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.