Things I think you should do in the French Quarter

Once again, I have been lured away from the YA I'm writing right now and back to ma blog to address a request. It seems that a number of my dear friends are visiting New Orleans this fall and need suggestions for things to do. Well. WELL.

Anyone lucky enough to be heading to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras can go armed with the sage knowledge I provided in my Mardi Gras Do's and Don'ts post, but what about folks heading to the Big Easy for the other forty-someodd weeks of the year? Don't worry. I've got y'all's backs with some hot picks from a former NOLA resident.

The French Quarter is only six blocks by thirteen blocks, but most people have a hard time remembering to go anywhere else when they come to New Orleans. There's just so much to do! French Quarter residents have reported to me that they've literally gone six months without leaving the bounds of the Quarter. So without further ado, I present to you:

QuidQuid's French Quarter Picks

FANCY FOOD

My pick: Galatoire's Restaurant


photo credit: jussissipi's flickr

You have to eat some French Creole food while you're in New Orleans. You just have to.

Maybe it's because it's the first place I ever ate in New Orleans, I don't know. There are a lot of fancy historical French Creole restaurants in the French Quarter--Antoine's, Broussard's, Tujaque's--but Galatoire's is the spot as far as I'm concerned. This is French Creole cuisine at its finest. I'd recommend something on the menu, but why bother? Chicken Clemenceau? Poisson Meunière Amandine? Close your eyes and point at one. It's all incredible.


I don't even know what this is and I'd eat it

It's expensive, but hey, this is the Fancy Food section! It doesn't' matter how much you spend, anyway. You will walk out of that place feeling like you should probably just Lieutenant Dan it into the Mississip' out of pure prandial delight. Just don't forget to have a cup of the turtle soup au sherry before you go.


NONFANCY FOOD

My pick: Verdi Marte


photo credit: melinnis's flickr

Sandwiches are a very important part of New Orleans cuisine. You've got your muffulettas, of course, which can only be purchased at Central Grocery. If you need a burger, you head to Port of Call. But far and away the most important sandwich in NOLA is the po boy. It's a sub sandwich done as only New Orleans can do it--on halved French bread with incredible fillings like fried shrimp, roast beef, or even french fries.


photo credit: Ryan Boren

If you need a po boy--and believe me, you need a po boy--you need to take yourself to Verdi Marte. You're going to get there and say Are you kidding me? but trust me. This is the best fast food in the city. It burned down a couple of years ago, but it's cool--Verdi Marte is back and better than ever. So go get you some.

You should probably also have breakfast at Mother's on Poydras (just outside the Quarter), lunch at Angeli on Decatur, and cafe au lait and beignets at Cafe du Monde across from Jackson Square. You're going to need to eat a lot while you're there.


JAZZ CLUBS

My pick: Snug Harbor



Sort of like you're going to need to eat a po boy, you're also going to need to see some jazz. Even if you think you hate jazz. Trust me. There's nothing quite like sipping a cocktail and listening to a little bit of jazz in the midst of your crazy New Orleans night.

The best jazz bar ever ever ever was Funky Butt, which, unfortunately, never reopened after Hurricane Katrina. It was dark and full of couches and shadowy nooks, the music was always hot, and the bartender Wheaties knew how to keep a glass full of Funky Butt Juice. Funky Butt was my go-to French Quarter hotspot. New Orleans perfection. RIP.

With Funky Butt dead and gone, I must send you all instead to a very different establishment: Snug Harbor. Snug, along with The Spotted Cat, is on Frenchman Street, which means its actually just outside the French Quarter in the Faubourg Marigny. But trust me, it's still the place to go. While four hundred tourists try to climb into Preservation Hall, you'll be up on the second floor with plenty of elbow room and a bird's eye view of the best jazz musicians in New Orleans. Charmaine Neville plays here on MONDAY nights, if that gives you any idea. Just look at this schedule. Definitely worth checking out any night of the week.


BARS

My pick: Chart Room (300 Chartres St)



If you are looking for a bar in the French Quarter, my friend, you are in the right place. You can't swing a whatever in New Orleans without hitting a bar.

First up, you have to walk down Bourbon Street and see what's up. Marvel at the flashing lights and all the drunk people. It's like an R-rated Disney World. If you want to party where your loved ones can keep tabs on you, go to Cat's Meow, which has a live streaming webcam of the karaoke stage. Take advantage of the lack of open-container liquor laws: buy a daiquiri or a hurricane at an open-air bar and then just walk back out with it to the street. I once--and this is 100% true--bought a frozen daiquiri in New Orleans so large that it came with a commemorative plastic tub and neck strap because it was too heavy to carry unassisted when full.

But when you're done with all that mess, check out one of the more chill bars. Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop Bar is (arguably) the oldest bar in the US. Hookah Cafe on Frenchman is now The Hookah on Decatur, but I bet it is still an excellent place to smoke hookah and get your drink on. I really adore Chart Room, a small rowdy bar on Chartres I love going to with my pal Karen. It's straight up French Quarter--open to the sidewalk, big beautiful bar, cheap drinks. It's an old familiar favorite.


THINGS TO DO

Food and drinking is enough to keep a person entertained in the French Quarter pretty much indefinitely, but I guess if you get bored with that somehow, you could...

Go shopping! Hit the French Market, or the antique stores on Royal Street. Be sure to stop by Fleurty Girl--I love their shop on Oak Street Uptown, and I bet their new Quarter shop is amazing too! If you're going to buy any souvenirs, do it at Fleurty Girl and support a very cool local business.

Get pierced! Rings of Desire might just be the best piercing parlor in the country. Elayne Angel, the master piercer, has pierced over 40,000 people. She has hands so gentle a person can barely feel a thing. And she's trained a whole team of amazing piercers to give the same kind of care. These people specialize in serious piercings, and they're they only people on Earth I'd ever trust to pierce my goodies with metal if I ever decided to go that route. Just don't try to do it drunk--they will not go near you if you are.

Go to high tea! After you get your goodies pierced, head over to the Ritz-Carlton for high tea. I can't explain it, but there is something really fun about doing something so proper in the City That Care Forgot.


Have fun!!!!



Discussion Question: What's the most fun you've ever had in the French Quarter?

Days of our Loyns

“To be ranked in the top 10 among southern universities for 20 years in a row is quite an accomplishment and reflective of the hard work and commitment of our students, faculty and staff."
-Kevin Wm. Wildes, S.J., Ph.D., President of Loyola University New Orleans

When it came time to pick a university, I had the best. idea. ever. Why not go to college in New Orleans?

My fellow Honors students, largely out-of-staters like myself, spent much of our first weeks of school marveling at our brilliant idea. How did no one else think of this??? we'd exclaim, our mouths full of crusty Po Boys and bellies full of beer.


we are GENIUSES (thanks losanjealous)

I loved Loyola. I loved the people, the classes, the music, the food, the culture, and most of all, the city that provided the setting for my golden undergrad years. I left my heart in New Orleans that muggy May day in 2005 when I moved away for good.

One of my college buddies told me today I should check out an article in The Maroon, Loyola's school paper. While reading the story of ADG's mysterious removal from campus and Sig Ep's suspension for the fall semester, I typed my own name into the Archives search box to see what came up.

Oh, the treasures. OHHHHH the treasures! Four uniquely hilarious remnants of my undergrad days.


4/7/05: ROBERTS A FINALIST FOR TRUMAN; JONES WINS MELLON FELLOWSHIP

This article is a dual-pronged shoutout to me and my girl Abby Roberts. We were ballin pretty hard in 2005. Abby was a finalist for the Truman Fellowship, and I had just scored the big Andrew W. Mellon Fellowship in Humanities. I was, as we liked to say, a mellow felon.


oh yes. that was a good look.

What on earth could be funny about a straight-ahead news story about scholarships?

"If I was a movie star, Davina would be my manager. She guided me through literally dozens of applications for fellowships."

What a f#$%in soundbite, huh?? Davina was the greatest mentor of all time, and if I found myself in need of someone to manage a nascent acting career I would be calling Davina first, but WHAT MADE ME SAY THIS TO A REPORTER? Out of the mouths of babes...


11/6/03: STUDENT BLOGGERS EXPOSE PERSONAL LIVES ON NET

Why, yes! That IS my hideous hairdo in the photo that accompanies this article! Thank you for noticing!



Isn't it super meta of me to be using my blog to link to an article where I comment about the New and Mysterious Phenomenon of Weblogging? Katie-generated gems of wisdom include:

"[Blogs are] kind of contagious. You read one of your friend's blogs that have cute pictures and mood icons, and you can't help but want one."

and

"It's a lot easier to be passive-aggressive and say inappropriate things on the Internet than to actually face reality. That goes along with the territory of blogging."



11/5/04: REACH OUT AND POKE SOMEBODY

Having already demonstrated my considerable expertise with social media, it is no surprise that the Maroon clamored to get my sage opinion when a new phenomenon called The Facebook swept campus by storm in 2004.

Katie Jones, classical studies senior, said she checks Thefacebook.com once a day to see if she has any new friends.



On the plus side, I did make a pretty spot-on prediction:

"Once Loyola picks up on (Thefacebook.com) more, it will be huge," Jones said."



9/4/03: GET YOUR MONEY'S WORTH: GO TO CLASS by Katie Jones

My darling college roommate Joe worked for the Maroon, which somehow yielded my being asked to write an editorial.

The 2nd anniversary of 9/11 was a week away. Bush had just called the war in Iraq a "catastrophic success." I was living in the most vibrant, wonderful city basically on earth ever.

So what did I write my editorial about? Going to class.

You really just need to read the editorial. Look, here's the link again. I have wanted to reread this article for a long time, and I have to say it aged pretty well. I really enjoyed reading it lo these many years later. My dear friends will know that all of the hypothetical situations mentioned are taken basically verbatim from our freshman year.

Reading this editorial really took me back to those warm, spicy days. My wonderful friends and all the things I learned. The crawfish boils and the shotgun houses. The streetcar rides and sunrise nights. The shenanigans and the debauchery. I miss those days.

And that side ponytail I'm rockin in the photo? A catastrophic success.

Discussion Question:
What are your favorite remnants from your college days?

it's a feast! so enjoy!

I'm tryin to tell you somethin bout my life

The last few days have seen the unique torture of moving every item you own out of your house, complete with Nick somehow bending space and time to fit our entire 1000 sq ft apartment into the tiniest U-Haul I've ever seen:


IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A MOM'S ATTIC!!!

AND with our subsequent semiserious leg injuries from running into the trailer hitch with all our might:


like this but solid metal with more sharp edges

And in the midst of the please-let-this-be-over-soon madness, I got an email from Kevin Wildes SJ PhD, the president of my beloved alma mater Loyola University New Orleans, reminding me that today is the feast of St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus and patron saint of the university.

Father Wildes' email contains an excellent summary of Iggie's life that you might enjoy.

Ignatius was born in 1491 as a member of the Basque noble family. He was a courtier and military officer who eventually was wounded in battle. While recovering from his wounds, Ignatius had a deep, personal experience of God's love for him and all creation. Over time he developed an ever deepening awareness that creation was filled with God's presence and that God labored for all members of creation. Because of this experience, Ignatius believed it was possible to "find God in all things." For Ignatius, even the smallest things could lead him to unity with God and he lived his life to give witness to the God of love.

Ignatius and his early companions quickly found themselves at home in universities. Ignatius and the Jesuits thought that universities, which celebrate human accomplishment in the arts, sciences, and the professions, are places where God can be encountered. Ignatius also understood that ideas were not only things to be studied for their own sake but, he believed, our ideas affect who we become as people. Ideas affect the lives we lead, and in this way, they shape the world.

St. Ignatius has inspired and touched me ever since my Ignatian Spirituality class in college with Father Fagin. Iggie's life and legacy fascinates me, and I feel a very special connection with Ignatian spirituality that transcends religion. The tenets of self-awareness, effective love, discernment, and even of finding God in all things speak to me as an atheist and work for me completely in my worldview, so long as I think of "God" as another way of saying "the energy that connects everything," which, let's face it, it basically is.


handsome fellow, huh?

I feel like my years at Loyola really educated me as a whole person--which is one of the hallmarks of Jesuit education--but it wasn't just the 10000 Classics classes I was able to savor. What I learned in that Ignatian Spirituality class alone was worth all four years of tuition. Know yourself. Show your love through your deeds. Wait to make a decision until a feeling of peace moves through you. And most importantly, look for that energy that connects everything everywhere. Have gratitude for it always.

Happy feast of St. Ignatius Loyola! Wish us luck as we travel to Nashville today!

Discussion Question:
Have you ever connected with a religious figure or text or whatever outside of your religious beliefs?

on drowning

"Louisiana 1927" by Randy Newman

The New Orleanians who are reading this probably will not click "play" on that YouTube video. Hell, I only made it to the first time Randy croons Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline just now before I had to turn it off.

Randy Newman recorded "Louisiana 1927" in 1974 as an homage to the victims of the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, the worst river flood in U.S. history. It's a heartbreaking lament for the people--and the place--that drowned.

But after August 28, 2005, this became Katrina's song too.

I've never really written about my experience with Katrina, except for this short poem that was published in the spring/summer 2007 volume of Zone 3. I have never found any other words for the experience.

Lullaby
by Katherine Morrow Jones

I envy the cats
and their perpetual sleep.

my mother is descended of Charlemagne
and several King Edwards and
her own mom, with her scattered mind.
mama put me to bed each night
intoxicating blonde hair and lotioned skin
but I would not go down -
awake, under blankets
imagining myself a kitten
in its mother's womb.

I slept deeply for years
in New Orleans
crescent mama
now the city sleeps
without me
the day she drowned
was thick and red
and all the way in Texas
I couldn't breathe

if god came back
he'd have to tell us
he's sorry.


* * *

I have imagined Nashville drowning before. In the unbearable days following Katrina, my reeling mind grasped at what disaster could possibly be worse than this? Only one thing I could conjure--my home, my parents' house of 25 years, washing away in a flood. Drowned like my New Orleans drowned. Absolutely nowhere safe left.

This weekend I glimpsed that worst nightmare when my hometown endured well over a foot of torrential rains over the course of 48 hours. The innumerable winding creeks and small rivers in Nashville swelled feet above their banks and flowed with a vengeance toward the Cumberland, which then crested Monday night at an astonishing 12 feet above flood stage.

What does that even mean? Here's what it means. My city was swallowed without warning by foot after foot--over 12 feet in some places--of chocolate-milk-colored flood water.


Dover Anthony plays a sad song. Knights Motel, East Nashville 5/2/10.
Photo by John Partipilo.


It is with bone-deep gratitude that I report to you that my parents' house was spared, but it was a close one--neighbors as close as two doors down sustained flood damage.

Although my house was spared, my home was not. My homeland, the neighborhoods and parks and restaurants that were the backdrop of my childhood and my husband's childhood, were damaged beyond comprehension. Bellevue and Franklin, the most beloved areas of my old stompin' grounds, sustained some of the worst damage.

And all the way in Georgia, I couldn't breathe.

Everyone's seen pictures like these before. We've watched New Orleans drown and Port-au-Prince collapse and Phuket just get washed away. So let me tell you what these pictures mean to me. Maybe it will help you understand.


View of downtown Nashville from pedestrian bridge 5/3/10.
Photo by John Partipilo.

Before I moved away to Big Cities like Atlanta, this was The City to me. The Ryman, the Mother Church of Country Music. The Riverfront. The Batman building. I was born in downtown Nashville. I got married last May in downtown Nashville to a man who was born in downtown Nashville just a few months before me. I spent lazy summer nights in high school at the Riverfront seeing free concerts at Dancin' in the District. In the summer of 2001 I saw a then-nameless John Mayer opening for They Might Be Giants.



Pinkerton Park in Franklin floods 5/2/10.
Photo by Mandy Lunn.

In 1863, Union forces built Fort Granger as an artillery position for the Franklin-Nashville campaign of the Civil War. Now Fort Granger is surrounded by a lovely, sprawling park that crawls with Franklinites on sunny days. My high school friends and I spent absolutely every warm day after school in this park trying to avoid underage smoking citations. We had a secret hideout hidden in the trees on the slopes of Fort Granger, and we used to find each other by screaming out like a bird of prey caw-CAWWWWWWW! until someone else replied in kind. I still like to while away lazy afternoons here with my best friend Emily when I'm home.



The Cascades in Opryland Hotel took on between 10 and 19 feet of water.
Photo by John Partipilo.

The Opryland Hotel,the world's largest non-casino hotel, is a Nashville institution and an incredible tourism draw. I had my junior and senior proms at the Opryland Hotel. I still remember teetering in my high heels across the endless parking lot. In more recent years, it's become a DePalma family tradition to have a sumptuous Easter Brunch in the Cascades, all roast beef and chocolate sundaes and nephews and laughter.



Residents evacuated from Fieldstone Farms 5/2/10.
Photo by Mandy Lunn.

In 9th grade geography, crazy Mrs. Redman once memorably asked the class which country was next poised for global domination. One of my classmates called out "Fieldstone Farms!" Fieldstone is a massive, massive neighborhood development in Franklin that was built in the 1990s. It is noted for having a wide range of income levels, from the affectionately-termed Village of the Damned, with its endless rows of cookie-cutter condos and identical mailboxes spaced perfectly along the street, to the very chi-chi Gated Parts where most homes boast a pool or a movie theater or sometimes both. I could spend all afternoon making a list of the families I know that live here. My beloved Bradford's mother vacuums her entire Fieldstone Farms house once a day. Jessica's parents Fieldstone Farms house, bedecked in Harley swag, was the site of many amateur haircuts and gossipy nights. Jim and Teri and Ben used to live in a teeny little house tucked into the corner of Fieldstone that was filled with nothing but love and their omnipresent dalmatian Hyper. Emily and Nikki and Mrs. Sawyer and basically practically everyone lived there. A lot of their families still do.



Metro Fire Department Special Operation rescues a Belle Meade police officer off Harding Road in Belle Meade 5/2/10. Police officer Norm Shelton was clinging to a tree for an hour before being rescued.
Photo by Shelley Mays.

This intersection may very well be the epicenter of my life in Nashville. This is the road that leads from Nashville out to my folks' house near Bellevue. Just past the boat lies St. George's, the preschool I attended with my best friends Rebecca and Bradley. The Ingram building, the office building my father worked in for twenty years (that Bradley and I would work in for 5 or 10 ourselves) is just behind where the photographer was standing. One of my earliest memories is of my father and his colleagues having a swimming race through the two-foot-deep fountain out front. Many years later, the back-breaking weekend my friends and I helped move my father's company to an office building across the street, Bradley and Kristin and I jumped in the fountain ourselves in the middle of the night and splashed around joyously. Belle Meade is pronounced like bell mead but my family likes to call it Bellay Mee-ah-day.



Homes and cars flooded in River Plantation 5/2/10.
Photo by George Walker IV

The unfortunately-named River Plantation neighborhood is just a mile or two from my parents' house. This neighborhood has been the home of dozens of my friends through the years. Jamie over at Gimmeyummy, whom both my husband and I were friends with over the years (me at TYWW and Nick in middle school) grew up here. Her folks still live there. She posted a video on Facebook of her brother and her wading through the neighborhood to see their house on Monday. Rose, the lovely and incredible mother of my dear friend of two zillion years Denise (over at ohpiegoodness) lives in River Plantation and the losses she's sustained are staggering. I'm thankful that our friends the Faireys moved out of River Plantation a couple of years ago and headed to Memphis. That's one less sad story.



Man kayaking down Hillsboro Road in Franklin 5/2/10.
Photo by Mandy Lunn.

This intrepid fellow is kayaking down the road that runs in front of mine and Nick's high school. If I have driven down this road once, I have driven down it five thousand times. Just across from this dealership sits the Franklin Sonic, home of half-price Happy Hour every day from 2-4--just in time for school to let out. If I've had one lemon-berry slush in a hot car at this Sonic, I've had five thousand lemon-berry slushes in hot cars at this Sonic. I come back virtually every single time I come home. Because there's something comforting about it, I guess.


* * *

I'll leave you with this. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but sometimes three words are worth a thousand pictures.


Sonic on Hillsboro Road in Franklin 5/3/10.
Photo submitted to CNN iReport by davbar4


We are sad.


Please donate $10 to the Red Cross by texting 'REDCROSS' to 90999 Also check out the Nashville Flood Relief Twitter and Facebook pages my old friend Ryan set up that we've been running with the help of two perfect strangers, Logan and Jeremy, who rule.

Discussion Question:
What have you lost to natural disasters?

where yat? NOLA-style BBQ shrimp

A little NOLA-meets-Nashville blog-readin' music for today:



you learned to swing with a do-si-do
but you learned to love at the fais-do-do

I can't believe it's been so long since I updated! I was exhausted all last week from my trip to Ohio, and then Nick and I ended up going on a last-minute trip to Boston this past weekend--a trip we 100% failed to document in photographs. But that gives me a chance to catch up on a few entries I've been meaning to make.

Last week Kroger had Gulf shrimp on sale for $4.99/lb, so I figured I'd better fix some New Orleans-style BBQ shrimp while the gettin was good. If you have never had NOLA BBQ shrimp, you have never truly lived. There's nothin barbeque about it, actually--no barbeque sauce (or even any tomato or sugar or vinegar), and no barbeque grilling. Just Gulf shrimp smothered in spicy butter. And what's not to like about that?

Up until this go-round, I had always used a mix like this one to fix my BBQ shrimp:



But I have a really hard time finding that mix outside of the Gulf South. So I decided to throw caution to the wind and try fixing it from scratch. Since I had to miss the last two Sunday dinners because I was out of town, we had Wednesday Sunday dinner.

1000 thanks to the good folks at Gumbo Pages for the wonderful recipe.

New Orleans-style Barbecue Shrimp

Feeds 8-10. I used 1.5lbs shrimp and did a 3/8 batch (fun with fractions!)

* 2 pounds/eight sticks butter
* 2 tbsp Creole seasoning, OR 2-3 tsp cayenne pepper and 3-4 tsp black pepper
* 2 tbsp chopped rosemary leaves
* 1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
* 6 ounces good beer (we used the Guinness left over from car bombs at the Super Bowl as a shoutout to our favorite newlyweds Meghan and Ryan)
* 1 medium onion, very finely minced
* 3 ribs celery, very finely minced
* 5-10 cloves garlic (I keep mine whole and use way more than this)
* 3-4 tablespoons chopped parsley
* 2 teaspoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
* 4 pounds shrimp, heads and shells on (even if you think it's gross)

Melt the butter in a skillet. Saute the garlic, onions, celery, parsley, rosemary and seasoning blend for about 2 - 3 minutes.



Add the beer; drink what's left. It ain't a NOLA party unless you got a buzz on. Add Worcestershire and lemon juice.

Arrange shrimp in a baking dish and drown the shrimp in the seasoned butter. Make sure the shrimp are more or less submerged. If they're not ... melt more butter and add to the sauce. Go big or go home, right?



spotted in the top left corner: pillsbury crescent rolls for dipping, which you might remember from this post.

Bake in a 350 degree oven until the shrimp turn pink, about 15 minutes. Serve in big bowls with LOTS of french bread for soppin. (Lani brought gluten-free bread for hers, and we used crescent rolls instead since we have approximately 10,000 cans of them.)



Perfect companion dish to this artery-buster? Steamed artichokes. Just steam them in the microwave according to these idiot-proof directions, and dunk the artichoke leaves in the spicy butter. We also had steamed broccoli and some strawberries.



Survey says: Nawlins BBQ shrimp is a winnah! Spotted beside Lanier: giant canister of cheesy poofs I bought her on manager's special for $2)

The final verdict? I'll never use a mix again. The BBQ shrimp was perfectly flavored and amazing. I was a little concerned because the seasoned butter didn't taste right before I drowned the shrimp in it. It was missing a distinct red note of some kind. Tomato? I thought. More cayenne pepper? But I trusted the Gumbo Pages and it's a good thing I did. The missing note turned out to be shrimp! It tasted perfect when it came out of the oven. If only I could eat this all the time and not have to warsh myself with a rag on a stick.



*golf clap*

QuidQuidQuidQuid Question of the Day:
Do you prefer the spelling barbecue, barbeque, or BBQ?

DOs and DON'Ts of Mardi Gras

DO watch the parades with the people you love! You can gossip when the parade runs late or gets stuck for an hour.



Best Valentine's Day ever. Nick and Katie, Bacchus 2010.



Congrats to Ashley and Dave, who just got engaged! Bacchus 2010.



Me, Ashley, and Joe. Endymion 2007. [We missed you so much this year, Joe!!]

DON'T get stuck without a beverage!



Ashley and Katie drinking rum and Coke. Mine is spiked with whiskey. Endymion 2010.



Nick double-fistin' Miller Lite, approximately 2392148 more in the backpack. Endymion 2007.



The newest Mardi Gras technology: premixed margaritas in a pouch. Like a Capri Sun, except with booze. Mar-GO-rita is a local New Orleans company that makes an excellent product. PERFECT for stashing in a cooler or backpack for a parade. Remember, DON'T bring glass containers--the cops will not be pleased and will ask you to get rid of it. Been there, done that.

DO look out for celebrities! You never know who will come rolling down the street.



Observe a reverent silence. You are in the presence of Breesus. Bacchus 2010.



Ashley and me and JOURNEY! Endymion 2007

DON'T, in the name of all that is holy, put your children on top of a six-foot ladder to watch the parade. You would think that this would be common sense. You would be wrong.



Kids perched precariously on ladders for some reason. Endymion 2007.

The controversial issue of ladders brings us right to my next point. DO pick a side of the street and commit to it. Passionately. Once you've decided where your heart lies, represent your side with an awesome teeshirt from Fleurty Girl:





I'm a sidewalk sider to the bone. Too many ladders on the neutral ground side!

Note to non-New Orleanians: 'Neutral ground' is the New Orleans term for the median. There are special New Orleans words for everything.

DON'T get on your drunk friend's shoulders unless you are willing to return home with fewer teeth than you left with.



DO add a little spirit to your neighbor's photos:



Ashley and Dave get photobombed by wonderful hippie man. Endymion 2010.

DON'T stand too close to the street when a marching band is coming, or you will get whacked in the face by a swinging trombone and everyone will laugh at you.



The marching bands are my favorite part. Bacchus 2010.

DO greet your neighbors with the customary salutation: WHO DAT



Who Dat Nation says yeah. Bacchus 2010.

DON'T roll up to a big parade five minutes before it's supposed to start. Especially when you brought 20 or 30 family members. You won't be able to find a spot and will end up provoking rage in the people you crowd:



Worst Mardi Gras neighbors EVER. Flambeaux in background. Bacchus 2010.

For the best throws, DO try to make eye contact with someone on the float. Wave your hands around and smile and shout THROW ME SOMETHIN MISTER!!! DON'T flash, especially if you are Uptown. You'll just look silly. DON'T pick beads up off the ground--it's bad luck.



Gorgeous float. Bacchus 2010.



A fatty strand of pink beads! Bacchus 2010.

Whew. That's all I can think of for now. What did I leave off?

black and geauld super beauwl

Well, I'm a little a lot behind, but I absolutely have to write a little about Super Bowl weekend!

So, as I spoke about at length in my last post, mine and Nick's dear old friend Alex came down last weekend for the Saints Super Bowl. We had sooooo much fun. Friday night found us downing gelato and geocaching in the Virginia Highlands, and on Saturday we went letterboxing at the Varsity:



what'llyahavewhat'llyahavewhat'llyahave

Somehow none of the three of us had ever been there before. For non ATLiens, the Varsity is The World's Largest Drive-In Restaurant and the home of absolutely legendary chili dogs, onion rings, and an orange creamsicle concoction called a "Frosted Orange." The food was amazing and it was really fun to go after my first letterbox. I'm looking forward to looking for more in Midtown--it's such a silly and wonderful little hobby.

And then came Sunday.

So I have a little mood music for this part of the post:



With the Saints in the Super Bowl, we had to go all out. We invited 15 or so friends over for a NOLA-tastic Super Bowl party, the likes of which had never been seen in ATL before. Behold the spread:



Jambalaya, seven-layer dip, king cake, bbq lil smokies, rotel+velveeta and chips, hummus and pita chips, tortilla chips and salsa, potato chips and french onion dip, carrots, blueberries, M&Ms, Doritos, wonderful little turtle things Alex made, and all kinds of wonderful things our guests brought later


We also made teeshirts!





As usual, much credit is due to Mary Nell and Jeremy. They not only brought an endless supply of car bomb makins, but Jeremy also loaned us a projector and helped Nick rig the rig to transform one entire wall in our living room into a screen. Alex decked the house in elaborate black and gold streamer creations, and I set an entire NOLA tablescape*, complete with Mardi Gras beads and sparkly fleur de lis and golden tulips.

The party was so much fun. We did car bombs every time the Saints scored. I had to switch to sweet tea bombs about halfway through the night, but that's just how I roll.


DJ Tiny Eyes executes some car bombs





WHO DAT



old friends



Nick and Nick discuss what their computers have done recently


And then, um, we won. I have never experienced that kind of emotion over a sporting event. I was weak in the knees. My heart was in my throat. I think everyone knows I can get kind of overemotional about New Orleans but I did not expect to feel the way I did. That Super Bowl win meant so much to the city of New Orleans, it is absolutely incredible.

Nick and I actually spent this past weekend in New Orleans, which was a whole nother WHO DAT-filled experience, but I'm going to hold off on that post until Ash and Dave upload their pics to Facebook for me to poach. For now, I leave you with an important thought. A mantra, even.

WHO DAT SAY DEY GON BEAT DEM SAINTS