Murders in New Orleans? Curfew?
Jan 24th, 2007 | 05:45 PM
#21
Original Poster
Joined: Apr 2003
Posts: 316
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See my previous posts on this thread. We Went, We Ate, We enjoyed, We loved the people. Just got home tonight. We loved the French Quarter, like the small European villages. Will write a trip report later. Thanks to all of you who encouraged us to go.
Mary
Mary
Our trip is 4 months out, so I am definitely in a New Orleans frame of mind.
Jan 25th, 2007 | 10:30 AM
#24
Joined: Jan 2006
Posts: 37
Likes: 0
I returned recently from New Orleans and would encourage anyone who wants to make the most of a short trip to visit the Crescent City. You really will see it all. Here's my trip report (with heavy emphasis on the culinary delights).
Saturday morning: Hit the streets by 8:00 AM. I was staying at the W near Harrah's and quickly found Central Grocery after a brisk walk. Before it opened at 10:00 am, I had consumed a fruit-punchy drink with some real professional drinkers at White's bar (the one that never closed during Katrina).
I meandered through the fog and headed back to the birthplace of the muffaletta. I was impressed by the Italian-style bread and size of the portions. Unfortunately, I purchased the olive mixture only to have in confiscated at the airport. Rats! The sandwich was huge and I had the same diner-history feeling that I had in LA at Phillpi's (home of the French Dip). The staff were quite friendly and helpful to the person in front of me, who asked for $40 of muffalettas. Joe Customer handed the staff the pad of paper that a friend had scribbled this order on and neither the counter staff nor the shopper were quite sure what to make of it ("Did you want $40 worth of sandwiches or $40 worth of the muff spread?” they asked. I don't know. I don't know what it is to begin with.")
After a profound four-hour tour of the city, cemeteries, empty homes, broken levies, I met up with my friends for some lunch at Bon Ton Cafe. The shrimp creole was just okay, but the Oysters Alvin were delicious and worth every penny.
I headed back to the FQ for some dessert (beignets and coffee at Cafe Du Monde). Now, I was starting to feel the stomach burn.
Dinner couldn't have worked out better. I was in the Big Easy with a party of 15 from around the country. These friends of mine wandered around the Quarter until we came up the Copper Monkey off of Bourbon Street and their $15 crawfish boils. We ate and drank in a real Bourbon Street Courtyard. A true gem, and it was great to hear the owners thanks us for being there. I've never been thanked for my gluttonous behavior before.
A few hurricanes and mojitos later at Pat O'Briens had me stumbling into Coops Place for a late night snack. I can't remember much about the meal.
The next day was a bit less stressful on the gastronomic level. I enjoyed a shrimp po-boy at Chartres Street Cafe. There are probably better sandwiches around but after going to a few places that were out of bread (the Saints had played the night before), I settled into this place for a bit.
Dinner was the crown jewel. The party reserved the banquet room at Dickie Brennans' Steak House. Wow! The oyster beignets kicked things off and then we were onto the gumbo. This is exactly what I was craving. The steaks were great and the dessert of praline mousse changed the way I look at pralines and mousse. The only downer was that there was a limited number of Washington state wines on their list, which is probably more Washington's distributing woes than Brennans.
I ended my blitz the next day at Mothers. For once, no line awaited. The Ferdi's Special was probably the best cure for a hangover in the history of boozing. The service was classic diner-ese. "What do you want, Babe?” the overstuffed employee asked. "You talking to me," I thought. I devoured the debris and all the other goodness and headed off to the airport.
A great exclamation point on a trip that reminded me just how unique and precious this fine city remains.
Saturday morning: Hit the streets by 8:00 AM. I was staying at the W near Harrah's and quickly found Central Grocery after a brisk walk. Before it opened at 10:00 am, I had consumed a fruit-punchy drink with some real professional drinkers at White's bar (the one that never closed during Katrina).
I meandered through the fog and headed back to the birthplace of the muffaletta. I was impressed by the Italian-style bread and size of the portions. Unfortunately, I purchased the olive mixture only to have in confiscated at the airport. Rats! The sandwich was huge and I had the same diner-history feeling that I had in LA at Phillpi's (home of the French Dip). The staff were quite friendly and helpful to the person in front of me, who asked for $40 of muffalettas. Joe Customer handed the staff the pad of paper that a friend had scribbled this order on and neither the counter staff nor the shopper were quite sure what to make of it ("Did you want $40 worth of sandwiches or $40 worth of the muff spread?” they asked. I don't know. I don't know what it is to begin with.")
After a profound four-hour tour of the city, cemeteries, empty homes, broken levies, I met up with my friends for some lunch at Bon Ton Cafe. The shrimp creole was just okay, but the Oysters Alvin were delicious and worth every penny.
I headed back to the FQ for some dessert (beignets and coffee at Cafe Du Monde). Now, I was starting to feel the stomach burn.
Dinner couldn't have worked out better. I was in the Big Easy with a party of 15 from around the country. These friends of mine wandered around the Quarter until we came up the Copper Monkey off of Bourbon Street and their $15 crawfish boils. We ate and drank in a real Bourbon Street Courtyard. A true gem, and it was great to hear the owners thanks us for being there. I've never been thanked for my gluttonous behavior before.
A few hurricanes and mojitos later at Pat O'Briens had me stumbling into Coops Place for a late night snack. I can't remember much about the meal.
The next day was a bit less stressful on the gastronomic level. I enjoyed a shrimp po-boy at Chartres Street Cafe. There are probably better sandwiches around but after going to a few places that were out of bread (the Saints had played the night before), I settled into this place for a bit.
Dinner was the crown jewel. The party reserved the banquet room at Dickie Brennans' Steak House. Wow! The oyster beignets kicked things off and then we were onto the gumbo. This is exactly what I was craving. The steaks were great and the dessert of praline mousse changed the way I look at pralines and mousse. The only downer was that there was a limited number of Washington state wines on their list, which is probably more Washington's distributing woes than Brennans.
I ended my blitz the next day at Mothers. For once, no line awaited. The Ferdi's Special was probably the best cure for a hangover in the history of boozing. The service was classic diner-ese. "What do you want, Babe?” the overstuffed employee asked. "You talking to me," I thought. I devoured the debris and all the other goodness and headed off to the airport.
A great exclamation point on a trip that reminded me just how unique and precious this fine city remains.
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