tales from the road
I think I am heading out of New Orleans tomorrow, but today I am going to venture to the French Quarter in the afternoon (after lunch with Chris and a phone call for the new gig) and then tomorrow morning I am heading to the Lower 9th Ward to see the Pink Project.
Then I hit the trail. Savannah, GA is my next destination. I'll probably get there some time on Friday and I just booked a room for a couple of nights at The Marshall House, which was apparently featured on the Travel Channel's Great Hotels. I got a balcony room and apparently it will be in the 70's over the weekend, so I'm looking forward to it.
Samantha Brown from the Travel Channel gets the veranda at The Marshall Hotel ready for me.So, before I leave New Orleans (okay, I still have more than 24 hours), let me tell you about some of the places where I have eaten or gone shopping while I've been here.
On Saturday night, Chris and I went to Jacques-Imo's Cafe and shared shrimp and alligator sausage cheesecake, fried green tomatos and fried grits. I had the Carpter Bagger Steak and Chris had the Blackened Redfish . . . and then we died of a coronary on the way to the car. Well, not quite, but we barely touched our entrees we were so full . . . All of it was tasty and RICH and hanging out in the bar for an hour before being seated was less of a drag than it has ever been. Of course, it had to do with being there with Chris, but the Mark Hoppus/Travis Morrison love child bartender and festive mood made the time pass quickly.
On Sunday night, we went to Juan's Flying Burrito. I had a pretty disappointing margarita (did not taste any tequila) and, despite the fact that Chris was crushing on the waitress, the service was insanely slow. But the Flying Enchiladas ("steak, chicken and shrimp grilled together, then stuffed inside our cheese enchiladas served with all three sauces, topped with sour cream and guacamole") was tasty and the servings weren't huge, so I left sated, not stuffed.
On Monday, as I reported before, I spent the day at rue de la course and had a pretty unremarkable sandwich that I won't bore you with. Drink coffee and use their wifi. Don't order a sandwich. The setting is beautiful and low key and there are only a few annoying hippie/punk hybrids who make you want to cut yourself.
Monday night I ate alone at Bistro Italia because Chris started his bar class. I drank too much Pinot Noir, had the Gorgonzola Balsamic Salad (the pistachios were a nice touch, but I always forget how much I hate sun dried tomatos) and the Pesto Pasta ("penne pasta sauteed with mushrooms, garlic and basil, tossed in an alfredo and pesto sauce atop marinara"). I ate at the bar and was kept company by Matt (or Mark?), the bartender, who was trying to come up with a play list of mellow music and to whom I introduced Boz Scaggs (not literally, but in song.)
Yesterday, I ate one meal, which often happens when I am on the road because I am either being lazy or unadventurous. But it was a good meal -- with great and charming service from my Australian waitress -- at Slim Goodies Diner. (I don't know, I really like waitresses that use terms of endearment. I'm a sucker for that sh*t.) I chose the Slimcherros, their signature version of Huevos Rancheros. Sure, it's hard to screw up beans, cheese, tortillas and eggs (and salsa and avocado and sour cream) but it was yummy and, like Juan's, the serving size was small enough that it hit the spot just right.
(You know how they tell you to keep a journal of what you eat when you are going on a diet? Yeah, reading this list of my meals over the past few days makes me want to go on a 30 day fast; or at least put down the sour cream and walk away slowly.)
I showed you my new shoes (which I got at Giggle Berries, which sounds too much like dingle berries for me). Yesterday I bought a new jacket at Hemline, but I haven't taken a photo of it (and I'm not sure I will).
These are from Slim Goodies. I need to become more comfortable taking pictures of people I don't know. Like the friendly Australian waitress.
On Saturday night, Chris and I went to Jacques-Imo's Cafe and shared shrimp and alligator sausage cheesecake, fried green tomatos and fried grits. I had the Carpter Bagger Steak and Chris had the Blackened Redfish . . . and then we died of a coronary on the way to the car. Well, not quite, but we barely touched our entrees we were so full . . . All of it was tasty and RICH and hanging out in the bar for an hour before being seated was less of a drag than it has ever been. Of course, it had to do with being there with Chris, but the Mark Hoppus/Travis Morrison love child bartender and festive mood made the time pass quickly.
On Sunday night, we went to Juan's Flying Burrito. I had a pretty disappointing margarita (did not taste any tequila) and, despite the fact that Chris was crushing on the waitress, the service was insanely slow. But the Flying Enchiladas ("steak, chicken and shrimp grilled together, then stuffed inside our cheese enchiladas served with all three sauces, topped with sour cream and guacamole") was tasty and the servings weren't huge, so I left sated, not stuffed.
On Monday, as I reported before, I spent the day at rue de la course and had a pretty unremarkable sandwich that I won't bore you with. Drink coffee and use their wifi. Don't order a sandwich. The setting is beautiful and low key and there are only a few annoying hippie/punk hybrids who make you want to cut yourself.
Monday night I ate alone at Bistro Italia because Chris started his bar class. I drank too much Pinot Noir, had the Gorgonzola Balsamic Salad (the pistachios were a nice touch, but I always forget how much I hate sun dried tomatos) and the Pesto Pasta ("penne pasta sauteed with mushrooms, garlic and basil, tossed in an alfredo and pesto sauce atop marinara"). I ate at the bar and was kept company by Matt (or Mark?), the bartender, who was trying to come up with a play list of mellow music and to whom I introduced Boz Scaggs (not literally, but in song.)
Yesterday, I ate one meal, which often happens when I am on the road because I am either being lazy or unadventurous. But it was a good meal -- with great and charming service from my Australian waitress -- at Slim Goodies Diner. (I don't know, I really like waitresses that use terms of endearment. I'm a sucker for that sh*t.) I chose the Slimcherros, their signature version of Huevos Rancheros. Sure, it's hard to screw up beans, cheese, tortillas and eggs (and salsa and avocado and sour cream) but it was yummy and, like Juan's, the serving size was small enough that it hit the spot just right.
(You know how they tell you to keep a journal of what you eat when you are going on a diet? Yeah, reading this list of my meals over the past few days makes me want to go on a 30 day fast; or at least put down the sour cream and walk away slowly.)
I showed you my new shoes (which I got at Giggle Berries, which sounds too much like dingle berries for me). Yesterday I bought a new jacket at Hemline, but I haven't taken a photo of it (and I'm not sure I will).
These are from Slim Goodies. I need to become more comfortable taking pictures of people I don't know. Like the friendly Australian waitress.
.jpg)
2 comments:
Savannah has always struck me as the only real sister city of New Orleans. The differences offer a real study in contrasts between a British settlement and a French/Spanish one. Eat some pecan pie and have a great time in both.
Thanks, Matt. Pecan pie . . . the 30 day fast will apparently need to wait.
Post a Comment