Shadow on the Wall

December 30

Joanna had taste for roasted, or at least cooked, oysters. She settled for char-broiled, and that wasn’t a bad deal.

That was breakfast, lunch, whatever, first meal of the day, at Felix’s Oyster Bar. 

It was around 11:30, and a long queue had already formed outside the Acme across the street. But this was the first time we’d seen Felix’s without a line, so we went in, just for the hell of it.

Joanna ordered char-broiled oysters. They cook them at a grill by the front window. Every once in a while flames shoot up, like they’re making Bananas Foster. But no, it’s oysters on the half shell topped with flavored bread crumbs. 

 Joanna cannot bring herself to eat raw seafood and until very recently has preferred not to eat rare meat. This morning she calmly observed that the oysters were not entirely cooked as she forked one into her mouth.

I sampled half an oyster because I have never had them done that way. They were damned good.

I am over-oystered and will lay off for a couple of days. I had a side of red beans and rice to go with blackened alligator. This came in bite-size cubes, very tasty and surprisingly tender. 

We went back to Jackson Square and listened to one of the happiest blues groups ever. It was a brass jazz band. One of the trumpeters liked my hat and tried it on. The musicians were posing with tourists for photos while they were playing.  Nobody missed a beat.

They were selling CDs, so we bought one. It was by a group called To Be Continued, which (the internet says) was formed by high school students about a dozen years ago. I don’t think these are the same guys. Maybe they support TBC and were doing covers. These guys looked too old to have been in high school as recently as 2002.

Joanna wanted a hot chocolate, so we took one look and gave up again on Cafe du Monde. Only the most dedicated or obsessive tourists are going to stand in a line like that.

We went to Restaurant Stanley on the corner of St. Ann and maybe Chartres Street instead. The chocolate was rich and the mimosa as good as the one I had there the other day.

We walked uphill from there, and as we crossed Royal Street, a band was playing “House of the Rising Sun.”

It was very appropriate, because I took Joanna up Conti Street to see No. 1026. It’s the last building on the left before Rampart. This is the house where Norma Wallace operated a brothel in the ’30s and ’40s. According to a biography of Wallace called “The Last Madam,” there was a hidden room where the girls and johns could duck and hide during a raid.

The house had previously been owned by a photographer, Ernest Bellocq, who did portraits of prostitutes.

Bellocq and Wallace are both remembered on a sign hanging over the front porch.

During our wanderings we stopped and made reservations for Friday afternoon at Galatoire’s on Bourbon Street. Karl says their turtle soup may be the best soup ever.

Dinner today was probably uninspired, but fun. After eating oysters, crawfish, offal, and other wonderful exotica for the past several days, we were both craving hamburger. One of the best places we have ever been for that is across Royal Street from our hotel. Ole Saint serves coarse beef. Joanna thinks the meat may be ground only once. It’s so good that Joanna will enjoy it even if it’s pink inside.

We both ordered burgers and shared a side of Brussels sprouts. I have often had sprouts with steak before, but never hamburger. But the meat is strong enough to hold up to the bitterness of the vegetables. 

The LA 31 biere noir was like a thin porter. OK, but more malt than hops, so not one of my favorites. I followed it with a pale ale, whose name I have forgotten and was much better.

We’ll be back at Ole Saint again tomorrow because it’s the first place in the half-dozen we tried that wasn’t booked solid all day for the 31st.  I think that’s some kind of holiday.

One of the great sights here at night is the back of the St. Louis Cathedral. There is a large statue of Jesus blessing the world. At night, they light it from below with a flood lamp so the shadow spreads over the entire back wall of the church. That’s the photo of the day. Or the night, as the case may be.

We went into a couple of shops on Royal Street to look for earrings to go with the peacock feathers in Joanna’s new hat, which we picked up at Trashy Diva the other day. A couple of options came close, but we didn’t find the right green or blue.

We had to go back to Naughty Street, as the kid called it.

It was too cold for strippers to be out in their underwear, but everybody else was in place. The Crowne Plaza, maybe this whole part of town, seems to be the gathering place for Ohio State fans. 

Ohio State is playing Alabama in the Sugar Bowl on New Year’s Day. The hotel and the neighborhood are flooded by people in red Ohio State sweatshirts and ball caps.

I have indirect connections to both universities through my job. Ohio State has a team largely of undergraduates who develop high-speed electric cars, which compete at Bonneville. The team holds all the electric heavy-car class land speed records. One of their cars was powered by a bank of batteries, another by a fuel cell. Both clocked over 300 mph on the salt flats. Cool, huh?

A group from Alabama invited me to join them on the Weightless Wonder in March 2001. The plane, operated by NASA, flies arcs over the Gulf of Mexico that leave you weightless for 30 seconds at a time. They were conducting an experiment to record the vital signs of a flame in zero gravity.

But I digress.

There is street music all over the French Quarter. From people with poorly tuned guitars to others with amps and mics, sometimes entire bands. Electric fiddle is popular. There are also young men and boys with bottle caps on their sneakers dancing without accompaniment. 

I believe this is actually how tap dancing was invented—by kids working for tips on the street in American cities. I may have read that somewhere. Has anybody heard anything like that? If so, please pass it along.

We have lots more cool stuff lined up for today, so I’m going to call it quits for now.

Blessings to everybody.

Harry

Dec. 31

TRASHY DIVA! I love that place. Don't even get me started on the storefront they have dedicated to zany shoes  :)

I don't know if you're game for a cocktail bar, but I have to recommend French 75, attached to Arnaud's Restaurant if you get a chance:

http://www.arnaudsrestaurant.com/french-75/

Sadly New Orleans is not a beer town, BUT d.b.a. on Frenchman Street has some good brews. We go to the one in Manhattan from time to time and it's a really friendly, low-key spot. They have 20 taps at the N.O. location, and are between Chartres and Royal Streets. Just walk over Esplanade like two short blocks and you'll be in Frenchman.

Tenebrous Kate