Jambalay, Crawfish Pie

I just made turkey carcass stock and roux all by myself. And now it's almost gumbo. For those of you born and raised in NOLA, this is no big deal. But for a Georgia girl whose only cooking instruction growing up was how to use the electric can opener, it's huge. Yay, me.

Vieux Carre

Ate some Creole tomatoes, had a few drinks, watched a guy throw up on the sidewalk, saw two wedding secondlines, watched a guy do push-ups in the street, and just saw a guy walking around barefoot clutching a Snoopy Christmas doll. Just another day in the French Quarter.

Dear New Orleanians:

This is a special drawing I made (I'm quite the artist, no?) to explain the many intricacies involved in two cars turning left at the same time when there's no neutral ground involved to confuse everyone. I know we like to be different and all, but really--I promise--this works well. Tell a friend. XO.

I Heart Scott Fujita

Not Hard to be a Saint in this City

Little Who Dat

I love it that my daughter continues to be quite the Saints fan. While I was in Ohio, Kenny and Emmeline went to see the unveiling of the new lights for the Super Dome, and she cried because she was sad that I wasn't there to see it with them.

Then, some friends gave Kenny their tickets to the Saints-Colts game and since I was still in Ohio (getting stuck on roller coasters and such), he decided to take E with him. It turned out to be the perfect game to take her to, as it was a complete blow-out with the Saints beating the Colts, 62-7. (Ouch.)

And, of course, she had a fabulous time and is already asking when she can go again.  My only regret is that, just as I expected, she was completely enamored with the Saintsations and now wants to know how you go about becoming one. (Shudder.)

Hugh Knew?

I'm not an avid fan of the television show House. I don't dislike it--I've watched it a few times and have been entertained. But I'm too busy to commit to more than a couple of weekly television shows (hello, Survivor and Top Chef) and my schedule was full when House came out. Still, I think Hugh Laurie is a great actor and is pretty easy on the eyes, as well.

So imagine my surprise when I came across Hugh's Great Performances show on PBS recently, which was his tribute to New Orleans and its musicians. Who freaking knew Hugh Laurie could sing like that? I certainly didn't? I may just have to start watching House now.

If you haven't seen it, you should watch it here. And then, if you don't live here, you should plan to come and visit me in New Orleans.

This City

This city won’t wash away
This city won’t ever drown
Blood in the water and hell to pay
Sky tear open and pain rain down.

PTSD and Joy

Because I'm a masochist, I watched a National Geographic Channel special on Katrina earlier this evening. Not really surprisingly, I started shaking incontrollably while watching it.

To make myself feel better, I just watched the youtube video of Jim Henderson calling Garrett Hartley's NFC championship field goal against the Vikings. And then I got goosebumps. It's goooooooooood. Pigs have flown. Hell has frozen over. The Saints are going to the Super Bowl.

Pleasure and pain. PTSD and joy. That pretty much sums up life in New Orleans, doesn't it?

Indian Red

For the first time since moving to New Orleans, I went to "chase Indians" with a group of friends last Saturday night for St. Joseph's Day.

There wasn't much chasing involved, as it turned out. We didn't have to do much other than stand around near the corner of Dryades and Third Streets, with tons of other people, and wait for the Indians to come to us.

And come to us, they did. Tribe after tribe, each Big Chief's costume as elaborate and beautiful as the one before it. It's amazing to me that we have people in this city so willing to dedicate as much time, effort, and money as it takes to make one of these gorgeous, awe-inspiring costumes. It was definitely one of those "only in New Orleans" kind of nights. Pretty, pretty.

12.27.10

On the night of Monday, December 27th, I did what a lot of people in this town did. I went to a bar with my husband to watch the Saints kick the Falcons' collective butts. It was a night like any other Saints night in New Orleans--we met up with some friends, did some drinking, and watched the game.

One of the women who met us there was Rebecca, a friend of a friend. Rebecca and I don't necessarily know each other well enough to be called friends. We have mutual friends and like each other enough to have some pretty decent conversations when we happen to be in the same social situations.

That night, while we all watched the game at a bar together, Rebecca's daughter, Melissa, was with her own friends, some new, some old. As it turns out, she made the decision to spend the night with some of her friends in an abandoned house on St. Roch Avenue. As you probably know, the house burned down, with eight teenagers/young adults inside. Melissa was one of the people who perished. She was 17 years old.

Amen

Why I Return to New Orleans

"In those neighborhoods—if you listen carefully enough—beneath the warmth and hospitality and stories of human struggle and resiliency, you will also hear a more negative note. There’s a feeling of frustration in New Orleans that sometimes comes close to real anger. New Orleanians may not be able to recite the precise statistics and dollar amounts, but they know full well, how vital the mouth of the Mississippi River is to our whole nation’s economy. They know about the trillions of dollars worth of oil, gasoline, grain, seafood, and industrial products that flow through New Orleans—generating profit and prosperity in the rest of the United States. And they know just how little of that profit and prosperity stay in New Orleans.

In other words—if we define a just society as one where every person has reasonably equal access to the fruits of their own efforts and labors—then New Orleans is the perfect case study in what’s unjust about our society."

Originally delivered as a sermon on November 14, 2010, by the Reverend Dennis McCarty at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Columbus, Indiana.

H/T, Oyster.

Horror Movie Setting, Anyone?

About 12 years ago, I guess, the City of New Orleans got its very own amusement park. At first, it was called Jazz Land--it was a pretty dismal failure, with pretty lame rides. Still, it was an amusement park, so we went to it a lot. It had one truly good rollercoaster, a wooden one named the Mega Zeph and modeled after the Zephyr of bygone days at Pontchartrain Beach.

Around 2003, Six Flags bought the amusement park, made a few minor improvements, and added a couple of new rollercoasters. The park was still pretty much a dismal failure. Six Flags New Orleans was about the last place that the tourists wanted to visit when there are so many other options here, and the park was built in the middle of a piece of swampland, basically. It was a horrible place to be in the summertime, with very little shade coverage. But still, I have some fond memories of goofing around there with friends--this was long before parenthood came into the picture for me.

The park closed on August 27, 2005, in preparation for Hurricane Katrina. It has never reopened. I'm sure it was a relief to Six Flags to have the park flooded during Katrina so that they could claim their losses with their insurance company and move on. But it has always shocked me that they were allowed to just completely walk away from it and leave their mess behind. (Other than when they dismantled and moved the Batman rollercoaster to another Six Flags park somewhere else.)

Here's how Six Flags New Orleans has remained for almost 5 1/2 years. According to this video, it's finally going to be demolished in January (H/T, Jeffrey).

Katrina Memory #1

In December of 2005, right after Emmeline and I had just moved back into the city (Kenny had been back and forth for work the whole time and living back in New Orleans for about a month), my husband and I got a much-needed, child-free night out on the town. Needless to say, it was a very stressful time in our lives. The city was in shambles. Most of our relatives were still living in other states and/or in FEMA trailers. We were living in the apartment Kenny had found for us, paying $500 more a month than the same apartment would’ve cost just five months earlier, before the storm. And we had a flooded-out house and were agonizing over what to do with it. Should we fix it up and sell it? Fix it up and rent it? Fix it up and move into it? Walk away from it altogether? Set it on fire and hope the insurance company wouldn’t figure it out? (Kidding, Allstate- -love you! Mean it!)

Two for One

After watching the latest episode of Treme last night, I can't decide which was more disconcerting--having seen someone I know dressed up as a giant sperm* during the real Krewe du Vieux parade of 2006 or seeing someone I know dressed up as a giant sperm* for the re-enactment of the 2006 KdV parade for Treme. Either way, the "I salute you, Ashley Morris" line and the inclusion of his "Buy Us Back, Chirac" mime was a nice touch.

*I wonder how many hits the mention of the word sperm will bring to my site via the Google.

Dear Mitch:

I, along with quite a few New Orleanians, I think, have a few reservations about your choice of Ronal Serpas for police chief. He may be a little too old-guardy, a little too entrenched in the way things were done before, without even getting into some of what's been unearthed regarding his days at the NOPD.

However, I would like to commend you for two excellent jobs well done, at least in my book, during your first couple of weeks in office.

First, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting rid of all of those ridiculous, annoying, "Our Recovery in Progress" signs that were spread throughout the city in what was obviously an attempt at nothing more than self-congratulatory PR for C. Ray, since those signs almost invariably spotlighted some minor public works project that had absolutely nothing to do with the aftermath of Katrina and the Federal Flood. Could anyone explain to me how minor sidewalk patching along Audubon Place helped the recovery effort in any way, shape or form? I realize, Mitch, that you may have just had these signs removed to replace C. Ray's name with yours. But I'm going to take you at your word that we're no longer going to say we're in the recovery phase and are now going to move on to the creation phase.

Secondly, I would really, really, really like to thank you for demanding an apology from this jackass. I'm sure the apology was forced by his boss and was in no way sincere, but still, what an ass. How can you live in New Orleans for six years and then spout that kind of ignorant crap, even if you DO work for Fox? Chris Myers, you unfeeling, racist f*ck, may you and your family never face a natural or man-made disaster and need empathy from others. I hope that there's a special form of karma awaiting you.

Anyway, thanks, Mitch.

Sincerely, ALM

Stand by Me

My brother-in-law and his family were in town for JazzFest last weekend, and we spent one of the days they were here just wandering around in the Quarter. It was a fabulous weekend for it--a wonderful breeze blowing in from the Gulf, warm--not hot--weather, Pimm's cups from the Napoleon House, and the most amazing amount of street musicians out that I've seen in a long time in the Quarter.

On just about every street we walked down, there was an awesome musician playing. We saw a group of teenagers who were right up there with Rebirth in their brass band skills. We spent about 30 minutes and $30 in tips watching them. We saw a funky group playing in Jackson Square with a clarinet, a violin, a keyboard, and a drum set.

And then on Royal Street, of course, we saw Grandpa Elliott, whom I love, and who is now a lot more famous thanks to Playing for Change. I had a nice little chat with Grandpa Elliott, and of course, got talked into buying a copy of his new CD. He's quite the salesman. Everyone has seen this video at least a dozen times now, but I still love it, along with the rest of the Playing for Change DVD.

Who Dat?

I became a Saints fan in 2001, in the unlikeliest of places--my hometown of St. Simons Island, Georgia. Kenny and I were living there, during the brief experiment in which he tried life outside of New Orleans. As anyone who is or loves a native New Orleanian knows, they can't stay away too long--they always come back, eventually.

Kenny and I didn't last very long in Georgia. Kenny tried to like it, and we had a lot of fun along the way. We spent a lot of time at the beach, which I had missed desperately. We made several good friends--people that I hadn't known growing up there and that I'm still friends with today. We got married in the chapel I'd always hoped to marry in.

But there were just too many things that were foreign to him, like getting off of work at midnight and being unable to buy beer. Or last call. Or not being able to buy vodka at the drugstore. No Mardi Gras, no Jazzfest, no crawfish, no where y'at?

A Question for the Ages

Along the lines of the old "If a tree falls in the woods" question: if New Orleans City Hall is only open four days a week rather than five, would anyone really notice? And would it really make a difference? Would it be possible for the majority of the staff at City Hall to be even more inefficient and incompetent than they already are? I, for one, don't think it will make much of a difference.

And also? C. Ray? Screw you and your race baiting. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way to Dallas.

How to Irritate the Piss Out of Me*

Be a pedestrian in New Orleans. Walk up to the light and see that you have the "don't walk" signal flashing at you. Look at me in my car and see that I have a green light. Proceed to walk into the crosswalk anyway, and then walk as slowly as possible, making me miss the entire green light waiting for you to cross the street illegally.

Alternately, look at my car, traveling down the street at 40 miles per hour, and decide that right then would be a great time to walk directly in front of my car, causing me to slam on brakes and scare the hell out of myself, while alternately fantasizing about running your ass over.

Repeat, 3-5 times per day

What is it with the pedestrians in this town? I really wish I could explain to everyone that the old adage, "the pedestrian always has the right of way," does not apply when you're disobeying traffic signals and/or walking directly into oncoming traffic. And don't even get me started on tourists in the French Quarter who think we're Disney World and not an actual functioning city.

Deep, cleansing breath.

*I would've preferred to call this post "How to Annoy Me," but Dooce already claimed it.

I Heart SupaSaint

Miami Vice. Although, as a child of the 80's, the SupaLoose video is still my all-time fave.