WHAT IT MEANS: To be in New Orleans.
I'm going to post an open line in the event I, or someone else, can't get back to a keyboard today.
I'm in New Orleans. Grabbed the cellphone shot of a brass band on Frenchmen Street last night after a rousing performance by trombonist/singer Glen David Andrews
. Going to be back down there tonight for John Bouttte,
who I'm hoping will do "At the foot of Canal Street." Not a better place to "lay your burdens down," as Boutte sings.
They're fighting in the neighborhood against more clubs on Frenchmen. They fear its Bourbonization. Much as some fear it on President Clinton Avenue
in Little Rock. Frenchmen, at least, has authentic, indigenous music blasting out of multiple storefronts. What comes blasting out of late-night storefronts in the River Market isn't always so sweet.
So far so good on the food front — barbecued shrimp and oyster po boys at Liuzza's By the Track
; a fried soft-shell crab on a bed of mango slaw with chili sauce at Herbsaint.
UPDATE: Hogs won. Vince Insalaco
rose to chairmanship of the Arkansas Democratic Party. I had a textbook plate of redfish meuniere almandine
at Galatoire's today, old school in the best possible way. That is all.