New Orleans
My family and I recently returned from a delightful jaunt through New Orleans, in celebration of my parents’ thirty-fifth anniversary. I felt like everyone there was trying to cram sticks of butter into my ears, either musically or culinarily. In other words, the trip was fantastic, and Sara is pretty sure I gained weight. The highlights among highlights were dinner at Arnauds (look up “Pompano Duarte”) and a show at Kermet Ruffins’ Treme Speakeasy (where the horn-tooting bandleader is also the restaurant owner and chef).
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- Jazz Brunch: One of New Orleans’ definitive contributions to America. No pancakes here, unless you can make seafood pancakes.
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- At the WWII museum. I’m on a classics kick, and found this image with Athena in the background particularly moving.
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- Whatever this was, it was very exciting, which is saying something after several days of mind-numbingly delicious food.
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- “Pompano Duarte” is Creole for “butter.” The Creole language has over ten thousand words for butter.
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- The little courtyards are magical.
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- On the first day, we had our own little Katrina. Turns out the drainage system is still not the best.
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- Like mansions in the jungle.
