Wednesday, May 30, 2012

New Orleans is Bipolar

New Orleans is bipolar. It is both manic and depressive all at once.  The high is a lust for life and the pursuit of something beautiful, like the last luster filled sliver of sun setting on the horizon that lasts a shorter time each day, and can be missed if you look away even for a minute.  
The low, the all out war for survival.  Either as a rebellion against their crumbling societal infrastructure, other races,  their anger at the rest of the world for Katrina, or their own irrelevant situation; resulting in crime, theft, burglary, and drug use around any corner.

The storm was like an extreme traumatic event in a one’s life that forces them to split into multiple personalities in order to make it through each day with any sense of sanity.  And that is what New Orleans has done in order to survive. Synchronously lovely and horrific.




Saturday, May 26, 2012

Muffuletta Olive Salad Recipe

1 gallon large pimento stuffed green olives, slightly crushed, drained
1 quart jar pickled cauliflower, drained and sliced
2 small jars capers, drained
1 whole stalk celery, sliced diagonally
4 large carrots, peeled, thinly sliced diagonally
1 small jar celery seeds
1 small jar oregano
1 large head fresh garlic, peeled and minced
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 jar pepperoncini, drained left whole
1 pound large Greek black olives
1 jar cocktail onions, drained
 

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl or pot and mix well. Place in a large jar and cover with 1/2 olive oil and 1/2 canola oil. Store tightly covered in refrigerator. Allow to marinate for at least 24 hours before using.

I add an extra can of pickled cherry peppers to my personal recipe, and put this on almost every sandwich or salad that I eat.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Denial of FEMA Demolition

I was randomly searching the internet for Katrina pictures of the neighborhood I live in and I stumbled upon a picture of a house nearby.  Upon further investigation, (I literally clicked on the picture) I found the Preservation Resource Center and found out that just a month ago this house, along with 29 other homes, was up for consideration for demolition by the Neighborhood Conservation Districts Committee but was denied for a FEMA funded demolition.  That was it.  No explanation for the denial of demolition.

update:  11.14.2012

The house is gone. And you know what it took??? A Habitat for Humanity house being built next door.  Turns out, it is a huge hazard to having a teetering potential cinder of a building next to a connected non-profit home.  Go, New Orleans!

Frady's One Stop Food Store, Bywater

Aaron and I were just looking for somewhere quick and easy for lunch and came upon a most excellent spot in Bywater today. I love it when I sound like some awfully radical Bill and Ted flashback.  Anyway, what we stumbled upon was an idealistically dusty and quaint family owned store called Frady’s One Stop Food Store offering meatloaf, spaghetti, greens, pies, tamales, and po’ boys, along with some grocery items.  We both went chef’s choice and got the roast beef po’ boy all the way.  What I opened up was this incredible sandwich, now I must also note this is my first New Orleans roast beef po’ boy, but this gravy, roast beef, Swiss cheese, french bread monster delicacy beats out most of the sandwiches I have had in my life by its mere simplicity and warm comfort it gave my belly.  Yummmmm.

Frady's One Stop Food Store
3231 Dauphine Street  New Orleans, LA 70117

(504) 949-9688
Frady's one stop food store on urbanspoon

Sunday, May 13, 2012

The French Quarter and Pimm's Cups at Napoleon House

Jackson Square
Our second night in the house we decided to walk around the Quarter and get some celebratory dinner.  It was Friday night and everything was hopping in the FQ with the usual tourists, street performers, drunks, homeless, brass bands, and revelers.   We circled blindly, ambled the streets and relishing the beer cans in our hands; this being a completely foreign concept to my
boyfriend.  The alcoholism is rampant.  The sight of out rightly smashed homeless people is slightly appalling, but stepping into the french quarter makes it all worth it and maybe even not that out of place.  The smell of Spain, France, Pirates, spice, and seafood, of old buildings refurbished as opposed to demolished.  Of history.   There is a timeless feeling in the air, look up at a balcony and see the 1800's, the swinging 30's, anything can and has existed here.  What many tourist also might not realize is the the Quarter is full of people that actually live there, I know, hard to believe people can put up with the constant unabashed and debaucherous 'party', but remember this while getting down in the Quarter.   


Napoleon House Circa 1812
We finally chose to eat at the Napoleon House a comfortably old mainstay of Chartres and St. Louis .  The walls look ancient, and after waiting for a particularly loopy hostess, at a not-so-busy time of the evening, to seat us in the romantic courtyard seating area our server basically ignored us (Aaron and I both work in the kitchen of restaurants), was more involved with his larger money making parties.  He also forgot every condiment we asked for while ordering, put down the check before we were done, and was just overall not a good server to us.  Our food was okay.  I got a corned beef Reuben, Aaron the corned beef po' boy, neither come with a side.  The corned beef was great, but scarcely portioned.  On a menu of just twenty or so items you expect them all to be excellent, turns out this is not the case.  The Pimm's Cup is rather delicious though, extremely refreshing lemonade with Gin along with the cucumber slice makes it amazingly cooling.  It's also only six dollars, so make sure you stop and enjoy the beautiful bar on a lazy summer afternoon of people watching.
Napoleon House Bar & Café on Urbanspoon

Progress: Habitat House

Week 2
This is the Habitat for Humanity house down the street from us...keep in touch to see their progress!!







Our Neighbors

As beautiful and interesting as New Orleans architecture is, the most interesting thing are the people.  I want to start taking photographs of people that I think are interesting, I just don't want to come off offensive.  

 Anyway, two of these 'interesting people' are our regular street drunks, a man and a woman, who will go through our trash, bum cigarettes continuously, and are possibly living together with any number of other people at what we suppose is some sort of communal dopehouse next door.  The male of the two, let's call him Felix, told us last night that he was given the house because he stayed there for Katrina.  The door on one side of the house is boarded up, tattered sheets are guarding light from the windows that don't still have plywood over them, smoke stains trace the edges from a fire, and loose siding hangs from the front of the house like a cleft palate. I'm willing to bet this house hasn't been inspected since after the storm.  

Most of our neighbors are totally awesome.  There are about six older gentlemen that play spades all day and are so chill.  We have a couple with a baby catty corner to us, and a deliciously quaint abandoned house with ivy coming out the chimney across the street that I fear this one homeless woman is living in.  Not that anyone will ever notice that there are people living in a probably infested, crumblingly unsafe uninspected house that isn't in there name in any way, shape, or form.  Not in this neighborhood at least.  This street seems to keep its head down and stay out of trouble.   

One thing I have learned in this short time is that New Orleans is proud, too proud to ask for any more help from anyone after seven years.  Resigned to their own fight for survival without the nation's eyes on them anymore to notice.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Finding a Home

As we make our way back into town from the campground, past oil refineries in Chalmette and the Domino Sugar refinery we thank someone it's raining, because Aaron has the day off and can help me look for an apartment.  Dropped Roscoe at Camp Bow Wow (it was doggy sno cone day), and start knocking through our list.  We stopped by one apartment on our list that looked like it was being moved into, so we asked the guy what was up.  Turns out he just moved into the apartment a
nd hates it and hates his new landlord even more, his name was Russell.  Russell, a professional drummer, ended up allowing us to view the apartment, telling us about his crazy situation (he had just reunited with an unknown son, and his son, his son's wife, and his granddaughter had been living with him ever since until an abrupt departure by his new family left Russell alone again).  Very interesting dude, and he just let us right in, told us cool bars and restaurants, and all in all, we made our first friend.

By two o'clock we had hit all the houses.  We stopped at McDonalds for the wifi and dollar menu and, boom, found a place near the French Quarter.  Within ten minutes we were meeting our soon to be new landlord to check out the place.  House, check.  We were so excited, we were finally able to take a breath, we didn't know where we were going to sleep that night so we decided to stay at the Motel 6 again for our last homeless night.  Before that though we finally had the time to walk around the Quarter.  We finally knew we had a little money, time, and sanity to spend because we finally knew what our rent was.  We strolled upon the famous Cafe Du Monde and couldn't resist some take-out cafe au lait and beignets.  Our next stop was just yards away on a bench looking over the Mighty Miss, and dining on this incredible treat.  This was it.  We came here for more, for water, for history and culture, for excitement.  We were a go on all fronts.  

The next evening we moved into our new place.  Describing this apartment as a fixer upper might be an understatement.  It's definitely not like an apartment I've ever lived in before.  The house is a shotgun double, our apartment is just a one bedroom, and the other is a large almost three bedroom with an upstairs that a girl named Bree lives in.  If you don't know, a shotgun is a house that just shoots straight back.  Ours has three rooms, the first is the living room, then the bedroom, then the kitchen with the bathroom off of it.  I literally mean off of it, the door that was there was so fucked up we have it outside now as a stab door (more on that later), and a curtain now separates the two rooms.  Not that we care, my boyfriend always poops with the door open, he says it feels too confining otherwise. Now you just have to risk smelling poo along with the sucrose twang of caramelizing onions, or whatever is on the menu for that day, and out the menu the next.  

This was not necessarily the problem, the problem was the maybe one thousand cucarachas, in sight, mostly in the kitchen, and the mouse crap.  We later found out the couple that lived here before us were drunks, common theme everyone!  I like to garden, my gardens are fully organic, I also like to buy local, and fuck corporate, thoughtless produce isles, and fast food.  I went straight to Walmart and threw down over a hundred bucks on poison.  This was war.  Regular rules don't apply in war.

Making Our Way Around, Starting in Freret



We ended up on Freret Street after a drive down Louisiana and our first glimpses of the grand Garden District.  Freret Neighborhood is an awesome area to walk around in, offering all kinds of restaurants, bars, and eclectic local shops.  We stopped to have lunch at Dat Dog, absolutely incredible.  They offer local sausages, alligator sausage, bratwurst, and they come on a fresh bun with any sort of topping you can imagine.  They also make their own sodas, have an excellent beer selection, an open kitchen with a lot of personality, and, of course, a lot of hipster flair.  I chose the spicy sausage from Kenner, LA, with andouille sauce, onion, cheese, creole mustard, and jalapenos, I am down with the heat as an eater, but this all together wasn't overwhelmingly spicy.  It was soooo good!  It hasn't even been a week and I cannot wait to go back.  Aaron got the alligator sausage with chef's choice, which ended up just being an onion and red tomato pico and rather uninspiring.  The sausage was excellent though, it wasn't stringy or gamey, it was moist and absolutely delicious.  Both sausages were cooked perfectly, crispy on the outside, juicy and flavorful on the inside.  We also got the fries with etouffee, sour cream, and tomato, we had just arrived to N’awleans so we had to go with ettouffee and it was everything I imagined.  Tons of crawfish in the sauce, great crustacean flavor, and the tomato and sour cream were incredible palatal additions with the fresh and hot crunchy fries.  Just like most of the good places in NOLA, Dat dog is cash only but sports an ATM right near the entrance in case you forget.
While feasting on this incredible meal Aaron got a phone call and was accepted for a handyman job he had applied to the night before and had to start that day.  Our very first day in town.  I took him to the sight, and began my search alone for an apartment.  We weren't trying to live in a boujee apartment complex or going through a lot of bullshit with realtors, we wanted a very chill house hopefully with a yard for the dog.  I drove this town for almost six hours looking at all the addresses I had painstakingly researched and compiled between the Picayne and Craigslist.  While looking online for apartments from Winston-Salem I used Google earth to try to see what the street and house looked like, and was surprised that most of the houses still had FEMA trailers around them.  I looked at my own house in Winston and saw that that picture was at least two years old because we had had a fence installed two years ago and this picture had no fence.  I tried to  keep this in perspective while apartment hunting.  I was amazed to see that, although there weren't many FEMA trailers left, there was a plethora of condemned buildings.  No luck finding a house today.  


Tonight we are camping out about twenty minutes outside of town at St. Bernard State Park. The park is great, far enough from NOLA to feel like true country swamp, but let your pets sleep in the tent with you, there are relatively large animals tromping in the woods at night; and, as almost everywhere down here, bring the strongest bug spray you can find.



Dat Dog 5031 Freret Street New Orleans, LA 70115 504.899.6883
Dat Dog on Urbanspoon

Doggie Day Camp

We found the greatest doggie day camp for Roscoe called Camp Bow Wow on Tchoupitoulas Street.  You can watch your dog on the internet while they are at camp, slightly ridiculous, but also incredibly addicting.  I've always wanted one of those nanny cameras to see what my dog is up to when I'm not there.  I imagine him snooping through all the cabinets, maybe getting the munchies and knocking the trash over and sifting through it for the good stuff, flipping through the channels, and closing out the day with a nap on each piece of furniture.  After finding out how to pronounce the name of the street "cha-pa-too-us" (the name of an Indian tribe in Harahan, LA back in the day, and then also the name of a plantation in that area in the early 1800’s) from the awesome staff at Camp Bow Wow, Aaron and I started our search for jobs and a home, neither of which we had upon our arrival to this absolutely incredible city.  

Tell me about other great doggie day camps in New Orelans !!

N'awlins or Bust!

Relocating to New Orleans wasn't a hard decision for me.  It is the closest I can get to Europe in America, it’s in the South,  and it’s close to a lot of water. Check, check, and check.  My boyfriend, Aaron, and I sold all of our stuff, loaded up my Volvo station wagon national lampoons vacation style with our English Pointer, Roscoe, and departed from Winston-Salem, NC, buckling in for a treacherously insane 15 hour drive.  The tire almost ripped, the car almost overheated, and Alabama is mighty boring, but we made it to our hotel on the outskirts of New Orleans right after sunset.