I rose with some resistance at 7ish, found my laptop, and started writing the second half of Tuesday’s story. I seemed to have tried to see all of New Orleans in one day. I spent two hours completing the additions of vampires and more food to yesterday’s blog. I was tired and grabbed the painkillers.
BTW: Tyler, not Taylor, is the night manager at the hotel. My mistake.
I dressed and was out in the surprisingly warm and foggy air. The storms and rain would wait until I returned to the hotel in the early afternoon, but I was watchful.
I walked through the French Market two blocks down six over to Cafe Du Monde, sat at a table with all the other tourists, and had coffee and a set of beignets drowned in powdered sugar. While I felt I was just another tourist, the beignets and coffee (dangerously hot) were excellent. I can see why beignets are so famous- they are excellent. I did not sing the song, but I thought about it.
Only a few minutes away, I found a cart tour that could use one more person. How could I resist? I climbed in, and we then headed out to explore the French Quarter at a slow speed. The cabbie and tour guide covered some of the exciting places. Explaining various architectural items but avoiding the American Civil War and other embarrassing times. The tour was mainly about the city of the 1700s until the 1840s. Slavery did get mentioned, so it’s not a revisionist history. I enjoyed it. It was about an hour.
Next, still having time before lunch, I headed to the cathedral. I asked some questions, but the answer about what was in case was unavailable. After I told the docent I was from the Portland Area, the docent said they were praying for Portland. I thanked him for that, but I could tell that this was not about supporting liberal ideals espoused during the protests but a right-wing American Catholic agenda. This is a red state. But at least they were praying for us–an impact of a sort.
I found a credit card slot beside the candles, used it to pay $6 for a candle, and lit it for Susie. I did cry then; grief finds you when you notice that someone is missing. I was alone in the church, remembering.
Aside: The side of Andrew Jackson’s monument in the park has a quote that was ironic during the American Civil War (ACW), and the military occupation leader, General “Spoons” Butler, pointed out to the city leaders after the city was captured by the Union: The Union Must Be Preserved, in short. I knew this from Shelby Foote’s account of the history of the ACW.
Next, once my eyes cleared, I headed to the Louisiana State Museum and self-toured the Cabildo building. The displays were robust, with messages about music, the 1812 War, and segregation. The swords and cannons from the Battle of New Orleans were impressive. The sign “Colored Only” was also a powerful message of the past failures. While not a great museum, the authenticity was impressive and strange, with the death mask of Napolean on display for no more reason than I could divine other than it was here.
The cabbie suggested Red Fish for lunch, but my app said it opened at 3PM, nope. I wandered for a while and found myself again at the Vampires, but then discovered that the Gumbo Shop was nearby. I found a seat at the shop; it was muggy and sprinkling. I sat inside. I cannot (sorry, Dale) recommend the chicken-based gumbo, and the gal beside me agreed that their food was not great today. She was there for the food and was disappointed. She also said she is heading to Portland tonight, so I suggest Olympic Provisions if she can fit it in.
I will return and try the regular gumbo and see if it reaches the promised level. I am hopeful it was an off day.
So far, Coop’s Place, not The Coop that I reported yesterday, has the best food, with The Italian Barrel coming in second (more on that dinner follows). The recommended dinner at Coop’s Place is the sample dinner or fried chicken–receiving that instruction from more than one local.
I walked back while window shopping as the weather threatened to soak me. I was also dead tired, so I found my way back to the hotel, Le Richelieu. I rested for a few hours and even got some writing done. The gal at the front desk, whose name escapes me, suggested a local southern food place, Li’l Dizzy’s Cafe. Maybe I can fit that in.
I rested some more and called Leta, Susie’s mother. She was not feeling well and was following along on Facebook. She saw that I lit a candle for Susie and thanked me. I sat on my balcony when I called; it was still dry.
Next, I worked some more on my Holmes and Watson story. The detectives in this story are self-aware artificial intelligence chatbots. I cannot quite reach the correct wordings for them. I will check some stories and see if I can get a more original cadence into my story. It was fun to edit and add a few more words.
Tyler was back at the desk again this evening, and we discovered a Mardi Gras parade on Friday. It will travel only a block from the hotel starting at 7 p.m., which is excellent and unexpected.
I walked to a place I wanted to try. The hotel staff had not been there since the pandemic, but they were closed on Wednesday. I missed that yesterday. I reversed course; I am so used to going to the wrong place that I enjoy the ride now.
The Italian Barrel is the same Italian-styled place I have found in every city. It is higher-end and a bit of a stuffed shirt. I checked the others in the place before I tried it; not everyone was in shirts with collars. I was allowed a seat at the bar, and the bartender, Linsey, was happy to see me. Linsey recommended the veal. I agreed. It was an excellent Italian red wine.
The flavor was good and not too salty–a fear after being in Texas, the land of the proud salty people. The wine, veggies, and veal all matched. Susie requires veal to be pounded until you cut it with a fork. This was close, with only a few bits that needed my knife. I loved it. But it is not New Orleans flavors, and I have had just as good at various places. It is an excellent meal, but at a very high table price–beware. I had dessert: gelato filled with chocolate sauce. It and coffee were perfect.
Next, I returned to the BMC and got a single beer. I met the band, and they finally started at 7PM. While talented, I could not handle the high cords blasted at me. The blues player was excellent, and his BB King tribute was fantastic. When I saw the bartender put in earplugs, I knew it was not just me.
My sister called, and I used that as an excuse to leave. Walking around the block, I could hear the high notes! I returned to the hotel and wrote, avoiding blasting my ears.
I got into my room, and the window blinds fell on me. The door hitting the blinds must have knocked them off. I will ask them to be fixed in the morning.
I started to write the blog and can hear the parties in New Orleans tonight. There are flood watches and dense fog. I will stay in tonight!
Thanks for reading. My sister and her husband Jesse will be here at about noon on Thursday.
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