NOTE: Sorry this post is so late, but the hotel internet was down all day.
The night began at The Red Fish Grill right on Bourbon Street. I started in grand New Orleans style with a “Cat 5 Hurricane.” I honestly can’t remember the ingredients, but after two of them, who could possibly care!
The Red Fish is one of our favorite restaurants down here, not only for the food, but also the eclectic décor. Obviously, marine life predominated, but the best part was the bar stools. Each had a unique design – shrimp, lobsters, crabs, gators – all made of welded wrought iron and cut steel. Laura Walton would be in heaven. Light fixtures over the bar resembled open oyster shells, framing mirrors, and each with a pearl the size of a volleyball for garnish.
The smells of cajun spices wafted back and forth – moved by the slowly turning ceiling fans right out of the setting for a movie filmed in Casablanca.
We both had grilled red fish with wild mushrooms, shredded crab, and a lemon butter sauce, with potatoes and asparagus. For dessert, the best pecan pie I ever tasted.
After dinner, we decided to walk around Bourbon Street. Lights flooded the street in every direction and music of all kinds poured out of every window and door. Street musicians filled in the tiny gaps between clubs.
It amazed me how many people were walking in and out of restaurants and clubs carrying drinks. I know from the recent experience of a friend this is a decided no-no in Texas.
A party atmosphere prevailed all around us, and if it wasn’t still over 85 degrees at 9:00 PM, I would have sworn it was a cool, March night during Mardi Gras. Everyone was dancing, singing, yelling, or clapping. For extra spice, boudain, andouille, and gumbo reminded us this was a city known almost as much for its food as for its music.
A police cruiser, with blue lights flashing, raced across one intersection. An ambulance followed, its siren drowned out the music for only a moment, then the zydeco, the banjos, the guitars, the horns, and the sound of dancers resumed control without missing a note.
Monday is my last day, so I am going to hunt down those shops I mentioned in Part 1. This “24-hour city” offers so much joy and happiness and beauty and plain old fun, I hate to leave. I do so trying to figure out when I can come back.