Missing New Orleans
What better way to celebrate the successful end to three whirlwind months of exhaustion and exhilaration than sipping a sazerac on a balmy patio while being serenaded by Ella Fitzgerald?
I’ve been wanting to try Acadiana for a long time, so when the stars aligned and the very weekend I finished costume designing a show and two extremely busy friends finally all were free, we jumped at the chance. Not to mention I follow in Don and the DG’s footsteps, and they liked it back in January.
I was a few minutes late and arrived to my friends blissed out on the terrace with cocktails, both eyeing the last biscuit in the basket. They had restrained themselves just long enough for me to enjoy its addictive flavor, but another minute and it would have been gone. Our convivial server Franklin hooked me up to the aforementioned sazerac and relaxation quickly set in.
From the tasty little appetizer special – quail stuffed with andouille sausage – to the blackened duck with perfect crispy skin and moist flavor – it all made me long for our many New Orleans vacations of old.
Sometimes it’s the overall experience that makes me take to a restaurant, a sensation hard to truly convey. The magic hour of twilight, the heady scent of the sazerac with its peppery whiskey mixed with the licorice of ah, Absente (that’s faux absinthe. will someone please explain to me why absinthe is still illegal in this country?), the even-better-than-Prudhomme’s duck, all conspired to make me really want to return.
But I wonder if I would’ve felt the same if seated in the frigid interior, with its bland “hotel designer” feel. Skip it, head outside.