New Orleans Recovery Lies In Fried Chicken

"I should be back in Macon takin' it easy.
If a mans gonna eat fried chicken he's gotta
get greasy."
-from Tulsa Turnaround, Kenny Rogers



My days off this week were completely fraught with fun, excitement, disgrace, and as always tons and tons of laughs. Tuesday saw me with the doors and windows of the house completely flung open to take advantage of the cool near-autumnal breezes and the low humidity that we in the South have been craving. I had one of my extended telephone conversations with someone who I think is my oldest friend. Tonya and I have known each other since ninth-grade and she is really the only person from that long ago who I still keep in contact with. We don't speak that often, but when we do, it's as if no time has passed at all. Utter shock sets in when we realize that we are pushing forty. "How the fuck did this happen?" It seems like just yesterday we were skipping school in god forsaken places where we should have met our peril and demise: abandoned houses in the St. Petersburg Southside, Interstate overpasses and tiny clearings amid bushes and trees where we could sing, smoke cigarettes and avoid the social confines of high school. I had to repeat the tenth grade because of these escapades into the unknown. Ahhh, the folly of youth. I wouldn't have changed it for the world.



When Kevin came home from work, we set off on one of our grand tours of the French Quarter bars that I will here on out refer to as working the chitlin' circuit. Our first stop on the chitlin' circuit is a bar known as the Double Play. The Double Play is a rather low bar that I have been frequenting recently. It is known for the availability of black transsexuals and rough trade hustlers. Until I came to New Orleans, I didn't realize that there was no age limit to be a prostitute. Nor is there a number of teeth standard. Just sport some India ink tattoos and have perpetual hard luck and you too can make a living in the Upper Quarter. It is really one of the only bars left where the scent of the surreal pervades the mind. Having found the Double Play a bit more depressing than entertaining, we moved on to the more homey atmosphere of the Golden Lantern. It too has it's surrealistic ambiance, but, being regulars, it just seems rather everyday. After a few polite tipples and funtime conversation, we decided to head to Good Friends for karaoke so that the entire world could grow rich from our song stylings. After all, we had a marvelous time a couple of weeks ago. Frankly, we found the so called "Karaoke DJs" to be vulgar and not at all aware of what true talent lies in the Crescent City. After a few songs and a rather regretful shot that was given to us, we left. Actually, my delicate system found the shot so unacceptable that I had to walk outside so that it could be violently expelled from my gut. Unfortunately, while in mid-retch, an officer of the NOPD rolled by and shone his light in my direction. Having mistaken it for a tiny pinspot on my tear-streaked face, I returned to the bar, ready to take the stage for "Over The Rainbow." When the DJs did not call us up for our last number, we denounced them for the terrible hacks they are and decided that karaoke at Good Friends was no longer good enough for these friends. We fell into a cab to go home, never to return for DJ P and Ricki Dee's perversion of a marvelous and misunderstood artform.



We met the next morning with deep regret and phrases like "Can't blame anyone but me. I did this to myself",and "Oh God", and "We are terrible alcoholics". Toenisha greeted the day with some mystery injuries that we may never know the origins of. We had planned a day of shopping at Dorignac's Food Center in Metarie and kicked it off with a delightfully restorative luncheon at Willie Mae's Scotch House. Willie Mae's is a historic restaurant in the Treme that has the prestigious distinction, according to The James Beard Foundation and The Southern Foodways Alliance of serving the best fried chicken in the United States. I absolutely cannot disagree.The exterior is airy and crisp with an interior that is both melting and toothsome at the same time. No wonder people from all over the world seek out this old renovated house in a bad neighborhood to savor the riches of the skillet. The menu is brief but wonderfully authentic. The sides are generous and display the beauty of simplicity that great Southern food is celebrated for


Feeling human again, we left the city for the suburb of Metarie. Dorignac's Food Center is a unique shopping experience that has been serving the New Orleans Metro area since 1947. I would consider it to be a "boutique" grocery with all of the things you would find in a corporate supermarket but joyfully filled with artisanal items and fantastic meat and produce departments. It was a real treat to find such beautiful cheeses like a super sharp cheddar from Australia and goats cheese from Wales among so many others. The liquor department is quite extensive, taking up the back third of the store. There are lots of prepared foods that can be taken home and enjoyed or savored in house in a casual old New Orleans way. We left the store, laden with groceries and headed home to relax and see out the rest of the day in the comfort of a humidity free, late September afternoon. My neighbors have thoughtfully placed a table and chairs in our courtyard. Imagine, finally enjoying the lush, sun dappled courtyard beneath the yawning banana trees that grace the charming enclosure and indeed, our lives. New Orleans living at it's most casual and comfortable is what I have always dreamed of.