That’s very nice! Eh la bas “brother”. Put a little swing in it “bruh”. We say, “bruh”, “hey bruh!” – Wendell Pierce, Somebody Feed Phil
Oh. My. God. Somebody turn off the air raid sirens, please! And why does my mouth taste like an ashtray?
It is 8:00 AM, and yes, I am hungover.
As mentioned in the last blog post, Auberge Nouvelle Orleans, the hostel I am staying at, organised a night out to the Maple Leaf bar to see the Rebirth Brass Band. A fantastic night that saw some of us try to get in Snake and Jake’s (All I heard was “Anthony Bourdain recommended this place”). And ultimately look for food at 3:00 AM which we found at the St Charles Tavern.
And I am feeling every bit my 39 years! Jeez, I am 39 years old, just typing that reminded me of making “applications” for raiding guilds in World of Warcraft. Sigh, raiding. Happy fun times.
I digress, this day started far later than I expected. As in, it is now 2:00 PM. I had managed to get breakfast with some of the people who were out last night. and breakfast is a loose term. More like I had a cup of tea. Just tea, since I couldn’t stomach any food at this point.
Then I went back to bed. And next thing I know it was 1:00 PM. And I knew I had to get out and about as I was fully capable of just going back to sleep.
So far any ideas of visiting the World War II museum, or the Food and Beverage museum have gone out the window. All I want is food. I head to Bourbon Street, the heart and soul of the French Quarter, and specifically, Ol N’awlins Cookery.
The idea was that I wanted to try some of the food New Orleans is known for. Food such as gumbo, Étouffée, and Red beans and rice.
The challenge? How do you make the decision on which one to try?
The answer? You don’t
And just order all three. (clockwise from top, Étouffée, gumbo, red beans and rice with sausage).
I did not listen then.
and I did not listen now.
These are Gator tail bites
Marinated white meat gator tail served fried or blackened. Served with remoulade sauce.
They taste gorgeous, they taste meaty… they taste like chicken (sorry).
And if I was to rate the three dishes I got earlier.
Étouffé > red beans and rice > gumbo
(sorry please don’t hurt me).
Like I need to chill some more considering I slept into until 1:00 PM.
However, I am now sitting on Jackson Square, in the sun, chillin’ a stone’s throw away from Cafe du Monde, on Decatur Street. They are known for beignets. Overly sugary, fried doughy treats. They are also know for being stupidly packed at all times (24 hours)
And I really did not want to queue. So I did not get any.
Instead, I sat on some steps and watched the world go by.
Now, the funny thing is that as you explore more, you start to understand how the city is laid out. And how they all connect.
In this case, Magazine Street. A few people had already mentioned this place and how there are shops, and restaurants to visit.
And it connects right onto Canal Street, which connects to the French Quarter.
I decided to head towards Mojo Coffee, which is on Magazine Street. And saw sweet FA on my way over. All I saw was many, many residential houses and the occasional bar. What did people see in this street?
Mojo coffee is your typical hipster coffee shop. Lots of vegan products, and everyone on either a Surface Pro (me) or a MacBook (everyone else).
The WiFi is fantastic though! As is the coffee, and the cake!
By this point, it was already past 6:00 PM. Where the hell does the time go when you’re doing nothing but wandering around!
So back to the hostel, and a quick nap!
“We should get food before we go out this evening”
Or… we can just join in the drinking games in the courtyard. Yeah, that sounds like the plan.
The night’s shenanigans started with us going to The Tchoup Yard on Second Street. They are an outdoor bar, with lots of picnic tables and seating. Mental note. Google/Uber drivers will mistakenly take you to Third Street if you do not know where you are going.
There was also a number of games we could get into including, throwing bean bags at a target of some sort. I wish I could show you photos (too dark for the camera phone, too much bourbon to try and hold the thing steady).
Needless to say, I was absolutely useless at this, and no, alcohol did not help my aim as the evening went on.
Unsurprisingly, the girls from the PT conference absolutely murdered everyone.
The place was absolutely chilled, nice background music which did not overpower the conversation and welcoming atmosphere.
“yeah you can get food at the next place”
We head towards The Bulldog, on Magazine Street. It is a 20-minute walk away, which, when drunk, can be a very LONG walk.
Ultimately we lost half the group about halfway there. I guess they decided just to call it a night.
Here’s the rub, The Bulldog (which was packed solid at midnight) stopped doing food at 11:00 PM, and could only do fries at this stage.
I swear it’s like playing chess. A decision you made a while ago comes back to bite you in the butt.
Five of us decided that we really wanted food, so headed out to see if anywhere, somewhere was still open. Yes, we were aware that St Charles Tavern was an option. A very desperate option.
However, we found salvation, just across the road, in the Balcony Bar, who had a fantastic choice of food (subjective I know). Which meant we all had eyes bigger than our stomachs.
In my cases the conversation went like this:
“How big is the small pizza?”
“10 inches, 6 slices”
“Nah that’s far too small, gimme the large”
Along with this, we had Loaded Fries (chicken, bacon, and cheesy goodness), burgers, and 2 wraps.
While waiting on the balcony (where else, if you’re at the Balcony Bar), we spotted the remainder of our group, who were jumping into a taxi back to the hostel. I guess some people were more hammered than they realised.
The food was absolutely gorgeous. At my level of inebriation, you do not have the highest benchmark for food. Is it greasy? Check! Is it tasty? Check! Is it here? Check!
Compared to yesterday, it is a more sensible 2:00 AM, and saner minds have prevailed since I was happy to walk back to the Hostel. we’re in an Uber for a 10 minute ride back to the Hostel. Which reminds me of our first night in Hoi An, and thinking it’d be fine to walk back to our hotel. A two-mile walk, in near pitch blackness, including on a bridge that spanned a river.
At the very least, I would have pizza for breakfast tomorrow… and fries.