New Orleans - October 2002
The last week of October and the first in November found me and my duct tape sticking around New Orleans and the Florida Panhandle. New Orleans for Halloween is unforgettable fun. There I was on Bourbon Street, standing next to two ex-cons who were debating which of them had been arrested more often. While they argued, we all watched the incredible parade of costumes, the usual witches and prisoners, cats and cowboys, the inventive disco ball man who spun through the streets, the wizard looking for his hobbits. Then, who should appear but a young man who had taken a box, wrapped it in aluminum foil and duct tape, cut out an opening in the front and placed the box on his head. On top of the box was a sign. "Free Mammograms Here." On his chest was another sign "Place boobs here." That was definitely the most inspired costume and best use of duct tape I've ever seen! The fellow had a steady stream of ladies visiting him.
While in the Big Easy, I was fortunate to stay at the Bienville House, a gem of a place that emanates the good feelings of home. It's beautifully furnished in old south style, with thick opulent drapes and pretty antiques that set it apart from the usual boring chain decor. Parts of it are a little worn at the edges, and it needs a few things done here and there. You know the feeling. But it's comfortable and feels oh so fine when you get back from exploring. They even say "Welcome home," when you return to the stunning lobby. I can't say enough about the bed, which was the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in anywhere. One morning I found my husband uncharacteristically looking at the mattress trying in vain to determine the brand.
Our first night in this 83-room historic location, the bellman, Mr. Tony, informed me that New Orleans was a fantasy town regardless of the season. "You can be anything you want to be here. You want to be a bunny rabbit, go right ahead and be a bunny rabbit." Then he hopped on the luggage cart and hurtled down a hallway out of sight. Talk about an Alice in Wonderland on daiquiris moment.
The Bienville hotel is right in the French Quarter, on Decatur Street, so it's an easy walk to places like the outdoor Cafe Du Monde, where the white sugar from the outstanding-not-to-be-missed beignets coats the floor in pleasing Pollock-like splatters. The House of Blues is on the same block too, and Bourbon Street is a short stroll. The French Market, which has everything from sugar cane to jerk alligator, from eye popping T-shirts to creepy voodoo coffins holding dolls, is an easy walk as well.
Each morning at the Bienville House you rise, take a pretty wicker tray from your room and head downstairs to the lovely included breakfast buffet. You can eat in the flower filled romantic courtyard by the pool and won't believe that right outside is all that city hustle and bustle. The prices for rooms, where you are likely to have a lovely wrought iron balcony, are moderate so check them out if you want a neat little duct tape free spot to stay.
No matter how many times I visit N'awlins there's something else to see. Having done the swamp tour, the Voodoo, Jazz and other museums, the ferry ride to Algiers, and countless other fun excursions on past visits, this trip I visited the New Orleans School of Glass and watched some talented glassblowers blow Christmas ornaments. I stopped at the carousel bar at The Monteleone Hotel, an actual carousel which rotates every 15 minutes or so. And then there was the Daiquiri Bar up at the top of St. Charles Avenue, near the famous Camellia Grill. The daiquiri place has dozens of flavors displayed in the wall in the back of a huge bar. That's right, in the wall. The daiquiris are in porthole shaped vats that look like washing machine windows. Pretty watercolor flavors, pinks, blues and greens dot the wall. I went for the girly Peach Bellini. My son and his friend downed the one called 180 octane which tasted nasty to me. We bought the small size, 16 oz. There's also 32 oz. and gallon! After the gallon I'd be seeing bunny rabbits, never mind being one.
That night we went to Commander's Palace, still my favorite restaurant in the town, with a bread pudding soufflé dessert that is unrivaled. Another night we hit Emeril's Delmonico and headed off to The Palace Cafe for another favorite dessert, white chocolate bread pudding which we polished off with a lovely Quinto do Noval port. We also dined at Peristyle, an outstanding, though noisy, spot and at August, where the exquisite but tiny portions are amazingly good, especially those truffled gnocchi.
After all that eating, we walked and walked, and walked some more. I'm going to be walking for the next three months to reverse those meals. Maybe I should take Mr. Tony's advice and try hopping off the calories!
Next time I'll fill you in on the Panhandle where the Redneck Riviera has turned into the Emerald Coast.
Ciao...and don't forget the duct tape!
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