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.
Showing posts with label Cocktails. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cocktails. Show all posts

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Bahama Mama in Atlantis — Paradise Island

My Traveling Tales by Michelle

"Happiness is a day at the beach." ~ Unknown

"Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone. Women need solitude in order to 
find again the true essence of themselves; that firm strand which will be the indispensable 
center of a whole web of human relationships." ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh


   Recently I traveled solo to Paradise Island in the Bahamas to exhibit at an accounting conference. Tough duty, I know. But someone's got to do it, so it might as well be me. All kidding aside, it has been a difficult year full of trials and tribulations, and if you follow our sisters' blog, you will have noticed the abrupt change in blogging status since January.
   A one week getaway is exactly what I needed even though my time away from home would not technically be a vacation. I had one ticket to paradise and I would surely make the most of my non-working hours. And so it was, just as I had hoped, that after a week of embracing 'island time', and letting the stress flow away from my body, I was ready to get back to my 'real' life. I committed to myself that I would try to hang on to island time for as long as possible after my return.

The Royal Towers features the Bridge Suite, one the world's most expensive guest rooms at $25,000.00 a night. I particularly liked the the sea horses as architectural accents.
   On a Friday morning in Tucson I rose at 3:00 a.m. to start my travel day. Fourteen hours passed before I reached my final destination. It seemed as if everyone on the final leg, the flight from Atlanta to Nassau was headed to the conference. I had a nice chat with the accountant sitting next to me, Pete from Northern California, a quiet, professional elderly gentleman was looking forward to the days ahead partaking of educational courses and networking with peers and exhibitors. The next time I bumped into Pete it was at a vendor sponsored party at the resort's nightclub, Aura. Free booze flowed like a river for three hours. In a room full of accountants, there was much speculation over the sum of the bar tab. The three co-hosts surely gained a lot of American Express points that night.

The DJ shoots fog over the dance floor. As Austin Powers would giddily say, "Yeah, baby, yeah!."
My friend Kaydee hooping at the confrence's after-hours party hosted at the nightclub, Aura.
   The time was approaching ten o'clock, and the party had been raging for two hours. Pete's gray hair was disheveled, his shirt untucked, and he was three sheets to the wind. Amazingly, he was still on his feet, walking nonetheless, and had a silly grin on his face. When he saw me slowly passing him, his unfocused eyes suddenly zeroed in on my face in recognition. Pete stopped walking, which stopped the flow of human traffic behind him. I nodded my head at him, as if to say without words, "Hey there!" Pete grabbed my shoulders to stop my forward motion. He then proceeded to plant a big kiss on my cheek. I was thankful that his lips were dry. He staggered. I grabbed his waist, steadying him. As a potential future customer, I gamely smiled, patted his shoulder once I was sure he was once again somewhat balanced on his feet. Mom-style I advised him to be careful, wiped my cheek for good measure, then continued weaving through the maze of people who were idly popping some moves while gazing down upon the gyrating bodies that were getting their groove on the sunken dance floor. The blaring dance beats bounced off the walls and ricocheted across the night club. The laser lights zigged, then zagged. The strobe lights flashed. I was instantly twenty-two again when the DJ spun a set of 80's music. We whooped, we hollered, we danced, we had fun. I didn't see Pete again.

Weddings are held in the beach-side cabana that overlooks the aquamarine waters of the ocean. 
I learned from a friendly marine biologist that was seated next to me on my return trip home that the Bahamas is home to the second largest barrier reef in the Northern Hemisphere.
   While checking-in I learned begrudgingly that I was assigned a garden view room. That would simply not do. C'mon, I'm on an island. I live in the desert. I want to gaze at the beautiful turquoise ocean as much as possible, even if it is for a limited time everyday. Upon my not-so-subtle prompting, the registration representative noticed that I was staying an entire week. A view of the ocean was definitely in order, we both agreed. The friendly Bahamanian pulled some strings to help a mama out. After a ten minute walk from the registration desk in the Coral Tower lobby to my Beach Tower room, I stood poised to slip my card key into the lock when I heard the air conditioning vent bellowing like a freight train on the other side of the closed door. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep with that racket. As I opened the door, the light from the hallway illuminated the darkened room in a dim glow, I could see that even in the low light that the room was unkempt and obviously needed maid service. The bed had been slept in, the covers were thrown back, the top sheet looked like a crashing wave tumbling over the shore of the wrinkled comforter. A quick glance at the bathroom yielded a view of  used towels piled on the bathroom floor. Because it was 9:30 at night, I thought the perhaps the room might be occupied. Regardless of the state of the room, I went to the window and pulled back the closed curtain and sure enough, there was indeed an angled view of the ocean from the deck.

The Queen of Atlantis holds court. 
   Back downstairs I went, thankful that I wasn't dragging my overstuffed luggage behind me. God bless bellmen. I politely informed the lone employee who stood behind the concierge desk about the state of the room and the bellowing of the air conditioning vent. The young woman, who seemed to be on a word fast, tipped her braided head to peer at a computer screen and began tap-tap-tapping on a keyboard, clearly with the intention of assigning me a new room. Once again I felt trepidation over being on the receiving end of a garden view room. Hesitant to interrupt, but doing so anyway, I kindly shared my desire for an ocean view with the stoic woman. Without making eye contact, the concierge simply nodded her head and continued to stare at the computer screen without saying a word. I did my best to be patient. I'm sure she's tired of hearing the same tired request over and over again. Oh well, I thought, hope for the best and see how the situation unfolds. I learned later during the week that my experience was not unique. Many attendees that I spoke with at the tradeshow had changed rooms not once, but twice due to varying problems with the air conditioning and plumbing.

The incredible view from my room in the Beach Tower, which I was grateful for everyday.
   For the second time that night, I entered a darkened room in the Beach Tower. The first thing I noticed was that air vent whispered cold air into the room. Silence is golden. I flicked on the lights. The beds were precisely made, the closet was empty and the white towels in the bathroom hung appropriately in place. The washcloths looked like splayed peacock feathers and were placed decoratively inside carefully folded hand towels. Once again I pulled back the closed curtain that covered the sliding glass door. To my delight, through the glass I could see by the moonlight that the view from this room was better than the room before. Before me was a magnificent view of a pool and beyond the pool and unencumbered view of expansive ocean. I opened the glass door and heard the waves rolling over the sand.
   In the end, for a little hassle, and a nice concierge that didn't seem so nice while she was reassigning my room, I wound up with exactly what I desired. The room itself was fine, nothing to write home about, overall the hotel looked a little tired, but at least is was clean and had an amazing view. I called to ask the bellman to deliver my bags and then I had just enough time to grab a slice of pizza topped with jerk chicken and sliced banana peppers before the take out joint closed at eleven o'clock.

I learned it's not so easy capturing photos of the active sea life in the lagoons and aquariums. 
   To illustrate the size of Atlantis, the water park alone is built on 143 acres. Between the three towers—Beach, Coral and Royal—and the condo-hotel, The Cove, there are over 3,000 rooms. In addition to the pools, slides, and both fresh water and salt water lagoons, there is a two mile stretch of beautiful beach, the sand soft and white. The shallow ocean water is luminous clear green before mutating into dark blue in the deeper depths. I could clearly see the interplay of colors from my vantage point of my ocean view room. My friend, Monica, said that staying at Atlantis is like staying on a docked cruise ship. The experience is much the same. Atlantis is all there is on Paradise Island. You can take an excursion into town, but the round-trip shuttle ride just seems like a big pain in the neck.

A view of Paradise Lagoon. The Beach Towers are in the center and the Coral Towers on the right.
My favorite outdoor bar on the property sits under the cover of the seashell covered roof.
A favorite water attraction is tubing along the mile-long lazy river. 
   I enjoyed my time in the Bahamas. Mainly, I think, because I was by myself. Kate, a colleague from New Zealand was my booth buddy for the tradeshow. Kate had her own room and we maintained our own schedules unless we were working, or meeting in the late afternoons or early evenings for cocktails and then dinner. That was ideal. I could rise in the mornings, put a hat on my head and walk the seven minutes to the Coral Tower to order coffee and a croissant at Starbucks. I'd bring breakfast back to my room and sit on the deck, looking out over the pool and ocean like a Queen surveying her kingdom while sipping a venti latté and slipping flaky bites of croissant into my mouth. While I enjoyed my morning respite, the staff below worked at a steady, unencumbered pace while cleaning the pools, arranging deck chairs and feeding the sea life in the surrounding lagoons.

A stairway leading to the Predator tunnel is located below the Lagoon Bar & Grill.  
The Lagoon Bar and Grill is surrounded by a lagoon filled with sharks.
I noticed some sharks at the bar, too. 
   I overheard plenty of couples quarreling in paradise over the course of the week. I thought, more than a handful of times, I'm glad that's not me. I have no one here to stress me out. No one I have to consider but myself and, of course, Kate. I did as I pleased. I ordered a Bahama Mama cocktail the size of my head and drank it down without guilt. I joyfully ate a croissant every day. I ate nachos slathered in pulled pork and doused with melted cheese. In between working hours, I wore sleeveless, flowing tank tops and didn't care if my arms looked fat. I did what I wanted, ate what I wanted, slept when I wanted. I came home to Tucson feeling relaxed. The question that loomed was how long the feeling would last. When I finally worked up the nerve to stand on the scale (I just couldn't help myself), I discovered that I lost nearly two pounds. That couldn't be right, I thought to myself. I weighed myself again, but the scale was consistent. I was consistently surprised. Twice over.

The departing view of the Bahamas from my seat at approximately 20,000 feet.
   On the way back home, I shopped the duty free shop at the Nassau airport. I looked at the prices listed for the various rums, whiskeys and scotchs and frankly the prices at my local Costco seemed better. I was about to exit the shop when I spotted a bottle of Nassau Royal Liqueur, which is a key ingredient in a Bahama Mama. I suspected that this particular liqueur would be difficult to source in Tucson, so I bought it and stuffed it with some difficulty into my computer bag. It felt like the weight of the roller bag doubled. Although I felt like a pack-mule, dragging that bag around, I'm glad I brought the bottle home.
   In the days following my return home, just as I could feel island time slipping away from me, I thought what better way to pretend we're in paradise, then to make a signature drink from the Bahamas. I gamely whipped up a gallon of Bahama Mamas for a family dinner over Memorial Day and they were a hit. By the end of the evening, there was nary a teaspoon left in the bottom of the pitcher. The fruity libation perfectly complemented Fallin' Off the Bone Baby Back Ribs and spicy chicken wings. Slurp down a Bahama Mama and you'll surely feel yourself slip into island time, too. No plane ticket required.

.
   Nassau Royal Liqueur tastes of vanilla and spice. Without the liqueur the cocktail would taste like a fruity kid's punch. The more complex flavor profile with the addition of vanilla and spice is especially nice. The Liqueur can be purchased on-line.

After a hard day's work, it's happy hour for Kate and me. Kate ordered a Piña Colada. 
My sister, Linda remarked that the Bahama Mama is as big as my head.
   "It turns out that the Bahama Mama is not just one-of-many monikers slapped onto overly sweet Caribbean crap drinks, but it actually is a concoction that, while varying from source to source, is a drink unto itself and will usually contain dark rum, coconut rum, orange juice, pineapple juice and grenadine." ~DJ Hawaiianshirt of Spirited Remix

   Even at Atlantis, where I ordered Bahama Mamas at two locations, the ingredients list varied slightly. This drink is on the sweet side, so you could very well choose to add a portion of Malibu rum, if you like the flavor of coconut. Recipes that added banana liqueur I shied away from because I don't particularly care for the taste of banana liqueur, and it wasn't included in the Bahama Mama's that I ordered at Atlantis.

Bahama Mamas for a Party

Yields 1 Gallon (16 8-oz drinks):

1-1/4 cups (10 fluid ounces) Myers's Dark Rum
1-1/4 cups (10 fluid ounces) Bacardi Dark Label
1 cup (8 fluid ounces) Kahlua Liqueur
1 cup (8 fluid ounces) Nassau Royal Liqueur
4-2/3 cups (38 fluid ounces) unsweetened orange juice
4-2/3 cups (38 fluid ounces) unsweetened pineapple juice
1-2/3 cups (12 fluid ounces) bottle Grenadine Syrup

Procedure:
1. Mix all the ingredients together in a large container (I used a Cambro). Cover and chill. Serve individual portions over ice.

Single Serving Bahama Mama

1-1/2 ounces Meyers's Dark Rum or Bacardi Dark Label
1/2 ounce Kahlua Liqueur
1/2 ounce Nassau Royal Liqueur
2 to 2-1/2 ounces unsweetened orange juice
2 to 2-1/2 ounces unsweetened pineapple juice
1 ounce Grenadine Syrup

Procedure:
1. Put all the ingredients in a shaker. Shake well and pour into a glass filled with ice. Garnish with an orange slice and a maraschino cherry, if you please.

I made sure to visit the various aquariums located across the property on a daily basis. 

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Juliette's Badass Bloody Mary's

by Michelle
"It is not so much a drink as a lifestyle." 
—A tourist from England describing the Bloody Mary that my sister Juliette 
prepared for him at St. Elmo Bar in Bisbee, Arizona.


  New Year's Day is officially National Bloody Mary Day. Yes, there is such a thing. Little wonder then that such a day is proclaimed after such a night as New Year's Eve. For all of you that are about to party like it is 1999 (which I fondly recall as one my happiest, best New Year's parties ever), you'll want to prepare your Bloody Mary mix ahead of New Year's day. Don't delay, make it now!

A little throw back action to our Millennium NYE Party.
Bottom photo from left to right:Michelle, Jay and Linda
   I will boldly make this proclamation: no one makes a better Bloody Mary than my sister, Juliette. She's got the skills, she's got the know how, she's got the experience. And lucky for you, she's sharing her recipe right here, right now.
   The key to an excellent Bloody Mary is to prepare the mix a least a day ahead of time to allow the tomato-y goodness to rest and let the flavors meld. Juliette compares making Bloody Mary mix to preparing a great soup. It's always better the next day.


Juliette's Badass Bloody Mary's + Variations

   Juliette recommends making the Bloody Mary mix at least a day before you intend to use it. It will keep in the fridge for at least a week. Back in the day when Juliette tended bar at St. Elmos in Bisbee, she used both V8 and Clamato in equal proportion. Then one day she read the label on the Clamato bottle and discovered, much to her surprise, that the ingredients list contained both high fructose corn syrup and MSG. What the H? Out with the Clamato and in with the clam juice. Feel free to omit the clam juice if you have any vegans in the house.

Makes one large pitcher of Bloody Mary Mix:
1 can (14.9 fl. oz.) Guinness® stout beer
2 quarts (1.89L) V8 Vegetable Juice
1 12-ounce bottle clam juice
about 1/2 cup green olive juice
4 key limes halved and squeezed
1/4 cup Lea and Perrins® Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup Tamari (Gluten-Free) or soy sauce
1 Tbsp celery salt
1 heaping Tbsp prepared horseradish, such as Bubbies®
1 heaping tsp Better Than Bouillon, Organic Beef, Chicken or Vegetarian base diluted and smoothed with a little hot water
1/2 tsp Lawry's® Seasoned Salt or Trocomare®
1/2 tsp sea salt, or to taste
1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper
1/4 tsp onion powder
1/4 tsp garlic powder
10 good shakes Tabasco®, or to taste
10 good shakes Jalapeño Tabasco®, or to taste
10 good shakes Chipotle Tabasco®, or to taste

Per Serving:
3 ounces Vodka

Garnishes:
stalk of celery, pimento stuffed green olives and lemon wedge and/or lime wedge
pickled veges, such as: okra, cauliflower, asparagus or green beans

In September I began making fermented vegetables. We garnished our
Bloody Mary's with fermented green beans, asparagus and Giardiniera.

The fermenting caps by FARMCurious are terrific. Two thumbs up!
Procedure:
1. To make the mix, in a large 3 quart pitcher, add everything but the V8. Whisk well, then add V8. Mix again and refrigerate. This mix is best used cold (put the booze in the fridge or freezer too while you are at it). 
2. To make a Bloody Mary, fill a pint glass with cubed ice. Pour 3 ounces of an inexpensive good quality Vodka such as Svedka, Smirnoff, or Skyyy - anything else is overkill - you won't be tasting the vodka much anyway! Fill glass with mix, add a squeezed lemon wedge. If you like, cap the glass with a shaker and shake vigorously. Pour the Bloody Mary back into the pint glass and add celery stalk, olives and your choice of pickled gourmet veggies. Juliette prefers one extra long fancy frilled toothpick with okra, sweet cherry pepper, and cauliflower.

Variations:
1. Bloody Shame - sans alcohol
2. Bloody Maria -  with tequila instead of vodka
3. Bloody Caesar - rim the glass with celery salt
4. Bloody Samurai - use Sapporo instead of the Guinness, wasabi instead of horseradish, Sriracha Chili Sauce instead of the Tabasco, and tamari (or soy sauce) instead of the Worcestershire. Use pickled green beans and long dried pieces of seaweed (Ito Wakame) for garnish. 

On the left, homemade Giardiniera and on the right, fermented asparagus. 

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 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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