Down in Da Quarter

Go to Cafe Du Monde, eat beignets.

There is a treasure in New Orleans that many a tourist stop by, but sometimes those of us that live here skip over: the French Quarter. No area of town gets more hype and is as well-known outside of the city. And sometimes those of us that live here can have a lot of fun down there, sometimes, maybe not the Saturday before Mardi Gras, but sometimes. Although there will always be those strange Metairie and Kenner people who couldn't imagine traveling that far to fight for parking. Lucky for me, I live on St. Charles Avenue and as such I can hop on the streetcar (please don't call it trolley) whenever I need to get downtown. Unlike San Francisco regular people use the streetcar too and it's not expensive, just a $1.25 one way, or $3.00 for an all day pass. Just yesterday I hopped on the streetcar with my friend J.A. to go traipse around the Quarter in search of street musicians and a good time. I would say they we were quite successful at finding both.

While the hustle and bustle of Bourbon Street is a good time, it's very repetitious. It goes something like this: Pizza n' Daiquiri, Strip Club, Shitty Music Club, Bad T-shirt Shop, Chicken n' Daiquiri, Rinse & Repeat, and that's til you get to the gay section of Bourbon, which is pretty much the same, just gay. Venture out from Bourbon street after you get your drink and head over to Royal. Here you will find many a street musician proudly displaying their talents for tips. And you will stumble across some good music. We ran into Jackson Ramsey, playing the fiddle and belting bluegrass standards, which was awesome. I found Tanya and Doris to be especially captivating. They were playing around with, and improving over the top of some great classical jams. In fact if you want a taste you can check out this video, by clicking here. While J.A. and I wandered around the Quarter for awhile, we kept finding ourselves drawn back to this duo, or maybe it was just me. At one point, a friend of the violinist, Tanya, came up and she begged them to play, they declined offering money, and she said, "I don't want your money, just play for me." It was a beautiful moment.

L to R, top to bottom: Streetcar, Onion Rings, Cafe du Monde Employees,
Jambalaya, Who Dat Santas made of Cypress, Gumbo,
Pat O'Briens, Pat O's Courtyard, Street Sign next to STL Cathedral.

We of course stopped and got Beignets at Cafe du Monde just to feel extra touristy, but to be fair, they're freakin' delicious. After spending the day struttin' around the Quarter we hopped back on the streetcar and got off to go to Joey K's. You can find it on Magazine Street a little bit closer to uptown than Cafe du Monde! Ha. This little seafood joint has been attacked by the local artist Simon. If you've been around the city you've seen his stuff, or if you've just watched News with a Twist. Anyway, I think hangin' out in the Quarter, eating beignets and what not is pretty damn New Orleans. Oh yeah, and Geaux Saints, we still love you, even though you lost to the Chiefs. I promise to continue to support the hell out of y'all right now. WHODAT!! God Bless You Boys!

Yeah You Right, Joe.

The Tree & Liuzza's by the Track

See we don't just party ... we relax too.

Sometimes, you just need to take yourself on a date, and after the busy-ness of the past couple weeks it was time. And really, when I say I went on a date by myself - I  mean I went on a date with a tree. I'm in a committed relationship with the Chime Tree at City Park. If you've never found the Chime Tree (and yes it DESERVES capital letters) stop what you're doing, open your planner and make yourself a date with a tree. And while you're there, look around at all the other amazing things that City Park has to offer. (Fun fact: City Park has more square footage than Central Park) The walking paths alone offer a great retreat within the city. There is also the New Orleans Museum of Art which deserves a looksie if you get the chance. But honestly, for me, the best part of NOMA is what's outside in the Sculpture Garden.  There is a giant safety pin (as pictured above) giant fat women, horses made of sticks, stacks of guitars and even the Blue Dog. If you don't know about the Blue Dog, you should. If it feels like I'm givin' y'all a lot of directives about what to do - I am.

I made my waitress, the beautiful Heather take the photo of me eating.

If you want to have the perfect finish to your tree date - I know just the place, though the Chime Tree may not come with you. (In fact, I don't think they even let trees inside, let alone hire them ... bigots.) The place is Liuzza's By The Track, and this place is as real as it gets.  They are a New Orleans institution, a creole holy ground with horseradish infused Bloody Mary's that sell like hotcakes come Jazz Fest, and the food, My GOD, the food. I must admit the first time I came here - I sinned. I had just moved to the city and my friend Angelle was down to visit her family, she came and picked me up and took to this fine establishment and I ordered a turkey po-boy. At the time I was a mid-westerner through and through and I "thought" I didn't eat seafood. I was so wrong, and I apologize for that mistake. Now I know of shrimp, oysters, and the other fine things that come from the Gulf. I highly recommend getting the BBQ shrimp, their signature dish. I can't even begin to describe how good it is, or the garlic oyster po-boy, so effin' good you can barely handle it, and I might get in trouble for saying this, but I think they have the best gumbo you can get. And if you come here, we are going to Liuzza's. Angelle, sorry about the turkey po-boy, I have been learned in the ways of the Gulf South and their foods, and I repent. So, to sum it up, if you need an afternoon alone, go to City Park, sit under the chime tree, walk the 1/2 mile to Liuzza's and check out the graveyard on the way, and then NOM your life away, unless your allergic to shellfish, and then, just be sad.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Enter Galactic - Beer-Strawberry

This past Saturday night I hopped in my good friend Amanda's car and we headed down Napoleon, parked at Rouses, and headed towards Tipitina's. It was still early in the night, unseasonably cool, (like 85 and breezy) and by 9:45 we had secured a spot just a few steps from the guardrail. The opening act, mynameisjohnmichael, came on at about 10 and played a funky indie-rock set. It was a six-piece band featuring, in classic New Orleans style, a brass section. They closed with that good ole Christian hymn, "Will the Circle be Unbroken?" and were joined by the trumpeter from Mumford & Sons, Nick Etwell. They did in fact "take me to church" as promised by John Michael himself, but if they took me to church, Galactic funked me all the way to Jesus.

Galactic is a funk band in the way that Led Zeppelin is a rock band, or like Earl Scruggs is a banjo player. That is - they are innovative, distinctive, and at the top of their game. To me, and this pains me to say (as a P-Funk Junky), Galactic plays the music I wish I could hear at a George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars show. But Alas, P-Funk plays a lot of hit or misses, and Galactic always delivers. They're a jazz-funk-rock all-night party band in which every member is more or less a savant; with a rotating set of guest vocalist and musicians, it seems to be an honor just to get to play with these people. They are a New Orleans band who "cut their teeth playing the biggest party in America: Mardi Gras." And in fact, they still play a three night run at Tipitina's during Mardi Gras (or at least they did last year), which is probably the nastiest, funkiest, most ragin' party to ever happen on a Monday night anywhere, ... just sayin'. Anyway, they were joined by Corey Glover, of In Living Color, and in fact played "Cult of Personality." Which I JUST FOUND OUT was Cult, all this time I thought it was Dose, OOPS! But the highlight of the night for me was when House Man, aka Theyrl DeClouet, the original vocalist for Galactic came out to sing "There's Something Wrong with this Picture," and then, yelling at Corey Glover to join him they played the hardest, nastiest, most beautiful thing I might have ever heard, "Bittersweet." If somebody recorded that show and has this, I will pay you. It was transcendent. I was literally taken over body and soul. I could continue to talk about how FREAKING AMAZING this show was, but I must move on.

Yes, their art is Jerry Garcia with a beer.

After a very late night at Galactic, (I left at 3am when my feet no longer had any feeling in them) I got up early (like 9:30am, which is early to me) and got ready to go to one of my favorite places in the city, Cooter Brown's. My friend LeeAnn picked me up and our collective WHODAT would have been hard to deal with, most especially for baseball loving yankees. And I was pumped, first of all, as LeeAnn says, "NFL season is the most wonderful time of the year." Second, it was a Saints game, and I freakin' love Saints games. And third, we were headed to Cooter Browns. I ordered food at this fine uptown establishment and while I didn't get it this time, I recommend the heart-attack-inducing Coon Ass Special: Two Crawfish Pies covered in remoulade on thick French bread. Also the wings, and the soft-shell crab po-boy, just go there and eat. SO GOOD.  They have more beer than everywhere else. Don't believe me? Check out the BEER LIST. One of my favorite things about Cooter's is that they even have out-of-season beers. Sometimes, especially for a noon game, I don't want to start with a dark beer, I want an Abita Strawberry. Y'know, a good breakfast beer. And while it's "supposedly" a spring seasonal ... they have it.

Unless you're at Cooter's, then this ad is a lie. 

And really, I can't think of anything more New Orleans, than drinking an Abita while watching the Saints, after a long night of live funk music. And while the Saints lost, at least football is back, funk is still played, and Abita still flows freely. But I gotta say, I miss Sean Payton.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Mid-Summer Mardi Gras

My boat, the USS Isaac Sukz

Last night we had a party in New Orleans, a party to celebrate that Mardi Gras is only 6 months away. Yes, you read that right, we are partying to celebrate the partying that will occur in 6 months. The Krewe of Oak throws this party and parade the last weekend of August every year. While the name Oak probably comes from the street that the parade starts and ends on - Krewe members will say that it stands for "Outrageous and Kinky." And honestly this isn't a family-friendly parade. This year's theme "Motorboatin' on Oak," inspired my boat costume. I christened my boat, The USS Isaac Sukz, because I want this stupid storm to just go away, but more about that later. I met up with a group of friends and we boated on down the street to catch the parade.

The parade rolled at 7:30 on Oak Street and was quite a show. There were a number of the wildly named female dance crews, including the Muff-A-Lotta's and the Bearded Oysters. The walking parade had a lot of pull cart floats and decorated bicycles, and even a few cardboard boats, much like my own. The parade rolled up to Palmer Park on the corner of Carrollton and Claiborne. The beverages, brass, and brazen bawdiness of that party was out of control. Music flowed from every direction and people were boogying down. Eventually a brass band led us back down Carrollton and we continued the dance party down to Oak Street. In front of the Maple Leaf Bar and Jacque Imo's Cafe (if you ever get the chance go into this fine establishment and get the alligator cheesecake) there was a pool filled with a number of my friends and students. I did not get in it for fear that my boat wouldn't actually float. After wildly sprinting through the streets and a couple of falls I reunited with my people and we began the long walk home. Mid-Summer Mardi Gras Bash - YOU WERE AWESOME. And I'm so pumped for Mardi Gras this year it's sort of stupid.

Not Cool Isaac. Not Cool.

And just to let you know, I'm very very anxious about the upcoming storm, and if we have to evacuate I'm coming to you Missouri. And let me just say that I hate all the spaghetti models and constant coverage of the storm, because it's just making me more nervous as opposed to getting me ready.  Our Lady of Prompt Succor, hasten to help us. Pray for us down here, we need it. May God keep us all safe, and make good decisions. God bless all of you!

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Viet-Noms? Pho Sure!

For lunch today, my much-calmer-and-more-put-together friend Jonathan and I set our for a strange but wonderful New Orleans adventure. We headed out to the lesser-known far corner of New Orleans - New Orleans East. This little swamp made into suburbia is a unique, if not completely confusing part of the Crescent City. I asked my friend Jonathan to take me there, mostly because he is Asian (and of course I love him and think he's great) and we were headed to "Little Vietnam."  And honestly I was intimidated to go to Little Vietnam without an Asian ... even though Jonathan is technically a Filipino, I don't think anyone noticed.

Note the Guy in the Raiden-Hat.

We went to the Dong Phoung Oriental Bakery for an early lunch, and let me tell you, it's freakin' awesome. Except, and sorry to all the tapioca-ball-eating weirdos out there, Boba tea - I just think eating my drink is a little weird, unless it's a jello shot. I ordered the appetizer, Banh Xeo, basically an egg-heavy crepe filled with pork fat, shrimp, bean sprouts and green onions. And then came the GALLON of Pho  that I ordered (Note: hyerbolic language being used). I ordered the Pho Tai Nam, mostly because it sort of sounded like Vietnam, and in my misguided and semi-ridiculous approach to life I thought that meant authenticity. Anyway, it was so good, and I'm actually glad that I have the other half-gallon in the fridge. Be jealous, be very jealous, or just go there and get some for yourself, one or the other.

 Being that this is New Orleans and we love eating more than we should I then went into the bakery side of the Dong Phuong Bakery and Restaraunt and bought meat pies and Banh mi, a Vietnames po-boy of sorts. There was some 15 different kinds of Banh mi, and I decided (again for the sake of authenticity) to get the Viet-sausage. Though I don't think that sausage is a Vietnamese word. Again, it was all so good, and the Bahn mi is only $3.25 for a whole freakin' sandwich, a steal of a deal.

So if you're looking for an adventure, and you happen to have an Asian with you, I would suggest going to New Orleans East and Viet-Nom-Noming through a whole array of random and delicious foods.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Dat Chicken

One of the many beautiful things about this city is eating, our food in NOLA is always a set of religious experiences. And while you can find a lot of good food in the Quarter, you need to find a neighborhood restaurant stuck between a couple houses in an unassuming building if you want to see the culinary life of this glorious city. Let's not forgot that eating is my favorite. I think Mike Piazza in his book, Why New Orleans Matters explains our deep love of food quite well: "It is a point of honor to make food that tastes good - I don't think a New Orleanian would even understand the concept of turning out blah food so you could just eat and run." (By the way, this is an awesome book if you want to get a little perspective on Katrina, and the deep love the people have for this place, go ahead, read it.) So a few weeks ago I posted about the famous Mother's Restaurant here in New Orleans. And now I'm going to post about another restaurant, that I'd try to take you to if y'all come visit. It's in Mid-City, and it has some of the best noms I've had recently.

Now many people think that they have found the Holy Grail of Fried Chicken, but my friend, unless you're talking about Willie Mae's Scotch House, you are mistaken. The breading, or maybe more correctly the crust on the chicken is enough to make you question whether or not you're currently in Heaven. Tucked between Orleans Avenue and Esplanade on St. Ann, this is one of those unassuming-where-the-hell-are-we-hard-to-find kind of places. And while I have only been a few times, let me tell you, Ms. Peachez ain't got shit on the Fried Chicken at Willie Mae's. The building itself is so obviously an old house it's almost humorous. It's composed of small spaces with tight tables, and one of the most attentive and sweet staffs I've encountered. I went there for lunch today with my friend J.A. Our waitress Sylvia was great and honestly just fun. The menu only has four entreés: fried chicken, chicken-fried pork, pork, or veal. And while I knew the chicken was the best fried chicken I've ever had, in the spirit of trying to "DO ALL THE NEW ORLEANS" I decided to try something new and go with the gravy smothered veal. It was the right decision. The peppery-buttery gravy pooled around some of the most tender meat I may have ever eaten. The portions are giant, and while I was full half-way through my meal - I would not, I could not stop eating. And then just for good measure, I ate some of J.A.'s chicken too. If you get the chance go get some of this, it'll make your life a little bit better.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Red Dress Run, and Abita Wheat

Amanda & I, at 8:30 a.m.

I came home with a strange sunburn yesterday - a deep red V shined down by my front and back sides. Now, based on the ridiculousness that is my life, you think I would have had a weird sunburn from wearing a dress before, but in fact - this was my first I-dressed-like-a-girl-and-got-a-sunburn, sunburn. And it was completely worth it. When I woke up yesterday, around 7:30 a.m. it was raining and I surely wasn't thinking about the possibility of getting burned. I took a shower and pulled on my red dress, ready for this year's Red Dress Run. The Red Dress Run is a "Run" started by the Hash House Harrier's, a self-proclaimed "Drinking Club with a Running Problem." And while we are not the only city to have a Red Dress Run, we certainly have the biggest.

We got down to the French Quarter fairly early and after making some new friends on the bus, we stumbled upon a bar on Bourbon (at 9:30 in the morning no less) that proclaimed "Free Beer for all Red Dress Runners." We promptly entered Bourbon Live and got our first drinks. There were drinking stations throughout the Quarter, and while this was great, the true prize was at Louis Armstrong Park. There was live music, food, and as much beer, wine, and daiquiri that you could drink. While it was still fairly rainy at 10 am, the park was filling up. Something as silly as rain isn't going to stop a good 'ole NOLA romp. The "run" which we walked, started at 11. And while some of the more fit and trim folks jogged up ahead, personally I didn't want to spill any of the Abita Wheat that I had acquired. We walked around the Mahalia Jackson Theatre and I found myself once again, in the Treme, dancing down Governor Nichols Street, (see last week's blog if you wanna know what I'm talking about).

The Run died when it came back into the Quarter and a rather ragin' street party (including random mobile DJ and stripper's pole) had erupted right outside of Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop. (If you ever get the chance this "piano bar" was built in the early 1700s, and even if the electricity is out, they'll continue to serve you drinks by candlelight.) While the official route of the run might of continued in some direction, most people continued in the direction of Partying. We weaved through the crowd, and danced about, finding our way back to Armstrong Park. While there was most assuredly a helluva party going down in the Quarter - we chose to go to an empty bar on Rampart Street to grab a few Jello Shots. I learned my lesson, knowing that I will never again buy Jello Shots anywhere except from Fat Tuesday's Uptown, where Jello Shots are still 4 for a $1. BEST DEAL EVER. But I digest, or digress, or something.

Finding our way to Armstrong Park again was more than worthwhile. First, because the Hash House Harrier's know how to feed some people. Pulled pork, hot sausage, dirty rice, and pasta salad filled my belly, along with a few Abita Wheats. (Just to let you know there was also Abita Amber, and for the low price of $65 you could drink as much beer and eat as much food as you wanted... just sayin'). The crowd was raucous and no doubt havin' a hell of a time. On our way out of the park we were assured that we were still in New Orleans as a brass band greeted us, tuba and all. Another dance party had begun, and while the run was long over, the Red Dress Party was here to stay. If you happen to be in NOLA next August, sign up, drink a beer, take a jog, and dance the day away. Oh and if you want to feel good, maybe even great, about dressing up as a woman and consuming a great deal of Abita, last year, the Red Dress Run raised over $200,000 for New Orleans Charities. So Hell to the yeah, folks.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Glory, Glory, Halle-Hot Dog

The world is a better place with Dat Dog.

A wise man once said, "The noblest of all dogs is the hot-dog, it feeds the hand that bites it." And I agree. Sometimes it really is the simple things, and one of those "simple" things, is the hot-dog. If you find yourself "way uptown," in my neck of the woods, come over to Freret Street and go to Dat Dog. It ain't your average hot-dog in-murky-water kind of place. They grill everything to order. They have a couple dozen different sausages, from plain ole beef, to turducken and back. I'm not kidding, I'm holding a turducken sausage in this very picture. ---> 
Add unlimited toppings, chili cheese fries, and a modest selection of beer on tap and you're gonna have yourself one hell of a meal, I know I did. Could Dat Dog exist somewhere else? Maybe, but if you took Dat Dog out of Nola, they wouldn't still carry Crawfish, Alligator, or even a regular Louisiana Hot Sausage. So Dat Dog is a home-grown NOLA kind of place.

The Wild Magnolias

Myself and Miss LeeAnn

This past weekend we celebrated something much nobler, yet somehow just as homey as the hot-dog, and that was the birthday of the late, great Louis Armstrong. (Not my best transition, Louis Armstrong is like a hot-dog??... Lord, help us.) In New Orleans style, there was a three day long festival, dubbed Satchmo Summerfest, including live music, seminars, and even "Some of that Old Time Religion." I joined the festivities on Saturday night, opening my Satchmo Summerfest with Big Chief Bo Dollis, Jr., and the Wild Magnolias. They're sort of a funk, jazz, and Indian chant fusion. If you don't know about the Mardi Gras Indians, then you should. And I promise I'll be talkin' about 'em from time to time. They were a good show, but to be honest, they wanted a lot from the audience. When someone yells at me, a few dozen times, "Make some noise," I stop wanting to make so much noise. (This is a great hint if you're ever trying to get me to shut up.) But besides the constant demands, I had a lot of fun, and if you've never seen a funky Mardi Gras Indian Jam, then your missing out.

This morning was my favorite part of Satchmo Summerfest, and one of my favorite things about New Orleans. We went to Church and second-lined from the Church down to the Festival itself, marching down Esplanade and having a hell of a time. Second lining, has become second nature, and right after Church itself, its the second best thing you can do for your soul on a sultry Sunday afternoon in New Orleans. And if you'll allow me a deeply Catholic moment, it was a Body of Christ moment, the diversity at that Church this morning was nothing short of stunning, and it gave me hope for the future and deep sense of peace. So, Mass, was beautiful, the Treme Brass Band played at the Historic St. Augustine Church in the Treme. This Church, which was dedicated in 1842, was one of the first integrated Churches, and was integrated while there was still slavery in the South. From the Church's website:

St. Augustine's Sans Second-Line

"A few months before the October 9, 1842 dedication of St. Augustine Church, the people of color began to purchase pews for their families to sit. Upon hearing of this, white people in the area started a campaign to buy more pews than the colored folks. Thus, The War of the Pews began and was ultimately won by the free people of color who bought three pews to every one purchased by the whites. In an unprecedented social, political and religious move, the colored members also bought all the pews of both side aisles. They gave those pews to the slaves as their exclusive place of worship, a first in the history of slavery in the United States."

We came out of Mass to a second-line parade, a walking parade, that was sponsored by the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club and danced our way down the street. Just a little down Henriette Delille Avenue, catty-corner from the Church is the Backstreet Museum, (which I will visit and write about later) and on the porch were some Mardi Gras Indians, ready to join the second line. We popped in line behind them and listened to the beats and the chants, and we danced.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Dat Drink and Dem Boys

Rusty Nail, Pimm's Cup, and Sazerac

Life is funny, ain't it? In my last post I said that I would be writing about food, music, and "to a lesser extent booze." Well, just this past Sunday evening I found myself at the The Rusty Nail Bar in the warehouse district, and after a few libations were quaffed, it was quickly decided that it was "Classic Cocktail Sunday." I knew that I had to have a Sazerac, and I knew I had to write about it. It was my first of the Famous Cocktail, and I can honestly say, it'll probably be my last. It's literally Herbsaint, Rye Whiskey, and Bitters. While it may be the official drink of New Orleans, as proclaimed by the Louisiana government no less, it ain't my official drink. So I had to move on, I had a Pimm's Cup, a step down from the manly burn of Sazerac, and it was delicious. Finally, if you ever go to the Rusty Nail, order a bacon-infused old fashioned. It's an old-fashioned using bacon-infused bourbon and maple syrup instead of simple syrup. I'm pretty sure it's the breakfast of the highest choir of angels. I am completely in love with this particular cocktail, and if you go there, you might just catch me at the bar, sipping on bacon whiskey.

Drinking, like so many things in New Orleans, is infused with and somehow a bigger part of the Spirit of New Orleans. One highly visible aspect of this Spirit, is the Saints. To understand a bit about the Saints you really have to understand and feel the resurrection story of the Superdome. During Katrina, the Superdome was a mismanaged hellhole, that I can't even begin to explain or understand. But in the wake of the storm, in the rebirth, the Superdome rose once again. On September 25, 2006 the Dome reopened to an electric crowd. U2 and Green Day played, backed by Trombone Shorty, New Birth, and Rebirth. The Saints played a hell of a game, beating the Atlanta Falcons 25-3. On only the fourth play of the game, Steve Gleason blocked a punt causing the ball to roll into the Atlanta End Zone, where Curtis Deloatch epically dived upon the ball for the Saints first touchdown. Having been to a few games myself, I can only image the Who Dat was out of control for a hot minute. 

Drew, launching a pass at training camp.

So, if you haven't figured it out, the Saints are a big freakin' deal to us down here. They are the Resurrection Story of the Crescent City told in the Cathedral of the Dome, starring Breesus, King of the Drews! I might be getting a little hyperbolic, but if so - barely. The Saints are bigger than themselves and are connected to the city in a way that is deep and real. So this morning I went to watch the Saints practice at their training facility in Metairie, LA. You get to sit on metal bleachers - like at a high school soccer game, not comfortable, but within spittin' distance. We mostly watched drills, getting to watch both Drew Brees and Chase Daniels throw a hell of a lot of footballs. And Sproles seems even smaller, and if you can believe this, faster in real life than on TV, or even from a seat in the Dome. He's damn quick, and Jimmy Graham was lookin' great too. As my buddy Alex and I were walking out into the parking lot we saw a man and his young daughter rushing towards the training facility. "Are they still going to sign stuff after the practice?" He asked.

"Yep, they're practicing for another 45, and then they'll sign stuff for 10 or 20 minutes," my buddy Alex answered.

"Oh thank God, we drove here all the way from Houston," the stranger said as he rushed away with his daughter. Who Dat! INDEED, Sir. 


I'm so excited for football to start it's sort of ridiculous. I mean, y'know baseball isn't bad. All of the fun of football packed into 162 4-hour games... I hate baseball. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not sorry. And I can't wait to write about how the Saints are going to be the first team to ever win the Super Bowl on their own field without their head coach. WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS?!?!


Yeah You Right, Joe.

Eating is my favorite

I've never had the Ham.

When people ask me if they should visit New Orleans I normally respond, "Only if you like food, music, or booze." And seriously, if you don't like any of these three things, don't come to New Orleans. You'll be wasting your time, and seriously if you don't like any of those three things, don't talk to me either, you'll be wasting my time. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'm probably going to write a lot about food and music, and to a lesser extent booze. It's not that these three things are the Holy Trinity of New Orleans (or should I say mirepoix) but they're damn important, and they're damn fun.

Always Jambalaya. Always.

So eating, eating is my favorite. So is live music, but we'll get to that, for now, eating is my favorite. And when y'all come visit me I'm going to take you to one of four places, Mother's, and three other places I'll go to and write about soon enough. But first, Mother's! My God, I love this place. This past Friday night I went to Mothers, where people have been getting grub since 1938, and I got what I always get: Jambalaya. If you've never had the Jambalaya at Mother's get off your butt and go get some this week, if you live in New Orleans that is. It is honestly the best Jambalaya I have had in the city. It has big chunks of chicken and nickels of andouille, and I like to add just a little hot sauce myself. And if you're feeling like you want to overeat to the point of gluttony - get a pancake. Mother's has all the New Orleans Favs: Etouffe, Shrimp Creole, Gumbo, Po-Boy's, (and I've tried most everything, and never had a bad meal) but their breakfast is just as good, and their pancakes, which will cover your plate are about as fluffy as a, well, a pillowy bunny-cat, cloud thingy - that's really freakin' fluffy. Just do it. Get a pancake and feel better. Supposedly they have the world's best baked ham, but ... I've never had it. (Fun Fact: There are recipes on the Mother's website for all their best dishes.)

Now, once you have some good stick-to-your-rubs New Orleans Noms, you're ready to party, or at least I am. And if there is anything we do well in NOLA, it's party, all you gotta do is find it. On Friday during the Summer, that's a pretty easy thing to do, since Tipitina's has FREE FRIDAY'S. Every Friday there is a free show on the corner of Napoleon and Tchoupitoulas and the party lasts 'til, well whenever it happens to end. This past Friday, the "Iko Allstars," played a set of Grateful Dead covers, which, if you ask around, are hard to come by. This might be because the Grateful Dead (and Fleetwood Mac) were arrested in NOLA in 1970. "Busted down on Bourbon Street, set up, like a bowling pin. Knocked down, it gets to wearin' thin, they just won't let you be." ~from Truckin' by The Grateful Dead.

Anywho, the Iko Allstars were a lot of fun, comprised of New Orleans musicians, coming from bands as different as the Wild Magnolias, The Radiators, and the Neville Brothers, it was a heck of a show. While some of the GD die-hards didn't like the New Orleans funky-spin put on the songs, I enjoyed the hell out of it, and will be watching out for this band to come around again. Lead man Billy Iuso, led the group through GD classics, like One More Saturday Night, and Shakedown Street, even playing the drums for the mandatory 15 minutes that Dead shows require. All in all, it was a Good Friday, and if the past is any indicator I'll be back to Tip's pretty quick. In fact, Galactic is playing September 8th, so I'm in.

Yeah You Right, Joe.

Talk Too Much, Laugh Too Loud

I moved here in August of '09 and had no idea what the hell I was doing. I moved here for grad school, and came based mostly on the recommendation of my former boss Angelle. She guaranteed me that I would love living in New Orleans, that the city, much like me, partied all night, but was still Catholic in the morning. I would have came just for the to-go cups, but I couldn't even fathom the idea.

Mardi Gras 2011

I knew nothing of New Orleans. My preconceived notions revolved around tubas, boobies, drunkenness, and Mardi Gras. I had heard of Katrina, but didn't really understand it (after living in the city for three years I still really don't understand it.) But I was ready for an adventure. Before moving here I didn't visit, I just found an apartment and moved. The only "research" I did was a bit of cruising on the old YouTube and I stumbled upon a video of Anthony Bourdain's, No Reservations. And while I can't really remember anything Tony said, he introduced me to Chris Rose, an author and columnist that we here in NOLA love. (Read 1 Dead in Attic when y'all get the time) and Chris Rose said:

No, But Really?

"Dear America, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. We're South Louisiana. We might be staying around your town for awhile. You probably already know we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large, and frankly we're suspicious of others who don't. We make jokes at inappropriate times. You probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us can not fathom a life outside our border, out in that place we call elsewhere. When you meet us now and look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. But, don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. And, one more thing, in our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life. So, when all this over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer us in this season of our despair. That is our promise, that is our faith."

And that's when I knew that New Orleans would be for me - loud, laugh-heavy, live-music junkie, foodie, and beer-guzzler - I fit the New Orleans paradigm. There are those of us that once we have lived here, can't understand why people live elsewhere. One of my friends, born and raised here, was asked what it would take for her to move out of New Orleans, "Wild horses couldn't drag my body out of this city," she responded. And she's right, while the rest of use go through the processes of "differentiation of self" or "enmeshment" and wonder about our birth order and how we are going to get the hell out of dodge, in New Orleans they are figuring out how to stay. They want to live next door to their momma's house, eat what they eat, and dance in the street with their to-go cups. And I'm all in. So that's what I'll be doing, living here in New Orleans, and sharing the events as they unfold. And if I go off story, or start talking about wanting to be a priest, or my family, or whatever, don't worry, I talk too much and laugh too loud, and live too large, and I'll get back around to it, sometimes I just gotta make the proverbial block, as long as I don't start to make proverbial groceries, I think we'll be just fine.

Yeah You Right, Joe.