Something's Missing

Pork roll, egg, and cheese. On a round roll (usually buttered). With ketchup. If you're from NJ, you know what I'm talking about. One of the greeziest, high calorie, fat laden breakfast sammiches around. And simply divine. I'm not going to go into what, exactly, pork roll is. Because honestly, I don't know what's in it. And I don't care. I'll just say it's mainly a breakfast meat, it's good, and I can't get it in New Orleans.

I live in a city that is known worldwide for its food and, even though I'm not a seafood eater, you can tell just by looking at me that I don't often miss a meal. But sometimes you just want what you grew up with. There are very few things that I miss about my former home....my parents, occasionally (I'm kidding!), my BFF, the ocean, and certain food items. Pork roll being one, but I'd say that the biggest food void is pizza. For the most part, the pizza in New Orleans is an abomination. Some more edible than others, but not good. To give you an idea of how much I miss NJ pizza: On my last visit I took a picture of a pie with mushrooms that now serves as the desktop background on my laptop. I look at it with longing every day and want to put my face in the cheesy, sloppy, goodness of it. There is one place down here that comes close to the stuff I grew up with and that's Venezia on Carrollton Ave. But I hardly get up that way anymore. Truthfully, Italian food in general is lacking here. A lot of the Italian places are not owned by Italians. The red sauce is usually sweet, they make calzones without ricotta cheese, and I don't think I've ever found a decent chicken marsala besides the one that comes out of my own kitchen. The same goes for meatballs. I can't abide frozen meatballs. Thankfully, a new place opened in the CBD called Red Gravy (and it's not sweet!) where the owner feels the same way. Guess what? She's from NJ. I've become addicted to the meatball parm sammich over there and it saves me from having to make meatballs and sauce every time I crave them.

My list of missed NJ favorites is long - DeLorenzo's pizza, Chicken Valentino @ The Farnsworth House (their ricotta cheesecake too!), Rosario's calzone, a good cheesesteak from anywhere, Pete's Pizza @ Columbus Market, fine Italian dining in the Chambersburg section of Trenton. But I've developed some favorites here too - the stuffed chicken or chicken parm @ Adolfo's, the mushroom cheeseburger @ Port of Call, the panne'd chicken w/ fettuccine alfredo @ Coop's, the brisket w/ horseradish sauce from Tujague's served in the setting of French Quarter Festival. The one difference between the two lists is that there is a nostalgic component to the NJ list. I have some great memories that were created with friends and family while dining. I miss the dinners with a group of my girlfriends, the impromptu cocktails and dinners at The Farnsworth House, Thursday night "steak nights" and cocktails with my BFF Liz at Eddie's. I miss the female connections. I don't really have that in New Orleans. But what I do have is the luxury of taking my meals in an atmosphere that I wouldn't trade for the world. I am surrounded by beauty here, some of it unconventional and decaying, and while it may be lonely at times, I feel incredibly free and fortunate.

Now, if I could only get them to open a DeLorenzo's down here.........

Top O' The Mornin' To Ye

There was a time when my friends and I treated St. Patrick's Day as if it were a religious holiday and were very serious about its observance. It called for taking a half day from work and starting the festivities over lunch at one of the little bars that we frequented around the corner. The party then, inevitably, moved to the bar called Tir Na Nog on Hamilton Avenue in Trenton. If St. Patrick's fell on a Saturday, the day started much earlier and breakfast at a diner would be substituted for the lunch. The day always began well but ended, well.....drunk. After Tir Na Nog, if anyone was sober enough, one of the local cover bands was usually playing at one of our other watering holes or we would just stop by Eddie's (our neighborhood corner bar) for "one more". Normally, there wasn't much coherance after Tir Na Nog and we called it a night. I have some fond memories of those days, others, not so fond. But I wouldn't trade 'em. Today on St. Patrick's Day I will be going to work and probably just coming home right after. Different from the old days but equally exhausting. Though not having a hangover tomorrow will be a plus. Who knows, though? I could always end up going out, there's always something to do here and there will be plenty of St. Patrick celebrations. The parades in the French Quarter were this past weekend, but Pat O'Brien's (home of the hurricane) and Molly's at the Market will be celebrating along with the hundreds of other bars. And in the section of the city named "The Irish Channel" two rival bars will be holding their annual block party. If I decide to join the party this evening, it won't be anything strenuous. Probably just head over to Frenchmen St. to hear some music, depends on the crowds.

Last weekend, after getting through my first Mardi Gras living in the French Quarter, I was so looking forward to basking in the peace and quiet and just chillin' at the apartment with the doors open and a good book. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. First, I got a text from our roommate, Bryan, telling me that two of his friends surprised him and are on their way to New Orleans and will arrive in the evening. Crap. Then I look outside and see the neighbors from the third floor setting up a table in the courtyard and spreading newspaper on it. That means one thing in New Orleans.......crawfish boil. Crap, again. I am not a fan of seafood of any kind and the steamy scent from boiling crawfish will make me gag, (my BFF, Liz can confirm this) so my mind is quickly trying to devise a "plan B" for the day but is interrupted by the loud, lovely sounds of death metal. Blasting in the courtyard. Crawfish, a crowd of people, AND death metal. Definitely not what I had in mind for my day. Luckily, my buddy Mike was home and I went over to his place. Decided to go eat dinner around the corner at La Peniche....mediocre, at best. We used to go there all the time pre-Katrina and the food was great diner-type food served by sassy, gay waiters. This time it was cold, just o.k. food served by a plain ol' woman. Can't win 'em all, I guess. All in all, it was a good outing. I got to see Lois (our dog that we used to share when we were roommates), hang with Mike, and by the time I got home the party was over. Then Bryan arrived with his guests......*sigh*.

This is why I'm on the fence about going out tonight. I've been craving some peace and quiet and going out on St. Patrick's evening isn't going to provide that. Not by a long shot. But we'll see. I have a four day weekend ahead of me and can have my solitude then. Maybe.

Unconditional Love

Mardi Gras is over and I'm glad. There I said it. I tried to give it a chance but have figured out that I just don't like it. I will say that I do enjoy Mardi Gras Day (Fat Tuesday) which has a great local vibe and so many beautiful costumes (I envy the creativity of some people!) but the weekend leading up to the day is pretty awful. During that weekend the city is crowded with people who's main goal is to see how much they can drink and still stay alive. Not all who participate in Mardi Gras are of that mentality, I hear there is a large family atmosphere at the parades, but in the French Quarter drunkenness seems to be the goal. The idiocy is tiresome. And it wears on you. Now, I'm not saying that I never drink, but I can say that I drink MUCH less than I used to. And when I do get drunk I annoy myself at times, so I'm certainly not going to enjoy a city full of out of control drunks. With that being said, it only happens once a year and I can always choose to spend it in the house watching movies, as I have before, while staying open to the possibility of a one of a kind experience if it is offered. Mardi Gras is great for the city (financially) and it ain't goin' anywhere. An easy thing to accept in a city that offers you so much more.

Further thoughts on drinking.........I guess I've grown out of it to an extent or maybe I'm just getting old but I don't see the allure of  not being able to "get right" for two solid days after tying one on. Again, not saying that it doesn't happen, just fewer times and far between. And when it does happen, I try to annoy as few people as possible with my antics and just go to bed when I need to. It didnt used to be like this, drinking was the life of the party and I enjoyed doing it. It was no problem drinking on consecutive nights of the week, I actually wanted to! Now, if I overdo it I can't even THINK about alcohol the next day. I don't love it like I used to. But there are just some afternoons when walking through The Quarter, passing the open door of a barroom, that smell just hits you....that perfect combination of stale beer, booze, and cigarettes that makes you want to just drop everything and grab a stool. I usually can't do this, but the want is still there. I prefer afternoon drinking in grittier bars where your company is usually older "gentlemen" chain smoking and drinking shots with beer chasers, and something like "Bonanza" is on the tv. A small neighborhood bar offers a sort of escape from the daily grind. But then again, can also become part of the daily grind. And this is what always happens for me, that line is always there. I enjoy the atmosphere of certain bars....the darkness, the characters, the sound of the ice in the glass, the camaraderie, the swirls of smoke, the jukebox. But I sometimes don't enjoy the results....the hangover, the regrets, the unhealthiness of it all, the questions - "Did I make an ass out of myself?" was always popular, the losses - money, keys, credit card, license, phone. In most cases, for me, the bad outweighs the good and I don't "get loaded" nearly as often as I used to. But there are some days in The Quarter when the lure is too strong and I gotta give in. I just prepare myself for the regrets. And the shame. Because the shame is there, though not always warranted. I find that in New Orleans, shame is mostly in your mind. Because New Orleans will always accept and forgive you. She loves you unconditionally.

Let's Try This Again......

Just got my computer back this evening after the hard drive took a crap around 10 days ago. I'm less than enthused about Dell right now but am happy to get back into the swing of things. And things are definitely swingin' in New Orleans right now...."Oh yes, it's Carnival time, and everybody's havin' fun". The immortal words of Al Johnson. I believe I mentioned previously that I have never been a fan of Mardi Gras and I think a big part of that is that I just don't like parades. Especially ones where you're packed in like sardines with people who have been drinking since 7am and where you're constantly being stepped on or jostled by those same people while they scream at enormous floats, as they go by, for worthless plastic beads. Not my idea of a good time. In all of my years of living here, I have gone to only one of the large parades. It was when James Gandolfini, aka Tony Soprano, was the "king" of the Bacchus Parade. A friend of mine was going and suggested that I meet him Uptown. I wasn't doing anything and figured it would be a hoot to see Gandolfini dressed in one of those ridiculous costumes. Well, it was a big pain in the ass getting Uptown, we waited for hours in the crowd for the parade to come, saw Gandolfini for all of 10 seconds, and that was it. My friend wandered off with some girl and I was stuck with some other friends of his, a couple whom I just met, and knew it was time to end my night when the woman started hitting on me. I called my buddy Mike and begged him to come get me. Christ, maybe that experience has tainted my attitude toward the parades but I feel better sticking with my own kind, downtown, at the small parades. Two of those being Krewe du Vieux and Barkus. Krewe du Viuex is a satire of the larger parades and there is always raunch involved. Barkus is the dog parade. This year I went out to both of these parades but saw neither of them. It's like that sometimes around here. On the night of Krewe du Vieux, I headed in the direction of Frenchmen St. but stopped at the Balcony Music Club to see a friend who was sitting in with a band there. Ended up just staying there people watching and listening to the music. Barkus was this past Sunday afternoon and I decided to take Pancho out to experience the crowds to try to get him a little more socialized. We took a nice walk and  first stopped at Ragin' Daisy, a funky, sparkly little shop in the Quarter. It was through the girls at Ragin' Daisy that we came to know about Pancho so I wanted to take him over to meet them, and just across the street from the shop happened to be Harry's Corner Bar. Perfect. Since Pancho didn't seem to be very enthused about the parade, we decided to just skip it and stay at Harry's. It was a beautiful afternoon, there were chairs outside and we were still able to see costumed dogs and their people. Hell, it was better than going to the parade....I was able to sit with the dog in my lap and a drink in my hand and there wasn't any danger of having my drink knocked onto my shirt or stepping in poop. Not a bad way to kill a few hours. I haven't decided, yet, if I will give one of the larger parades another shot this year. Honestly, I just find parades to be incredibly boring. But you never know, it just might be a fantastic experience waiting to happen. It's like that sometimes around here.