Kevin and I are in New Orleans airport where there is free public wi-fi. We are, as usual, here ridiculously early, because you never know when there might be a huge backup at check-in or terrorization, so we have some time before we have to board. There follows a few reflections on my first visit to New Orleans.
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Food
The Microbrewery Post
The old Jackson Brewery in New Orleans has been converted into a collection of tourist shops and offices. There is a Crescent City Brewery pub just over the road, but I haven’t had a chance to try it. I have, however, been drinking a raspberry wheat beer from Abita, who are Louisiana-based. It is very good. And what is more it is called Purple Haze.
I mean, how can you not love a beer called Purple Haze?
According to the web site, you can buy it at Wine Warehouse in Richmond, as well as many non-Bay Area locations. The full list of brews is here.
Morning, What Morning?
We managed to get out of the hotel by noon. Breakfast, as Kevin reports, was at the lovely Court of the Two Sisters. It is a buffet, so the food wasn’t brilliant, but it was still better than most bunch buffets you could find, and it has a fabulous setting. I determined to find a recipe for Oysters Bienville (which I have since done). It was also half the price of breakfast at Brennans (but possibly not half as good).
Bourbon Street was up and watching the Saints game. Fortunately they were not playing the 49ers, and we managed to get back to our hotel before Campbell and Moss ripped the beat-up Saints secondary to shreds in the 4th quarter. The quarter was a little subdued when we went out for an afternoon walk, but I managed to find several very interesting places, all of which deserve a post of their own.
Street of Contrast
This evening we went for dinner at a place called Arnaud’s. I can happily say that it was one of the best meals I have had in my life. The Alligator Sausage and the Petit Filet Lafitte were both wonderful, and while the Strawberries Arnaud that I had was merely good, the crepes that Kevin ordered were phenomenal – something to do with adding a little cream cheese to the cream stuffing, which worked brilliantly.
The other thing that struck me about this evening was the level of contrast you get in Bourbon Street. Inside Arnaud’s, had it not been for one rather loud table (who had come “All The Way From ATLANTA!!!!”), and the somewhat less rigorous dress code, we might as well have been in 1918, when the restaurant opened, not in 2008. Outside, on the other hand, Bourbon Street was in full Saturday Night swing, and was full of drunk people eager to lap up cheap booze and sex (and doubtless getting overcharged for both).
After the meal we popped into Cafe Beignet where they promised live jazz from Steamboat Willie. The band was perfectly competent, but after a few numbers the phrase “easy listening” started to come to mind. Willie and the band were playing for the audience, and assumed that audience knew little about jazz. The bands we saw on Thursday and Friday were playing for jazz fans in the audience, and because they loved playing.
There was a rather good brass ensemble busking at the entrance to Bourbon Street, but they were already posing a (pedestrian) traffic hazard and I didn’t want to have to listen standing up, so here we are back at the hotel instead.
Cafe Correction
So the reason I could not find a web site for the restaurant we went to last night was because it is called Orleans Cafe, not Cafe Orleans. It still doesn’t have a web site, but here’s a page on CitySearch.
Parallel Obsessions
Today we indulged Kevin’s passion for railway lines, or in this particular case streetcar lines. He has reports here and here. But I managed to twist some of day my way too.
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Hot Summer Night
This evening we had dinner in a place called Cafe Orleans on Decatur that doesn’t seem to have a web site. It isn’t one of the famous restaurants, but it was very good. I had red snapper; Kevin had a pasta seafood medley. The price was reasonable too. I suspect that there are plenty of places like that in the city.
After that we took a long walk around the Quarter and ended up in a German pub called Fritzel’s which had an excellent jazz band. We ended up sharing a table with two very sloshed gay boys who were totally stoked to learn that we were from San Francisco. The City’s name acts like a passport to friendship with the Queer Nation all over the world.
By the way, Fritzel’s describes itself as “European” rather than “German”, though there’s no doubt as to its origins once you get inside. I guess there are obvious reasons for that. But for some strange reason Larry Flynt’s establishments appear to be using “European” as a code word for “topless”. Go figure.
N’Awlins, Day 2
Well, it is has been a busy day thus far. Kevin has already chronicled it, so I don’t have much to add, but here are a few additional thoughts on food, shopping and the weather.
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Bourbon Street Browsing
Well, this is New Orleans all right. The French Quarter reminds me a bit of Soho in London, except that the sidewalks are rather more decrepit and the sex clubs don’t appear to have any limits on what they can show outside. But Soho has nothing like Bourbon Street. We started out with a nice little seafood restaurant (alligator nuggets to start, crab-stuffed flounder for me, crawfish for Kevin), and then found our way to Maison Bourbon, where we spent a happy hour or so listening to Jamil Sharif and his band play some excellent jazz. There were half a dozen or so other music clubs I would happily have spent time in, but the blues and rock clubs, having electric instruments, tended to be very loud. And anyway, jazz was what we have come for, and Jamil was very good. So far, so good.
By the way, alligator, much to my surprise, is not like crocodile. It looked more like pork than chicken, for all that they cooked it as if it was chicken.
Arrived
We are safely in New Orleans. Kevin has already blogged about the trip.
It didn’t take me long to warm to this place, and that wasn’t anything to do with the blast of hot, humid air that greeted us as we got off the plane. No, it was the airport. Most airports have totally predictable and very boring shops. Here, within a few yards of each other, I found “Creole Kitchen” and “House of Blues”. Food and music. This is my sort of place.
We don’t have much in the way of plans right now, so suggestions are welcome. Tomorrow we are having breakfast at Brennans and will be visiting the Arthur Roger Gallery because the Dale Chihuly exhibition closes on the 13th.
So far everything is going well. The only mild mistake I appear to have made in the packing is not to bring hangers. Yes, I know we are only here for 5 days, but if you can’t over-dress in New Orleans where can you do so?
Of course you can under-dress as well. The cover of the tourist guide magazine in our hotel room features an article about the burlesque revival, which I’ve seen various of my New Yorker friends getting excited about (mainly the lesbians).
Hmm, I wonder if it is dinner time yet?
Slow Food Reporting
It doesn’t look like there will be much left to see at the Slow Food festival on Monday, so I don’t think I’ll bother to go in, but here is a report from the Chronicle on what has happened so far.
Slow in the City
As I mentioned some time back, there is a Slow Food festival in San Francisco. It is running from Friday through Monday. Kevin and I have to be away on Saturday/Sunday, but as Monday is a Labor Day we might be able to get into the City then. For those of you who are interested, here is a Chronicle article about the festival.
Blumlein and Shea at SF in SF
Last night’s SF in SF began at Eddie Rickenbacker’s, a thoroughly eccentric restaurant just south of Mission on 2nd. I’ve seen weird decor before, but this place not only had a model railway running above our heads, it also had a bunch of vintage motorbikes hanging from the ceiling. One of them had apparently once belonged to Clark Gable, and another had served in the Foreign Legion. The weird old guy mentioned in the reviews I linked to wasn’t in evidence, but they had the largest ginger cat I have ever seen. The food was good. They had oxtail, which is unusual for the USA, and Nick Mamatas had good things to say about their Orange Julius. Cliff Winnig caused something of a stir by arriving in costume direct from the Ren Faire in Golden Gate Park.
Later, back at the Variety Preview Room, Michael Blumlein read part of a darkly funny story about a cremation than went wrong, helped by Terry Bisson and Carter Scholtz who read the parts of a dodgy pair of health inspectors. Then Michael Shea read the first chapter of his latest novel project, Demiurge. The book is told from the point of view of a demon able to inhabit other living forms. Very strange.
All in all, another good night. And next up (on September 20th) we have David Levine and Nick Mamatas reading.
Jamba in Store
Still with the shopping, I was in Safeway this morning and noticed a young man doing one of those tasting demos on what looked like a new fruit drink. I asked him what he was selling. “Jamba Juice”, was the reply.
I was so sold. Jamba smoothies to take home and stick in the fridge for later? What a wonderful idea. i picked a couple up straight away. You can learn more here.
Culinary Success
Well, that worked rather well. Chop and fry some onion. Add the chorizo and continue frying. Add some chopped tomatoes, cilantro and a dash of line juice, and simmer. Serve with refried beans, rice and sweetcorn. It probably wasn’t very good for my waistline, but as Mexican comfort food goes it did just fine. I feel positively domestic-goddessly.
Dessert, it being summer in California, was a bowl of fresh cherries.
Expedition Fail
Being in need of some fresh food, I set out on an expedition this morning, only to watch both the 210 and 211 buses whiz down Fremont Boulevard just minutes before I arrived at the stop. Being unwilling to wait half an hour in the hot sun, I popped into the local Mexican grocery to see what they had. I have come away with an onion, some tomatoes and a packet of chorizo.
Mexican chorizo is not much like the sausage that you get in Europe. Although it comes in sausage-shaped packet, it is much more like mince in consistency. You certainly can’t slice it. So I shall treat it like mince and concoct something spicy and glorious. I have rice, refried beans and sweetcorn in the store cupboard. I think that will do for dinner.
And I’ll make another attempt to go in search of fresh olives and orange juice tomorrow.
A Food Meme
Via Andrew Wheeler and another Andrew Wheeler I came across this meme about interesting foods that you have eaten. The rules of the meme are: bold those you have tried, strikethrough those you wouldn’t eat on a bet. Links are provided for the more obscure items. I’ve added some commentary. The list is long so I’ve put it behind a fold.
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The Cat on Fondue
So last night we went out for fondue. It is the first time I have ever eaten at a proper fondue restaurant. I’m afraid that mostly it gets two thumbs down. Not that the food was bad, it just doesn’t fit with the hunting cat mentality.
To start with, the menu was very confusing. Even after the waiter explained it many of us were still unsure what we had ordered.
Starters was cheese. To anyone born in Somerset, melting good cheese is sacrilege. You use cheap stuff for cheese on toast. But the restaurant did have a solution. We had a Mexican cheese starter, with jalapenos and salsa in the cheese, and tortilla chips to eat it with. That worked.
Main course did not work. It is so not cat-like to have to cook each bite of food before you can eat it. There was raw salmon on the plate, but the waiter warned us to cook everything before eating it. Some of the marinated steak was OK, but oh, the waiting…
Thankfully dessert saved my evening. We were given piles of yummy things and encouraged to dip them in molten chocolate. Why couldn’t we have just had three courses of dessert?
Finncon Photos
I have finally managed to get my photos for Finncon online. They’ll make more sense when the con report goes up, but at least they’ll get you started. There are lots of anime costumes, some of them quite spectacular. Also several photos Harald – the Viking restaurant – and of Tampere Cathedral.
Note to John Coulthart – having checked the guide book, it appears that the only painting by Magnus Enckell is the altar fresco (which does indeed include men holding hands, though they are dead). The main fresco is by Hugo Simberg, who also painted the magnificent “Garden of Death”.
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Tar-Flavored Travel
I am back (briefly) in Darkest Somerset. I’m not happy with SAS. Firstly my flight was delayed for an hour due to a dead aircraft. This is normally not a problem, but when you have only 2.5 hours to get from Heathrow to Paddington to catch the train you are booked on, and missing the connection will cost you $100 in additional train fares, it is a bit worrying. Thankfully I made it with about 15 minutes to spare.
Rather more importantly, SAS somehow managed to break a bottle of Finnish tar liquor that was safely packed inside my luggage. How they did it I do not know, but the bag now smells delightfully of tar. I always pack my clothes inside plastic bags just in case of accidents with toiletries, so my clothes are all OK, but I do have to apologize to Sean Williams. My copy of Earth Ascendant is still readable, and smells wonderful, but Finnish tar liquor is not pink.
Apologies too to Irma for wasting her lovely present.
When I got back here I discovered that my uncle had dropped in for the day and was taking my mum and I out to dinner. We ended up at the Enmore Inn, where the food was quite nice, but I was particularly taken by their special table. They’ve had an extension built onto the pub for the restaurant, and the well is now inside the building. There is a glass cover on the well, and a table with a glass top placed over it. The inside of the well is lit up, so you can see the water and the skeleton inside it. I would have preferred to see a tentacled monster at the bottom, but I was impressed with their imagination.