Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
The first of May could not come soon enough for me to get myself back to New Orleans to enjoy another JazzFest. Good people, good tunes, good food and beverage - it's enough goodness to make one wonder what else is truly necessary for a good life. I hardly know where to begin or how to describe the good times, but I do know I'd be remiss were I not to say how great it was to once again experience the city in the company of those who call it home. To say I had the best hosts is frankly not good enough. I just wish every city came with a J&T and I'll just leave it there.
New Orleans strikes me as the type of city where having a "homegrown connection" makes the visit infinitely greater. Part of that has to do with its post-Katrina status, but part of it doesn't. It's not like New York where you know upon your first visit that you just have to hit up an infinite number of tourist spots so you can satisfy that "been there, done that" urge. For me it's probably not like that because New Orleans has served as a festival destination kind of place. The first visit I felt Bourbon Street and the rest of the French Quarter were musts, but aside from that it became apparent that there were plenty of places to have fun but there were also the really good places for the real good fun. Having a J&T takes you directly where you need to be - away from the tourists - where the food is gonna be delicious and distinctive and where the people have been real long before being real needed to be kept.
Enough of the intro though, let's be honest. You've seen me. I went to eat. The music and company were AIG-level bonuses and all, but if you don't getcho grub on in New Orleans you're a fool and it's highly unlikely that we'll ever be travel buddies. I'd like to think that one day I'm going to go to New Orleans when there's not a festival going on, but I'm not so sure because I can't think of a more economically sound and efficient way to taste the town than these awesome food booth strips available at the New Orleans Fairgrounds for JazzFest.
Eats (or Danita Doesn't Just Impersonate But Actually Becomes Fat Bastard)
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Cochon de Lait Po'Boy - This is my all-time favorite. Slow-smoked pork butt layered with cold cabbage, homemade horseradish sauce on French bread. I love it so much I could change my name to Cochon de Lait so that I, too, could be "pig in milk" fuh real.
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Plum Street Snowball - Do not go to those other snowball stands. Think sweet? Go Plum Street. This time I went with the natural creme flavor with condensed milk slatha-drizzled all over it. It should go without saying, but I would not advise eating this without a shade tree if it's hot outside. The condensed milk liked to have kilt me the sugar crash and subsequent dehydration were so fierce.
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Jama Jama - Sure it makes me sing my made-up words to Lionel Ritchie's "All Night Long" (Jama jama in my belly you go/Whoa Jama Jama!) but that's because it's gooooooooood. Popeye would've been mo' amped than Canseco and Sosa combined had he been eatin' this spinach. I know. I said spinach. But trust me, it don't taste like spinach after it's been spiced and simmuh'd like this. That's right - it don't. Leave your good grammar at home and focus on the eats, yo.
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Crawfish Monica - Yo. It's made with butter and a good helpin' of half-and-half plus succulent, seasoned crawfish. A li'l cup o' jubilatin' joy.
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Crawfish Bread - A homemade hot pocket of spicy, cheesy craw'd goodness. Eat and stroll, people. Eat and stroll.
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Crawfish period.
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Moque Choux - I heard it pronounced mock-shoo, mocka-shaw or you can do what I did and say "What she just got" and point at the good stuff with the corn in it. I took it a step further and asked for the shrimp and sausage. Be sure to get some fry bread, too.
Eats Outside of JazzFest (or Places Out of Which Danita as Fat Bastard Waddled)
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Jaeger's (http://www.jaegersseafood.com/index.html) - I opted for the fried catfish because I'd been deprived of fried fish on a Friday night long enough. HOWEVER, now that I know I won't gag or choke on them I feel free to highly recommend the Chargrilled Louisiana oysters. Lord, those things were tasty! (And that's saying something considering my previous "knowledge" of oysters was filed behind snot and sinus infections.) Oh and you should certainly take advantage of the pounds of crawfish they make tastily and readily available, too. OH OH! The Cindy Fries. Get 'em. Once you see and taste them you will know clearly that Cindy has since died, but you must pay homage to Cindy. Your colon can take it.
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Tastee Donuts - Buttermilk Drops. Making KrispyKreme and Dunkin Donuts look like the flavorless lard-laden punks they are. They also serve Kastle Burgers. I was too full to press for what surely must count as a double-double (drop & burger), but me and my belly be ready for next time.
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Cafe du Monde - Beignets. Cafe au lait. You know this already.
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The Camellia Grill - Don't do like the dude next to me and go here and order a Reuben or a salad like his ladyfriend. This is stupid and is the equivalent of wearing I [heart] New York t-shirts while you're still in NYC. The fanny pack totally give him away, but still. Burger or omelet plus a chocolate freeze. I really wanted to go for the chocolate freeze with my omelet, but I was feeling a tad queasy having watched a dude skarf - I mean completely obliterate - a chili-cheese omelet. He almost licked the plate ... or he at least looked like he thought about doing it.
I'll admit that I'm forgetting some items, but it's the middle of the afternoon and I've just made myself incredibly hungry so I'm gonna have to move on to the music.
Tunes (or Danita Spends Entire Weekend Daydreaming About the Coolness That is Bonnie Raitt)
Big name people show up at JazzFest - this year I missed the first weekend with James Taylor, DMB, Wynton Marsalis, Erykah Badu, Etta James, Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, The Avett Brothers, Amanda Shaw & the Cute Guys, etc. My weekend featured the GREAT Bonnie Raitt, Emmylou, Sugarland, Neil Young, Tony Bennett, Patty Griffin, Bon Jovi, Kings of Leon, Buddy Guy, The Neville Brothers. Yet, with all these big names, I had the most fun in the wee bit o' time I spent under the Blues Tent and at the Fais Do-Do stage.
Y'all.
The Fais Do-Do stage is a must. I have no idea what this term "fais do-do" actually means, but I think it involves some washboard playin' and some serious two-stepping and if you're lucky - the crazy hula hoopin' girl gettin' down with the Zydeco. It's among the best people watching JazzFest has to offer - for the characters cuttin' a rug in front of the stage and for the passers-by on their way to other, bigger stages. Plus, you'll hear great good music from people you've never heard of like the New Orleans Klezmer Allstars and C.J. Chenier & the Red Hot Louisiana Band. Getcho head bop and 2-step on, throw in some elbows and a dash of the funky chicken and you're almost ready to join one of the parades.
Musically speaking, my main focus was Bonnie Raitt. I just love her and she delivered. She honestly could've played right through the hour-plus Sugarland set and I wouldn't have minded in the least. Sugarland was good; they were fun, but man, Bonnie wasn't up there long enough. When she was singing "Angel from Montgomery" Mother Earth decided to grace us with a much-needed breeze and to be standing there, beer in hand, belly full was a wonderful wonderful moment. And I mean, the lady is just a bad-ass standing up there with that fiery red hair with a guitar slung on her hip slidin' and glidin' away.
I waited too long to write this post and my memory's not as fresh, but the rundown goes like this:
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Buddy Guy - If you hear that this man is playing somewhere near you, go. Don't hem or haw or wonder if you even like the blues enough - go see the 70-something year old man play a guitar with a drumstick, a towel, behind the back, over the head, between the legs, with his face and recognize from where the much more lauded so-called rock gods got their mojo. The blues greats are dyin' away and he's one of the last of 'em and he simply should not be missed.
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Aaron Neville - It pains me, after witnessing a snippet of his stint in the gospel tent, that I immediately upon hearing his name associate him with not knowing much with Linda Ronstadt. This big man with the wee-sounding butterscotchy voice is tremendous. He choked himself up while singing "Amazing Grace" in the jam-packed gospel tent, and while I unfortunately could not see him - his rendition of this song was heartfelt and measured and beautiful. He was on stage again on Sunday with his brothers as The Neville Brothers shut down the main stage at JazzFest. The sky opened up shortly before they came on stage giving me my lone opportunity outside of summer camp to be caught in the rain and not give a damn. I felt validated when the JazzFest director dude got up on stage and informed us that we'd just been baptized so now it was time to be Nevillized. It must be the coolest thing ever to be on stage with your siblings doin' whatcha do. It also must be pretty cool to have a brother who dresses like Cyril Neville.
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Kings of Leon - Forgive me for not listening to your entire cd, Only by the Night, fellas. Had I done so prior to parking myself at the Gentilly stage for your show, I'd have been better prepared for the angsty, dark screamfest. I, of course, made the mistake of resigning my listening habits to "Closer," "Use Somebody" and "Sex On Fire" so I was a little ill-prepared for the rousing, rollicking raucousness that you brought forth. It also didn't help that I'd been mellowed by my time napping in the shade of that old tree and by the nth number of beers I had consumed. And that one super-sugary strawberry snowball. That took me out.
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Neil Young - Is one ornery stringy lookin' dude, but he played my favorite song, "Heart of Gold" so he was awesome. I was hoping for an Emmylou appearance, but it was still a solid show. He played one song, dunno which, long enough for one of my friends to make a bathroom and a beer run. I was just waitin' for the rain to come and for the "smoke" to take me higher.
We couldn't quite swing it this time, but it's awesome if you can head out to the clubs once JazzFest ends (around 7pm) to see some of the artists playing around town. If you do roll out, Tipitina's can't be beat. I've been to the Uptown one off Tchopitoulas (there's another one in the Quarter) and it's just a bangin' good time. Seek the oversize fan and get your Stevie Nicks on while you overlook the stage below.
Taken to the City Beneath the Sea
Other places to consider if you get back there before I do:
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Parkway Bakery & Tavern - your po'boy destination
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Elizabeth's - it's on the levee by the mighty Mississippi and they apparently offer a most excellent breakfast and brunch
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The Rock 'N Bowl. Seriously? I don't know how every city does not have this kind of awesomeness. Take a jam band, add some beverages, somegrub and some lanes. I can't imagine living in New Orleans because I would be up in this place all. The. Time. I'd still be tryin' to break a 100, but that's okay because I know I can still rock.
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The Creole Creamery - Awesome flavor selections. You know I liked to've licked myself silly with the Creole Cream Cheese. If they'd had waffle cones left I'd have pitched my own tent and called it home.
Okay, so there was lots of laughing but you weren't there so it won't be as funny; HOWEVER, I'mma tell you these few things about headin' to JazzFest. Brang (not bring), but brang yo' sunscreen! And learn how to reapply. I'll admit I used to be ignorant enough to think black people didn't get burnt and all that, but after one day I'd rendered myself so blackity black - save for the teeth and eyes - that by nightfall I was completely invisible to people who know me. I looked so black the next day (I'm still lookin' rather scorched actually) that I thought, "Bump re-build New Orleans. These people needs to rebuild the damn ozone. I's on fiyah and sweet Jesus am I buh-lack."
Anyway, expect to see some half-nekkid people. Bathing suit pieces are a surefire go here - as suits themselves or in tandem with jeans, sarongs, etc. I would not be caught dead or alive walkin' around with my jelly rolls jigglin' for all to see, but I'mma tell you that I saw enough pudgy people doin' it to make me feel downright prudish. Expect to tsk at people who think cowboy boots and jeans are appropriate for 90-degree heat. Expect to see pirates. Be on the lookout for crazy voodoo wannabes flashing their spirit fingers at you and beware of the hug-a-bunch dude (his name is Ronnie). Pack breathable, lightweight fabrics. Think elastic if you must, but know that under no circumstances is it okay for you to split your pants from cracktop to hoo-ha and bend over in my face and not expect me to nearly lose my lunch laughing at the fact that I just very well witnessed my own personal lunar eclipse.
That about wraps it up, friends. I could go on longer, but this is probably long enough and besides, it's just making me miserable that I'm not still there. I can't wait to go back. Added to my bucket list? To bookend JazzFest - go the first weekend, stay through the week to the end of the other weekend. All day, every day. Zydeco-fais-do-do-Creole-JamaJam-on fuheva.
