New Orleans (cont'd)

So, if you're just tuning in: in my previous New Orleans post, we were rolling ourselves in from second breakfast at Commander's Palace...we get back to the hotel and change into our Walking Around Clothes (as opposed to our Gussied Up For Special Meal clothes).  Most importantly this involves a change of footwear: the sidewalks and streets are notoriously uneven, so you need comfortable and sturdy shoes.  And despite the heat, I tend to wear closed-toe shoes because I have a pretty good idea of what comprises the puddles in parts of the Quarter--let's just say it's not primarily rainwater.

Alley view of St. Louis cathedral

Anyway, we walk around, listen to music, browse in shops, and in general bemoan the fact that we ate so much. We poke into the small but charming Faulkner House Books in Pirate's Alley behind the cathedral.  I once bought a first printing of Faulkner's Intruder in the Dust there--near fine, in a very good dust jacket. Spent more money than I had, but the book has gone up in value since then, so I feel quietly justified. In a completely out of character move, I left without buying anything, first edition or otherwise, but did take some photos.

I believe this entire case is filled with Faulkner first editions.

The beautiful fiction section in Faulkner House Books

My friend Carla buys shoes the same way I buy books: with impeccable taste and great abandon. So when we found a store called Shoe-Be-Do, she was in heaven. I was mostly agog at the designs (and prices). I would swear that some of those shoes were more architectural wonders than something to  adorn the feet. I was pleasantly surprised that in the back they had actually had some Walking Around Shoes.  I tried on a pair, and while the sole felt divine, the straps caught under my outside ankle
in a decidedly abrading way.

I mean, really: who could wear these?

It was hard to drag Carla away from ShoeBeDo, but there were other stores calling our names. Along the way, I was pleasantly surprised to see the fellow I hereby dub Kora Guy playing on one of the street corners.  We paused to listen for a while, at which point he mentioned that he had CDs for sale for $15.  Feeling oddly shy, I walked away, but before I gained the following block I was feeling full of regret.  I vowed that if our paths crossed again that I would buy one.

Kora Guy

Eventually we wandered back to the hotel room to rest a bit and freshen up--not for dinner, as we were feeling decidedly antagonistic towards food.  But our friend Patrick came over again, so we visited for a couple of hours in the air conditioned confines of our room before heading out again. Carla was feeling a little ill, and also had a ton of work to do, so she stayed behind while Patrick, AW, and I ventured out.  Here is where things became a little comical.  AW is a vegetarian, all I wanted was a light salad or maybe some fresh veggies, and Patrick, who is at the best of times a somewhat picky eater, had given up breads and pastas for Lent. You'd think that in one of the culinary capitals of the US that we might be spoiled for choice, but that's where you'd be wrong. We walked around for nearly two hours looking for a place where we might all sit down together to eat, but we found nothing.  As I noted before, New Orleans is surprisingly vegetarian un-friendly.

Cafe du Monde

Naturally we wound up at the one place where we said at the beginning of the night we wouldn't go: Cafe du Monde. I think our exact words were, "Ugh--fried dough.  WAY too heavy after our other meals today. Let's go anywhere but Cafe du Monde." Poor Patrick had to content himself with a large chocolate milk.  I tried to make my meal a bit more healthful by getting milk and fresh-squoze orange juice. (You may say squeezed if you like.  I prefer squoze, with a nod to Jill Conner Browne.)

Anne Walton and I were actually debating sharing one order of beignets (they come 3/order), then wondered aloud who we were trying to fool?  Of course we couldn't share an order. That would just be silly. I mean, why hold back now?

Covered in a light but comprehensive dusting of powdered sugar, we walked back to the hotel, laughing and carrying on, while I was keeping a stealth eye (and ear) out  for Kora Guy.  No joy.  I'd have to keep my fingers crossed for the next day.  And by that, I mean Easter Sunday, where we had 10:30 reservations for another three-course brunch at Brennan's. Tune in next time for flaming breakfasts, outrageous Easter bonnets, and where not to stand for watching the French Quarter Gay Easter Parade.

New Orleans: Second Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day

Sunrise over the rooftops: the view from our room

New Orleans is a not a city for dieters.  Nor is it a destination for picky eaters.  There is great food--seriously great food--in abundance, but it's usually the type of food that requires the hoisting of oneself from the table afterwards.

Because my friends's friend stayed in town an extra night just to meet up with us, the least we could do was meet up with her for first breakfast on Saturday morning. She didn't want to go to Cafe Du Monde (quel horreur!), so we walked to her hotel in the Central Business District instead.  We had no idea until we walked in that it was one of John Besh's restaurants: Luke.  Naturally we made much of the "I am your father" and other Star Wars jokes. We even saw the man himself walk through a couple of times--I wouldn't have figured that he would be on premises.

Knowing that I had to pace myself for our second breakfast at Commander's Palace, I ordered a short stack of pancakes with pecan honey butter, which were quite good. The coffee was French press and also quite good, and we all enjoyed ourselves very much.

Before long, it was time to say goodbye to Kathleen and hie ourselves back to Canal Street to catch the streetcar (please do not call it a trolley) to the Garden District. Because we were not born yesterday, we knew right where to catch it--at Carondelet, before it turns and heads back on St. Charles.  We all three easily grabbed seats, but by the time we made our first stop on St. Charles, the car filled up and the people remaining in the queue had to keep on waiting.  Suckers!  The ride took about 20 minutes and Commander's is about two blocks from the street car stop on St. Charles.

AW on the streetcar

Commander's Palace is quite the institution in New Orleans.  They serve up a three-course brunch in high style, and there's a wandering jazz trio that moves from dining room to dining room, taking requests.  It's great fun.

From the moment we arrived, it was a fabulous experience.  Warm welcomes all around as soon as our feet crossed the threshold. We were lucky enough to get seated in the Garden Room, which is fun because you get to walk through the kitchens to get there, because there's a live tree growing in the room up through the ceiling, and because it's glassed in and overlooking the courtyard, which was lovely that time of year.

The second breakfast of champions: double fisting with milk punch and a Crescent City Cooler

Clearly the best first course for second breakfast is a cocktail.  I've said it before, but it bears repeating:  I LOVE being in a city where it's not at all ridiculous to spend more money on booze than on food at breakfast. Or even second breakfast.

Carla with her cocktail

AW with her Strawberry Flip

It was very difficult deciding what to order (take a look at their sample online menu and see for yourself), but I ended up starting with the Oyster & Absinthe Dome, which is a creamy concoction with bacon, artichokes, and tarragon-infused cream, topped by a flaky pastry shell.

Oyster & Absinthe Dome

It is not, however, the most accommodating place to eat if you are vegetarian, as my friend AW is. They offered only one vegetarian option for the entree on the brunch menu: Red Velvet pancakes.  But since those would also be followed by a dessert course, AW wasn't so interested in essentially eating dessert twice.  The only minor mar in the whole process was when she asked our server if the crab & vegetable frittata could be made without the crab. Instead of saying "yes, of course we can do that," he said he had to phone the chef and ask permission.  It surprised me quite a bit that a restaurant of that calibre and that kind of national standing would not empower its serving staff to make such accommodations.  And frankly it surprised me that there wasn't a non-dessert-like vegetarian option for the entree on their menu. In a city that relies heavily on tourism and where the number of vegetarians is on the rise pretty much all over, it is almost inconceivable.

My [mumble] Benedict 

The kitchen finally responded with an All Clear to the veggie frittata request, so we recommenced with our enjoyment of the day. I cannot remember the name of what I ordered, but it was a Creole take on Eggs Benedict, with crayfish, "debris," and a spicy sauce. As I recall, and with the photographic evidence above, I think it was served on a bread that more closely resembled a biscuit than an English muffin.  It was excellent, but I only managed to eat about half of it. And no, I did not bite the tail and suck the head.  Thanks for asking.

You can see a little bit of the tree through the glass behind them.

In fact, by that time, were all questioning our collective delusion in thinking that a first breakfast was a good idea, but we had to power through the dessert course. Which, frankly, is worth waiting for, not to mention worth a little gastrointestinal distress. But dessert is my raison d'être, or at least one of them, and these were a couple of  pieces des resistances.

It was strawberry season in Louisiana during our visit, and I had forgotten just how plump, sweet, and lush those berries are.  Plus, we wanted to be mindful of our heavy meal, so we ordered two servings of strawberry shortcake for dessert to accompany the bread pudding soufflé.  Honestly, have you ever heard a phrase more enticing than bread pudding soufflé?

Bread Pudding Soufflé with milk punch

When it's delivered to the table, the server breaks the top and pours into it many heaping spoonfuls of hard sauce.  It was pretty divine, I have to say. The only thing that could possibly improve it would be the introduction of a second round of cocktails. AW and Carla ordered milk punches while I ordered a shot of rum: XO Ron Zacapa, neat, with a side of ice and some lime.

I'm not sure which surprised us more: the size of the bill or our difficulty standing up after the meal. We were, of course, expecting a large bill, and despite the fact that one of our drinks cost $25, we didn't come close to spending more money on alcohol than on food.  Well, that gives me something to aim for next time.  I won't say what the total was, but we decided that it was the perfect amount, because the  tip came to $42, which is the perfect and most important number, as any Douglas Adams fan knows.  Clearly the hand of fate had intervened over second breakfast, or maybe that was just my third cocktail talking.

Inside the small gallery that houses Garden District Book Shop

On our way back to the streetcar stop, we paused at Garden District Book Shop, as I cannot pass up a bookstore.  And despite the fact that I get a substantial employee discount at my own store, I cannot not buy a book when I walk into another bookstore.  Thus I walked out with a nice little hardcover edition of a Eudora Welty book.

Once we walked back up to St. Charles, we were a little dismayed to realize that all of the streetcars heading towards the Quarter were full--practically overflowing--and thus not stopping to pick up any more passengers. Guess we're the suckers now.  We waited about 30 minutes before calling a cab to get back to our hotel, where we changed clothes to head back out the Quarter for more exploration.  About which, more anon, as this post is long enough and we've only covered first and second breakfast...

Just a random street scene

New Orleans: As the Crowe Flies (and Eats! and Drinks!)

St Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square, New Orleans

Oh, New Orleans.  The Big Easy.  The Crescent City. The City That Care Forgot.  The Land of Dreamy Scenes.  Or just plain Nawlins.  However you like to call it, it's one of my favorite places on earth to visit.  It's one of the last American cities to retain an intrinsic feel that transcends the unfortunate homogeny that is the hallmark of most of our country.

It's also a helluva great place to go for celebrating a special occasion, which is just what my two best friends from high school and college did a couple of weekends ago.  We have all recently celebrated a milestone birthday, so we decided to meet in New Orleans to celebrate in style. What we didn't realize during the planning stages of the trip was that our travels were over Easter weekend, a particularly festive time in the Quarter, which explains the dearth of hotel rooms and high airfares.  I flew in from the east coast and arrived a few hours before they did, as they had the more leisurely train journey from Memphis. Our room at Prince Conti hotel wasn't quite ready (I arrived more than three hours ahead of check-in), but I was happy to walk around and amuse myself until they were ready to receive me.  And since they upgraded us to a suite, I was in an even better mood.

What could be finer? A book, a beverage, and a table that is a window on the world.

I walked around for about an hour to orient myself and discovered that our location on Conti Street, between Bourbon and Daupine, was excellent. After enjoying various street musician performances, I wandered into a quiet cafe (almost impossible to find!) to enjoy a light sandwich and iced coffee.

Exterior of the Prince Conti

After a couple of hours, I wandered back to the hotel and the room was ready, so I went up to unpack and wait for my friends. The suite wasn't at all luxurious (in fact, in many ways it was on the shabby side), but it offered us a good deal more space than the room we'd originally booked, so I was quite happy with it.  As it turns out, it came in handy multiple times to have a separate sitting room.

Our sitting room.  I believe the ceiling beams are original to the building.

Our bedroom: two queen beds. Yes, that is a fireplace on the far end.

Once Carla and AW arrived, we had a jolly time catching up before heading off to meet one of their friends for dinner.  Their friend Kathleen was already in town for something else, so it was a treat to meet up with her for the evening. Kathleen has a terrible shellfish allergy and AW is a vegetarian, so we settled on the Italian fare of Irene's, a 20 minute walk away.

Eclectic decor of Irene's

Unfortunately, Irene's does not take reservations, so we showed up at the unfashionable hour of 5:30 pm for a table since three of us had been awake and traveling since about 4:00 that morning. There was already a line forming at the door when we showed up--I'd estimate that about 30 people were in front of us in the queue.

Behold: the grail-like splendor of my bourbon sidecar

Our server was a live one but quite patient at that, answering our detailed questions about the menu and the specials.  Clearly my first order of business was to order a cocktail--one that sounded so good that AW followed suit: bourbon sidecar, served up, with a twist. It was certainly good, but slightly too sweet.  Rimming the glass with salt AND sugar would be a fantastic remedy for that.

I highly recommend matching your cocktail to your jewelry. 

I ordered one of the fish dishes, and it was quite good.  Perhaps not quite as good as the restaurant's Zagat rating had led me to expect, but all perfectly good.  With an additional glass of wine, plus a share of dessert, my total came to about $45, before the gratuity.

Our pre-cocktail photo

My fish amandine meuniere.

After dinner, the four of us walked the Quarter and met up with Patrick, our friend from college who hails from New Orleans.  He was in town for the holiday weekend, so after his Good Friday service, he drove down and met us near St. Louis cathedral, where we were busy making snapshots of Touchdown Jesus:

By day: much less interesting

By night

Touchdown Jesus in all of his ghostly splendor

We then proceeded to spend the next half hour taking approximately a bazillion photos to make sure we got every possible permutation of our group of five people.  With and without flash, of course.

Look: you can see our auras. Or perhaps our souls.  I'm not sure.

After that we wandered around the Quarter, listening to the street musicians (I don't recall hearing so many in the last 4-5 trips I've made to the city--maybe it was for the holiday weekend?), window browsing the gorgeous galleries on Rue Royale, and poking into the few shops that were still open.

A kora player. His sign says African Bass Harp but he seemed gratified when I asked with great confusion, "That's not a kora? It sure looks like a kora."

A chandelier in a lighting store on Royale

An art gallery

Love this bulldog, mascot of one of the boutiques we walked into.

All in all it was a great start to a terrific weekend.  We all went back to our sitting room to chat about this & that and to make that very important decision: where to go for first breakfast on Saturday before our second breakfast (we're very Hobbit-like) at Commander's Palace.  About which, more anon...

I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world the Quarter.

Three Mini Book Reviews

My blog has been on the dormant side recently, but my reading has not.  Here are three mini reviews of books that I've read that are recently (or soon to be) published, and by "mini reviews," I essentially mean that these are the small shelf tags that accompany these books in my bookstore. 

Frances & Bernard by Carlene Bauer. Has a letter ever changed your life?  When Frances and Bernard meet at an artists’ colony, they are not quite certain what to make of each other, but one letter changes everything. Bernard’s first letter to Frances leads to a deep and intense friendship. Not-so-loosely based on Flannery O’Connor and Robert Lowell, Frances and Bernard navigate the tricky waters of publishing, romance, religion, and mental illness in this hauntingly beautiful story. If you enjoy the works of Marilynne Robinson or 84 Charing Cross Road, or if you appreciate the bittersweet aspects of life, give this one a spin. 

The Mothers by Jennifer Gilmore. I had to remind myself several times while reading this book that it’s a novel and not a memoir—that’s how realistic and heartbreaking it feels. After years of unsuccessful fertility treatments, Jesse and Ramon desperately want to adopt a child, but they never could have imagined the difficulties lying in wait for them in the process, not least of which is determining how willing they’d be to adopt a child born with Down’s syndrome, fetal alcohol, blindness, deafness, spina bifida, or any combination thereof. This is an emotional and compelling read.

The Dinner by Herman Koch.  What starts off as a rather Bourgeois novel quickly takes a darker turn and descends into the realm of menace, both underhanded and overt.  Clearly there is more to our unnamed, mild-mannered narrator than first meets the eye, and as he learns more about his son’s new and disturbing hobby, the reader learns more about him.  The further this insidious father-son story unfolded, the faster I was compelled to turn the pages.  This book is a bestseller in Europe and recently translated for English-speaking audiences. 

Last Month in Review: March 2013

Lawd, I can't believe that it's been over two weeks since my last blogpost.  That just goes to show how crazy it's been at work recently and how much fun I recently had in New Orleans (about which, more anon, if by "anon" I mean tomorrow. which I do.).  I also have a new computer now, so I have no more excuses for not blogging.

On the other hand, I've been spending a lot of time brooding about the new Amazon purchase of Goodreads and deciding whether to close my account or to keep it but with heavily abbreviated usage.  In other words, I'm engaged in the time-honored battle of weighing my principles against my inherent laziness.  Those of you who know me best can probably guess which way I'll choose, but for the record, I say Boooo, Amazon!

March was a pretty good reading month for me, thanks largely to some excellent fan fiction.  In chronological order, I give you:

1. Maddie On Things: A Super Serious Project About Dogs and Physics by Theron Humphrey.  This book doesn't really count, as it has very little text, but it's a book that I love.  It's one of those books I'm glad I didn't actually spend money on (no, I didn't steal it--it was free) but am so happy that I own it 'cause I can turn to any random page and count on a smile.  Also, I met both the author and Maddie the Dog at Winter Institute in Kansas City. That dog is pretty amazing--just take a look at some of the photographs and you'll see what I mean.  Yay, rescue dogs!

2. If You Could Be Mine by Sara Farizan.  This is Algonquin's first YA book, coming out in the fall.  Deals with the oh-so-light topic of homosexuality and transgenderism in Iran. Review here.

3. You Are One of Them by Eliott Holt.  Terrific debut that is a dual coming of age novel set during the Cold War.  Review to come.

4. Three Junes by Julia Glass.  Audio book.  Review here.  I really loved this book.

5. The Promise of Stardust  by Priscille Sibley. Review here.

6. Dupont Circle by Paul Kafka-Gibbons.  This was a re-read of a book I read a good ten years ago.  Most of it held up well, and it's gratifying to see how far our country has come on the gay marriage issue since its publication.

7, 8, 9, 10. Underwater Light, Coda to an Epilogue: Twenty Years Later Or, the Kids are All Right,  If You've a Ready Mind, and Quality of Mercy by Mistful/Maya.  These are all Harry Potter fanfics and they're all novella or novel length.  Seriously, one of them was over 800 manuscript pages long.  So I'm totally counting them.  I love these.  If you can get access to them (they're no longer supposed to be available on the internet), I heartily recommend them.

11. The Illusion of Separateness by Simon Van Booy. Oh, Booy!  This is really good.  I hope to write a review one of these days.

12. Flat Water Tuesday by Ron Irwin.  This was another audio book.   Solid story, solid audio narrator.  This is a sports-triumph boarding school novel somewhat akin to A Separate Peace and Dead Poets Society. (Do not believe the comps that say it is like The Art of Fielding.  It is not, for that is as simplistic as saying that Moby-Dick and the Master and Commander series are similar because they both involve sailing.) Interestingly, this was the second book I read this year that featured a female coxswain.  I also had my eyes & ears glaze over with some of the row-speak, which is why I probably would have preferred reading this book instead of listening, as it's much easier to skim a book than a CD.

So what about y'all?  What was your favorite book in March?  Did you read any of the same books I read, and if so, what is your verdict?