Ever have the kind of day that leaves you so emotionally exhausted you find yourself sobbing (and singing) when Air Supply cycles through your playlist? (for anyone wondering, no, that’s NOT pretty) Yeah. I thought writing would make me feel better but the truth is, I don’t have anything funny to say. I don’t have anything (really) to be upset about, either. I’m warm, well fed and no one is shooting at me. Still. My funny is broken. In search of a smile I decided to drag out a story from this time last year. What? Well, I didn’t BLOG it last year so TECHNICALLY it’s new (to you.) Enjoy!
Last year I flew to New Orleans to attend the baptism of a friends’ baby girl. A friend FROM New Orleans was also in town for the ceremony and made SoulCakes. And kept mentioning them but never remembered to bring them to a gathering. This went on for a full week. (sorry, Guillaume, it’s true) He brought them to the last planned event we’d all be attending. This is what happened:
After much anticipation (and a bit of fanfare), homemade soulcakes made an appearance at brunch at Elizabeth’s. Once we’d gone our seperate ways, I rec’d a text asking me to pop in at the restaurant and retrieve “the last soul cake and the tupperware that’s been in his family for years.” The hostess had it and when I walked in, exclaimed, “You’re here for the cookie.” Um, yeah. I’m here for the cookie. I was alone for the rest of the day and decided to have a little fun with the soulcake. (I was going back to the restaurant anyhow, to retrieve my rental car but it’s funnier if I omit that detail.) Hope you enjoy the photos. I decided to let SoulCake caption them himself.
This is where she found me. Alone in the corner, pondering my fate. I must say, there is something magnificent about the curves of a… wait. Let’s keep this PG. (were Jenn able to import the version of this photo she edited on her phone, you wouldn’t even get the WHOLE view.) “So there I was…”
I stopped to admire the art on the way out the door. Apparently it’s a Dr. Bob
original. I like to think, if I had opposable thumbs, I’d be an artist.
Here’s a great shot of the front of the restaurant. Sorry for all the ‘selfies’ but when you’re out and about alone, well, you do what you gotta do.[sic]
Can I just say? This Camaro is a bitchin’ ride? I knew as soon as I saw it I was going to have a great day.
A safe SoulCake is a happy SoulCake.I decided to head to the French Quarter first. I’m new here, so I didn’t think about the traffic situation on Saturday. Before New Years Eve. That’s fine. I cruised along, jamming to artists like Kenny Rogers, Creed, Beastie Boys, Pink (that woman is ANGRY) Rush, David Allan Coe. Hey. The playlist came with the car, people.
I popped in to Lafitte’s
on Bourbon Street. This Jean Lafitte guy was no joke! Born in Bordeaux, France and then arrived in New Orleans. His resume includes privateer, entrepreneur, sailor, diplomat, spy and Hero of the Battle of New Orleans. “You know, Jean? The guy on our team who thinks he’s a pirate?” (woops, little pop culture for ya!)
I went inside and she offered me a pint of Abita
Amber. Tempting as it was, the Camaro was idling at the curb so I had to go. Too bad, it comes highly recommended.
Now, I’m not a political
sort of treat, you know? And I like sofrito as much as the next SoulCake but it’s cool to see a neighborhood coming together to preserve their community.
All I’m saying is, I could live here.
Wait, wait, let me explain. I’m a SOULCAKE.
And they’re Nuns. All Saints Day/NUNS.
It’s not a bridge too far and, I mean, maybe I just like a girl in a Habit?
This guy. He makes money just standing there, painted up. If my artist thing doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll get a can of spray paint and just STAND. If people pay to have their photo with him, they’ll totally pay to pose with me!
Ah… jammin’ with the band. It’s crazy what you learn about yourself on Bourbon Street. See me there on top of the speaker? I’m throwin’ a fresh beat. They asked me to stay but there was so much more to see. They were sad to see me go. The crowd was yelling, “SoulCake, SoulCake…” What? Hey. It’s MY story…
This store was remarkable. I contemplated buying this vintage carousel rocker but alas, the pig was too big for my crib, er, um, tupperware. I sat for a minute and then said g’bye.
I’ll call this the house where Christmas threw up.
I finally made my way to Pat O’brien’s
. I hear it’s a MUST when you’re in the Quarter.
I was going to just take a picture and go…
But the guy at the door INSISTED I try a hurricane. “World famous,” he said. “You’re already here. Just have one…”
Can I just say, I’ll deny everything? And I’m keepin’ the beads…
Pat O’s was like a timewarp! It was dusk when I finally emerged. Ah, well. Ya’ only go around once, right? (please please PLEASE, let there be NO VIDEO! Imagine, “SoulCakes Gone Wild?” What IS in that hurricane, anyhow?)
(clears throat) Royal Street is much more genteel. I believe this is more my speed.
One last picture to prove I was here and then I decided it was time to leave the Quarter (with the rest of my dignity still intact.)
I phoned a friend to see where I should eat dinner. What? You don’t bellieve me? The Camaro had Bluetooth, all I had to do was SAY, “Call Piper
.” (no thumbs needed.) On the way to dinner at some little ‘blue collar joint’ I stopped to pay homage to General Lee. Someone told me he faces North. Forgive me if you can’t see him in this photo. You (presumably) know his story… I’m the star of this one!
You KNOW I had to pull over to photograph this incredible display of lights. Live Oaks. That’s how you know I’m a Southern SoulCake at heart. I love me some liiiive oaks!
The shrimp po’boy was good. The trip there was fun, and I got a t-shirt.