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| Mardi Gras Jester |
Synchronicity and synergy was the force that landed me in
New Orleans Louis Armstrong Airport as part of a working group on a trip from
New Orleans to New Mexico. Five arrived
from Bangkok via Chicago, with the remaining two, including myself from Los
Angeles incredulously met at the same time despite delayed and missed flights. Mysteriously
our airlines seemed to have synchronized our arrivals and the party were
puzzlingly reunited in the ladies room inside the terminal.
My only sketchy knowledge of New Orleans at that point, was
the Mardi Gras, Katrina, Beignet and Ghosts.
How uneducated can one be? Never
mind that, first on the agenda I was determined that my breakfast was going to
be a Coffee and Beignet. Café du Monde
was my destination.
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| Cafe du Monde Beignets - New Orleans, Louisana |
My last encounter with a Beignet was typically at a French home
in the city of Shiraz, Fars Province in
Southern Iran in the good old days of The Shah Pahlavi. Nothing prepared me for what was put in front
of my French Press at Café du Monde in the French Quarter. Mounds of Beignet covered in powdered
sugar. For those who have never pressed
lips to this divine concoction, it is deep fried choux pastry heavily sprinkled
with powdered sugar.
Akin to the Thai Pa-Thong Ko, Thai style Chinese Crullers,
Beignets are less chewy and more delicate.
The feeling of decadence outweighs any market bought Pa-Thong Ko. Sipping coffee, and freshly squeezed orange
juice, slowly chewing on this heavenly
French concoction in New Orleans has got to be very self indulgent.
With more pressing things on the agenda of the day, I had to
detach my self very grudgingly from this homely atmosphere to what was called
work awaiting my attention.
Meandering through the French Quarter, I left the party to
be reunited with them at dinner time, continued on to discover the area and
couldn’t help being drawn into Marie Laveau House of Voodoo in Bourbon
Street. Things that scare me, I cannot
resist.
All magical potions, tarot and divination, spiritual
talisman and intriguing of all are the spell kits for sale. As I ventured further into the den of black
magic, an astrologer in her booth with incense, complete gypsy head-scarf,
hooped earrings, peeked out and declared my fortune should be read. Never one to decline such a chance, and believe
it or not I parted with $50 for this chance…. It was an afternoon sprinkled
with zest and voodoo dolls. I revelled
in it and skipped back to the hotel to dress up for dinner to dine at this
ghostly haunted restaurant.
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| Murierl's Jackson Square, French Quarter, New Orleans |
Muriel’s Jackson Square Restaurant was my venue and my date
tonight was none other than the ghostly presence of Sir Antoine and the spirits
of yesteryear and my party of eight dining alongside me. Southern Creole cuisine is what’s being
served tonight and I am clueless but help is at hand. The chunky French talking, New Orleans waiter
was decisive with my indecision. He said I could not leave New Orleans without
trying their Seafood Gumbo….. how could I resist? A glass of crisp Reisling accompanied this
delectable oysters, shrimp and crab tomato based casserole over a bed of
rice. Okra the definitive Gumbo
ingredient swimming alongside with celery and bell peppers just did it for
me. Another glass of Reisling was needed
to finish off the plate. This is going
to be one gastronomic treat as we are only on the appetizer course.
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| Seafood Gumbo |
My flirtatious pseudo French waiter again said I must never leave New Orleans without trying Blackened
Redfish. A glass of Sauvignon Blanc, my third glass of the night,
I know I’m counting too, was to accompany this tasty dish.
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| Blackened Redfish |
The fish came with a peppery crab stuffing finished off with
blue crab butter sauce. Oblivious to stimulating conversations, the Jazz band
caught my attention, bellowing Joe Simons Jazz Trio. I am truly in New Orleans capturing the
essence of Creole lifestyle, transported into the Creole awakening…. or was it
the wine talking?
Xavier, the waiter, we are now on first name basis, says I now cannot leave New Orleans without tasting Black Bottom
Butterscotch Pudding. The name is suggestive and is already leaving little or no imagination to an
already tipsy mind. “This dessert must be accompanied by Tuaca, a
vanilla citrus liqueur,” says Xavier.
At this point I agreed with everything.
This intriguing Black Bottom was house made praline oreos,
with a butterscotch pudding on top was just out of this world. The ending was just as good as the
beginning. I must admit my lack of
memory of the walk back to the hotel – it was more of a float as I entered our
lobby only to be reminded that tomorrow’s flight to Albuquerque was bright and
early. Ouch.
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