We are three sisters united in our search for the divine - in food, libation, literature, art, and nature. This blog will capture the true, sometimes decadent, at times humorous, and every so often transcendent adventures of the Salvation Sisters.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Michelle and Maddie Vacation in Sonoma County: A Trip to San Francisco for Dim Sum, Petaluma's Rivertown Revival 2015, Quivira Vineyards and Winery, Goat Rock Beach and Armstrong Woods

My Traveling Tales by Linda

"Life is not a matter of milestones, but of moments."

Maddie and Michelle having a good time at the Petaluma Rivertown Revival event.

   Nothing makes me feel so old as seeing my niece, who was just an infant when my own sons, Jordan and Joshua, graduated from high school, appear before me as a grown up and accomplished young woman. Maddie may have graduated from high school this past June, but I still have a vivid memory of me feeding her applesauce while she wiggled her short legs and bobbed her small body around in her favorite bouncy chair that was stationed securely on top of my dining room table. While I tried to coax tiny spoonfuls of the fruit purée into her little mouth (my shoulder length hair wound in large rollers feeling heavy on my head) her mother was taking a shower, and the remaining adults present were all were supportively attending the bouncing baby. Maddie, who was famously cranky in her infancy, nibbled her breakfast reluctantly, as we all attempted to dress for a graduation ceremony in which my identical twin sons would receive their long-anticipated high school diplomas.
   Fortunately for me, on Maddie's wish list for her summer vacation after her own graduation this past June before she goes off to college, was to visit her Auntie in California with her mom. Happily they planned their visit to coincide with my birthday, and for the ten days they were here, we had lots of adventures on the consecutive weekends while we all continued to work during the week. Luckily, for all of us, Michelle and Maddie are able to both work remotely.

Maddie and Michelle were posing above behind a large metal Rhino.
   The day before my birthday, in honor of one of my birthday wishes, we all went to experience having Dim Sum in San Francisco's outer Richmond neighborhood. It was Maddie's first time eating Dim Sum, and Ton Kiang is considered by many to be one of the best places in the city to eat it. Ton Kiang is located in the "Little Russia" neighborhood on Geary Street, and one can see the gleaming spires of the Holy Virgin Cathedral, which is a Russian Orthodox church, in the distance. Parking in this busy neighborhood is a little tricky, but the food and experience is certainly worth the searching for a parking spot.


   I am far from being an expert on Dim Sum—this was only my second visit. But this time I was more prepared for the speedy onslaught of dishes as the servers who whirl quickly from table to table with tempting dishes on their trays—subtly pushing you to grab more than you can possibly eat. My personal advice on the day that you visit is to keep the veggies to a minimum (you can make up for it the next day) and absolutely do not skip the custard tarts!

Custard tarts are Linda's favorite bit of flaky deliciousness.
    With the four of us dining, we were able to try a nice assortment of dishes. Gluten-free by choice the rest of the year, Mark and I allow ourselves to have gluten during our birthday week. Mark's birthday follows just three days after mine, and so we have ourselves a "gluten-fest" once per year. The truth is that by the end of the week, we remember why we avoid wheat the other 51 weeks of the year.
   The favorite Dim Sum of our group hands down, were the cha siu bao (barbecued pork buns). They are pictured in the top photo on the right. They are yeasty buns that are browned morsels of deliciousness. Hidden within each one is a decadent pork filling. We all agreed that we preferred them to the steamed pork buns.



       After our dazzling and delicious lunch (Dim Sum truly is theatre as well as good eats) we drove a very short distance to the Palace of the Legion of Honor where in addition to the permanent collection, the exhibit High Style was open for its last weekend of the show. More about that next week. This truly is a world-class museum, and we enjoy visiting again and again.


   Another of the things that I planned to do on my birthday which was the next day, was for all of us to go to an annual July event in Petaluma call Rivertown Revival. It's a fundraiser that benefits the preservation of our beautiful Petaluma River, and our community and its businesses that provide products and services turn out in style.

Sara, a local businesswoman, enjoys the afternoon at the
Rivertown Revival in her gorgeous costume. Red boots!
   Many people don't know that the Petaluma River was once a very busy thoroughfare with boats shipping supplies like lumber from the once plentiful redwood forests to San Francisco. The Rivertown Revival event has a steampunk theme, and many of the attendees dress up. Maddie wasn't too keen on the idea to begin with, but Michelle and I finally did manage to help her find a bright red fascinator at my favorite dress shop in downtown Petaluma—Nan Winters. From there we cobbled together the rest of her costume, however the cute boots she brought with her from Arizona got ditched in the end out of the practical necessity of walking from our house to the event where she would then prance around on uneven ground, covered in straw and a thick coating of dust. Seems that she does take after her mom and aunt in deciding to choose practical footwear for every occasion—silver Birkenstocks would have to do. But here's a look at what might have been...

Maddie poses in my backyard pre-event in her cute boots.
   Rivertown Revival turned out to be well worth the $10 addmision. All of the bands were really, really good, and there were so many photo opportunities it was ridiculous. Poor Maddie—I hope that 30 years hence she will look back on all the photos that we took of her on this trip to Cali, and be glad that her mother and I made her the object of so much attention. You get to be eighteen only once in your life, right?

 
   In the evening we walked over to Graffiti, a local restaurant in the vicinity of the event, and sat in their beautiful patio on the edge of river. We celebrated the end of my birthday with dinner, drinks and a new moon rising in the evening sky just behind us.

Gin Martinis for Linda and Mark, a Cosmo for Michelle and a Virgin Mojito for Maddie.
The waxing crescent moon and a bright planet rise on my birthday in the evening sky in Petaluma.
   The next day we took a trip to the Dry Creek Valley AVA to go wine tasting and exploring at Quivira Vineyards and Winery. Mark and I were especially excited about showing Michelle and Maddie the amazing gardens there. Quivira is a biodynamic farm, with a large creek running through it. The vineyard boasts having over 120 raised beds on the estate which are abundant with vegetables and flowers during the warm months of the year. It is a spectacular location, and they make really well-crafted wines. I love them so much that I made a little video to celebrate their awesomeness.


   When Michelle and Maddie come to California, obviously one of the main objectives of the journey is to visit the beach as many times as is feasible. Petaluma is situated about a 40 minute drive to the shore, so it does require a bit of planning. When Michelle and Maddie lived with me in 2009 for a year, Maddie became very fond of Goat Rock Beach and the clam chowder served at Lucas Wharf Restaurant and Bar in Bodega Bay. On their last day in California, the three of us went first to the beach and then we stopped by Armstrong Woods on our way back to Petaluma—making a large circular path. It was a sunny afternoon with mild weather on the coast. Beauty.

A trip to Goat Rock Beach (in between Bodega Bay and Jenner) is always in order. Maddie
has a passion for hunting for sea glass.
Maddie stepped out at the top of the bluff to shoot some polaroids of one of her favorite places.
   Maddie is off to honors college in August, and she bought a Polaroid camera in order to take photos  for her dorm room that remind her of the things that she loves and is connected to—a way to combat the notorious freshman homesickness. This choice of equipment is amusing to me, because a Polaroid was the only camera that I had almost 40 years ago when I was beginning my married life and taking pictures of my newborn babies. I couldn't wait for the future to arrive when I was certain that one day expensive film would be a thing of the past, and I could take photos to my heart's content and not worry about wasting precious and expensive film in addition to the cost of getting it developed. That day has arrived, but nowadays film is retro and cool again. Go figure—all of the hip and artsy kids I know are shooting with old format cameras and film.

We stop by Armstrong Woods to visit the very tall and ancient trees on 
the way home from Goat Rock Beach.
   Armstrong Woods is a short distance from my former home on the Russian River in Guerneville where Maddie slept in a loft and attended the 7th grade. It makes me so happy that she has very good memories of the time when she lived in a cottage in the woods and celebrated her thirteenth birthday with her favorite coffee cake which she requested that I bake for the occasion.

Maddie loves this colorful mural in downtown Petaluma.
   As Michelle headed the car for home (for some strange reason both she and Maddie both prefer that I do not drive if at all possible??), I directed Michelle down a side street in downtown Petaluma, and Maddie exclaimed that she wanted us to stop as we were passing by a mural painted on an old abandoned building. She had seen it previously when she was walking around earlier in the week while she was checking out our various thrift stores. She quickly explained that she wanted to take a photograph. Riding along with two avid photographers, she most certainly knew that the car would, without question, swing to the curb for yet another photo stop. As she jumped out of the car with her little Polaroid camera in hand, I followed behind and snapped what turned out to be my last photos of her from this visit. When I focused in on Maddie through my view finder in front of the brilliant hues and message of the mural, I realized that she in fact epitomizes my own prayer for change in the world. Fresh out of high school and off to college, my hope is that she will be the change she wants to see in the world. She has so much promise and so much ahead of her.
   My wish for you, dearest Maddie, is that you will always know in your heart of hearts that you are loved beyond measure by all of your family. Go out into the world—discover and create the woman you are destined to become. Always choose love if you are able and value your own worth. I wish for you the courage to follow your dreams, your bliss and your convictions. And while I'm at it, just a few more words of "Auntie Advice and Encouragement": Remember to be true to your own self no matter what, and that in acting brave you will truly be brave. Oh, and try to smile, laugh and love a lot... it helps.

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young.

—Forever Young by Bob Dylan


Friday, August 7, 2015

Aged Holiday Eggnog — Otherwise Known As "George Washington Eggnog"

by Linda

"Today’s serious nogsters are into aging. After nog spends six months to a year in the fridge, a curious chemical collusion takes place as egg proteins, alcohol, and milk sugars slowly join 
forces. The resulting elixir tastes not of eggs, milk, sugar, or booze but simply of eggnog." 
                                                                                                         —Alton Brown
The table is set and ready for my holiday party.
Maddie and Michelle make a mother and daughter holiday toast. 
Maddie grates fresh nutmeg onto the top of the eggnog just before serving.
   A few years ago I attended a holiday gathering where each of the guests brought something special that they had made for the communal celebration. The revelation for me that evening was an offering that a guest had lovingly crafted many months in advance of the party. When I asked him about the delicious nog in my glass, he told me that it was called George Washington Eggnog, and that it was made from a recipe that George himself preserved for posterity. He also shared with me that it had been made three months prior to this present occasion, and had been aging in his fridge. Intrigued, I cautiously began to imbibe more. After I had poured about my fourth or fifth wee drink, and also sipped it for dessert along with the pumpkin pie, I happily pronounced it delicious, and figured I should learn how to make it myself. Truly, it is far better than eggnog mixed with spirits on the day of the holiday.


   So back at home after dinner, I surfed the net to see what I could find in the way of information and recipes about this curious concoction that I had never heard of. Turns out the aging is the key component to creating what I and many others deem to be the most delicious and smoothest eggnog you will ever drink.

This beautiful vintage punch bowl is a treasure that I found at one
of my favorite secondhand stores on Kentucky Street in downtown Petaluma.
Get started now—this eggnog is drinkable in a month but actually takes six months to make perfect.
   What I discovered on the Internet was was a virtual plethora of information out there including George Washington's original recipe (which doesn't tell you how many eggs you need), as well as new variations of recipes referred to simply as "aged eggnog". Below you will find the recipe that was the best of the two batches that I made. We all agreed it was the clear winner, and those of us in the group who tried it will all attest to how good it really is. Michelle sampled it on a recent vacation to visit me with Maddie in Petaluma, and headed back to Arizona wanting to make her own batch. This coming December I will look forward to joining the rest of the family when we test out her recipe in Arizona. If you would like to have this delicious eggnog ready for your friends and family in time for this holiday season—now is the time to make it. According to all the experts, the older it gets the better. It's so good... I don't think it will make it past New Year's Day at my house.



Cheers! A toast to your health.
Linda's Aged Holiday Eggnog

Maddie ladles the aged eggnog into the eggnog bowl at the beginning of the party.
   I did a little experimentation with my recipe. I made two batches, but Michelle, Mark, Maddie and I (yes, we really did allow the almost nineteen-year-old to join in taste testing) all agree that my second attempt was better, so that is the recipe I am including below. Feel free to experiment with your own favorite spirit combinations. I had fully anticipated garnishing the finished eggnog with whipped cream as I saw in so many of the photo presentations that featured aged eggnog, but we also all agreed that the finished eggnog is rich enough on its own—simply grate fresh nutmeg over the top and it is just perfect. No whipped cream needed.

Thrift store finds are a perfect and inexpensive option for entertaining.
Equipment:
Large bowl for mixing all the ingredients
Kitchen whisk
Fine mesh sieve
Microplane grater for preparing fresh nutmeg
Linda's tip: Save empty spirit bottles for storing the eggnog in the fridge.

Ingredients:
12 organic egg yolks
2 cups granulated sugar (I prefer super fine)
4 cups organic whole milk
1 cup organic heavy cream
1/2 litre Knob Creek Rye Whiskey
1/2 liter Maker's Mark Kentucky Straight Bourbon Homemade Whiskey
1/2 cup Myers's Jamaican dark rum
1/2 cup good quality brandy or cognac
1/4 cup Amaretto Disaronno
1 Tbsp vanilla extract
large pinch of sea salt

Garnish: a fresh whole nutmeg for grating after the aging process is complete

Procedure:
Separate the yolks from the egg whites. (Suggestion—Make a gluten-free angel food cake or Triple Chocolate Meringue Cookies afterward, if desired, to use up the egg whites). Mix egg yolks with a whisk in a large mixing bowl with the sugar, milk and cream. Add all the spirits along with the vanilla extract and sea salt. Mix well, and strain through a fine mesh sieve into bottles or storage container. Ready to drink in a month, but all sources agree that six months is best. Start now.


"Nutritious and relatively stable, eggnog was our first health drink. If you ask me, sipping it is our patriotic duty." from Alton Brown on the History of Eggnog

Maddie enjoys a contemplative moment.

Friday, July 31, 2015

Denver Chalk Art Festival, A $5 Poem and Crêpes

My Traveling Tales by Michelle

"When you're alone and life is making you lonely
You can always go downtown
When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry
Seems to help, I know, downtown"
—Lyric by Tom Hatch and Sung by Petula Clark


   I grew up in the tiny Danish-style town of Solvang situated in the Central Coast of California. The bucolic countryside surrounding the town is predominately owned by ranchers and farmers. The wine industry has grown considerably since I moved away and the Santa Ynez Valley has become a preeminent destination for wine aficionados, especially after the film Sideways became an unexpected box office success in 2004.
   During my childhood, all I wanted to do was escape the valley and move somewhere else. "Else" as in a city, a place where not everyone knows your name and the citizens are not involved in your day to day life. I desperately wanted anonymity and to experience a sense of adventure, both which seemed to me, were not readily available in that beautiful but claustrophobic little town.


   Now you may be prone to jump ahead and think that this is when I will henceforth recall how I naïvely marched into the big world and experienced first hand the plights of living in a cold unforgiving city, learning through hard won wisdom to appreciate the simple comforts of small town life. Not so much. I may like to visit a small town to feel my country roots, but I'm definitely a city girl. The cities I have chosen to live in seem to be those with suburban sprawl and I'm always in a house located away from downtown. Therefore, owning a car is not optional. I have always wondered what it would be like to live in an urban environment where the coffee shop and the corner store are within walking distance and public transportation is my new normal.
   I love going walkabout in cities such as San Francisco, Salt Lake City, Memphis, Boise and Vancouver BC, to name a few. Something is always happening downtown and there always seems to be an abundance of photo opportunities. I'm also content to sit in an outdoor cafe and watch the people go by, bustling about their business.


   My mother and father moved to Denver for a six month stint when my sisters, Linda and Juliette were very young. My mother loves to reminisce about the schizophrenic weather she endured living in Denver for that brief time. It was not unusual to experience four seasons in one day and snow in June. It's true the weather is wacky in the mile high city. I got a taste of the ever changing weather conditions during my two visits to Denver this year. Over the course of one week in early June, we experienced sun, rain, hail, and a tornado warning. The ever changing weather patterns were hard to predict. It could be sunny in the morning — absolutely beautiful weather  followed by a torrential downpour in the afternoon. If you visit Denver, my advice is to carry an umbrella with you... at all times! The one day we didn't have our umbrellas with us was the afternoon we got caught in a heavy rain. My daughter, Maddie was positively soaked from head to toe.
    With regards to my professional life, it turns out that Denver is a popular city for conferences this year (thank goodness because Las Vegas has worn thin on me). Back in April, I learned that in June I would be attending XeroCon, an accounting conference. Since my daughter would be a recent high school graduate, she would be free as a bird to travel with me. Maddie and I were excited to stay with our former neighbors and close friends who moved to Colorado a couple of years ago. I had the pleasure of visiting Stephanie, Michael and their two girls earlier in the year when I was in town for a mining conference. In February, Stephanie and I had a blast exploring Castle Rock and walking among the spectacular red rocks of The Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs.
   This visit, we had planned to attend the First Friday Street Fair in the city of Golden, weather permitting. It didn't. The mercurial weather turned nasty and dashed our plans. We amiably switched to "Plan B" and opted for dining at the charming The Old Stone Church, followed by enjoying a movie at the local cineplex. The next day, Stephanie read that there was a Chalk Art Festival in downtown Denver. I was excited to attend, recalling Linda's blog post covering Italian Street Painting Marin that takes place bi-annually in San Rafael, California. Maddie was determined to see downtown Denver for the first time so we all planned to attend the chalk art festival rain or shine.

For a small donation we supported a local poet and, in return,
we received a personalized poem as a travel keepsake.
    Saturday morning, Michael found parking in a small lot near the event. We proceeded to go walkabout before heading towards the chalk art festival. We stopped by the Tattered Cover Book Store to browse the titles in the large cavernous space that overfloweth with character. As part of my ongoing commitment to support independent book sellers, I purchased a copy of Tom Robbins' new book, Tibetan Peach Pie. Afterwards, we proceeded on to Union Station and admired the beautifully remodeled interior.
   When I tour a downtown area, I always make sure to have some dollar bills handy in a pocket. I enjoy supporting local artists, those talented souls who sing while playing an instrument, or the writers of prose who are willing to compose and recite  with feeling, I might add  a spur of the moment poem. Magicians and mimes are also favorite performers of mine. Not long after our visit to Denver, Maddie and I traveled together to New Orleans and our time there would not have been the same without interacting with the local performance artists, musicians and painters.
   As for the talented chalk artists... well, as you can see from the photos above, the drawings were amazing. We wandered around and watched artists create for the sake of creating. The crazy Denver weather would surely wash the drawings away within a short period of time, even if the artists were using a special formulation that could withstand the elements longer than normal chalk. Sure enough, as we wrapped our day and headed to the car, light sprinkles of rain descended from the sky. I kept my fingers crossed that the artists would be able to finish their designs and that the crowds could linger until dark to admire the art and to hopefully appreciate all the fine things that cities have to offer.


A perfect Sunday breakfast that we enjoyed at Michael and Stephanie's.
Crêpes  Sweet or Savory

   Stephanie's husband, Michael is an exceptional cook. Michael's father was a Chef and he opened restaurants around the globe. Michael is quite comfortable in the kitchen while preparing any meal of the day. When we went walkabout in downtown Denver, Michael led our merry band of sightseers to a crêpe cafe for an afternoon snack. What the kitchen produced looked more like a thin pancake than a proper crêpe.
   I'm the type of person when I am unsatisfied with a meal at a restaurant, I have to make the offending item at home to move on from the lackluster experience. Michael, it seems, is similarly minded. After we returned home from a full day of traipsing around downtown Denver, Michael didn't flop on the couch, but instead began working in the kitchen. Curious, I asked him what he was making. Turns out, he was whipping up crêpe batter that once finished, would rest in the refrigerator overnight and be ready to use in the morning. It's always great to have something to look forward to, especially an elegant family breakfast.
   On Sunday morning while Stephanie made lattes for us and then prepped berries, peaches and whipped cream, Michael busily turned out beautiful crêpes that looked and tasted nothing like the thin pancakes from the previous day. Michael also fried bacon and then basted eggs in the bacon fat. So delicious!
   After devouring breakfast, I knew I'd want to make the crêpes in my own kitchen. I asked, with a little trepidation, if the crêpes were a family secret and if Michael would be open to sharing the recipe with me. Michael crossed the kitchen and returned with a cookbook that he handed to me to read. I was stoked! The recipe, it turns out, is from Crêpes: Sweet and Savory Recipes for the Home Cook by Lou Seibert Pappas. As a lovely surprise, Maddie purchased the cookbook for me as a gift after we returned home from Denver. Michael prefers Cointreau or Grand Marnier in his mix, which tasted wonderful with the fresh fruit filling.
   For a gluten-free option, the author suggests replacing the all-purpose flour with cornstarch and add 1/8 tsp baking soda. For savory crêpes omit the sugar and vanilla extract. Swap vodka for the liqueur.

Ingredients:
2 large eggs
1 cup milk
1/3 cup water
1 cup all-purpose flour, preferably bleached
2 Tbsps sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 Tbsp rum, Cointreau, amaretto, brandy, Frangelico, Framboise or other liqueur (optional)
2 Tbsps butter, melted

Additional butter for cooking the crêpes.

Filling:
mixed berries
in season fruits
whipped cream

Procedure:
1. In a blender or food processor, blend until smooth: the eggs, milk, water, flour, sugar, vanilla, liqueur, and melted butter. With a rubber spatula, sweep the sides and stir down the mixture and blend again. Cover and refrigerate for a minimum of 2 hours or ups to 24 hours.
2. Gently stir the batter if it has separated. Heat a seasoned 6, 7, 9 or 10-inch nonstick crêpe pan over medium-high heat until hot. Wipe the pan lightly with butter, lift the pan from the heat and pour in 2 to 3 tablespoons of batter for a 6- or 7-inch crêpe or about 4 Tbsps (1/4 cup) for a 9- or 10-inch crêpe. Immediately tilt and rotate the pan to coat the surface with the batter. Cook until almost dry on top and lightly browned on the edges, about 1 minute. Loosen the edges with a spatula and flip the crêpe over using your fingers or the spatula, then cook the other side for about 15 seconds, or until lightly browned. Turn the crêpe out onto a clean tea towel to cool. Repeat with the remaining batter, wiping the pan with butter as needed and stacking the crêpes as they are cooked.
3. For serving immediately, cover the crêpes with aluminum foil and keep them warm in a preheated 200°F oven. For serving later, wrap them in plastic wrap in quantities intended for each use and slip them into a self-sealing plastic bag. Refrigerate the crêpes for up to 3 days, or freeze for up to 2 months.  Yield: 16-18 smaller crêpes or 10-12 larger crêpes.


Friday, July 24, 2015

New Orleans and the Authentic Hurricane Cocktail

My Traveling Tales by Michelle
Photos by Michelle and Maddie

"New Orleans is unlike any city in America. Its cultural diversity is woven into the food, the music, the architecture—even the local superstitions. It's a sensory experience on all levels and there's a story lurking around every corner." —Ruta Sepetys

Top: Hurricanes (regular and virgin) and dinner at Pierre Maspero's
Bottom: Jambalaya, Shrimp Creole and Po-Boy at Gumbo Shop.
"There are only three great storybook cities in America—New York City, San Francisco.... and New Orleans." — Tennessee Williams

St. Louis Cathedral-Basilica is among the oldest cathedrals in the United States.
The statue located in Jackson Square is of Andrew Jackson, 7th President of the United States.
My artistic rendering of the cathedral's facade.
Five to midnight in the garden of St. Anthony (on the backside of the cathedral).
   My first visit to New Orleans this past June has prompted me to consider how quickly I might be able to return to this city of mystery and enchantment. New Orleans contains everything that I love in an urban experience: a unique sense of place, artistic vision, live music, friendly locals, public dancing, historic architecture and outstanding food.
   New Orleans was founded nearly 300 years ago in 1718. After both Spanish and French rule, the United States purchased Louisiana from Napoleon in 1803. The cultural and architectural influences of both the Spanish and French are still visible in modern day New Orleans, plus there are substantial Caribbean influences that cannot be denied. Some even go so far as to say that New Orleans is the "northern most Caribbean City". During the war of 1812, the British tried to conquer the city but Andrew Jackson and his troops prevailed to decisively win the Battle of New Orleans with the assistance of privateers led by the famous pirate, Jean Lafitte.
   By 1840, the port city of New Orleans, optimally situated at the mouth of the Mississippi River and the Gulf of Mexico, was the wealthiest city in the nation. Meandering through the French Quarter and the Financial District, it is easy to see that big money built the historic buildings and mansions. Architectural flourishes abound and are pleasing to the eye. Throughout the French Quarter artistic ironwork is a unifying decorative element which embellishes balconies, fences, doorways, staircases, lamps and signs.
   
My favorite photo from the trip! And the band plays on in Jackson Square...
Maddie and I met the lovely and talented, fascinator-wearing, Ginger Woechan.
You can find her and her adorable dog in Jackson Square.
According to talented artist Victoria Lenning, Dia De Los Muertos is alive and well in NOLA.
When you make eye contact with a joker, this is what happens next.
   Maddie and I arrived in New Orleans in time for dinner on a hot and humid Friday night in mid June. We met up with Alain, the CEO of the company that I joined in April (sorry friends, moving forward, there will be no more photos of me sporting a hard hat, pink safety glasses, reflective safety vest and steel toe boots). With sundown still an hour away, and the heat still rising from the concrete, the three of us gamely set out on foot to find a restaurant. I instantly wilted in the heat, but the new sights and sounds of the city kept me focused on other things besides perspiring.
   We happened upon Dickie Brennan's Palace Cafe. A diner, who was exiting the circularly rotating front door, assured us that the food was great. The recommendation sealed the deal, and we entered the beautiful interior of the restaurant. I audibly sighed when the blast of air conditioning hit my face. The friendly hostess led us up the decorative iron staircase to the second floor and seated our party at a coveted table by the floor to ceiling windows looking out to Decatur Street. Our visit to New Orleans was off to a terrific start.

Café du Monde is famous for beignets paired with café au lait. It was so hot and humid
at our table on the covered patio that Maddie and I opted for frozen coffees. Great choice!
After our visit to Café du Monde, Maddie and I took a stroll along the mighty Mississippi River.
For our next visit, we'll take a steamboat cruise on the Natchez and stay at the Hotel Monteleone.
   What followed next was my first encounter with a succession of delicious meals that properly introduced me to the tasty regional cuisine of New Orleans. Over the course of my life, exposure to Cajun and Creole cooking has been rather limited—much of my knowledge has been gleaned by watching Emeril Lagasse's cooking shows. When I have dined at the occasional Big Easy-inspired restaurant in California, the results haven't been so great. It's probably akin to trying to find a proper Mexican food restaurant in Maine. After my visit to New Orleans, I now understand why people become obsessed with Creole and Cajun cuisine. I have ordered four cookbooks on the subject since returning home, and I plan on making some of the cuisine's classic dishes for family and friends.

The mural at Johnny Sánchez is a rendering of the chef's tattoos.
Sucré is a "sweets salon" near Jackson Square in the French Quarter.
Strawberry daiquiri at Gumbo Shop, bread pudding at Royal House, Crème Brûlée at Palace Café and Arroz con Pollo at Johnny Sánchez.
New Orleans is the birthplace of the Sazerac cocktail made with Rye and Absinthe.
I sipped this one at Evangeline on a Saturday afternoon.
Oyster lovers rejoice! Oyster houses abound in the French Quarter.
Left - Pralines are made fresh on-site at Southern Candymakers. They will ship direct to you!
Right - King Cake was served as an afternoon treat at the business conference our team attended.
   My first meal in New Orleans at Palace Café was Gulf Shrimp in a Creole Meunière Sauce. I discovered that the decadent sauce is made from equal parts dark chicken broth and Worcestershire. Before my visit to New Orleans, I could not imagine adding one cup of Worcestershire to anything. What makes the sauce velvety and decadent is the addition of heavy cream and copious amounts of butter. Creole Meunière sauce is dark and syrupy. The taste profile is reminiscent of my favorite flavor enhancer—demi-glacé. Upon hearing that Maddie planned on ordering the more conservative chicken entrée for dinner, Alain encouraged her to order an appetizer portion of gumbo. A hesitant Maddie bravely dived in and discovered she likes seafood gumbo. She ate every last bite, scraping the bottom of the shallow bowl with the spoon.
   To complete our dining experience we all agreed to order Bananas Foster. Over the course of the evening we had watched the servers throughout the restaurant prepare the dessert table-side by sautéing fresh bananas in brown sugar and cinnamon, then flambéing the mixture by adding banana liqueur and rum. When the alcohol hits the hot skillet, flames leap into the air invoking quite a dramatic scene. The bananas and sauce are served nonchalantly over vanilla bean ice cream. Three spoons dipped into the delicious mess, because no one at the table was going to forgo tasting this New Orleans classic. Personally, I think the dessert would be even better by swapping Butter Pecan Ice Cream for the traditional scoops of vanilla.

After our walk along the Mississippi we headed back to the French Quarter
and stumbled upon a Pride Parade.
The parade's participants threw beads at us, much to our delight. 
Drag Queens enjoy the elegant ride through the French Quarter.
The Pride Party on Bourbon Street was just getting started at midnight.
   To aid in our digestion, after dinner—Alain, Maddie and I took a much needed long walk around the French Quarter. It was dark, the sun had dipped well below the horizon, yet the heat and humidity were still fully present. We walked past antique stores, gift shops illuminated from within, pulsating restaurants and bars that had windows open to the street, music blasting. We stopped and listened to talented street musicians and threw a few bucks in to the open collection baskets or round plastic containers marked by black Sharpies with $ signs. Fortunetellers who were set-up at portable card tables asked to read our futures.
   One intersection led to another, a few lefts and then a few rights, and we eventually found ourselves on Bourbon Street, which I should add, was on the eve of what turned out to be a very historic Pride weekend. Spectacle ran amok. Bourbon Street is not for the faint of heart, prudes, or for those folks who suffer from germ fetishes.
   We walked to the top of Bourbon Street where beautiful, young gay men with waxed chests were dancing in the street, wearing only purple briefs accented with white piping. I peeked in the bar on the opposite side of the street, and there was a dark-haired Adonis dancing on top of a bar, Coyote Ugly-style, clothed only in a white thong. Behind him on the far walls, the big screen TVs pulsated with homoerotic videos, which interestingly enough incorporated ripe fruit, men kissing, pulsating colors, and exploding geometric patterns. It was hypnotic, but when you have your eighteen-year-old daughter and boss observing you from a few feet away, I was encouraged to walk on and find the next spectacle to take in, which on Bourbon Street, it turns out, is right in front of you. It was one arched eyebrow moment after the next.


   The three of us turned around at what seemed to be the end of the line. We retraced our steps, walking and perspiring all the way back down Bourbon Street, all 13 blocks of it—the air cloying thick. We weaved around the thousands of bodies of partiers and bystanders,  and of locals and tourists. Our darting eyes surveyed the scene in front of us, as well as to the parallel sidewalks and the balconies above. Intermittently we looked down surveying the ground a few feet in front of us to identify and avoid urban landmines such has horse dung, vomit, discarded food and trash.
   Public drinking is, of course, legal. People haphazardly carry big plastic glasses filled with strong cocktails such as neon pink Hurricanes or the appropriately named Hand Grenade®, touted as "New Orleans' Most Powerful Drink". A man wore a cardboard sign that advertised Big Ass Beers at a nearby bar that had a sidewalk accessible take-out window. Alcohol-fueled laughter and shrieks of glee filled the night air. A few inebriated college-aged girls cried while loitering in the street and high octane couples verbally abused each other. I felt like a voyeur as I bobbed and weaved through the swarms of people. We saw men cajoling and females flashing breastsmore cheap Mardi Gras beads being earned to add to the layered collections worn around women's necks.

In Jackson Square, near the Cathedral, there was umbrella-twirling dancing in the street.
Umbrellas in NOLA are used as protection from both rain and sun.
These long legged girls were visiting the city for a volleyball tournament.
  Continuing down Bourbon Street, we saw nearly naked working girls—sirens of the night—standing provocatively in the doorways of strip clubs luring men into the darkened interiors. I wondered if vampires lay in wait. We weaved in out of the crowds. The air was humid, the heat felt oppressive. The three of us, Alain, Maddie and I, were continually separated by the meandering tides of people, and we'd look for each other with darting eyes, and signaled each other with hand gestures, until we were able to once again walk side-by-side, only to be parted shortly thereafter. When we made it back to the hotel in the early morning hours, hot and exhausted, but oddly exhilarated, I immediately took a shower. There was no way I was carrying the grungy feel of Bourbon Street with me to bed. Clean as a whistle, I slept like a baby between those starched white sheets.

Voodoo dolls for sale in a souvenir shop in the French Quarter.
Quintessential New Orleans: Voodoo and Drag Queens on Bourbon Street.
This Four Points Hilton is located on Bourbon Street where guests can view from the balconies
 the nightly spectacle of revelers traipsing and weaving up and down the street and sidewalks.

   On Saturday morning, Maddie and I slept in. Truthfully, I was not overly anxious to leave the hotel to encounter the claustrophobic humidity of a bayou summer day. Maddie finally insisted that we leave the hotel. What a role reversal. "Oh, alright!" I said begrudingly. "Let's do it." And do it, we did. Almost all of the photos in this blog post were taken on that Saturday beginning with our lunch at the Gumbo Shop, followed by our walking tour of the French Quarter and Jackson Square, meeting Alain for an afternoon snack of beignets (fried donuts sprinkled with copious amounts of powdered sugar) and coffee at Café du Monde, walking a stretch of the Mississippi, stumbling across the celebratory Pride Parade, and once again wandering all over the French Quarter and eating dinner (while resting our aching feet) at an oyster house before catching a taxi back to our hotel. Maddie and I had a blast, and I was so happy to be making memories like this before she heads off to college in August.

There's no shortage of gift shops in the French Quarter.

   I am compiling a bucket list of items for a future trip to New Orleans, which I'm hoping will be for an upcoming Sistercation (but not when it is so damn hot). I think it is safe to say, no matter what your personal proclivities, New Orleans will ignite your imagination and especially your taste buds. The city is at once foreboding and yet also inviting. New Orleans sits at an odd juxtaposition of old and new, prim and sultry, Gothic and modern. There's plenty of Southern charm to go around. I've returned home with the hankering to learn more about Cajun and Creole cooking, and to wash it all down with a not-too-sweet, passion fruit-accented Hurricane cocktail.

Immaculate Conception Jesuit Church is located near the French Quarter.

Join us for Hurricanes below...
The Authentic Hurricane Cocktail
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