Street of Contrast

This evening we went for dinner at a place called Arnaud’s. I can happily say that it was one of the best meals I have had in my life. The Alligator Sausage and the Petit Filet Lafitte were both wonderful, and while the Strawberries Arnaud that I had was merely good, the crepes that Kevin ordered were phenomenal – something to do with adding a little cream cheese to the cream stuffing, which worked brilliantly.

The other thing that struck me about this evening was the level of contrast you get in Bourbon Street. Inside Arnaud’s, had it not been for one rather loud table (who had come “All The Way From ATLANTA!!!!”), and the somewhat less rigorous dress code, we might as well have been in 1918, when the restaurant opened, not in 2008. Outside, on the other hand, Bourbon Street was in full Saturday Night swing, and was full of drunk people eager to lap up cheap booze and sex (and doubtless getting overcharged for both).

After the meal we popped into Cafe Beignet where they promised live jazz from Steamboat Willie. The band was perfectly competent, but after a few numbers the phrase “easy listening” started to come to mind. Willie and the band were playing for the audience, and assumed that audience knew little about jazz. The bands we saw on Thursday and Friday were playing for jazz fans in the audience, and because they loved playing.

There was a rather good brass ensemble busking at the entrance to Bourbon Street, but they were already posing a (pedestrian) traffic hazard and I didn’t want to have to listen standing up, so here we are back at the hotel instead.

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2 Responses to Street of Contrast

  1. El says:

    So I’m reading my RSS feeds, and I read this message, then I click the next link…

    Poppy Z. Brite has also just seen a brass band. Might it be the same one, traveling from the district you’re in to the district DocBrite is in?


  2. Cheryl says:

    Could well be. When I hear “brass band” my British mind immediately conjures up something mournful from Yorkshire, but these guys were anything but mournful. Funky is a much better description. Heck, they were almost p-funky.

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