Last month I finally made it to New Orleans, a city I’ve wanted to visit for years. Jake happened to be there for work, so I flew down at the end of the week and we tacked on a few extra days.
Prior to arriving I’d written down all the things I wanted to see and do, and I have to admit up front that I didn’t accomplish half of them, mostly because I prioritized stuffing my face over seeing the sights. I spent a LOT of time eating and poking my head into different restaurants and shops. It’s an easy place to get distracted and lose a couple hours roaming around, listening to street musicians and meeting people.
But I don’t regret changing course, since part of New Orleans’ beauty for me was the lack of urgency I felt, as if the city were saying to me, “Relax, I’ll be here next time.” So we set about exploring, less focused on an agenda and more reliant on a few recommendations from friends and family (and the nav on my iPhone).
My first meal was none other than a shrimp po’boy. There are dozens of places to get a great po’boy in Nola. We chose Mother’s, a no frills Creole cafeteria, partly because it had awesome reviews, but mostly because it was 3:30, I hadn’t eaten yet, and it was close by. Lucky choice on our part. The sandwich overflowed with the freshest, most tender fried shrimp and cool, crunchy slaw on a soft baguette that wasn’t trying to compete with its contents. It was at once sloppy and delicate, and I would’ve been tempted to order a second if there wasn’t also a big bowl of jambalaya to contend with.
Another highlight was the several dozen gulf oysters we slurped down at various locations. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the abundance of local product (I’ll have to look this up) but gulf oysters only cost a buck a piece, as compared to the $2-$3 they’ll run you up north, so we really gorged ourselves. I couldn't date somebody who wouldn’t share an oyster platter with me.
One of my favorite experiences of the trip wasn’t at a restaurant, but a visit to a cookbook store in the French Quarter called KitchenWitch. The owners, Philipe and Debbie, opened the store 2 months after Katrina hit in an effort to start breathing life back into the city, and both work second jobs to keep it going. It’s a crazy, haphazard collection of cookbooks with a focus on Southern and Creole cuisines, mixed with rare first editions of classics, like Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
I wandered the store for an hour, stopping often to pet the owners’ three dogs, who apparently found my cooing extremely blasé and snoozed away despite my best efforts. I was so taken with the cozy, eccentric, and quintessentially New Orleans space. If you’re ever in town, stop by.
Towards the end of the trip we finally made our way to the legendary Café Du Monde for some beignets and café au lait. For five bucks we sat in the 150 year old open-air café with a hundred or so fellow tourists and split a plate of three hot, puffy, sugar-drenched donuts and drank chicory coffee. It was simple and perfect.
We also ate a couple of exceptional dinners. I couldn’t leave New Orleans without eating at a John Besh restaurant. We tried Luke for oysters and a (surprisingly) fantastic burger, and Domenica, because in my daiquiri-fueled state that night, the Jerseyan in me really wanted pizza. They didn’t disappoint.
But the main event was dinner at Cochon, Donald Link’s homage to all things pork. The dimly lit space has the whole “haute barn” thing going on with a warm, inviting vibe and diners in casual dress.
I didn’t get any pictures, as it was the sort of place that shames you from doing anything other than enjoying your food. Besides, I will remember the braised pork cheeks with gremolata and applesauce for the rest of my life. I also broke away from the pork-centric menu and tried rabbit for the first time at our server’s suggestion. Served in a “pot pie” of sorts, underneath pillowy dumplings, I ate the entire dish in blessed out agony, refusing to admit that I was full and miss out on a single bite. The whole experience was nothing short of incredible.
There were so many other memorable bits and pieces, like getting to see a good friend from college, but I feel this post getting long. So I’ll just say that New Orleans was amazing and I can’t wait to go back. The people there enjoy life in a way I haven’t experienced in any other city, and it reflects in even their most casual food. In short, it’s my kind of place.
Oh. And if you are my size, do stop after one Hurricane, or else you will end up looking like this.
Counting down the days til I'm back in the Big Easy,
Kira
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