I am so….so….embarrassed. Really. I haven’t posted here in, well, forever because 1) I didn’t have time to do so, since the restaurant has opened and 2) once I actually got the time, I was too lazy to try to figure out how to get into this new system. But, thanks to advice from Laureen and others, here we are.

Oh, and it was good to meet Rayna & Co. the other day. Thanks for coming to see us. And my old college buddy Chris from Nacogdoches and a nice lady from Fort Walton Beach who introduced herself today — and a host of other bloggers from various sites. It is good to feel connected again, at least in an Internetty kinda way. Lord knows I’m overly connected in other ways to far too many people anymore.

One thing that begs writing about has been the ongoing (and, as yet, unended) quest for a beer and wine license. The City of New Orleans, in its infinite wisdom and lust for new revenue, has finally (after four months and much assistance from the office of Councilwoman Stacy Head) granted us our beer and wine licenses. But we are still waiting on folks in Baton Rouge to follow through — and this “two week” process has taken a month so far. Perhaps I have committed the ultimate Louisiana faux pas and forgotten to slip a little inducement in a package of paperwork. Silly me.

But the City of New Orleans, though it has approved the new licenses, has not wanted to be simply forgotten and cast aside like an old shoe. I received a call two weeks ago from some minion at City Hall, informing me my Occupational License was being denied. “Why?” said I, stifling a laugh.

“You need your ABO (alcohol) licenses.”
“I have them on my wall.”
“You need your conditional use permit from the City Council ”
“I have it in my file drawer.”
“Then you shall have to come down to City Hall and see Mr. (No, I will not post his name – the target would be far too unmistakable and slow-moving to resist).

So off I go to City Hall to see Mr. X — who informs me of the same issues. I respond in the same manner. He says, “Well, then, it appears all you need is your final inspection,” which was scheduled for the next day.

Mr. X appears two days later and pays virtually no attention to virtually anything in my place. After his 45-second visit, he tells me to go to City Hall the next day and I can “leave with the license in-hand.” So (Dr. Pavlov is laughing somewhere), I indeed answer this bell and appear again in his office the next morning. He turns to a co-worker and informs her I need to fill out the “final paperwork” for my occupational license (which I filled out nearly a year ago). She says, “you got ABO license, baby?” I say, “Why, yes, baby, I do.” She says, “then you already got your occupational license. You all good to go.”

For some reason, I felt as victorious as Sitting Bull at Little Big Horn. No, I don’t know why. But I really and truly did — but all the while knowing this is all going to somehow come back and bite me in my little gumbo-making ass at some point.

But, for now (except for the possibly mythical state alcohol license), all our paperwork is in place and on the board and proudly disaplayed for all to see, photograph, ponder over, admire, wonder at and, yes, even spindle and fondle as desired.

…and it all expires in 33 days, at the end of May. I am serious as freaking cholesterol.

Ain’t never dull, I tell ya.

2 Comments so far

  1. breny on April 30th, 2008 @ 9:35 pm

    Hi Craig! I’m the lady from Fort Walton Beach. I thoroughly enjoyed my lunch and the Best Fish Sandwich Ever. YUMMMMMMMMY!!

    If you haven’t visited Craig’s restaurant, you’re missing out. Great service, great atmosphere, fabulous food!

  2. laurie2 on May 2nd, 2008 @ 6:30 pm

    Congratulations!! Craig.

    You mean Fort Walton Beach is still there?

    What about the Driftwood?

    If you cook the snails their safe.


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