Saturday, May 31, 2008

New Orleans Travelogue, Day 2

After sleeping for ten or eleven glorious hours, we hit the French Quarter for some touristy action. It was Sunday prior to Memorial Day, so the Quarter was packed. Cousin Nancy dropped us all off near Jackson Square around noon. Despite forecasts in the 80s, it was a blazing 90 degrees out.

We all stood in wonder looking at the performance artist who had painted himself silver. He had a robot thing going on. The kids loved it and the adults wondered how he could stand to be covered in silver paint in the New Orleans heat. Just across from Robot Man was Balloon Man. BM had quite a crowd around him so I told the monkeys that we'd get a balloon animal "later."

There were plenty of artists hawking their wares--including a recent graduate of the U of M, palm & tarot readers, and so on, but our first stop was the 1850 House. Here we got a peek of middle class family life during the most prosperous period in New Orleans' history. The most exciting part of this foray was the store owner's warning that if we crossed the velvet ropes, an alarm would go off and he would have to call the police to turn it off. We all stared at Jiro and wondered whether we should proceed or not. Luckily, we made it through without incident.

Our next stop was the Presbytere, a.k.a. "The Mardi Gras Museum." It was a very thorough and interesting look at Mardi Gras traditions throughout Louisiana that both the kids and adults enjoyed. (And it was air-conditioned!)



After the Presbytere, we split up. My mom and my nephew went in search of food and Team Oster, along with my niece, went in search of popsicles, lizards hiding in the foliage, the elusive Ballooon Man, and the the free ferry to Algiers.



It took us awhile to figure out where it was and how to get on the ferry, but once we did, it was quite nice. The kids thought it was quite an adventure and it provided a nice breeze. The round trip took about 30-45 minutes tops.

Once we were back on dry land, we desperately needed some food. Oddly enough, this proved quite difficult and about an hour later we found ourselves in a Popeye's on Canal Street. This was disappointing to me, as I wanted every meal in New Orleans to be spectacular, but the kids were happy. (Popeye's was my favorite at their age too.) However, it was the dumbest Popeye's ever. They were out of what Warren wanted; they were slow; the menu was confusing; nothing was self-serve (not even the ketchup). I vacillated between wanting to break out in tears and wanting to break out in hysterics.

Once we got our food everything was lovely and we were all ready to face the world again. We walked back to the apartment, decompressed a little, and got ready for a monkey-free night on the town.

My mom and Nancy bravely took all of the kids on a streetcar ride to the Louisiana Pizza Kitchen. Our friend Amy, who we met in the Peace Corps, picked us up and took us to her neighborhood for dinner & drinks. She lives in the Bywater area downriver from the French Quarter. I had never heard of this area, much less visited it, so it was an adventure. Amy and her sister, Megan, are both employed by FEMA, and are in the process of fixing up an old creole cottage. We hung out on their massive front porch sipping Abitas, catching up, and taking in the local scene. It was very bohemian.

There were lots of pedestrians and bike riders. (Specifically an elderly lady in a tutu riding a pink beach cruiser and a young hipster riding his bike with his dog running alongside on a leash who nearly killed himself when his dog went one way around a street sign and he went the other.) There was also an air of...excitement. "That's where they found a body yesterday," Amy said as she pointed to a dumpster a few blocks away. (Yes, the crime in New Orleans is even worse than in Memphis.)

But back to the good stuff.

Amy had been in Memphis a few days before we headed to New Orleans and had told us about the garden setting at the Bacchanal Wine Company where visiting chefs take turns grilling in the backyard three nights a week. "We're going THERE!" I said authoritatively.

And we did.



From the outside it doesn't look like much, but the backyard is an oasis. With tropical plants surrounding the perimeter, Christmas lights strung from the trees, and a hodge podge of tables and chairs flanked by tiki torches, it was the beer garden of my dreams! (Minus the kids' play area...)



Jeff and Bart from the soon-to-be-open Crescent Pie & Sausage Company were hard at work making specialty pizzas, delicious jerk wings, sausage platters, steak and scallop kabobs, crab & watermelon salad, and even truffles. Everything was so tasty, Amy, Warren, and I ended up eating all but one item on the menu!





The waitress told me that the chef from a newly opened Japanese restaurant was scheduled to cook the next week and I was very sad that I would not be there to experience it. Bacchanal is my kind of place. I asked Warren if he thought we could somehow turn our backyard into restaurant with visiting chefs, but he seemed doubtful. "It would really just be like Cocktail Hour, only different," I tried.

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