“The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off.”
For the next six days, I must fend off that creature. Posting will be heavier, but writing will be lighter. After all, I am here to cover some basketball games.
My first stop was Gumbo Shop in the French Quarter. I had filed a Texas A&M football story, but I needed sustenance before I started a Kentucky basketball story. The NOLAphiles among you are probably laughing at me for dining at a place within spitting distance of Jackson Square. Yes, I’m a tourist. Strap a fanny-pack on me. (I also needed a place within walking distance of my hotel because I needed to get back to write said basketball story, which is due sooner than I’d prefer.)
This is especially shameful because I spent many of my formative years in metro Orlando. But for their ability to render a state income tax unnecessary, I can’t stand tourists. Here, I am one. I may as well wear socks with my sandals. The difference is that in Orlando, we gave tourists Applebees and Sizzler and the World’s Largest McDonald’s. In New Orleans, they give tourists Gumbo Shop and Café du Monde. It may be touristy, but it’s still more delicious than anything available in a hundred other cities.
I ordered the grilled boudin appetizer, which was tasty but couldn’t compare to the last boudin I had in New Orleans (see link below). The chicken and Andouille gumbo, however, was divine. Huge chunks of sausage swam in a brown roux. Prior to the gumbo’s arrival, my waitress had delivered an entire loaf of French bread to the table.
Few things feed the beast better than a gumbo-soaked hunk of French bread. He’s happy now, but his satisfaction will last only a few hours. Then I’ll have to eat him off again.
Note: This is what I ate on my last trip to New Orleans. I have the best job in America.