As a slight diversion from baseball, I’d like to make a pitch for a special city that still needs a lot of help.
Mrs. Phog and I (I think I’ll have to change the name of this blog before I do that again) just spent a long weekend in New Orleans to kick off the official start of summer. This was our second trip to the Crescent City since Hurricane Katrina hit (we drove down with some friends for our bachelor/bachelorette parties over Labor Day weekend in 2006), and while much of the city appears back to normal, anyone who remembers what things were like before the hurricane knows that business is still far from usual there.
I say “business” because that’s the key ingredient to New Orleans’ complete recovery. As an occasional tourist rather than a resident, I can only report on what I see in the limited area we frequent on our trips. Midday traffic on I-10 between the airport and downtown looks like any other midsized city in America. Harrah’s Casino at the end of Canal St. is packed with gamblers. The shops on Decatur St. are open, and Café du Mond has trouble accommodating all the folks who want beignets and coffee on a weekend morning. The bars and strip clubs on Bourbon St. are all back in business as well, still loud and raucous, along with their drunk and scantily clad patrons. And a nice set of beads can still buy you a brief glimpse of flesh if the woman is uninhibited or drunk enough—you know, if you’re into that sort of thing.
Trouble is, there’s more to New Orleans and the French Quarter than Bourbon, Decatur and a casino. There are 100 square blocks in the Quarter, and on any given weekend this town used to be two or three times as crowded or more. All those people spilled out into the bars, restaurants, shops and hotels that used to permeate the entire area. Now when you walk many of those other streets, those businesses are gone—shuttered or gutted—and “For Sale” signs are a far too common decoration.
What I’m getting at here is that this decadent, yet somehow quaint city still needs our help. If I’m not painting a very attractive picture for why you should make New Orleans your next trip, let me tell you about Saturday. We strolled over to a little place called Petunia’s for brunch (a meal which claims its origins in New Orleans because no one gets up early enough for breakfast), where I put my stomach’s capacity to the test with a fantastic Cajun-style omelet that was nothing short of a cardiologist’s worse nightmare. The Mrs., meanwhile, had a large plate of what quite possibly was the best French toast she’s ever had.
We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to walk off brunch, beguiled by the charming magic of this 300-year-old city, about as old as a city can be in this country. We returned to the hotel in the late afternoon, washed off the humidity and hoped we’d burned enough calories for our dinner reservations at Brennan’s, world famous creator of Bananas Foster and an all-around culinary delight. Two hours of wine, shrimp étouffée, turtle soup, blackened redfish, shrimp with andouille sausage, Bananas Foster and a chocolate “suicide” cake later, we entered a deep food coma from which we’ve yet to emerge. We staggered out of a half-empty restaurant which would normally be packed on Saturday night and wandered over to a small bar for some after dinner drinks and the tight sound of a local jazz trio.
And that was Saturday: a leisurely day of eating, drinking and sightseeing. Our first two days there were much the same (if not slightly cheaper). There’s no shortage of great food, great music and great fun to be had—everything the city was famous for before the storm is still there waiting to fill your eyes, ears and, most importantly, your stomach.
So do New Orleans a favor: Bring your wallets and pocketbooks and contribute directly to an economy that badly needs it. You’ll not only be helping one of America’s greatest cities, you’ll be doing yourself a big favor as well.