Thursday– The last day for our Hop-on Hop-off tickets. But, we still had Emeril’s to experience. Such a decision.
If we could get to Emeril’s at an early hour, we could still enjoy the rest of the afternoon on and off the bus. Maybe even make the walking tour of the Garden District. We now had the outline of a plan.
So, off we trekked to Emeril’s for lunch. The route would be Decatur Street to St. Louis, turn left. Emeril’s NOLA is about in the middle of the block.
Decatur Street is not a very wide street… actually, none of the streets in the French Quarter is very wide. They were laid out when the width was ample if two horse and carriages could pass. As we left our hotel, we encountered much ado on the street and sidewalk near one of the jazz clubs. A HUGE tour bus was parked adjacent to the sidewalk… much larger than any horse and carriage. Behind it was yet another bus pulling a HUGE utility trailer from which men were unloading all sorts of electronic apparati… a very busy scene and a very crowded street.
It was another beautiful day to walk and enjoy the people, the shops, and the street performers.
We arrived at Emeril’s about noon. The dining room was not crowded, so we were able to be seated right away. It was too early in the day to enjoy a cocktail for me, but Sandra ordered the Milk Punch. She had seen it on other menus and had wondered all week what it tasted like. When it came, we all shared a sip. It tasted a great deal like a thin egg nog.
The menu was lovely. One expects no less from Emeril. (We have eaten at several of Emeril’s restaurants on our travels.) It is always difficult to make a decision at Emeril’s, everything promises to be outstanding, but today we all chose the simple Shrimp and Grits.
This peasant dish is anything but simple. The complex flavors are presented almost as garnishment, giving you the opportunity to taste the savory individual ingredients. But, by the last bite, everything has been blended into the most astonishing tastes. His choice of Applewood smoked bacon over Tasso ham gave an unexpected complexity to each bite of toasted shrimp and buttery, cheese enhanced grits. It was a culinary moment.
By the time we were through, the dining room had filled. It was about 1:30, so we had our waiter take our perfunctory photo in front of the blackboard wall and went on our merry way.
Next door to NOLA is the New Orleans Cooking School. In the front window a woman was making pralines. Now, nothing says New Orleans like pralines. We had to go inside to taste the aromatic free samples. It turns out that these pralines were the best we had tasted… so fresh… and were also the best priced. So, now it is not just tasting, it is buying… and mailing home when it becomes too much to fit in the carry-on. More than pralines are sold in this cook’s paradise.
One can also take cooking classes here. Either by reservation, or, if there is room, by walk-in. We were invited to learn how to cook Cajun style dishes, but we had just waddled out of Emeril’s too full to think about food, so we didn’t stay.
Besides, there was still time to get to the Hop-on, Hop-off and perhaps get to the walking tour of the garden district. So, we put it in gear and headed for stop #6.
Donna was, once again, our bus guide. And, once again we climbed to the top deck to enjoy the view and the breeze. At stop #11 we departed to join the 3:00 (and last for the day) walking tour of the Garden District.
Stop #11 is on Market Street in the area called the “Lower Garden District.” Our guide took us two blocks north into the “Upper Garden District” where the gorgeous homes are located.
The homes in this district are a study in architecture… a real mix of styles and sizes. The first home we enjoyed was a classical New Orleans with a front two storied gallery. It was pointed out to us that the columns on the first floor were Doric and those on the second floor gallery were Corinthian… not unusual for New Orleans.
It was also pointed out that, although these spacious homes were originally owned and lived in by one family, today there could be as many as 6-8 apartments inside. Each one renting for the equivalent of a first-born child.
After walking three blocks, or so, going north, we turned west. The street became more narrow and the pavement more broken. But, we watched our step while we watched the variety of homes.
One home, with its still-attached slave quarters, looked large enough to be a hotel… or at least a large bed and breakfast. However, it was lived in by just two brothers. We wondered how often they saw each other… maybe on weekends, or holidays.
Another block held the smaller homes of seven sisters. A father had wanted his daughters to remain close, so he built each one a home side by side by side. The facades were similar to matching, but the interiors were quite different reflecting each daughter’s taste. The guide pointed out that either the father couldn’t count, or there was something his wife had neglected to tell him, because there were not seven houses, but eight.
As we walked on, the houses seemed to become larger. Some taking up an entire corner lot approaching an acre or more… quite a bit of real estate in this compact residential section. One corner home claims to be the first to have running water and indoor plumbing. The boast becomes a matter of discussion when the reason for this early amenity was the result of cisterns on the roof that collected rainwater and gravity did the rest. By the way, this house can be purchased for 9.5 million, if you are in the market for a large home in the Garden District.
Who lives in the Garden District? Anyone who can afford it. Among the owners are celebrities of the sports world and the entertainment world. The Manning brothers, John Goodman and Sandra Bullock, among others, all own beautiful homes here.
At the end of one block there stood THE MOST COLORFUL house of all. Painted with wide, bright Turquoise and white stripes, it stands in great contrast to those of more modest decor. Upon approach, one sees the proud sign “THE COMMANDERS PALACE.” So that is where we are… at the corner of Washington and Coliseum. This is the patriarch of all restaurants in New Orleans, being the finest since 1880. This is the restaurant that I remembered as “Out of the area” when we dined there in the 1960s. It is still going strong.
Emeril Lagasse began here, as did Paul Prudhomme… sharpening their chef’s knives and culinary skills as well as learning from the best.
It is recommended that you come for lunch… the same menu doubles in price for dinner. And the martinis are practically given away, if you can drink that much in the middle of the day and still function.
Across Washington Street is the Lafayette Cemetery, one of the largest above ground burial areas in New Orleans. The tours are free if you have a “Hop-on Hop-off” ticket.
This was also the end of the walking tour of the Garden District. We now were faced with the option of walking 8 blocks in one direction to ride a red, double-decker bus or 4 blocks in the opposite direction to St. Charles Street to ride a street car. You guessed that one right… we took the streetcar.
Now, this was the end of the day. The streetcar was already standing room only, but they squeezed and pushed until the dozen folks waiting were aboard. The three of us had offered to wait for the next car, but the driver said, “Oh, we still have plenty of room.” So, we paid our $1.20 for three and pushed our way in.
Janet ended up in the front right next to the driver, so she was able to get the transfers we needed at Canal Street. Sandra, after a stop or two, was able to get a seat at the very front. I held on for dear life to a pole AND a strap and fairly cuddled the man in front of me. He didn’t seem to mind, but his wife kept an eye on us. She was up front next to Janet.
It was miles of stops and people exiting and entering before I was able to sit down. The driver had actually passed some stops where folks were waiting because there was no room. The car behind us had some space, apparently, but they seemed to be bulging at the sides as well. It brought to mind the image of sightseers hanging off the cable cars in San Francisco, but here all were tucked inside closed doors.
At Canal, the streetcar nearly emptied. The sidewalk became a circus. We headed across the esplanade that was Canal Street to wait for the transfer. Again, from across the far four lanes, Fro Yo beckoned. Again, I sat on the bench holding the packages while Sandra and Janet braved the traffic to select yummy smoothies. This time mine was a Cappuccino. I can not tell you how good it tasted!
Our transfers took us to Decatur Street. Our weary limbs took us to our hideaway. Our plan tonight was to clean out the refrigerator, but the smoothies were not leaving much room or desire.
Friday, our last day in NOLA, we would catch the remnants of missed attractions and eat our way through the French market before leaving town. Tonight, we would rest our weary bones…..
(Photos can be seen on the facebook page: The Untethered Tourist. Click on “photos” in the header and again on “albums”.
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