New Orleans is one of my two favorite cities in the world. And I am so lucky that it is only a two-hour drive and, therefore, accessible at whim, as opposed to my other favorite city which is an ocean away and not as easy to get to on the spur of the moment.
While this may sound odd, New Orleans has always been where I go when my inner batteries wind down.
You can have your bucolic weekends in the country, the sun-soaked beach getaways, the bracing mountain hikes. Give me a day or so -- heck, even a few hours -- in this filthy, stinking, decaying, dysfunctional yet WONDERFUL city, and I can take on the world again.
If ever my batteries needed recharging, it was this weekend. As always, New Orleans did not disappoint. The weather was beautiful, the food was great, and the city was full of haunted happenings.
I ate the seven-course "taste of New Orleans sampler" at the Upperline. The gumbo, duck with ginger peach sauce, barbecue shrimp and the bread pudding with toffee sauce were divine. The turtle soup, fried green tomatoes remoulade and duck etouffee were good, but not great. On the whole, I think this art-filled restaurant in the Garden District realized its glory days a decade ago, but still it was worth a visit.
On the other hand, my meal at Bacco in the Quarter --oyster artichoke soup and lobster ravioli with caviar -- was every bit as fabulous as it sounds.
I always look forward to taste revelations in New Orleans. This weekend it was the unexpected, yet delightful, seasonal pairing of Louisiana satsuma with fennel in a scoop of gelato at La Davina Gelateria on St. Peter.
Got my Halloween fix with two tours, the Friends of the Cabildo's "Ghostly Gallivant" and The Historic New Orleans Collection's "Historic Haunts." Now I can hear my more high-falutin' friends tsk-tsking my low-brow choices, but these were not the overpriced, lurid and inaccurate ghost tours that draw in the flip-flop and T-shirt crowd slurping down hurricanes from plastic go-cups. These two tours, attended largely by locals, were carefully researched history lessons as much as ghost stories.
Lest you think me a snob, I did hob-nob with the go-cup packin' Midwestern tourists at the "Boo" Carre Halloween parade Saturday night. The second annual parade, sponsored by Blaine Kern, the name behind those incredible Mardi Gras floats, offered the same level of witty, detailed rides -- and the great throws -- as what you'll see a few months down the road. Check out my haul in the photo above. And, nope, I didn't even have to show 'em.
Some of my favorite vignettes from this weekend:
Two nuns in billowing white habits floating past like ghostly apparitions bearing flowers.
Ladies of a certain age, bedecked in the full purple and red regalia of The Red Hat Society, walking single-file past the burlesque and tranny shows of Bourbon Street .
A middle-aged man, wheeling his bike home, as he sadly shook his head and loudly bemoaned the number of heterosexuals taking over the old neighborhood.
I believe that last remark may have been aimed at my Recurring Gentleman Caller and me. We had chosen that moment for an impromptu, and we thought discreet, PDA.
Only in New Orleans could my boring, normal life ever be considered an exotic alternative lifestyle.
Now do you see why I love this city?
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