Since adding the baby to our little family we have been searching the city for a new type of restaurant. We used to be looking for a bar with food somewhere with drinks and a good menu or damn good drinks and an ok menu either way we were not concerned so much with the atmosphere. As long as we did not feel as though we might leave the place with blood spatters on our clothes (though that can make for one hell of a story) we were pretty much good to go. Now however things have changed just a bit. The places we frequent for food and drink must be kid friendly. They don’t have to be kid oriented like Chuck E. Cheese but they need to at the least allow children through the doors. They get double points if they actually have high chairs in stock.

Finding these places in a city known for its drunken debauchery can be a little challenging. Ok maybe debauchery is a little far but New Orleans certainly hasn’t been known for its kid friendly aspects. That being said I also find a lack of high chairs in restaurants. We live in the Marigny and sure there are actually quite a few restaurants that we can even walk to that will allow the baby inside but if they don’t have a high chair then it is a logistical challenge to enjoy a meal there. Anyone with kids will tell you it is a bit of a challenge to enjoy a meal in a restaurant with the little one(s) in tow under the best of circumstances so making in harder on me by frequenting non highchair venues is not top on my list of things to do.

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Over the last few weeks some friends and I have been heading out to the hinterland to do some exploring. It began with a trip to Natchez MS.,  with my friend, E.  We visited Longwood and a few other antebellum homes.  Longwood is a must see for architectural buffs. There aren’t many good places to eat in this sleepy town on Sunday but I always go to the Magnolia Cafe on the Mississippi River because I enjoy the dramatic view of the river which is rather humbling here. In fact, they are preparing for a rise in the river as floodwaters from the Midwest move south.  This event threatens the Isle of Capri riverboat gambling stationed near the Magnolia Cafe.

Last week we went on a walking tour of Avery Island and Rip VanWinkle Gardens. These were all really pretty adventures. The flowers are in full bloom. At the end of our safari, we rewarded ourselves with a delicious meal at Cafe des Amis.

Today we pumped it up a notch or two and visited Clark Creek, MS.  I was almost too tired to shower. The hills are a workout that can’t be mimicked on the stairmaster and the waterfalls were really beautiful. It’s a totally different world just 2.5 hrs away.

More Photos Sorry, I didn’t feel like taking photos while in Natchez. Next time for sure.

R.I.P. *

It is with teary eyes and a heavy heart that I report the Bud’s Broiler on Banks St. near Dixie Brewery is now a pile of rubble. It appears to have been bulldozed within the past couple of days. I spent many a lunch hour there eating a #6 with fries, occasionally cheese fries.

Other terrible news: I was driving down Vets last night and noticed the most excellent Super Popeye’s was dark. Their marquee sign displayed a very concise and chilling message: CLOSED. This led me to believe that the restaurant was not just closed early because of weird hours, or even temporarily closed, but closed permanently. This place was a landmark if only for their sign (which depicts the cartoon Popeye wearing a sombrero) and the fact that it was perhaps the only restaurant on the continent serving both Popeye’s Chicken and alcohol. It was so fucking classy that you could buy those little single serving bottles of wine there, and daiquiris too.

On a positive note…
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photo courtesy of Anti-ZIM

I was on Bourbon Street a few weeks ago after the Abita 20th Anniversary Party. Now I love the French Quarter, but Bourbon Street is not usually my cup of tea. I tend to stay towards the darker, seedier, less tourist friendly joints in the French Quarter. Like Dejavu (the restaurant/bar, not the strip club) or One Eyed Jacks.

Well, this time I had a bunch of friends from Baton Rouge with me and Bourbon Street is where they wanted to be. When we got down there, all of the drunks that were with us decided they were hungry. They wanted food, and they wanted it in a hurry. I told them that there were pretty much two choices for quick food in the French Quarter: Lucky Dog, or pizza by the slice at some corner place. Not being brave enough to tempt fate, my friends all agreed on Pizza.
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and, furthermore, The Astonishing Non-universality of Snowballs

Today I had occasion to explain snowballs to my fellow amateur lot graders.

First, a pause for amazement. Snowballs. How can anyone not know about snowballs? Is it only the New Orleans area where people figured out that shaved ice covered in flavored syrup is a great thing to stuff your mouth with in the summer? I mean, sure, exotic flavors like “Frog in a Blender” and “Yellow Cake Batter,” those might be ultra-local, sure, and I’m aware that significant advances in snowball technology were invented right here in New Orleans, but–dude, it’s snowballs! Eating ice! It’s a fairly basic concept, right?

*sigh*

Second, an explanation about lot grading….
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As the heat index rises, there is only one thing in this city that can cool you off like no other refreshing treat, sno-balls. Oddly enough, you can’t find the type of sno-balls in New Orleans anywhere else. Other places call them sno-cones, and my Yankee husband often likes to tell me the horror tales of sno-cones. When I first met him, he proceeded to tell me how much he hated anything treat involving the usage of ice.

This New Orleanian couldn’t believe it and was blown away by someone not liking such a delicious treat like a sno-ball. He might as well have told me he hated Blue Bell ice cream, because hearing that he hated sno-balls was a complete shocker. He questioned why anyone would eat a hunk of ice with Kool-Aid style syrup on top of it. When I told him that wasn’t a sno-ball and introduced him to a real New Orleans style sno-ball from Casey’s over on West Esplanade, in Metairie, he quickly changed his mind. Since that moment, he’s been a fan of the soft ice texture that melts in your mouth and the cream style flavors they offer.
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You won’t be seeing this sign for a little while in Mid-City because my pirate BBQ operation has been shut down. That’s right — closed. Shuttered. Put on hiatus. Whatever you want to call it — Da Man showed up and demanded to see my papers and (surprise!) not all my permits were still valid. I felt bad for the cop, who was apologetic and made sure to tell me he wasn’t sent over by the folks at NOPD headquarters up the street (who have been among my best customers). Bottom line — I’ve got a court appearance scheduled this week to ’splain to the judge why I didn’t jump through all the hoops. It’s really pretty simple, yerhonor — I needed income the fastest way possible and quite honestly didn’t have the time, inclination or money to put up with any red tape. That’s no excuse or reason, I know — but it’s the truth. Folks wanted to buy and I wanted to sell. End of story.
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With today’s ending of JazzFest, this leaves only the upcoming municipal election on the New Orleans calendar for the next month or so — so I suppose it’s time for those of us who live here to again Get Serious about something. Can we? Or do we care anymore?

Not that I’m saying we don’t have Something Serious to do. A lot of us have been facing the most serious times of our lives since The Great Unpleasantness. But since Thanksgiving, there’s always been something coming up — Christmas, New Year, Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s Day, St. Joseph’s Day, French Quarter Fest, JazzFest, etc., to give us another trapeze to jump to. Sure, there’s Memorial Day — but what’s special about THAT in New Orleans? So, in true local style, we’ll have to come up with our own diversions. And don’t give me that Middle America nose-to-the-grindstone hokum. The past eight months have about ground all our noses clean off — so save it for your grandkids, Pops.

Oh yeah! There’s the New Orleans Wine and Food Experience coming up that weekend. More on that below.

Speaking of getting back to work — it’s good to see New Orleans Rum back on the shelves at the local Sav-A-Center. Artist Michalopoulos’ venture on Frenchman took some damage during The Thing, but they were able to save enough to get going again. It was a wonderful fuel for Jimmy Buffett’s show-closer at JazzFest yesterday. I’d link to their Website (www.NewOrleansRum.com), but it’s not operating yet. The New Orleans Amber is particularly delightful for an old sailor like myself and, at about $15, it drinks like a much costlier elixir. We plan a visit soon enough.

…and I bought some parts today at the hardware store. Looks like TBK and I will be back in the cheese-smoking business before long, in addition to the BBQ. We’re aiming to again be a part of the Wine and Food Experience. It’s all for a good cause (local culinary education), so come out if you can.

Wow. I’d forgotten all about that. Now I feel better.

New Orleans is not chocolate city, it is condiment city. We love condiments here. There is stuff on the shelves in our grocery stores that most Americans are completely unfamiliar with. Olive salad. Chow chow. Remoulade. Creole mustard. I mean, we’ve got a friggin HUGE neon Mayonnaise sign in the middle of the city! New Orleans and the rest of the state are home to Zatarain’s, Luzianne, Baumer Foods, Tabasco, Bruce Foods, and more. The sauce output of this state is unmatched. We are serious about the stuff.

So, living in this house without a kitchen sink or a stove, my diet recently has been consisting of lots of things in jars. This eliminates the need for cooking and washing dishes. Specifically I’ve been eating lots of pickles, olives, louisiana strawberries, carrots, sauerkraut, etc. So I’ve been perusing the condiment aisle even more than usual, which is quite a bit.

There are two things to report on this front. First, Zatarain’s has discontinued production of their Fine Cut Chow Chow, a yummy blend of mustard and pickles, perfect on hot dogs. Local stores still have it on the shelves, so stock up if you like the stuff.

Second, I found this salsa at Dorignac’s the other day that’s made in Pontchatoula, by a small outfit called “Pepperland Farms.” Very fresh, very delicious salsa. Highly recommended.

That is not only the title of a Nathan Williams tune, but it’s also the credo of southern Louisiana cooking, and the unifying theme behind Donald Link’s new restaurant, Cochon. It seems that I was dining there the same evening as fellow N.O. metroblogger Chris Martel (see earlier post). Only I suspect that we may have enjoyed the experience a bit more than Chris, as my party managed to quaff down a handful of mint juleps, at least 3 bottles of wine, along with 8 or so small plates, 5 entrees, 3 desserts, and, oh, some after-dinner bourbon as well.

Mind you, this gluttonous repast took 4 hours. Chef and co-owner Stephen Stryjewski was gracious, but I’m quite sure he and his staff were glad to see us stumble off at 12:30AM.
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