New Orleans, The Eating Ends. For Us. For Now.

The Magic Kingdom?

You could call it that.


I do.

Four days of touring and near gluttony, what are two guys to do . . . eat a little more.

After the perfect lunch we would try an over the top dinner. Thursday night took us back to the Garden District, an area of fertile silt, big trees and big ol’ houses just a streetcar ride west of the Quarter along St Charles. Commander’s Palace Restaurant has been on this quiet little street since 1880.

When I was 20-something I took my visiting parentals to NYC’s Tavern on the Green. Not for the food, not for the bevy of hovering waitrons, not for the dress code, for the experience. This reminded me of Tavern. Brian even noticed the similarities and he wasn’t even there, the first time. This place was like that but better.

We were seated in the back corner of what seemed like the 5th of 4 dining rooms. I say this out of wonder not anger. From the outside the place looks normal, inside it goes on and on in the way that 125 year old destination restaurants tend to do. I hardly remember what we had but like I said we were there for fun. I do remember an appetizer of a trio of soups, one of which was turtle, the waitress’ smiling professionalism and the Peach Shortcake that CAME with my meal. I do remember the suddenly appearing waitrons who would materialize, one per plate, deliver the food, smile-nod and disappear. I love that. Oh, and the food was good, too.

Friday, July 3rd, was our last day in New Orleans. We planned a Jazz breakfast at Bourbon Street the Court of The Two Sisters and lunch at the famous Acme Oyster House near the hotel and then to the airport by three. We were up early. We got to The Court. Judiciously, it doesn’t open until 9. This is a bit late for us early risers. So we kept walking. Back towards Jackson Square, St. Louis Cathedral and then further east to the older, lower, quieter part of the Quarter. We were hungry, we knew Stanley’s. So, t looks like a nice ice cream parlor but . . . First, we just ordered coffee, then, deciding we were hungry we ordered breakfast, expecting mere food, we were pleasantly surprised. My Egg’s Stanley, a modification of Benedict topped with fried Oysters, was delicious. Brian got corned beef hash, (in New Orleans?!?), but ,in his defense, it was VERY nice.

We eventually made it back to the hotel, checked out, checked our bags, and headed, around the corner, to “Friday Lunch”. This, we learned, is a N.O. tradition, an event. Get in line early with the rest of the city, wait awhile, a long while, and then spend a few hours over a lot of food, preferably great, with a few friends, preferably good.

By 11:30 there was a line down the block at ACME. Like the Roadrunner, we stopped in our tracks. They were packed, our bags were packed, we were more than sated, we had done the tourist thing, the food thing, the thing thing. We headed back to the hotel, a cab to the airport and a brief rest at the Sky Club. The New Orleans food world had won, we had given up, like the coyote,raised the white flag. In our case, the napkins.

It may have won but it owes us a meal.

AND I plan on collecting.

- - - David

A little more Eating in New Orleans: Part Three

The ceilings are as high as our expectations had become in this town.

For dinner on Wednesday in New Orleans We walked a few blocks and into a place I will admit the snob in me never thought I would. An Emeril Lagasse restaurant. BAM! It's not his food, no, he's just a little too, too for me, a little too energetic, a little too infomercial. But this place came so highly recommended, I mean not only everyone BUT Jeff likes it, how could I not? I am glad we did.

Appetizers were broiled oysters and a sausage brushetta. Dinners were Rib Eye for him and a Pork Tenderloin, the freshest green beans and the most amazing dish of Mac n' Cheese I EVER had.

Dessert was a lucious Strawberry Shortcake I meant to share.

I think there might have been a chilled bottle of French Rosé in there somewhere.

And so ended our third night in New Orleans. BAM!

The morning dawned and a new day beckoned. But it did so gently with hot coffee and A few fried orbs of sugared dough around the corner from our hotel at a little off shoot of a more famous place in the Court of the Two Sisters. Cafe Beignet. We did eat outside in a shaded court. So it was a yellow Police Station, it was nice and their were kittens.

We took a ride out to the Garden Distict for a little touring and to check out our dinner restaurant (anal, yes, but I did say this trip had a bit of a food theme). As we made out way into the Garden District we came accross B's 1st New Orleans Cemetary, BONUS! Well, he put up with it nicely, I was the excited one. First a streetcar, touring houses, viewing a cemetery and checking plans . . . heaven.


Then a ride back into the French Quarter and a cab to a piece of heaven we would both agree to. "Willie Mae's Scotch House", in the 9th Quarter, for the WORLD'S BEST FRIED CHICKEN. The afternoon was bright and hot, the line was long, carefully clinging to the shadows but friendly, we opened the door to give them a name and we’re met with the aroma of the gods.

This made the seemingly LONG wait both endurable and invigorating. We were let in at last and presented with a family plate of chicken I swear was the best thing these lips EVER met. (And I’ve been around). The coating was ethereal and slightly spicy and the meat was perfect, just perfect. Even the Red and Butter Beans were angelic.

I WILL be back.

- - - David

Eating in New Orleans: Part Two

There are a lot of places to eat in New Orleans, and even more delicious things to taste.

We did our very best to go to as many places and try as many things as we could.

These are our stories.

Tuesday night (June 30th, 2009) we thought we would try a real “old-line” restaurant. Yes the waiters were in tuxes, yes we had to wear jackets, yes pretty much everything was sauced. But everything WAS good and I constantly felt that a chorus of “Mame” could break out any second. The Place was Galatoire’s and, yes, it’s on Bourbon Street It’s almost the only authentic place left there amid the 20 something bars, the Larry Flynt this and Hustler that. This is the kind of hetero “moral values” with which I can agree.

Galatoire’s has been there since 1905. It’s bright and tiny tiled and the tables are covered in white and the dinnerware is bright white, loud and plentiful. We started with Oysters Rockefeller and Oysters en Brochette. The fist is well known but we’d never had them and decided it was time. The latter was wrapped in bacon, breaded and delicious. Entrees were Trout Amandine for B (butter-toasted almond slivers on trout fillets dusted with flour, sauteed in butter, moistened with a bit of lemon and garnished with parsley) and Crabmeat Sardou for me (hunks of sweet crab atop artichoke hearts with spinach under a blanket of hollandaise sauce) This was accompanied by Potatoes Soufflé. AND for dessert we had, well, we were cut off, or our sweet waiter thought we had eaten as much as we could, or he thought we didn’t want any but we would have tried . . . so Brian sipped black coffee but we would have “tried” the Banana Bread Pudding.

Wednesday morning found us AGAIN at Mother’s this time for the famous “breakfast at Mother’s” I had read about. B got some kind of omelet (I asked him to get grits) and I ordered their ham on a biscuit. Lordy. The ham was thick cut, moist and well, hammy. The biscuit was definitely fresh made; chewy, soft, melting, real delicious. I had to stop myself from coming back here for lunch.

Luckily, for Brian, we didn’t. Lunch took us walking across town to Jackson Square and beyond into the French Market. There lies a famous Italian Market/Grocery/Deli known as Central Grocery and the very, very famed some would say legendary Muffaletta. Something B now describes as “the best sandwich I’ve ever had”. It begins with the bread: Fresh, pure. aromatic, round, squat, Italian, sesame seeded amazement. Then that’s layered with deli: ham, cheese, salami, Then THAT’S topped with a concoction called “olive salad”. Wrapped it paper, eaten at a formica counter with a crowd of fellow "muffas”, priceless. The place is crowded, noisy, famous, wonderful. Ya gotta!

I almost forgot. There was another stop between Mother's and Central. I mentioned we went walking? On the way down Chartres St. to revisit the convent and to prove to me that the corn hotel really existed and to see the Zulu exhibit (I hope to get to all this) we passed Stanley's a little place right on Jackson Square and by the Cathedral and in one of the apartment buildings put up by the Baroness Pontalba in the 1850's and B was a little peckish so he ordered a little ice cream and fruit, etc., just the thing for 2nd Breakfast on a hot sultry morn.

Yet more stories (and FOOD) to come . . . there is SO much, try as we did, there was still much untasted.

- - - David

Eating in New Orleans: Part One

The wait was ALWAYS worth it.
It WAS New Orleans.
This trip was all about the food.
The only things we planned were Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner.
The chefs, the staff, the food were still there
and this was OUR way to support the community

I landed a little before 5 P.M. last Monday. Brian was at the airport, we jumped in a cab and by 6:30 we had dropped my bags at the W on Chartres St. in the French Quarter and walked to Bayona for dinner.

The postings on facebook had worked. On the back of an envelope I had scribbled our food plan for the week. All the places were suggested by friends, and a few friends of friends, and we were booked solid for breakfast lunch and dinner until Friday. Bayona was the first stop.

An old townhouse had been converted into a white table cloth restaurant. We wobbled out way the few blocks and were met with utter bliss. Although traditional, the dinner was a fresh 2009 take on Creole/French/New Orleans tradition. Apps, Dinner and dessert never stopped amazing us. . . and we ate every bite.

And Good Night.

We made it to the most touristy, but authentic and stop-worthy spot for breakfast. Between the French Market and the base of Jackson Square, right next to the Mississippi levee, Cafe Du Monde. Coffee with Chicory and a plate of freshly fried to order Beignets dowsed with powdered sugar. Heaven. My taste usually runs more to the savory than the sweet Firrst thing in the morning. But these hot doughy sugared pillows took my breath away. The equally word famous beverage, Coffee and Chicory, is the perfect match. Hot, smooth, soft, not bitter, it goes well with the hot pillows. But this is where the “touristy” rears its head, it’s served at the table, in styrofoam. At least the “cup” makes a nice FREE souvenir. (Orange juice, milk, soda and pricier souvenir are available.

For Lunch we left the French Quarter and headed across Canal to Poydras Street and Mother’s, a “blue-collar” “restaurant” where you order at the counter, grab your drink (cold Local beer in the fridge), sit at any available table, and are served by a “strictly no tipping” waiter. The Food is the draw here: 19 Huge Po’ Boy sandwiches on the menu, “regular” items include gumbo, jambalaya, étouffée, red beans and rice, and then there’s daily specials, and lets not forget the ham.

But more on that later. I had a simple fried Oyster Po’boy and Brian had something called Famous Ferdi Special (Ham, Roast Beef, Debris and Gravy Po’ Boy). What is Debris you ask? It’s the beef that falls into the pan while the roast is cooking. I have a feeling it started that way but that some beef must be specially slivered for the purpose now . MY GAWD you should see the line and hear how many people order Debris. Mother’s is out of the Quarter so it’s ONE of the places that were hard hit by Katrina. Evacuated. Closed for weeks. Then rebuilt and sanitized, the parking lot acting as a refuge for the workers and their families.

I may love the food in New Orleans (and I do!) but I love the spirit of survival and of sense of neighborliness more.

Quite the Life (Ma Vie en Le Vieux Carré)

Staying in New Orlean’s French Quarter reminded me of life . . . AND of living

The balcony of our room at the W on Chartres Street (sorry, no cast iron)

We’re back but I seemed to have left a part of me there. Every few minutes my heart and mind turn to the streets of New Orleans. Whether it’s a 17th Century Convent or a 21st Century restaurant, if you come across a grey haired guy with a far away look in his eyes who looks like me, that’s where I am.

Five days isn’t a long time, but it seems like five hundred years. What is so damned special with New Orleans? If you’ve been keeping up with me on facebook, you’ll know my first answer. I’ll start with the food first, and lot’s of it, in my next entry. Soon.

- - - David