Please allow if this post meanders a bit, as that’s what life is like in New Orleans. Time moves slowly there, and the worth of most things is measured by how long they’ve been around.
My favorite memory? Walking around at 11 pm in balmy 70-degree weather. I haven’t experienced that since Hawaii, and when you combine that weather with restaurants that serve any form of Louisiana cookin’, from Cajun to Creole, to Nouvelle French, you’ve got a recipe for good times. That’s “bon temps” by the way, in local parlance.
The Jazz Fest lived up to expectations, even if the hot weather took it’s toll. The Decemberists made my week, and Cyndi Lauper was pretty good. I loved sampling local artists, like Zachary Richard, The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Marcia Ball, and various zydeco outfits. Lucinda Williams is shy on stage, but her songs are superb. And what can I say about my first Jimmy Buffett concert? There’s a reason the man has been around for 40 years … it’s five o’clock somewhere, you know.
New Orleans is a dressy town, and I’ll always be grateful to Anne for leading our group’s shopping expedition in search of my ideal sport jacket. And guess what? I found it! Those of you in the Bay Area should watch for me, “sporting my newly acquired finery,” at a fancy restaurant near you.
Speaking of fancy eats: Galatoire’s, Commander’s Palace (and their 25 cent martinis), Bouligny Tavern, the Gumbo Shop, Cure (their “debris” sandwich is to die for –Troy had two!), and while we didn’t eat there, that place all done up in white whose name escapes me right now –they made us tasty drinks on multiple occasions.
Anne’s family treated us like, well, family. The river was high, but our spirits were higher when we left. Roll on, New Orleans!
Sunlight in a Jar 
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