I Feel Like 🐔 Tonight

Having recently had Chick-Fil-A after it opened in Toronto (we had tried it before but we still had to go) I was keen on finally having the chicken sandwich from PG Clucks, still the best chicken sandwich in Toronto according to BlogTO. I had to go while the memory was still fresh.

Thankfully the location next to and serving Birreria Volo was still open. It had been ages since we’d been there. Plus Cantillon’s Zwanze Day had just passed the previous week- maybe they’d have some different Cantillon brews on tap?

I was drooling just thinking about the honey and jalapeno sandwich. Luckily I didn’t drool into my cherry cola sour beer. It was so good, it had all the right flavours. For my second I had a cider from Revel that I first had to confirm I didn’t buy. It had plums and elderflowers. Brent had the Nashville hot chicken sandwich, the coleslaw was good but by the time I got my half it had turned into a soppy mess. And the honey jalapeno one was a thousand times better. And certainly way better than Chick-Fil-A. Quite the debate ensued on the walk home. Firstly, where to place it in our rankings. It slowly inched its way to the top tier. But that was where we parted ways, hands-down I would eat that honey jalapeno sandwich over anything from Chick-Fil-A everyday. Even now, a few days later, I am already sort of craving it. It was that good, just oozing with honey.

🐔🐔🐔

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Poke? Nope!

I can safely say: I am still not a fan of poke bowls. This time around it was better, but I am still not a convert. North Poke was in Kensington and on the way there I scoped out a shop that might have Thai iced tea mix (I was on a mission to find it, having found out about a cookie recipe- it is impossible for me to turn down a cookie recipe).

Each part of the meal was good, it’s just that it’s a taste/texture…food… that I quickly tire of. I gave up on it, not full but just over it. Something about the heavily-sauced marinated fish, it soon started getting to me, threatening me with a stomachache. I did like the addition of the taro chips and they provided some respite, as did the seaweed but in the end I gave up. In retrospect I should have gotten a snack size BUT I went in there for dinner, so it wouldn’t have been enough. Live and learn.

At Ding Dong Exotic Sweet they didn’t have the tea mix but we did get a Japanese Coke, matcha green tea ice cream Oreos, mango Kit Kat and most importantly: freeze-dried Durian. Which we have yet to open. I’m a little scared. We also had fried eel Lay’s (which taste like what they promise which is actually not a good chip flavour) and beef sauce flavoured Lay’s- ditto.  The name of the store reminded Brent of a bakery of the same name, which happened to be just up the street.

Ding Dong Bakery had been voted best Chinese bakery and I could see why. Very efficient system of trays and checkout and so damn cheap. Things started out great, the almond cookie was not too sweet and had an odd dry texture that somehow really worked. The pineapple bun was delicious. The red bean sesame ball was barely alright. From there things went downhill. The egg tart, recommended was awful. The taro item was awful. The worst one by far was the winter-melon bun. I expected something like a fruit danish, not a dense bun tasting of flour.

One day we will open the Durian.

 

Why I Never…

I have never been a big fan of fish & chips (even now as I write this, after having listened to How Fish & Chips Works from SYSK). Kingsway Fish & Chips was on the list of essential Toronto restaurants for tourists to visit. Which makes no sense given its location at Royal York and Bloor. But who am I to question a best-of list? And who am I to question possibly the best fish & chips, based solely on geography?

Bonus points for it being conveniently on the way home from work. I cannot believe how many times I walked right by the place in the past. We ordered fish tacos to start. I was expecting little tiny tacos not these giant behemoths. They were topped with the house coleslaw which was every bit as good as I had been led to believe. Oh man the tacos were good, with breaded and deep-fried haddock. Eating it we realized that it was the same fish as would be in my main. I had ordered a fish & shrimps & chips. Brent had the steak & kidney pie. I am still not a fan of meat pies. I’m barely even a fan of regular pies, often only eating pecan/sugar pies.The fish was so good. I was thoroughly impressed, it almost made me a fan of fish & chips, hence my initially very high ranking of the place. It was only after some debate and remembering past meals that it got bumped down a few notches. It was good fish & chips BUT compared to some other meals we’ve had it ranked around the middle.

I would happily go back for more fish & chips and coleslaw. The fries, while really good and tasting of the beef fat they were fried in, were a bit much. I also accidentally dipped one in marinara sauce, mistaking it for ketchup.

 

Bye-Bymark

I didn’t expect that around #19 on a top 100 list I would be seriously considering if it was worth it to continue making our way down the list. Bymark wasn’t terrible by any means but I kind of had higher expectations for it. Until I remembered taht we had previously eaten at a McEwan joint in Yorkville and my short review was: too much butter. I don’t get why it was so subpar given how good the hot table at the McEwan grocery store is.
We split an order of the house made focaccia bread and an order of the calamari and octopus. She warned us that they had recently updated taht dish and it now had shishito peppers. I was thrilled! Shishito peppers are so good! She was legit surprised that I even knew what they were. The bread was so good. The seafood had absorbed some flavour from the peppers. My cocktail had gin and cucumber in it, so I could claim it was mildly restorative as I got over my cold and allergies double-combo.

Brent ordered the burger (that the article assured, was worth the price). I had the (what was once 72-hours sous vide but was now braised) beef short ribs with chimichurri. It was a bit salty for my liking and reliant on the chimichurri to be a good dish. The meat itself was soft and fell apart and so juicy but just the littlest bit too salty. I also don’t get why the meat mains didn’t come with sides. It was an enormous portion and a side would have been nice (along with it being a smaller portion). Drink number two was just as good, cherry liqueur might be one of my new favourites.

We didn’t stick around for dessert (even though we were given a menu after settling the bill). For one, I was pretty full but also I was not really tempted by anything on the menu. Plus there’s always Bulk Barn on the walk home.

 

Miss NOLA TX: Day 7

I woke up around 8:30am, having slept fitfully with weird dreams. We walked over to check out the other jazz hall and we got to see a little bit more of New Orleans. We walked back via Royal St. and stopped in at Spitfire coffee. We walked right by it and had to double-back. Turns out Brent had been staring at it the previous day while we waited in line at the Gumbo Shop. The only people out and about at this hour were dog-walkers and joggers and a few tourists on carriages. The coffee was so good and smooth and clearly made with real vanilla.

We walked by Cafe du Monde which still had a line-up though not quite as long, as it was earlier in the day and a holiday Monday. We walked by the pet store again and the little tiny kitten was still there in the window and it was killing me how much I wanted to take it home. I could barely keep it together and kept yelping. We flipped between The Office and Friends while I caught up in my notebook before it was time to check out. Our flight wasn’t until the afternoon so we still had time for one last meal in New Orleans.

We had one last walk down Bourbon St. I loved seeing the streets being cleaned, everything getting hosed down. There were a few people out and about drinking, it was ok it was now double digits. We passed some Polish people who clearly could not handle the heat and were discussing going back to their hotel room.

There was a small group of people standing around outside the restaurant and at first it was unclear: were they waiting for people or waiting to go in? Eventually after some confusion we figured out they were waiting for others. The front of the restaurant was packed but the back was pretty empty (though garishly lit in red).

We were in an oyster house, so we had to order oysters. It only made sense. We split a half plate of 6 raw oysters. Was this the best idea on a holiday Monday? Who can say? These oysters were the worst I’ve ever had. Turns out I don’t really like freshwater oysters. I prefer the salty briny ones from the ocean. Now we know. I was also mildly disconcerted by the fact that they came off the shell so easily. Brent had the oyster po’boy and I had the soft-shell crab platter. Earlier the server had tried to upsell us to chargrilled oysters. She succeeded in upselling Brent on fries, so cunningly she just said “and fries on the side of that?” when he ordered his sandwich. They weren’t included. The crab was very good, I enjoyed ripping the battered legs off. Between the two of us we had way too many fries, my dish came with them so really, we had no need for a second order. The oyster po’boy was cut in half, but I only ate half of that and we traded back. Too much dry bread for my liking and not enough mayo. The po’boy winner of the trip was the catfish one.

I was feeling a bit nauseous and the hot car was not helping. I just wanted to get to the airport and get a mint tea. I wandered the whole terminal looking for the advertised-everywhere PJ’s coffee. I returned with no luck but a new craving for a smoothie. I complained to Brent about all the false advertising. He went walking and came back triumphant. I had noticed a bar at the end of the terminal and didn’t bother to keep walking. Turns out that PJ’s coffee was on the other side of the round bar. It was too late for me though. I was in the mood for a smoothie. Except Smoothie King’s smallest size was a whopping 20oz. My plan was to drink as much as I wanted and toss the rest. It was a mix of berries and it was just what I needed, I felt so much better after. We were also sitting in a great spot, near some chargers and with a great view of the planes taking off.

The wifi cut out, so much for browsing Pinterest. I listened to the final episode of CrimeTown and watched the drug sniffing chocolate lab job doing his thing on the incoming luggage being taken off the plane. As we boarded the flight, I stared a guy in first class and our eyes met. I then said to Brent “I know I’m mildly face blind but…” and at that moment he had turned around to tell me he just saw Jeff Goldblum sitting in first class. So, I wasn’t having a moment of face blindness!! Our first flight was very short, they didn’t even have full drinks service. Our options were orange juice or water. Brent got an OJ but it was the last one. At least I got a stroopwafel. I read The Flight Attendant which seemed appropriate.

We had 2.5hours in Houston on a layover. Our first stop was Chick-Fil-A for lunch. I ordered the deluxe this time, thinking that cheese and lettuce could make the sandwich better. Boy was I wrong. Apparently, you don’t mess with something when it’s that good. The chicken nuggets were so good dipped in the Polynesian and sweet & spicy sriracha sauces. The Polynesian was the best by far. The duty-free shop at our terminal was closed and the sign said I could find a shop… in the next terminal over. I had to take the tram back. This airport was too damn big for its own good. In our terminal there was a Dylan’s Candy bar. In the next terminal over there was a Natalie’s Candy Bar. Of course, I had to go in and investigate. I found double-flavoured Swedish Fish, a Take 5 and Butterfinger bites. The duty-free shop was a tiny little kiosk with poor selection but I was not in the mood to go two more terminals over to the big main duty-free shop. This would have to do. They didn’t even have Canadian Club! I ended up getting Tito’s vodka and really only saving a few dollars in the end. My final stop on the tour was Starbuck’s for my beloved jade citrus mint green tea. On the second flight back, after all the technical glitches with the TV were figured out, we watched Chernobyl.

 

Miss NOLA TX: Day 6

I woke up feeling well rested, having had the perfect sleep thanks to Benadryl and the white noise of the fan. We went out to the original Cafe du Monde location by the river. On the way we walked through the market as the vendors were just setting up. There were lots of tourist-y tchotchkes but no sign of creole cream cheese. It was on the list of must-eats but Commander’s Palace didn’t have it on the menu. We stopped in at a few ice cream parlours (it can also be an ice cream flavour) and shops but no luck.
I knew to expect a line at Cafe du Monde. I just didn’t expect it to be that long. I guess on a Sunday morning of a long holiday weekend it would be extra busy. Thankfully my co-worker had told me that there is an express line for a takeout window. Even still, the line was long. But the menu was limited so it moved fast. We got three beignets and a cafe au lait (mix of regular and chicory coffee) each. We ate by the riverfront on a bench, powdered sugar spilling all down my front. The beignets were so good and pillowy and soft and made the perfect breakfast. There was a big steamboat cruise ship docked by the river. We could see the other ports across the river. There was a hungover guy sitting by the fountain talking to his dad on skype and saying he was “all drinked out.” He had the perfect spot to be sitting at, the mist and cool breeze from the water fountain were a welcome relief.
We walked along the Riverwalk to the outlets. I needed more cool breeze off the river or to go back to that fountain. So early in the day and it was already so hot out. I had some shopping successes, getting Brent a pair of Nike shorts from Nordstrom Rack for 25% off the clearance price. Although they forgot to take the security tag off so I had to go back. The line at the Riverwalk Cafe du Monde was equally ridiculous, so my plans to see if we could get creole cream cheese there was a flop. I got a watch from Fossil and had it engraved with my nickname. For my family I got fudge-caramel covered pralines as a souvenir and for us to snack on some cajun chips.
We stopped in at a “voodoo/liquor shop for some later-in-the-afternoon hotel drinks. The selection was surprisingly bad, I ended up getting an Abita strawberry beer (which Brent assured me I would like) and another Buzz Ball. We walked to the Carousel Bar which was in a hotel. There were no seats at the carousel itself and it wasn’t even going around! I had pictured small booths and music and it spinning. It was only as we were leaving that we saw it was oh-so-slowly turning. BORING. We went to the Gumbo Shop for lunch, it had been recommended in the 1001 Foods book. There was a huge line of people waiting. There were maybe 30 people ahead of us? And the internet said they don’t do takeout. But other than 7pm dinner plans we had nothing else planned for the day. While I held our place in line, Brent went up the street to a shop that the internet said sold creole cream cheese (had we become obsessed?). The line was moving pretty quickly. It was funny to see people stop, assess what the line was for and then do a calculation of whether or not it was worth waiting for.
Luckily, we were seated indoors. I was dripping with sweat. While waiting in line, we were able to see the menu and the specials board and decide on our order ahead of time. The gator sausage appetizer was so good, according to my notes it was the mustard that really stole the show. Brent had red beans and rice with sausage and I of course had the seafood okra gumbo (you gotta). At this point in our vacation, Brent had a cold so we didn’t trade halfway, I stole a bite of his dish before he dug in though. It was good, but the gumbo was better. The specials board had advertised a fresh fruit daiquiri and it was so good and refreshing (as lemons tend to be) but it got icy towards the middle but then it melted and was good again towards the end.
After lunch we tried to walk to Absinthe House which was about 2 blocks away (one up and one over) but we were cut off by the pride parade. We had to run across in between groups. When we turned north and up another street, we had to cross the parade again. Absinthe House was great. It was easily one of my favourite places in all of New Orleans. Just a low-key laid-back bar with football helmets hanging from the ceiling that wasn’t very busy. And they made a very good Sazerac cocktail. I could see the bartender pouring green liquid in it, that and the name assured me that most likely my drink actually had absinthe in it. It was also sweeter than the rye version that Brent had at Commander’s Palace. We sat at the bar, looking out the open window-doors at all the revellers.
Up next we went to Tropical Isle. We had passed by three of them on our way earlier. The shark attack drink was more than just a drink. She poured some vodka over the ice cubes and then put a small plastic gator on top. I was a bit worried, thinking was this it? But then she grabbed a plastic shark, filled it with grenadine. Then she rang a captain’s bell (like on a ship) and shouted “SHARK ATTACK!!!” and made some noises as the shark was plunged nose first into the cup, spilling grenadine down the ice cubes. It made my day. Brent’s drink was in a long funnel with a little plastic grenade in the top. It was citrus-y and strong as heck and much bigger. While walking along Bourbon St. among the dispersed pride revellers a lady noticed my drink and I told her the whole story. She asked where I had gotten it. I am proud to say I gave her way better directions. As I was explaining to her, someone threw a plastic rat into the street and she jumped away screaming and I had a clean getaway. The lady was very chatty and I feared she wanted my shark.
We walked down by the courts to Jackson Square then down to the waterfront. We walked along Decatur St. back to our hotel. We stopped by the French Market restaurant and looked at the menu on the outside. The internet was right! They did have creole cream cheese! I was the hero of the day! Except we needed a break first. I polished off the rest of Brent’s hand grenade, sans-straw, dribbling it down my chin. In the hotel we settled in, watching The Office. The strawberry Abita was too beer-y for me, I passed it on to Brent. I had foreseen this happening, it was why I finished off the hand grenade. The peach vodka Buzz Ball was so good and it really hit the spot. A little too well. Soon I was nice and day drunk. Just after 5pm, Brent noticed the time and we went out for French Market for some before-dinner dessert. The creole cream cheese was in the 1001 Foods book and we were finally going to cross it off the list in cheesecake form. I was tempted by the drinks menu, even in my current state. Then it dawned on me: this was New Orleans! I could probably get it in a plastic cup! The Gingeroo had New Orleans rum and ginger beer and Louisiana sugar cane syrup. I had it get it! Except, even though I had asked, it was served to me not in a plastic cup (which I could see a stack of at the bar!) but in an actual glass. Sigh. I guess there was no stretching this drink out for the rest of the afternoon. I had ⅘ of it and let Brent finish it (I have zero memory of this, I’m going by what the notebook says here). The cheesecake was really good, it had whipped cream and caramel sauce. On the way back to the hotel we stopped in at a souvenir shop and I bought a tank top with a giant crawfish on it as a pajama top.
Back in the hotel room, The Office marathon on Comedy had ended. Now there was nothing on. Or as my notebook says: “nothing is on 😦 and nothing else good 😦 :(“ , you can guess the state I was in when writing in my notebook. We walked to dinner at Galatoire’s on Bourbon St., once again weaving our way through the partying masses- except this time I was in heels and sobering up. Brent had promised me a line-up of suckers waiting for tables in the main dining area, that we would awkwardly go around because we had reservations upstairs. No such line existed because there was so much else going on.
As we went upstairs it legit seemed like we may be the only ones in the restaurant. There were a few other people at tables. This was rather unfortunate, as there was the most insufferable man at the table next to ours. Of the 4 people, he dominated the conversation with his dumb work stories. We started by splitting a shrimp remoulade and crab maison (a rarity, two apps!). Both were served on a bed of lettuce. The shrimp was amazing. The crab was meh and I dare say, the lettuce made it better. Brent had the pompano fish (another from the 1001 Foods book) and I stole a bite. It was very good and surprisingly meaty. I had the seafood bouillabaisse. For a soup it was surprisingly filling and so comforting and delicious. I stole a sip of Brent’s cocktail but it was too much for me. I had completely sobered up by the time we were seated and I was done for the day. All I wanted was water. Obviously, we were too full for dessert.

It was so much fun to walk back via Bourbon St. There were so many drunk revellers contained to the sidewalks when we first left. All because a little bit of rain. No sooner had we stepped out it let up. We stopped in at a souvenir shop so I could get a soda, the Sunkist really hit the spot after a day of drinking. There were cops on horses and on cherry-pickers, keeping watch over Bourbon St. I overheard some Polish people complaining that the streets smelled and I started giggling. When i told Brent, he shouted “dobranoc!” at them as we parted ways. In their surprise they half-muttered it back.
We laid in bed watching Friends. Brent’s cold had gotten worse. There was another jazz show at a nearby bar but we were both too tired, plus it was at 10pm which in our tired state seemed way too late.

 

Miss NOLA TX: Day 5

On the way to free coffee in the hotel lobby I got distracted by the tabby cat and stopped to pet him. He turned on his side for more pets. Brent was walking towards me and I was going to meet him, but I got distracted by the orange cat who also warranted petting. While Brent was checking out, I finally went for my coffee but all I found was an empty carafe. If I had not stopped to pet those cats would i have had a coffee for the road?
Brent pointed out a gas station for coffee. I turned my nose up at it. Surely, we would pass something better on the way. Cut to 35 minutes later when I gave up and had gas station coffee. It was surprisingly good, I had butter pecan coffee with some Coldstone sweet cream flavoured creamer. I had been tempted by the Reese’s creamer but i thought my coffee would be overly nutty. I got a Reese’s Crispy Crunchy to fill my craving. It reminded me of a Crispy Crunch, it was so good! The almond butter maple Snickers was good but it kind of had a bit too much going on.
And just like that, 45 minutes into the drive, we were back in Louisiana! It felt so sudden. We stopped at a gas station to fill up the car before returning it. The bathroom was 1) outside of the building by the parking lot and 2) was lacking a doorknob and instead had a big gaping hole were the knob should’ve been. Brent insisted it was fine. I would wait the few minutes until we were back at the car rental place. No thank you.
It was a long slow walk to our hotel, my now-heavier baggage weighing me down. We stopped at Deannie’s Seafood as it was on the way- didn’t make sense to go to the hotel and then backtrack. Deannie’s was known for their crawfish so of course we ordered the crawfish quartet. Crawfish done four different ways: etouffee (first place), gumbo (third place), fried (second place) and balls (as in fish balls, not the balls of the fish- regardless they came dead last, not that good). To start we had the crab nachos, except it was more like a hot cheese dip with a scarce amount of crab. Instead of bread we were served complimentary boiled (in the seafood water) potatoes. I had ordered a voodoo juice cocktail. I did not expect it to be served in a giant plastic lobster complete with lanyard (lest I drop the hideous thing). The only reason I ordered it was because the menu said it was their most popular item. The only other options were a hurricane (which I was saving for later) and something with tomato juice- nope. I went with the lesser of three evils, hoping the banana rum would get drowned out by the pineapple and coconut rums. Three types of rum in a giant 24oz lobster, yet somehow, I survived the walk back to the hotel with nary a buzz. I saved half the cocktail for the walk, partly for novelty’s sake but mostly it was a practical measure: we had food to eat!
It was unbelievably hot out on the walk to the hotel. I was so sweaty and tired. At least my drink was refreshing. Our hotel was nice from the outside. As soon as the door swung open and that a/c blast hit us I was thrilled. Until we got to our room. It was like a shitty bachelor apartment, complete with a mini kitchen in a closet. There was a heater on the bathroom ceiling. There was no a/c, just a surprisingly effective fan on the ceiling. After that heavy lunch, cocktail and boiling hot walk with luggage, I was in need of a nap. I immediately conked out while Brent read his book.
We went out for a short walk after to see Bourbon and Royal Sts and see what the fuss is about. There was a group of protesters outside of a gay bar and we overheard a dad telling his family that it was “too flamboyant” for his family. But public drunkenness was just fine for his kids? It was a sad little protest, people were having fun dancing at them and flaunting how little they cared. Walking along Bourbon St. we saw a larger gentleman who was just plastered, it was only 3:15pm and he was leaning heavily on his friends and we wondered how early he had started/ how much he had imbibed. It was actually quite impressive. We also wondered if there was a turnover between the day drunks and the night drunks, is there a quiet lull period? Despite the crowds and everyone being drunk, there was a certain peacefulness to it, a lot of nice and happy drunks.
Brent had directed us to a corner market but as we were about to go in it dawned on me: we should go to Central Market to grab some drinks! They had completely succumbed to the touristy gimmick of selling the muffuletta sandwich and there was no alcohol in sight. Had things changed since Anthony Bourdain ordered from there all those years ago? There was a liquor store next door and I grabbed two rose ciders. It was nice to have a cold drink in the heat, sipping and people watching. I just wish the cider had been better. I also wish it had been a bottle so I could add to my bottle cap collection.
A bachelorette party approached us and asked if we were a couple. Then they asked if we could make out in the background so they could take a picture of the bride-to-be, Brent scoffed and said no that’s weird. They looked surprised and confused like WE were the weird ones. A lady walking in front of us tripped on the uneven sidewalk. Brent offered to help her up and apparently, she did nothing to help herself stand up, she was just dead-weight while Brent and the husband struggled to get her upright. I just stood there watching.
Back in the hotel room we found an awesome TV show on Animal Planet called The Zoo: San Diego. It was a very long, slow and dehydrated walk to Commander’s Palace for dinner. At first it was nice, walking through the French Quarter, then the walk sucked as we had to go under an overpass. Then it improved slightly with a residential neighbourhood full of nice houses. Except I was tired, hot and dehydrated so it was not entirely worth the walk. We also realized that the restaurant didn’t open until 6pm and we were early. There was a cool old cemetery across the street, except it closed at 4pm so all we could do was peer through the gates.
To start we split an order of turtle soup. I had been looking forward to this for a while, they were known for it. It was delicious and just a little bit spicy. It was not served in an upside-down turtle shell as I sometimes imagine the dish to be. Brent had the pecan-encrusted fish and I had the Texas quail with peach BBQ sauce, we each claimed our own dish to be the better one. Although it was a really close contest, they were both really good. We split an order of the pecan pie a la mode. I had secretly been hoping the ice cream would be their house-made flavour of the day: Snickers. It was not, we got plain old vanilla. My first cocktail arrived with a pair of sunglasses on top. I guess it makes sense, it was called “sunset on patio” and it continued my day of novelty drinks. Thankfully the second one, a basil lemonade with peach alcohol was served sans accoutrements. I chugged so much water over the course of our dinner. I felt like a sponge.
We Uber’d back to the hotel to change into comfier clothes and charge our phones before heading out for an evening on Bourbon St. After a short charging/writing/watching San Diego Zoo show we went back out. It was 7:50pm and we would not make it for the 8pm show at Preservation Hall. As we walked by, the line for the 9pm show seemed kind of long. We popped into Pat O’Brien’s next door for hurricanes (they claim to have invented it). There were a lot of people milling about outside, making it seem busier than it was. There was also a drunk middle-aged lady sitting on the stoop outside while her daughter tried to get her to rally and stand up so they could go home. She had puked by her feet and looked miserable. Pat O’Briens was actually a giant complex with multiple bars, it was L-shaped with entrances on two intersecting streets. Because there were so many bars it was a short wait. At the last minute Brent changed up the order and instead of us splitting one hurricane, we each had our own. Our very own giant plastic cup of alcohol with an orange slice and a cherry. I looked down at it, took one sip and realized: ho boy, this would have to last me all night in slow sips. It easily had at least 5oz of alcohol in it. The line at Preservation Hall was shorter now and much more reasonable. I guess we had seen the last of the stragglers for the 8pm show or else a bunch of people ditched? Who can say, but it worked out well for us. I had at least 45 minutes to finish my drink if they weren’t allowed in. Except at that point it was a bit of a tall order for me and I was very relieved to hear I could bring it with me. The orange slice was nice and refreshing. We had a prime people-watching spot. The I’ve-had-two-glasses-of-wine moms letting loose, the miserable-looking teens with their parents. There was one guy who was so drunk he could not stand up, he was gently escorted from a store by a security guard and a lady. It was also fun to see people so confused about the line-up, was it to get into Pat O’Briens? No? When did the show start? And then the look of surprise that we would be waiting in line for this long for a jazz show.
The show was in an old-timey hall, complete with stifling air and a lack of a/c. The fans were working overtime. Because we had not pre-purchased tickets, we had to stand behind the benches. I was grateful for my ice-cold drink, I kept holding it up against my forehead to cool myself down. The performance was awesome, they played old-timey jazz music and it just felt like quintessential New Orleans (or least how I imagine it to be). The crowd was not so awesome. One guy had his cell phone out and was trying to pretend like he didn’t when the performers called him on it. Another guy shouted out a request for When The Saints Come Marching In. They ended the performance on that song, of course.
We walked back along Bourbon St. where the party was in full swing. The gay pride party had spilled out of the bar and into the street. As we walked this was the case with most bars, they had their doors open and the music was filtering into the street, it was like one continuous party. It made me like Miley Cyrus’s song Wrecking Ball. I saw a lady walking ahead of us who had a plastic shark sticking out of her drink and I ran up to her asking where she got it. Clearly it was a strong drink because she was of no help, saying that it was down the street on a corner. I asked about any distinguishing features. Her friend offered that it was called Isle something. We figured it out, Tropical Isle was the place that did the hand grenade. Our afternoon drinking plans for the following day were set. Earlier on our way to dinner and now closer to the hotel there was so much foot traffic due to the sheer number of ghost tours. They were everywhere!