Don't Let the Sun Beat Down on Me

 


Cigar Factory, 415 Decatur St., New Orleans


Here I sit in a laundromat near my hotel, cleaning clothes in a building without air-conditioning.  A good sweat is not a bad thing, I guess.  My New Orleans trip is coming to an end today.  I travel Northeast to Laurel, MS to see my relatives. 

Although I planned on hitting Frenchmen Street last night for live jazz, I was too wiped out from the afternoon excursion to go.  The oppressive heat is non-stop, forcing me to look for sidewalks on the shady side of the streets.  I believe I got baked and fried yesterday like a chimichanga enchilada. 

I hit the trail early afternoon, making my way from my hotel, on the fringe of the French Quarter, down to Decatur Street (about 8 blocks).  I stopped by my favorite cigar shop in town and got some hand-rolled cigars.  The Cigar Factory has on-site rollers that work constantly, usually with a fat cigar in their mouths and Cuban salsa music playing in the background.  The area near the entrance is wide open, with tables and chairs lined up for patrons to relax and smoke.   It's a cool atmosphere and one I would recommend if you are a cigar-smoker and happen to be in New Orleans. 

As Kramer (from Seinfeld) would say, "I've imported some Cubans!"

My favorite smoke there is the Tres Hermanos (Three Brothers) line of cigars.  A nice full-bodied cigar that's not overwhelming.  Lots of rich flavor without being too peppery.  Cigar tastings are becoming more and more like wine tastings, with the tasters envisioning blackberry, pepper, oak, rose petals, etc..  As with wine, I have no clue where they get these ideas for flavors.  I like to think of a good cigar as a combination of flavors where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  I'm not sure my palate is able to discern each individual flavor and figure out their origin.  And to be honest with you, I'm not sure I care.  Taste is really all that matters.

I pulled up to one of the empty tables, lit up one of my purchases and continued my reading of the book "Dracula" (on my Kindle phone app).  Francis Ford Coppola's movie version of Dracula was pretty close to the original material, so I'm enjoying the anticipation of scenes to come.  It seems somewhat appropriate to read such a book in a town known for it's love of the mystical and mysterious.




Boiled crawfish pot filled with whole onions, peppers and spices, outside Montrel's

 Soon I was off and rolling down the sidewalks toward Jackson Square, opposite Cafe du Monde.  I pushed through the French Market, sampling the food wares as I went (the hot sauce counter was sweaty ordeal!).  I happened upon a restaurant that was in the back of the market called Montrel's.  They had an outside table displaying some of the entrees, such as jambalaya, crawfish etouffee and seafood creole.  Next to that was a kettlepot filled with crawfish and whole veggies.  It smelled divine.  On the other side of the display table was the guy seating patrons.  He was a natural-born salesman, and with my eye as big as saucers and my beak dripping with drool, I was easy pickings.  He still did his spiel, coming around his lectern and saying, "We gunna do ya right, my friend.  We been here lots of years and we know how ta cook da gumbo!  Nice and cool inside.  Plenty of tables."

Crawfish Bisque at Montrel's

I graciously accepted his invite and headed into the cooler confines of Montrel's.  One thing about most New Orleans restaurants, the bread is the key to everything.  It either compliments your meal or is the main course (as in the Po Boys).  Much like France, the quality of bread is high.  This place was no exception.  They brought some homemade bread soaked in butter and garlic.  It was like a not-as-sweet version of a beignet.  Melted in my mouth.  Yum! 

The first course (after the bread) was Crawfish Bisque, which was awesome.  Reminded me of the She-Crab Soup I used to have when I lived in Northern Virginia.  Shelling a crawfish is a messy task, and one that I was not doing well at.  I couldn't bring myself to suck the head and I made sure I didn't actually eat the eyeballs.  A lot of work for very little meat, but the taste was unique and flavorful.

Shrimp Jambalaya at Montrel's

 The jambalaya was made with rice, onions, Andouille sausage and shrimp, among other ingredients.  There was a creole red sauce poured over it.  The sauce saved the dish.  You know when you order Shrimp and Broccoli from Chinese takeout and it has 4 shrimp in 5 lbs of food?  Yeh, that was the case here as well.  It could've come with more sausage and shrimp.  But the thing I loved about the dish was the fact that the sauce was not spicy at all.  It allowed each person to adjust the spiciness as they saw fit.  The restaurant had a big bottle of Crystal's Hot Sauce on each table, so I proceeded to drown my dish in the sauce.  Now it was just about right!

For dessert I had Pecan Pie, which I remembered from visiting my Grandma in Texas.  She made the best.  This version had a nice vanilla/sugar flavor, maybe with a touch of caramel.  A little runny for my tastes but maybe that's the way they server it down here.

I left the restaurant very satisfied, pulling out my second stogie and lighting it up.  Then I started making my way back up through the Quarter to my hotel.  The sidewalks are cracked and bumpy, so I am constantly looking down to make sure I don't sink my wheelchair into something.  At one point, I tried to traverse a section of sidewalk that had a craggy section of sidewalk missing.  And just like Evil Knievel over Snake River Canyon, I missed the far edge and ended up stuck in the hole, with my front wheels jammed against that same edge.  A lady stopped by and was nice enough to help me out. She proceeded to almost dump me out of my chair, like it was a wheelbarrow, since my front casters were stuck!  But we worked it out and I was on my way, profusely thanking the lady for stopping to help.

By the time I got back to the hotel I hit my room and jumped on the bed, completely wiped out.  Any dreams of a late-night sojourn to Frenchmen Street were gone the moment my eyes closed and my body began to cool.