• 01Aug

    I wanted to give a little rundown of some of my favorite New Orleans restaurants while I was there, but I was simply too drunk and too sated each night to write after returning to our hotel room from all our fabulous dining experiences. Plus, three chickens in a hotel room, however spacious, was interfering with my focused internet time.

    Royalblendweb

    Royal Blend Coffee & Tea, 621 Royal St. (504) 523-2716
    Has the loveliest coffeehouse courtyard in the Quarter. They serve good
    coffee and good food, but be prepared to wait. The pace is slow here.
    Chill by the fountain while your friend waits in line.

    Jaquesimoweb

    Jaques-Imo’s, 8324 Oak Street, 504-861-0886 http://www.jacquesimoscafe.com/main.htm
    They don’t take reservations for parties of less than five, and it’s
    difficult to get a reservation before 10pm on short notice. The bar is
    good, though, and the Maple Leaf, one of New Orleans’ best music venues
    is right next door. The food and atmosphere at Jaques-Imo’s is not to
    be missed—buttery cornbread and wilted spinach salad to start, topped
    with a perfectly-fried oyster. The fried chicken is famous, but I
    usually get the venison. Everything’s good, and do not leave with
    saying hello to Jaques. Don’t look for him in the kitchen, the
    photograph above was totally posed; you’ll find him in the bar.

    Grabbyjacks

    Grabby Jack’s, 428 Jefferson Hwy. (504) 833-CRAB (2722)
    Used to be The Louisiana Seafood Exchange, home of the best down-home overstuffed po boys in town. A bit off the beaten path—out past the Riverbend on Jefferson Highway—but well worth it for the freshest fried fish and oyster sandwiches in town. Nothing fancy, sandwiches come wrapped in butcher paper, and you can count on whatever you ordered to tumble out onto the paper for finger-lickin’ deliciousness. Jaques has added some creative offerings like fried green tomato and shrimp remolaude, rabbit, and his famous fried chicken lunches. Closed Sundays, and maybe Mondays, too.

    Plumstreetweb

    William’s Plum Street Sno-balls, 1300 Burdette Street 504-866-7996
    Everyone’s got their favorite snoball stand. This is mine. Nestled in the heart of an Uptown neighborhood off Carrollton Avenue, Plum Street Sno-balls has a line out the door all summer long. Still standing after the hurricane, and although FEMA trailers are abundant, the neighborhood was still pleasant to stroll through. I recommend the Nectar Cream.

    Bluebird1

    The Bluebird Café,3625 Prytania St, Lower Garden District,  504-895-7166
    Simply the best hangover breakfast in town. There will be a line after 9:30 on weekend mornings for pancakes that cover your whole plate with blueberries, pecans, bananas—or all three griddled right in. Huevos rancheros,  homefries, bottomless coffee, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. So much goodness you’ll wish you had room for more. Closed Mondays and maybe Tuesdays, too, and only open until 2pm.

    I’ve already recommended Café Du Monde—it’s a pilgrimage, across from Jackson Square, and open 24-7.

    Adolfos

    Adolfo’s, 611 Frenchmen St, 504-948-3800 (cash only)
    A cozy little joint that’ll make you feel like a local for finding it. It’s upstairs from the Apple Barrel, where the drinks are bad and bartenders are rude. The chef, Adolfo, stowed away on a boat from somewhere in South America and jumped overboard somewhere along the Mississippi River many years ago (the story’s posted in a newspaper article on the bathroom wall) makes what he calls Creole-Italian cuisine—amazing cannelonis, pasta and fish with verde, shrimp and crawfish sauces. Café Brasil is just up the street for a fantastic post-dinner music scene that usually spills into the street.

    Lolasweb

    Lola’s, 3312 Esplanade Ave (504) 488-6946 (cash or local checks only).
    Located in Bayou St. John, Lola’s is known for the paellas and bread and butter so garlicky it burns your tongue. You can bring your own wine for a reasonable corkage fee, but don’t miss the sangria—they spoon a little fruit in your glass and pour it over. The best I’ve had in a good long while. Maybe ever.

    Monasweb

    Mona’s Cafe, 1120 S. Carrollton Ave. 861-8174.
    Lebanon Café, 1500 S. Carrollton Ave. 862-6200.
    For me, these two are practically interchangeable. Excellent fresh Middle Eastern fare—hoummus, tabouleh, and kebab. The Lebanese tea at Lebanon Café is made with rosewater, and it’s divine. Go for lunch, it’s not a fine-dining experience.

    Clovergrillweb

    Clover Grill, 900 Bourbon St., 504-598-1010
    Late night burgers, diner-style. Closes at midnight, and homophobes should dine elsewhere; prepare to be abused and/or flirted with shamelessly by the flaming waitstaff. At the foot of Bourbon Street—stumble on down.

  • 14Jul

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    Beignets at Cafe DuMonde, originally uploaded by texasgurl.

    Psst. Perhaps you didn’t notice, because of the green awnings and all, but this is not Starbucks. This is Café Du Monde. You don’t get it how you want it here, you get it how they bring it.

    They’re known for two things: beignets and café au lait. So just get that, okay? Because that’s basically all they have. There might be some water in bottles, and I think they have some juice or something, but you can buy juice at the gas station, right? Order your café au lait iced if you’re feeling fancy, but don’t get the juice or the bottled water, because the café au lait is their specialty. It goes perfectly with the beignets, and it’s what you want, whether you know it or not.

    So, your coffee–iced or hot–will be perfect, and it will arrive with three golden pillowy beignets, adrift in powdered sugar. And since powdered sugar is thirsty work, your courteous server will bring you a short glass of water. You don’t have to order the water; it just comes with the beignets. Every time.

    Finally, there are three beignets to an order. Not two. Not one. But three. Stop making an ass of yourself asking if they can bring you some other number, because they can’t, and they won’t. Believe it or not, once you start eating you will want  all three, and you won’t want to share. Or–nevermind. Go ahead and get a single order, and when you finish that, order another. Think of me when you do it.

    Cafe Du Monde
    So, remember, when they say, “What can I get for you?” your line is, “Two beignets and two café au laits.”

    Good luck.

  • 14Jul


    Jackson Square at Night, originally uploaded by texasgurl.

    New Orleans, where the wind blows warm and the air is so thick it has texture. The heat clings to you like something alive, coating your skin with a filmy sweat and settling, heavy and damp, in the fabric of your clothes. Where building interiors are so cold your glasses fog up when you step into the street, savoring that warmth–delicious only in those first moments after the doors close behind you, and where you consider carrying a sweater to wear inside.

    Where cold water down your back sends not the slightest tingle down your spine, and where each day you understand a bit more why the city is known for drunken revelry, crimes of passion, and steamy sex.

    The heat intensifies your emotions and blunts your rationality—you are pissed off, put out, horny as hell—you are acutely aware of every sensation in your body. Every little thing takes on a bloated significance, until you feel you might do anything, anything, to take your mind off this fucking heat.
    Ghost Girl

  • 14Jul

    Things are a bit different in New Orleans, and I was reminded of that immediately upon arriving in town.

    We had driven until 3am the night before, then crashed at a Comfort Inn outside Lafayette before continuing on the next morning. Ollie woke up at 7:30; so we all woke up at 7:30. I was working on less than 5 hours of sleep; the continental breakfast at the Chez’ Comfort had been absolutely inedible, and by the time we hit New Orleans it was almost noon and I hadn’t had even a drop of caffeine in any form.

    I wanted to hold out for PJ’s, New Orleans signature local coffee shop, but I spotted a Starbucks just in time for us to cross three lanes of traffic and pull into the parking lot next door. I jogged in and at the counter, I ordered my standard:

    “Grande percent one-pump vanilla latte, please.”

    A blank stare. “Grande what?”

    “Percent. Latte. With one pump of vanilla.”

    She squinted at me, and pronounced the syllables as if she were trying out a word in Farsi, “Per-cent?”

    I took a deep breath, and tried again. “Um, lowfat?”

    “You meant TWO percent?”

    “Right.”

    Please note that even though I had spent at least 10 of the last 15 hours in a car with three children and a cat, with no caffeine and with very little sleep, I did not say to her, “Please just give me my fucking coffee, you Moronic Bitch, before I rip your head off and eat it.” I tried to smile because, see, this is how it goes here.

    I am back in New Orleans.