Travel Journal
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NEW ORLEANS: A Joyous Jambalaya
July 2024
By Sandra Bertrand
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Oscar Wilde said, “I can resist everything but temptation.” If you go to the Crescent City you might as well give in, because every blare from a trumpet, every bite of a beignet, every sip of a Sazerac cocktail will sway away any second thoughts you may have. You won’t win. And why would you want to?
My partner Joanne and I were hardly new converts to its charms. An annual jazz festival decades ago was temptation enough, when the likes of the Neville Brothers rocked the riverboats off their rudders. Then an old buddy from her post-graduate days invited us down for Mardi Gras revelries. I’ve since given purple, gold, and green beads caught from a parade float to my sister.
But, let’s face it, the guilty often return to the scene of a crime. So here we were in rainy April, slower in stride, yet the spirit willing. We had taken an overnight Amtrak from New York City, but a three-hour delay outside of Atlanta ended with a midnight arrival to Hotel Mazarin in the heart of the French Quarter. Too late for a nightcap with our friend Meg who’d arrived hours earlier by air, we ascended to our second-floor quarters. The last thing I recall were powdered sugar beignets dancing in my head before sleep. |
Beignets, Café Beignet (Royal Street)
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The French Quarter
Royal Street, one of the most elegant and seductive in the Quarter, sported several outlets for the famed donuts. We grabbed a courtyard table to await friend Meg, sipping our café au laits, munching on a plate of three beignets. I made a half-hearted attempt to brush the powdered remains off my black slacks, all the while listening to a Johnny Cash soundalike strumming in the shadows of a nearby alley. Once reunited with our friend, we headed toward Jackson Square, pausing for a curbside clarinet concert by Doreen Ketchens. Her soul-shaking performance is unforgettable. Only upon my return did a musician pal inform me she was a famous institution in the Quarter.
The Riverfront affords a view of the magnificent Saint Louis Cathedral. Founded in 1720, it is the oldest cathedral in continuous use in the U.S., a stunning backdrop to the Square. The Cabildo (Council) buildings flank the structure, the site where the transfer of Louisiana from Spain to France, then from France to the U.S took place.
Tarot card readers, performance artists, and even a couple of street poets can be seen hugging their manual typewriters, offering an original stanza or two on the spot.
Royal Street, one of the most elegant and seductive in the Quarter, sported several outlets for the famed donuts. We grabbed a courtyard table to await friend Meg, sipping our café au laits, munching on a plate of three beignets. I made a half-hearted attempt to brush the powdered remains off my black slacks, all the while listening to a Johnny Cash soundalike strumming in the shadows of a nearby alley. Once reunited with our friend, we headed toward Jackson Square, pausing for a curbside clarinet concert by Doreen Ketchens. Her soul-shaking performance is unforgettable. Only upon my return did a musician pal inform me she was a famous institution in the Quarter.
The Riverfront affords a view of the magnificent Saint Louis Cathedral. Founded in 1720, it is the oldest cathedral in continuous use in the U.S., a stunning backdrop to the Square. The Cabildo (Council) buildings flank the structure, the site where the transfer of Louisiana from Spain to France, then from France to the U.S took place.
Tarot card readers, performance artists, and even a couple of street poets can be seen hugging their manual typewriters, offering an original stanza or two on the spot.
Doreen Ketchens, Street Clarinet Player
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NOLA Street Scene
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Saint Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square
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Brunch at Brennan’s awaited. It was Mark Twain who aptly said, “New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin.” We entered the pink and mint-green interior of the seven-decade Creole restaurant with reverence. With bow-tied waitresses at the ready, we ordered Bloody Marys, keeping a watch opposite as the waiter flambeed three orders of Bananas Foster, a signature dessert. Two crawfish cardinal omelettes arrived, consisting of farm eggs in a burrito-shaped omelette, filled with a lemon scented Mascarpone cheese, and ringed with tiny crawfish tails swimming in a paprika flavored lobster sauce. Joanne did quick justice to her Eggs St. Charles, a concoction of crispy fried gulf fish and creamed spinach, smothered in a blood orange hollandaise.
Interior Dining Room, Brennan’s
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Crawfish Cardinal Omelette at Brennan’s
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After such an indulgence, we hotfooted it back to the Square, with just enough time to visit the 1850 House. This gave us rare access to the interior of the Pontalba Buildings with their ornate cast-iron balcony railings. It’s no secret that the Vieux Carre is steeped in remarkable stories, but the saga of Baroness Michaela Pontalba trumps the best of them. Michaela was the daughter of Don Andres Almonester, a wealthy Spanish entrepreneur and builder who died while she was quite young. After marrying into the distinguished Pontalba family and avoiding the cultural upheaval following the Louisiana Purchase of 1803 and American rule, she moved to Paris with her French husband. A bitter feud soon erupted over her New Orleans inheritance, which culminated in her father-in-law shooting her four times at blank range with one of his dueling pistols, before his own suicide. The Baroness survived! In the 1840s, she returned to her birth home to construct the apartments that would complete the work her father had begun.
After ascending the steep staircase to the upper rooms, we separated at our chosen paces, peering into the roped off interiors with their elegant period furnishings. I combed the deserted hallways until the ghostly silence took hold of my senses. I half expected the empty baby’s crib to begin rocking, the mantel clock chiming the four o’clock closing hour. Heading downstairs to the gift shop with a residual chill, I knew such feelings were not to be my last.
After ascending the steep staircase to the upper rooms, we separated at our chosen paces, peering into the roped off interiors with their elegant period furnishings. I combed the deserted hallways until the ghostly silence took hold of my senses. I half expected the empty baby’s crib to begin rocking, the mantel clock chiming the four o’clock closing hour. Heading downstairs to the gift shop with a residual chill, I knew such feelings were not to be my last.
1850 House, Dining Room, Pontalba Building
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1850 House, Children’s Bedroom, Pontalba Building
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Creole Cottages, Faubourg Marigny District
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Music is the perfect antidote to any lingering cobwebs in the head. And Frenchmen Street in the neighboring district of Faubourg Marigny is a hotbed of sound. Little more than three blocks long, the good times spill onto the streets (“Go-cups” are a tradition, where the spirits of choice are a legal takeaway from any bar.) It was Trombone Shorty who christened the city a “big musical gumbo,” and The Spotted Cat is the perfect recipe for jazz making. Aurora Neeland and her Reedminders blew the roof off this cash-only establishment. Besides being a master of the clarinet, she could sing bluesy renditions of standards to rival the likes of Anita O’Day or Carmen McRae.
Heading back to the Quarter, we passed pastel-colored Creole cottages, lined up like petit fours pastries under the streetlamps. Residents wiled away the twilit evening on their porch fronts. It was downright euphoric. The familiar stomach growls returned. A first night in the Quarter without oysters would be poor form, so the Acme Oyster House was worth the wait. We lined up behind five African American girls anxious to get the night started right. A tattoo on one girl’s bare shoulder read “Carpe Diem.” Once inside, we “seized the day” with a dozen oysters on the half shell and another dozen grilled, finishing off with a pecan and vanilla ice cream tart between the three of us. |
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The night wasn’t over yet. On the way back to the hotel, we passed The 21st Amendment, with jazz wafting onto the curb and no bouncer in sight. We lingered over our nightcaps, observing a customer exiting through a side door between sets. Curiosity paid off when we took the same exit, climbing a narrow staircase only to find ourselves within several feet of our upstairs guest quarters! A Prohibition-style getaway? Unbeknownst to us at the time, the bar is housed in the same building as our hotel.
We had just hit the sheets when we were roused by a screaming alarm. Our bare feet scuttling the tiles, we rushed out, nervously eying the Spanish-style courtyard below. Several interminable minutes later, brushing past other bewildered guests, we returned to our room. The next morning the registrar admitted we were only one of several hotels where alarms were suspiciously set off by yet another bachelor party. We chalked it up to another Sunday night in the Big Easy. We all dance to different drummers, no truer than in New Orleans. Our friend Meg was a late sleeper, so by the time shops opened at ten o’clock or thereabouts, we early birds had finished off a green tomato po’boy sandwich in the “hood.” Window shopping was at times our only option. An exception was the Michalopoulos Gallery, featuring the artist’s visions of the city in a thick impasto paint style. The Pharmacy Museum sported an antique leek jar and a leering face. The 1843 Bourbon French parfums with custom blends was closed tight, as was the Harouni Gallery, where two jesters peered menacingly through the front glass. |
Pharmacy Museum
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Marie Laveau’s Former Cottage with Gris Gris, Rue St. Ann
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Wandering without a destination brought its own rewards. When we discovered Exchange Alley, a brass plaque revealed a former home purchased by painter Edgar Degas’ uncle. We walked westward on Rue St. Ann, where the art of voodoo holds sway. A small cottage was festooned with gris gris, talismans of garlic bulbs, bracelets and a string of “x”s on the site of famed voodoo priestess Marie Leveau’s former home.
A return to the Mississippi riverfront began with a stop at the original Café du Monde. We joined other early risers eating their beignets before ambling through the famed French Market. A nearby lucky find was the Dutch Alley Artist’s Co-op, chock full of the works of local artisans. I unearthed an enticing print by Wanda Wiggins of four Black sisters at a beachfront. The Garden District The Garden District is a must-see on any tourist’s wish list. A twenty-minute ride from Canal Street on the St. Charles streetcar makes the journey almost as delightful as the ultimate destination. When an exuberant Black woman boarded our car, she proudly announced it was her birthday. Friends and strangers alike were encouraged to pin money on her blouse. I don’t know if it’s a local tradition or how much she collected but we all had a good laugh at her urging. |
If you allow enough time before one of the several walking tours available, Joey K’s on Magazine Street is a good lunch venue. Our tour guide Anna was a died-in-the-wool New Orleanian whose commentary helped us forget the occasional drizzle. Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 was our first stop. Unfortunately, we could only peer at the historic tombs through the fence as restoration was still ongoing. Anna shrugged her shoulders at its possible reopening.
The antebellum mansions on display, originally part of the Livaudais plantation, were laid out in the 1820s. When the Quarter’s Creole population snubbed the “new-moneyed,” the latter were quick to construct these grand houses with their azalea and magnolia-scented English gardens.
The antebellum mansions on display, originally part of the Livaudais plantation, were laid out in the 1820s. When the Quarter’s Creole population snubbed the “new-moneyed,” the latter were quick to construct these grand houses with their azalea and magnolia-scented English gardens.
My personal favorite was the Robinson Mansion, a true beauty with its Italianate masonry, five bay façade, and curved double gallery. Another standout houses the Women’s Guild of the New Orleans Opera Association, with a statue of Madame Butterfly inside the fence. It is one of the few that offer tours of the interior. Others included the Musson House built by Degas’ maternal uncle, and the Brevard House that writer Anne Rice once occupied.
Our guide’s roll call of celebrity real estate included Sandra Bullock and John Goodman, but at the top of her list was the McKnight Marinoni Nolan House. During Paramount’s 2008 filming of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Brad Pitt could be spotted on the front veranda. (It wasn’t the last I would hear about the actor.) At tour’s end, we browsed the Garden District Book Shop in a mall that once served as the oldest skating rink in the country.
The Columns Hotel was the ideal windup for weary feet. Once a WWI boarding house, its front porch bar is a gem. Joanne had briefly stayed here in her twenties, so a compliant employee showed us up to the refurbished rooms before our five o’clock Sazerac cocktails. This rye whiskey favorite is so famous the city created a museum for it!
Our guide’s roll call of celebrity real estate included Sandra Bullock and John Goodman, but at the top of her list was the McKnight Marinoni Nolan House. During Paramount’s 2008 filming of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Brad Pitt could be spotted on the front veranda. (It wasn’t the last I would hear about the actor.) At tour’s end, we browsed the Garden District Book Shop in a mall that once served as the oldest skating rink in the country.
The Columns Hotel was the ideal windup for weary feet. Once a WWI boarding house, its front porch bar is a gem. Joanne had briefly stayed here in her twenties, so a compliant employee showed us up to the refurbished rooms before our five o’clock Sazerac cocktails. This rye whiskey favorite is so famous the city created a museum for it!
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Back to the French Quarter
If New Orleans is considered one of the world’s greatest dining spots, it was Antoine Alciatore who started it all. In 1840, the eighteen-year-old immigrant opened his pension a few yards from where the oldest restaurant now stands. With no reservation, we three merry musketeers found ourselves seated for a meal fit for a queen: Antoine’s own Oysters Rockefeller, grilled redfish with oyster beurre blanc, mushroom rice pilaf with charred sweet onion sauce and a gluten-free salted caramel chocolate torte with three spoons, plus an Inscription by King State, Willamette Valley. Pinot Noir ’21 for the grand total of $273.51.
Lagniappe is a word meaning a little bit more of anything, and we got that when our young waiter Jules gave us a grand tour. We peeked into the block long wine cellar, rooms celebrating photos of past Mardi Gras kings and queens, royal personages and politicos of the day AND a private dining room set aside for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. I couldn’t help wondering what our tour guide Anna would have thought! More impressive to me was a photo op with the venerable on-site chef.
If New Orleans is considered one of the world’s greatest dining spots, it was Antoine Alciatore who started it all. In 1840, the eighteen-year-old immigrant opened his pension a few yards from where the oldest restaurant now stands. With no reservation, we three merry musketeers found ourselves seated for a meal fit for a queen: Antoine’s own Oysters Rockefeller, grilled redfish with oyster beurre blanc, mushroom rice pilaf with charred sweet onion sauce and a gluten-free salted caramel chocolate torte with three spoons, plus an Inscription by King State, Willamette Valley. Pinot Noir ’21 for the grand total of $273.51.
Lagniappe is a word meaning a little bit more of anything, and we got that when our young waiter Jules gave us a grand tour. We peeked into the block long wine cellar, rooms celebrating photos of past Mardi Gras kings and queens, royal personages and politicos of the day AND a private dining room set aside for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. I couldn’t help wondering what our tour guide Anna would have thought! More impressive to me was a photo op with the venerable on-site chef.
L to R: Sandra, Meg, Master Chef, & Joanne at Antoine’s Restaurant
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Caramel Chocolate Tortes (Antoine’s Restaurant)
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The Warehouse District
Art lovers must make the trek to the Warehouse District. The area experienced a renaissance after the 1984 World’s Fair, with cotton warehouses transformed into lofts and studios. Julia Street is the hub, where we drifted in and out of trendy galleries offering their own brand of art candy. I especially enjoyed the warm welcome I received from Patti Gay at the George Schmidt Gallery and Laurie Reed, owner of Ariodante for fine arts and crafts. Schmidt is a native-born realist who believes like his 15th century mentor Alberti that “Painting exists in order that the dead should live again and the distant brought near.”
After a satisfying dish of gumbo at the ultra-contemporary Cochon — the smells of roast pork permeating the space — we visited the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. Honestly, it surpassed all my expectations of excellence, with a dedicated floor to the legendary Benny Andrews, a retrospective of Tina Girouard’s textiles, and a 2012 portrait of Edgar Allen Poe by Michael J. Deas. A name to remember is Kathleen Blackshear (1897-1988) whose portrait of the black boy Robert Gould could have inspired the great Alice Neel.
Art lovers must make the trek to the Warehouse District. The area experienced a renaissance after the 1984 World’s Fair, with cotton warehouses transformed into lofts and studios. Julia Street is the hub, where we drifted in and out of trendy galleries offering their own brand of art candy. I especially enjoyed the warm welcome I received from Patti Gay at the George Schmidt Gallery and Laurie Reed, owner of Ariodante for fine arts and crafts. Schmidt is a native-born realist who believes like his 15th century mentor Alberti that “Painting exists in order that the dead should live again and the distant brought near.”
After a satisfying dish of gumbo at the ultra-contemporary Cochon — the smells of roast pork permeating the space — we visited the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. Honestly, it surpassed all my expectations of excellence, with a dedicated floor to the legendary Benny Andrews, a retrospective of Tina Girouard’s textiles, and a 2012 portrait of Edgar Allen Poe by Michael J. Deas. A name to remember is Kathleen Blackshear (1897-1988) whose portrait of the black boy Robert Gould could have inspired the great Alice Neel.
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Final Jaunts: French Quarter A brief nap back at the hotel, and we were ready to “test the waters” so to speak. Arnaud’s, another history-making restaurant from the late 1700s, sports Richelieu, the coziest bar in the city. Opened a year before Count Arnaud’s death, we sampled their original cocktails that included The Clio. Dorothy Parker gin is the base, and I’ll let you imagine the rest. History seemed to be the order of the evening, so we ended up at Napoleon House for a signature muffaletta sandwich of olive salad, Capicola ham, and Genoa salami on Italian bread. Drenched in atmosphere, the place offers a courtyard, banana trees, and peeling wall paint. A plan was hatched by the original owner to rescue Napoleon from exile, offering him the site as home, but the emperor died before it could be carried out. |
Wall Painting, Richielieu Bar (Arnaud’s Restaurant)
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Window table, Five’s Bar (Jackson Square)
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The last stop at Mahogany was short-lived. A highly touted jazz bar, it was crammed to the gills with a crowd as greedy to be seen and heard as the musicians themselves.
Sometime during the night I woke to thunder, with the morning’s monsoon-like rains splashing onto the curbs. Despite local news comparisons to Katrina, our hunger got the best of us. We made a beeline through shin-deep puddles to Curio’s for a ham biscuit and grits breakfast. Later, after a change of clothes, we headed to the Crescent City Bookshop where I found a book of Faulkner’s early city sketches. Still later, we celebrated the Quarter’s successful drainage system over a Pimm’s Cup at Fives Bar, a lovely oval bar that overlooks the main square. On our last night, we ventured out to Mr. Ed’s, a no-frills fish house that provided two buckets of crawfish to my companions for noisy but delicious consumption. I opted instead for a “Taste of Nola,” a jambalaya and sausage plate — an equally tasty choice. The maternal great-grandfather I never met was from New Orleans. If I’d left my heart in Manhattan, maybe I was leaving part of my soul here.
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PLACES OF INTEREST Hotels Hotel Mazarin 730 Bienville Street New Orleans, LA The Columns 3811 St Charles Ave New Orleans, LA Restaurants, Bars, Clubs Brennan’s 417 Royal St, New Orleans, LA Café du Monde 800 Decatur Street New Orleans, LA Acme Oysters 724 Iberville Street New Orleans, LA Antoine’s 713 Saint Louis Street New Orleans, LA Napoleon House Bar and Cafe 500 Chartres Street New Orleans, LA Cochon 930 Tchoupitoulas Street, Ste. A New Orleans, LA Joey K’s 3001 Magazine Street New Orleans, LA |
PLACES OF INTEREST Restaurants, Bars, Clubs (Cont'd) Mister Ed’s (French Q location) 512 Bienville Street New Orleans, LA The Spotted Cat Music Club 623 Frenchman Street New Orleans, LA The 21st Amendment 25 Iberville St New Orleans, LA Mahogany Jazz Hall 25 Chartres St New Orleans, LA Fives Bar 529 St Ann St New Orleans, LA Richelieu Bar ~ Arnaud’s 813 Rue Bienville New Orleans, LA Sights & Shops George Schmidt Gallery 626 Julia Street New Orleans, LA Ogden Museum of Southern Art 925 Camp Street, Warehouse District New Orleans, LA IBIS Contemporary Art Gallery 705 Camp Street New Orleans, LA Ariodante Contemporary Crafts 535 Julia Street New Orleans, LA |
PLACES OF INTEREST Sights & Shops (Cont'd) Harouni Gallery 933 Royal Street New Orleans, LA Michalopolous Gallery 617 Bienville Street New Orleans, LA Dutch Alley Artist’s Co-op 912 North Peters Street New Orleans, LA Crescent City Books 240 Chartres Street New Orleans, LA 1850 House 523 St. Ann Street Lower Pontalba Building New Orleans, LA Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 1400 Block, Washington Avenue New Orleans, LA Robinson House, Garden District 1415 Third Street New Orleans, LA Women’s Guild of the New Orleans Opera Association House 2504 Prytania Street, Garden District New Orleans, LA McKnight Marinoni Nolan House 425 Coliseum Street, Garden District New Orleans, LA |
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Sandra Bertrand is an award-winning playwright and painter. She is Chief Art Critic for Highbrow Magazine and a contributing writer for GALO Magazine. Prior to working for Sanctuary as Travel & Culture Editor, Sandra was a Featured Artist in May 2019.
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