New Orleans: The Cafe of Muses

In the last ten years, cafes in major US cities have entered into an absurdly ferocious competition for the most flawlessly prepared cup of joe. Let me tell you, there’s never been a better time in history to get a damn good shot of espresso or a Gustav Klimt-inspired spiral in your latte foam (if that’s your thing). But like other highbrow experiences, this fad is accompanied by an air of pretension that’s been transforming the feel of neighborhood hangs. 

   

Cafe Envie in New Orleans is an anachronistic gem swimming against the tide to maintain the integrity of the original coffeehouse. It’s a place of creativity, openness and, for many local characters, a home away from home. It’s situated on one of the most highly-trafficked corners in the city: Decatur and Barracks Streets right on the perimeter of the French Quarter. It’s got plenty of outdoor seating for some of the best people watching not just in New Orleans, but arguably, in the world. There you’ll spot rowdy freight train hoppers scouting out a corner to busk, tourists with fanny packs and a bloody mary to go, local musicians biking to gigs with their instruments and amps strapped to a wagon or baby carriage as it bumps, bumps, bumps behind them, men in tutus, cowboys, clowns, pirates (real ones too)…you name it.

Envie’s become a catch-all for every type of person in this charming circus of a town. A man in his fifties with a dirty-blonde ponytail struts in sporting a classic Levi's jean jacket with wool lining, a sea foam green lace skirt over a poofy black slip and heavy duty black combat boots weighed down by chains. He posts up in the corner and pulls out paint. A girl in her late teens who comes in everyday wearing a lime green stuffed alien backpack, bopping antenna and striped stockings orders the regular. A man in his thirties flaunting a willy wonkaesque top hat and royal purple blazer catches up with friends from the block. Others silently play string instruments, sketch in notebooks or escape into their books. 

Local wood carver Tizart sets up shop at Envie

The coffee’s not spectacular, but that’s not the point. You can sit for hours and marvel at the inspiration that flows in and out of this local safe haven. If you stop in more than once, you're bound to make friends. Coffee to go? What’s that? 

New Orleans: A Fine Dining Secret On The Bayou

A drive Northeast into the suburbs of New Orleans is like a drive into most suburbs of major cities around the country. Long stretches of highway take you out of a concentrated hub of cultural vibrancy and into a mundane wasteland of strip malls. Think: Home Depot, Lowe's Home Improvement, rundown super marts and fast food chains aplenty. The Louisiana backdrop consists of grassy swamplands and dilapidated wooden shacks. Nothing like a romantic Mark Twain fantasy, but eerily quiet stretches of depressed homes a world away from the colorful brass bands that parade through the nearby French Quarter.

If you pull off the I-10 East at just the right time you'll find yourself in the small town of Slidell. It's worth the trip just to discover Palmettos Restaurant; an unexpectedly fine dining experience nestled in the heart of the bayou. It's situated in between three national wildlife refuges under a canopy of banana trees, palms and moss-covered oaks. The surroundings provide a picturesque view into the seductively entangled tropics of the Mississippi. The menu offers up the creamiest, butteriest, most indulgent Louisiana classics prepared with culinary expertise.

On Sundays for an astonishingly affordable $20.00, they whip up the type of brunch you might expect to find at a five star hotel. The buffet offers perfected renditions of New Orleans' favorites including a savory grits and grillades, crawfish etouffe, buckets of fresh oysters chargrilled to order and a carving station with a slab of juicy prime rib.

It's easy to lose track of time in this tropical oasis as the bottomless mimosas flow and the jazz band plays.



It's more than a meal, it's a getaway. By the time you leave, you'll feel as though you've been on vacation for days.

For more information on Palmettos Restaurant click here 

New Orleans: Dia de los Muertos

 

Ominous chanting reverberates through the damp chill. A procession of over eight hundred women and men with paper white faces and black Joker smiles march steadily to the mournful sounds of a brass band.

It's New Orleans' Dia de los Muertos headed by voudou priestess Sallie Ann Glassman. Other than the vibrant Frida Kahlo-esque flower headbands and skull expressions, it bears no resemblance to the traditional Mexican festival. 

As dusk approaches, participants gather at the train tracks surrounded by neglected warehouses in the Bywater neighborhood. When the sun sets, torches of white sage are lit and the procession begins. Over the course of several hours, it makes its way past dozens of rickety, pastel-colored homes and into a muddy, grass field. Without hesitation, the women in long early 20th century-inspired lace gowns and men in tired top hats and blazers follow the leaders. Suddenly, we stop.

A large circle organically comes to life as the seduction of what's next fuels the crowd's attention. A group of five brings a small tipi of spiritual objects into the center. Dead silence honors the ceremony. It goes up into flames and a choir begins to chant behind the blaze.

The singing gets faster, the energy builds. We begin to move. We begin to dance. The gravity transforms until we're howling madness like wolves. The funeral is over and the celebration of death has begun. 

We march back onto the street walking further and further into the night. The tall flags at the front of the crowd halt at a steep mud hill. Once again, we obediently follow. We walk onto a path lining a deserted stretch of the Mississippi river continuing down, down, down until we reach what feels like the end of the world. A large industrial ship chugs by in slow motion creating powerful waves that crash up onto the river walls. A canal in the distance crossing over the water twinkles in urban glory. The line filters into a circle and a large paper skull is brought to the middle. The crowd hauntingly hums. "On and on and on..." as sparks at the base of the skull explode into flames.


             

Finally, a makeshift boat with a glowing light is sent out over the waves. The evening becomes a memory to be remembered by few and unknown by many.