New Orleans: Oysters, Po' Boys and Frenchmen Street (Revisited)

Half Shell Oysters

Ayk is a huge fan of oysters on the half shell.  I like them mostly as an excuse to use hot sauce.  We wanted to check out Acme Oyster House, featured on Man Vs. Food, but the line had 20-30 people outside of the door.  Pass.  We went to Bourbon House - right next door with no line. 

Oysters from San Antonio Bay with another Abita beer.

French Quarter at Night

Walking back from Bourbon House to our car, we saw a few interesting sites on Duval Street.

St. Louis Cathedral at night.  Almost looks like the Disney castle.

Almost walked right past this until Ayk pointed it out.  Given my predilection to all things shiny, I'm surprised he noticed it before I did.  A few dollars worth of pennies glued to a crumbling curb on Duval Street.

Po' Boys

We wanted to get some po'boys at Dick and Jenny’s, but they did not serve them for dinner, and there was also a two-hour wait.  They recommended we try Franky and Johnny’s not too far away.

Ayk enjoying some gator nuggets, which tasted just like chicken nuggets.  Trust me, we're not just saying that; they really do taste just like chicken.

Shrimp and oyster po’boys.  Pretty damn delicious.

Recipe for homemade cocktail sauce: ketchup, horseradish sauce, lemon, Tabasco, salt and pepper.

Frenchmen Street (Revisited)

With a long drive to southern Florida the next day, we couldn’t stay out late that night.  We decided to take it easy and headed back to Maison on Frenchmen Street to avoid drunken masses we saw on Bourbon Street earlier.

A lively caravan of partiers dancing on the street.  Yes, there are drunk people on Frenchmen Street; they're just less annoying.

The lead from Booty Trove on Friday night was also the lead of another band playing Saturday night.  We even bought their CD.  Clearly, we're pretty big fans.

New Orleans: Brunch, Market and Bourbon Street

A festive house in the Garden District

Croquette

The friend who told us to go to Jacques Imo’s also recommended brunch at the Commander’s Palace in the Garden District.  We should’ve known better than to go without making a reservation on a Saturday, but thankfully the maitre d’ suggested another restaurant close by for brunch:  Croquette.  We got the three-course brunch option that was a little pricey, but still absolutely delicious.

Bloody Mary with pickled okra and a Hannah Montana –- lemonade with blueberry juice.  Salvia not included.

Scrumptious salad with pig ears, which is just a crunchier bacon.  Ayk wasn't a fan of the pig's ear hair still on there.  Meh.  Adds to the crunchiness.

Creole classic shrimp and grits.  This was our favorite dish at brunch.

Veal meatballs with black truffle grits.  The grits were phenomenal, but the veal was too heavy and greasy.

Blood orange panne cotta.  I LOVE blood orange, and this did not disappoint.

Beignets with chocolate mousse and caramel sauces.  Fancier doesn't necessarily mean better, and that was true when compared to Café Du Monde's beignets.

French Market

After brunch we went to the French Market, jam-packed vendors selling oodles of jewelry and Mardi Gras trinkets.  We even saw a few gator heads.  I regret not getting one for my dad to match the crocodile skin in his house.

A friend recommended getting some cheap sunglasses there.  Not a bad idea, considering we were headed to the Sunshine State next.

Bourbon Street

We walked up to Bourbon Street after perusing the French Market.  Bourbon Street was not actually signed on the intersection we came upon, but we somehow knew we had arrived due to the sudden increase in public drinking.  Once we started walking down Rue Bourbon, there was no mistaking it thanks to the cacophony of loud music and revelers.

I guess Chinese New Year decorations can double as Mardi Gras decorations, too.

New Orleans is FABULOUS!

Less than a month before Mardi Gras, Bourbon Street was crawling with party-goers.

New Orleans: Frenchmen Street

Jazz is a genre of music that’s much better live than recorded.  As Ayk pointed out, when is any music not better live, other than heavily auto-tuned pop singers?  Touché.  Be that as it may, there’s nothing more captivating than listening to truly talented jazz performers on stage.  And there’s no place better to find the best jazz acts than our favorite place in New Orleans -- Frenchmen Street.

Maision, our favorite bar.

There’s a part of me that wants to sing praises about this low-key jazz haven only steps away from the French Quarter, but there’s another part of me that dreads outing the city’s best kept secret.  As one Nawlins native put it, “Bourbon Street is where we quarantine the tourists, so they don't [expletive] up the city."  (I’m assuming CNN censored “fuck,” in case you were wondering).

Booty Trove, a 12-man brass band, playing at Maison.

As much as it pains me to admit this as an out-of-towner, it’s true:  most tourists are obnoxious.  And the tourists who visit New Orleans generally want to get shitfaced.  Far be it for me to judge.  If I were in college, I’d giddily roam Bourbon Street with a drink in both hands.  So by all means, get sloshed; just stay on Bourbon Street and keep Frenchmen Street sane for those whose livers can no longer handle excessive drinking.  We come for the jazz, not the hangover.

A bartender wearing the colors of the Egyptian flag to celebrate Mubarak's resignation.

What makes Frenchmen Street so amazing is you can go into any bar and listen to the best performances without having to pay any cover (don’t be a stingy bastard; tip!).  Some bars do charge cover, but most don’t.  Hell, you can wander the street and find an amazing brass band playing on the corner with people dancing in the street.  Anything goes here.

A band playing in the street.

Even white people started dancing.  Though I wouldn't encourage it.

This guy's cheek puffed out like Dizzy Gillespie's.

The sidewalk is filled with artists other than musicians and singers trying to earn a buck.  There are painters and even poets.  We chatted with Tristan, a former music teacher turned street poet.  He didn’t much care for his boss’s teaching method, so he quit.  Now he’s his own boss, using a typewriter to crank out verses for poetry patrons, passersby, or just piss-ass drunk tourists who lost their way from Bourbon Street.  Poems range from 5 to 20 bucks.  Considering our state of employment, we went with the $5 poem.  Scribbling down a few notes, he asked us what we wanted our personalized poem to be about, and we picked – what else – our road trip.  Cherry on top of the best night of the trip: 

Tristan the Street Poet

The best $5 we spent on the trip.  Actually $10.  Ayk tipped him an extra $5 for booze money.

Keep Austin Weird

Austin's weird. It’s a lot like Hampden without the 60s campy flair.  But a lot weirder.  I dig it, since I'm weird myself.  I actually prefer "quirky"; It sounds more endearing.  Intrigued by the city’s celebration of their eccentricity, I asked a couple of locals for their theories on how their fair city became so peculiar.  Ayk and I threw in a few theories of our own.  It's a bit of reading, so I threw in some pictures of weird signs in Austin for those of you who need a break from words.

Pangaea Epicenter Theory

Our server at Ruby’s says that Austin’s appeal to the unique is a matter of location, location, location. Thousands of years ago, all the continents one huge landmass called Pangaea.  The moment when continents collided creating Pangaea, Austin was at the center of the new landmass.  This geologic energy of this new formation drew in all types of people.  This is a weird theory about weirdness proposed by a weird person, so you have to be inclined to believe it.

Liberal Haven Theory

Texas is a largely conservative state.  Oddly enough, its capital is a very liberal city.  Ayk and I theorize that it’s become a refuge for any Texan who doesn’t fit into the standard-issue Bible-wielding, rootin’-tootin’ mold.  Once they reach their newfound liberal haven, they just break free and let it all hang out.  The University of Texas probably served as the rallying point for this weirdness at some point in the past.

Support Local Shops Theory

While enjoying a beer on a 6th Street bar, we asked our bartender why he thinks Austin’s weird.  He wasn’t into the whole “weird” scene.  His interpretation for the “Keep Austin Weird” slogan was really an effort to show their pride in their local businesses.  Unlike most cities taken over by large retailers, most national chains don’t last long in Austin.  Instead, the locals favor the mom-and-pop shops.  That warmed my heart, since the store I managed was a local store.  Their slogan beats Baltimore’s “Believe” campaign.

Sign on the left: "Shop Weird.  Shop Local.  Shop Toy Joy."

Weird Water Theory

Taking the “It must be something in the water” as a serious theory seems like a cop out, but if I had to drink and bathe in that water all the time, I’d be weird (er) too.  It’s honestly the worst water I’ve ever tasted.  Don’t ask me to describe what it tastes like, because it's a medley of every disgusting water I’ve ever tasted concentrated in one glass.  It might as well be the sweat collected from Satan’s ass.  Yes, it’s that awful.  When I ordered a glass of water at the bar, the bartender asked, “Lime or lemon?”  I responded, “Both," but even the dual citrus couldn't mask its nastiness.  Maybe all that geological energy under Austin made its way into the water supply.

Just in time for Valentine's Day

LA: Tar Pits & Hollywood

Wednesday we got a late start to the morning.  At least I got to see Gwendy head off before work in her casual lawyer attire – a stark contrast from her achromatic New York career wear I’d seen her in a year ago.  “It’s California,” she said.  Typical Californian response.

La Brea Tar Pits

We headed to La Brea Tar Pits, which has gathered animals and plants unfortunate enough to get too close for tens of thousands of years.  Mammoths, mastadons, saber-tooth cats and the like.   State of Kansas explanation:  God placed animal and plant fossils inside pits of asphalt to test the faith of people who dug around in the pits and attended the museum.

This is a lake which filled an old, excavated tar pit.  This exhibit demonstrates what it was like before the days of sleaze in Hollywood.

BUBBLES!!!! -- of natural gas.

The horse's ancestor 

Om nom nom nom 

Tar pit site 

Sculpture Garden

For lunch, we didn’t get anything from the long line of food trucks outside the museum, but instead went with In-N-Out in Hollywood.  Sadly, no pictures of that.  But we do have a few cool pictures of Hollywood.