they visited the Absinthe House.
There are also old cartoons set in Antoine’s
with men in white ties and tails. This night Joanna wore black with sequins and
I wore a tux. Turns out, that wasn’t a bad call. We were dressed almost as well
as the waiters.
Joanna had a wonderful gumbo, better even than
the one at Ole Saint. It was a difficult choice for me. There were crawfish and
alligator on the menu, but I chose the snails done a la Bourdelaise. The sauce
includes tomato and they are topped with cheese and bread crumbs.
There was something in the tomato, maybe the
touch of sweetness, that seemed to fight with the snail. But hey, I didn’t
leave anything. So although I learned this is not my favorite way to do them, I
still haven’t met a snail I didn’t like.
After the appetizer we shared a plate of lamb
chops. They were superb.
So was the wine list. Joanna had a Burgundy,
because she loves the pinot noir grape. I had Cotes du Rhone and then a
Bordeaux.
The waiter recommended that we tour the place
after the meal. There are several small dining rooms that have been decorated
by various Mardi Gras krewes. For the those of you from South Jersey, these are
groups of men who will remind you of the Mummers, only in New Orleans they get
to ride on huge floats and they throw plastic necklaces to people on the
sidewalk.
Antoine’s wine cellar is a long hallway that
stretches most of the length of a city block. You can stand deep inside the
restaurant and look into the cellar and see cars go by at the far end on Royal
Street.
Even with a late afternoon nap, by now it was
time to go back and sack out.
December 27
It was raining like a bitch first thing this
morning. We got up around eight and took it easy. I caught up on my e-mail
report. We checked Accuweather, and yup, it was raining. And would be, off and
on, until sometime late Sunday night.
But hell, the worst that happens is my suit
loses its creases. So we ducked out for breakfast sometime around one or so.
The wait at the Acme Oyster House, which is a block from the Hotel, was 45
minutes to an hour. So we wound up at the Old NOLA Cookery on Bourbon
Street.
The photo of the day was taken in the NOLA
Cookery: Joanna lets the good times roll.
Joanna offered me some of the catfish, and it
was delicious, as catfish always is. Catfish is an exception for me. I usually
only eat white-meat fish when it’s cooked in the skin and on the bone. It’s the
same with chicken: if you don’t cook it whole, you lose most of its goodness.
Anyway, the catfish was tasty in its crisp
crust.
The bread was similar to the bread at
Antoine’s, only in a slightly larger format. It may be a variant of the Italian
or French bread at home. The crumb is very soft, and the crust is thin but crunchy.
The sandwich dressing was runny cole slaw and
a pink mayonnaise. This being the first po’boy we have seen up close, we don’t
know if that’s standard or not.
I’ve had etouffee before, at a Tex-Mex chain
restaurant in North Jersey, and didn’t care for it. This, on the other hand,
was very good—savory with everything working together. The gumbo and the red beans
and rice you can pretty much take for granted are always going to be good.
I had ordered a Purple Haze to go with
breakfast, but it never came. That was all right. The food didn’t leave room
for it anyway.
Next job was finding the stop for the St.
Charles streetcar. We went to the wrong stop, and the driver directed us to the
right one. By the experience we learned we needed exact fare. We crossed the
street back to the hotel.
I went to the desk, and Joanna went to the
bar. I asked about the amount of the fare ($1.25) and then asked to change a
ten. Like every other service in this hotel, it seems to be a problem. But no
real problem. Enter Joanna, stage right, with singles and quarters.
The streetcar runs on rails along St. Charles
Avenue, and we took it to Washington Street in the Garden District, about two
blocks from Lafayette Cemetery No. 1.
St. Charles is part of the Mardi Gras parade
route, and the trees on the curb are festooned with strings of shiny plastic
beads. Either that or artificial Spanish moss. I'm not sure.
When we entered the cemetery, a man offered a
tour. How much? A tip. OK.
Four students from (maybe) Tulane joined us.
One of the features of the cemeteries are the small raised structures. Because
the water table is so high, the dead are entombed above ground. The heat inside
these stone or brick houses gets so intense that the body decomposes fairly
quickly. The remains are removed after a year and a day, removed from the
casket and wrapped in cloth. Eventually they are shoved into the lower level of
the tomb with a 10-foot pole. At least, that is what our guide, Marcus, said
was the origin of “I wouldn’t touch it with.”
After a while, one of the small houses can
hold hundreds of dead people. There are something like 1,100 tombs and 300,000
people in Lafayette No. 1. According to Marcus, Mark Twain called the New
Orleans cemeteries “cities of the dead.”
We saw the tomb of a Confederate general named
Hays, who led a failed attack at Gettysburg. He had a tomb all to himself,
Marcus said, because his relatives didn’t want him in the family crypt. Maybe
they blamed him for the end of slavery.
The Garden District, according to one sign we
saw, has been a National Historic Landmark since 1970-something. Very
prestigious perhaps, but it means that, if you want change the color of your
paint, you need permission.
The houses appear to be roughly of the same
era as the old ones in Cape May, and many are just as colorful. But I saw
something that I haven’t seen for some time. A couple of the freestanding
houses are built from half the plans for what I think is called a semi-detached
house, two separate houses under one roof.
As I was walking around the Garden District, I
was thinking, wow, that drink really went to my head. But then I remembered, I
had ordered an ale at the NOLA Cookery, but didn’t get it. Even so, when the
streetcar brought us back, it was time to crash. So I did for a couple of
hours.
Later, when I was ready to go, Joanna said she
had a craving for Chinese food. I did a quick Google search and came up with
one place within walking distance, Moon Wok on Dauphine Street.
Joanna got a vegetable plate with tofu and I
ordered General Tso’s Chicken. I can’t remember the last time I saw so much
food in a single order. This was enough for four. It came with broccoli, which
had to be served on a separate dinner plate.
I got through maybe a third of the broccoli and
almost half the chicken.
This has been a week for breaking rules. I
packed an extra suit (my tux) and an extra pair of shoes to go with it. I also
violated the first rule of food safety: Never eat anything bigger than your
head.
After dinner, I would never be hungry for the
rest of my life. I didn’t even have room for a drink.
We strolled around a while looking at lights,
including the gate to Louis Armstrong Park on Rampart Street.
Then it was time for lights out.
Good times, all.
Harry
Dec. 28
I guess things have
improved there since the first years after the storm. For the longest time, I
would see stuff on TV and the internet showing all these new restaurants
opening with empty tables and empty streets! From reading your missives, the
place sounds jammed!
But then, Cafe Du
Monde and Acme Oyster house are both big tourist attractions (the latter not so
great in my humble opinion), and it is Christmas week. Did you do any research
on the more off-the-beaten-path type places? Or, are you just going to drift
into places after getting shut out of the familiar ones?
I wish I could make
some recommendations, but it's been over 20 years since I've been there. I used
to love the place!
Do find out about
Magazine Street. There were lots of funky shops and I think there are also
several good places to eat there.
And just so you
know, if you see seafood or fish offered on a po' boy it's always going to be
deep fried! Another sandwich to try is called a muffuletta. This is a New
Orleans take on an Italian submarine sandwich, except it's served on a round
bread. The olive relish is what makes it! The one at Central Grocery, near the
French Market, is famous, but I'm sure there are better ones.
You are staying at
a real hotel. I get that the service isn't great, but can't the concierge help
at all? I rarely stay at nice hotels, but when I do, the first thing I do is
schmooze the concierge (or even someone at the registration desk) and let
him/her know I'm a gastronome interested in local flavors. Where does he/she
like to eat? There are rare times this approach doesn't work, but it often
does, especially in the U.S. They can often wrangle difficult reservations, as
well. Be friendly and empathetic if it seems busy. A little well-placed charm
can go a long way!
As usual, you seem
to be having fun, anyway. You might want to stay away from Bourbon St. on New
Year's Eve.
Enjoy,
Larry
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