I was up early again on Sunday morning for my breakfast date with B. and his son, C. B. and I had met in New Orleans pre-Katrina, thanks to Virtual Tourist. Back then, we’d met for drinks at The Kerry (an Irish pub next to the fire house on Decatur), had more drinks at Molly’s on the Market, ate a pizza at Angeli, then ended at dba on Frenchmen Street. Several years after Katrina, we’d sort of lost touch. I knew that he’d gotten married and had a son, but we hadn’t really been contacting each other. Due to my New Year’s resolution to reconnect with people from my past, I thought this was the perfect time. B. picked me up at 9:30 a.m. and introduced me to C., who was riding in the back seat, of course. We went by one possibility for breakfast, but it was small and full. We went to another one, but they mainly had pastries, coffee and chocolate. He asked if I was ok with it or wanted to go elsewhere. Well, if we were going to have pastries, anyway, I preferred to try out District: Donuts and Sliders, which is located near where the Irish parade began the day before. We parked close to Magazine Street and walked towards the restaurant. When I admired the blooms on a Japanese magnolia tree, C. asked his father to pick one so that he could give it to me. Awww, C. is already a Southern gentleman in training! District is a place that B. and C. frequent, anyway, particularly on weekday mornings. On this Sunday morning, there was a huge line, but it moved relatively quickly. They ordered a strawberry lemonade donut and a milk and cereal one, plus a biscuit and drinks. I snagged the last Vietnamese iced coffee donut, along with some iced tea. We found seats at the counter in the back and dug in. My donut was good, but very messy. As I took a bite, all of the filling oozed out the other side! B. happens to know one of the owners of District, who stopped by us to say “hello.” B. told me that he no longer gets to travel much now that he’s raising a family, though they went to China a few years ago. He confessed that he’s never even been to Europe yet, let alone any other part of Asia. He hopes to remedy that soon. He does, however, have a lakefront property that he rents out via AirBnB, so if any of my readers are interested, I can put you in touch with him.
As he drove me back to the Quarter, B. asked what my plans were. I said that I needed to get cash somewhere, then take a cab to either St. Bernard and Claiborne, or to LaSalle and Washington to see the Mardi Gras Indians. He was kind enough to take me to a Chase ATM, then to St. Bernard and Claiborne, as it was closer to my studio. Unfortunately, at 11:00 a.m. there were no Mardi Gras Indians to be found. He didn’t feel comfortable dropping me off there to wait, so he took me back to the Quarter. We promised to be better about keeping in touch in the future.
About an hour or so later, I caught a cab to LaSalle and Washington. I KNEW that the Mardi Gras Indians would be there for certain, as it had been announced on the news that morning. Yet when I told the cab driver where I wanted to go, he looked at me incredulously and asked “Are you SURE you want me to drop you there?!” I insisted that a parade would be taking place, but he seemed skeptical. Once we were near the area, we noticed that roads were already blocked off and people were out in their yards and in the streets selling food and drinks. There was already a party atmosphere in the air. When he dropped me off, I immediately saw a few Mardi Gras Indians. Once the parade started, there were many, many more. It was difficult to get good pictures, although many of them stopped to pose, because so many people crowded around, then put their cell phones directly in front of your face to take pictures, which ended up ruining your shot! Also, as the Mardi Gras Indians turn this way and that, they send out their spy boys and wild men to clear space for them to walk. Even so, I was pleased with the majority of the shots that I did get. The whole experience was amazing to me. When the parade was over, I bought some incredibly tasty jambalaya from someone who’d set up a truck next to their house. I also stood in line for a blackberry snowball. As I was at the intersection of LaSalle and Washington enjoying that snowball, the crowd around me danced to Too Short’s “Blow the Whistle.” I appeared to be one of the very few Asians for miles around! Being unfamiliar with the area, I asked some locals how to get back to the French Quarter, since cabs seemed to be lacking in the area. They directed me to walk 7 or 8 blocks down Peter Street (?) to St. Charles Avenue; from there, I could walk, catch a cab or jump on the streetcar. As I thanked them, they offered me a shot of Fireball whiskey, but I had to pass, due to the heat and not having eaten enough yet!
When I made it back to the Quarter, the only thing on my mind was a muffelatta from Central Grocery. Wouldn’t you know it? They sold out 2 people in front of me! I then stopped at Petite Amelie and ordered one there. They were sold out as well, so I settled for a very mediocre portabello mushroom sandwich. It did NOT satisfy my craving.
I went back to my studio and actually passed out for about an hour. I then woke up, freshened up, changed and thought about going to Eat for more butter beans with shrimp. Alas, they were closed on Sunday. I went to Kingfish, sat at the bar and ordered their “Junky Chick” Rotisserie Chicken. The Cajun marinade-injected chicken was dusted with herbs de Provence, served with Applewood-smoked bacon bits, cebollitas and smashed potatoes, and was (sadly) very, very average. The smashed potatoes were the best part. When the bartender asked how it was, I honestly said it was “ok.” When the woman next to me said that it smelled amazing, I told her not to order it ’cause she could probably make it at home and it would be better. Not surprisingly, I didn’t finish it. Later, when the woman next to me ordered the Shrimp Gaufre, I said that HERS smelled amazing. She admitted that it was very average, too.
Having been disappointed in my last two attempts at a real meal, I wandered to the far end of Royal Street to Verti Marte. They’re open 24 hours and have a little deli with a HUGE menu in the back. I got a grilled shrimp po’ boy, a moon pie, an aranciata and headed back to the studio to enjoy my snack.
Mardi Gras Indians
Mardi Gras Indians
Mardi Gras Indians
Locals Enjoying Crawfish
Inside Petite Amelie