New Orleans Report #1

New Orleans was spectacular! I am not one to brag (I only boast), but I really do love it there. The townies are so proud of their city. I do wish Philly would stand a little taller. It is not as if we have anything to hang our heads about. New Orleans has similar problems; John's Dad calls Philly and New Orleans "Sister Cities". I have to agree. Yet, everywhere you look a sign of city pride is there; a fleur de lis, a string of beads, "WHO DAT!" painted on the side of a school, and a gallon of milk has a little Saints mascot on the the cap. It is inspiring.

The holiday went as planned. Our usual Christmas Eve with linguine alle vongole, scallops and sauteed spinach. My nephews were alter boys at St. Francis of Assisi. It was beautiful. They have a full choir complete with brass organ and a full brass section. I loved hearing the trumpets and trombones during mass. The priest ended the service by asking everyone to call on the Saints for Monday night. The saints being Peter, Paul, John, etc. How funny is that?

We had our usual visits to Cafe Du Monde, Casamento's and R and O's, but we walked over to Domalise's for lunch on Christmas Eve to find them closed. What a disappointment. This year we tried Parkway Bakery and Tavern. Spectacular! Big shrimp with a light fry. It was glorious. At Casamento's we met the 2009 World Shucking Campion. He was fantastic and funny. He told us of how he was robbed this year of the title. While he talked, he would drop extra oysters into our metal cup of sauce. We had a few dozen while chatting and waiting for a table. The oyster loaf was as good as ever and the fried crab claws have no equal. We were quite lucky this year. We were the very last people in line for a table. We arrived at 1:30, closing time is at 2. The line was moving slowly and snaked out the door and down the street. We are a party of 10. At exactly 2 o'clock, John, Tiger, Christine and I managed to get in the front door. The six kids were outside monkeying around. Directly on cue, the waitress looked up from the back of the restaurant and started moving forward. "Excuse me, please move, excuse me, exCUUUUUSE me please!" It was a big line. At least 15 - 20 people ahead of us. She pointed at Tiger, asked if we were together and announced that we were the last in line. She agreed to let our kids stay outside while we waited. Honestly, I was tempted to ditch them if she said that they could not join us. I kid! ...Not really. She informed us, as she was drawing the shades and placing a huge CLOSED sign on the door, that if we let someone else in and get in line, we lose our table and they get ours. About 18 minutes later (2:18 people!), a woman smashes through the door and pushes in between Tiger and John (no exaggeration). We all made eye contact with each other but she would not look up. She was busy manically pushing her sleeve up trying to look at her watch while avoiding our eyes. She clearly knew the deal. I looked through the blinds and saw a group of about 5 standing outside the door and our kids looking at them confused. We had told our kids to let anyone know who came that they stopped taking people in line. After gently trying to get her attention, which she ignored, Tiger, who is 6'4" and not easy to ignore, leaned down and told her that we were the last people in line and if we let her in we sacrificed our table. She looked at him blankly. Tiger smiled and told her that that was not going to happen. Without a word she turned and left. What people will do for an oyster loaf! Honestly, I don't blame them.

It was unusually cold for New Orleans. We actually saw some flurries one morning. I know, I know, I left behind that obnoxious blizzard. I have no room for complaints. We bundled up and visited some of the old cemeteries in the city and searched for the cript of Marie Laveau. Our search was fruitless. Of course we left for the airport planning a trip during Mardi Gras or perhaps Jazzfest. I would love some sausage bread and fried green tomatoes! Who knows what will bring. It will surely bring another dinner at Patois and hopefully some more music. More? you ask? Yes, more. Although John prefers Tipatina's (he still has this ratty old Tipatina's tshirt that makes an appearance periodically), the House of Blues is an incredible venue. Trombone Shorty, y'all!!

WHO DAT!?!?!

Congratulations Saints! Wow! I am speechless. New Orleans is a special place for my family. We spend every Christmas in New Orleans and Jazz Fest and Mardi Gras are always in the cards. We love it there. I hate to admit this, but I just did not think that they would win last night. I mean, Peyton Manning. Peyton Manning. That is why. Only reason. New Orleans worked so hard, and perhaps I was projecting my Eagles angst, but I just thought we would be disappointed. We were all in our black and gold and just shook our heads as they were getting outplayed in the first half. Not crushed, but definitely outplayed. Then, someone in the organization grew a huge pair and that onside kick was it. Brilliant. Cannot see Andy Reid trying that one. At least, not in the Super Bowl.

Wow! I am not sure if it was the guttsiness (not a word, but leaving it) of their play or the fact that Peyton Manning just could not beat his beloved New Orleans. He went to Newman, which is so rich in tradition. My nephews are students at Newman and the pride they have for their school and city are amazing. The owner on accepting the trophy attributed the win to the city. That is pride. I want some of that pride!

During the Christmas holiday everything was Saints, Saints, Saints. The milk tops had fleur de lys on them, every store had a Saints flag, "Who Dat?" was on EVERYTHING. We were on our way home from a delicious dinner at Antoine's, when we passed by a store selling everything Saints. Tiger (Chris' husband) declared that he would return this week to buy that, as he pointed, "Who Dat?" shirt. Everyone laughed. Since I was not feeling any pain after the one maybe two old fashions, I asked at great risk, "What does that mean 'Who Dat?' Is it from...something?" Everyone stopped and looked at me. Christine replied (also not feeling any pain) with a huge smile on her face and said, "It is just 'Who Dat?'" The NFL is issuing Cease and Desist letters to small tshirt shops in New Orleans that are using 'Who Dat'. Who dat being disgusting? The NFL, Dat Who! It belongs to the City of New Orleans and the small businesses who pride themselves on their city and their team. Always has, always will.

I love New Orleans. Congratulations NEW ORLEANS SAINTS!!!

Passions and Preferences

You say to-MAY-to, I say to-MAH-to. We all have our way of doing things. I think I can speak for just about all Capogirians when I say we all have a passion for food; different preferences, but the common thread is definitely passion. We talk about food, we argue about food, and we are always talking about what we are going to eat next while we are eating. When someone travels, you hear, "Oh! You must try (insert bar/bakery/cafe/restaurant/street vendor/younameit here). Do not leave until you do!" Kamala returned from West Virginia with Oliverio peppers, Dan returns from Wisconsin with curds and eye patches (don't ask), Tacy returns from Maine with tales of lobsters and blueberries (you cannot bring those back), Lorenzo returns with artichokes, and I return with hot sauce and beignet mix. We are passionate.

Today we discussed what we ate in our holiday haunts. The highlight for me was probably one of the most delicious sandwiches I have ever had. See this beauty? It is an Oyster Loaf from Casamento's on Magazine Street in New Orleans. I am not one for white bread, but I lovelovelove oysters. This was near perfection. My brother-in-law, Tiger, took John and I for lunch. He said that he brings out of town-ers to Casamento's. 3 dozen oysters, shucked by the most adorable men, oyster stew, fried crab claws, 3 1/2 oyster loaves, and 6 Abita Gold beers served by the sweetest woman, who started out surly because we were mucking up the runway for the servers. Agreed. As I said, I am not one for white bread, but this was not your ordinary white bread: it was buttery and, quite honestly, worth fighting over. The oysters were shucked moments before and fried perfectly. These people are worthy of worship - Food Titans.

That was not the only perfection of the week. There were others. I'll save it for later. Another time.

I am home and thinking I need to create some new flavors. I feel inspired.