Janet had been extraordinarily busy since we were together in Sedona in the Spring, so there was quite a lot of catching up to be done.
In the midst of it all, we decided to have dinner at Brennan’s Red Fish Grill on Bourbon Street. Now, before I go on and on about the great food, let me say a word about the Brennans. Their first restaurant was The Commanders Palace in the Garden District. Their second, and most recognizable, is Brennan’s on Royal Street in the French Quarter. But, as 20th century businesses vacated, the Brennan Boys acquired the buildings and created new restaurants with a variety of names, expanding the ability for diners to enjoy fabulous food.
The Red Fish Grill (by Ralph Brennan) is located at 115 Bourbon Street. La Pension is at 115 Decatur Street. Therefore, it was appealing to walk the three blocks on nearby Canal Street and take in another aspect of the city’s personality… the high-rise hotels, the up-scale department stores, VERY wide sidewalks, traffic lights with walk indicators, etc.
We arrived at our dining destination 6-ish and were immediately seated. By seven o’clock folks were patiently waiting on the street for availability – on a Monday evening.
The building, itself, is an interesting structure speaking loudly to repurposing and renovating, while paying homage to the historic homes of by-gone businesses. The illustrated wall that separates the cocktail lounge from the dining area was a pre-existing, perhaps exterior brick wall of a building of a much earlier time. It was awesome.
The extensive menu was also awesome. Again, I was hoping to narrow the options down to two or three with the help of our server. Janet and Sandra were able to decide more quickly. Janet ordered the Alligator Sausage and Seafood Gumbo as an appetizer with the Blackened Flounder for her entree. Sandra followed with the same Gumbo and the Blackened Yellowfin Tuna. With our server’s assistance, I chose the Wood Grilled Red Fish and Lump Crabmeat with Tasso and Wild mushroom Pontalba Potatoes, garnished with Lemon/ Rosemary/ Worcestershire sauce. Although I had talked with fishermen who braved the eastern shore dawn to catch Red Fish, I had never tasted it. This seemed to be a fine opportunity. Oh yes, and a cup of that splendid sounding Gumbo.
The Gumbo came promptly… along with that evil crusty bread. It was delicious… and filling. When my entrée arrived, I was able to eat only half of it. A box would be summoned to enjoy the remainder at home another evening.
We did stretch all good sense, however, and ordered one decadent piece of Bourbon Pecan Pie with Jack Daniels ice cream and three forks. We were going to have to walk the LONG way home.
Making our way through the ravenous mass waiting to be seated, we turned away from Canal Street into the French Quarter when leaving the restaurant. Bourbon Street was all that the commercials promised. It didn’t have to be Mardi Gras to laissez les bon temps roulez.
The vehicle street by day became a pedestrian mall after dark. The rare mode of transportation being the pedi-cab or horse and carriage. The only illumination the brightly blinking neon signs and occasional gas streetlight.
The streets were filled with music… each block sporting its own ensemble of accomplished musicians playing for monetary appreciations… and glass bead bearers bestowing their gifts on the ever-present tourists hoping for paper money in return.
While Sandra popped into an inviting shop, Janet and I waited in the center of Bourbon Street. It wasn’t a minute before Janet was wearing a gold bead necklace and I a brilliant blue one. We were told that now it was our turn to return the favor with cash… preferably paper. Janet reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of change… mostly small coins. I had to confess that I didn’t carry cash – only plastic – so I would have to return my necklace. The hustler stomped off muttering that a man just can’t make a living anymore.
Sandra returned and we continued our walk home. We only ventured as far as Conti and turned toward the River… saving the rest for the days to come. The side streets are not as well lighted and the pavement not as even, but we were able to find our way past the impressive, block-long Supreme Court Building without a mishap.
Decatur Street was not quite as festive as Bourbon, but still had atmosphere. The music was coming through the open doors of intimate jazz clubs and the neon signs were smaller, but our weary feet didn’t mind. We reached our fourth floor haven quite satisfied with our evening.
Photos for this story can be found on the facebook: The Untethered Tourist. Click on PHOTOS in the header, then click on ALBUMS. Enjoy!
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