And I Never Even Tried The Etouffee
Remember that thing I said?
HAHAHAHA. Oh god, that is hilarious. Clearly I had no idea what I was in for, going to the south. I certainly had no idea I would make several brand-new friends and spend the weekend in outrageous fashion. I kept staggering home, very late, slightly drunk, exhausted, in no condition to work out or even form coherent sentences, and getting up extremely early in the morning for conference stuff.
The thing is, I've never been to the south before, and never tried southern cooking. So I wanted to try all these things that you can't get anywhere else! On Friday night I went to Phil's Oyster Bar right by my hotel and tried this divine spinach and artichoke dip (the chips were unbelievable; best chips I've ever had) and some fried crab fingers. And a salad, in an effort to try and balance out all the fried stuff. When I asked the server what a "po' boy" was, he looked at me like I was an alien and said, "WHERE are you FROM?"
By Saturday I'd met an extremely cool person who asked me if I wanted to hit the town with her. Our shuttle driver recommended a place downtown, Poor Boy Lloyd's, and I had a shrimp po' boy, which is a specialty of the house, and OH MY GOD. I will be dreaming about that sandwich. I also had fried pickle chips which were so divine. And I tasted my friend's red beans and rice (of which I am not a fan, but I figured I should taste it). We wandered the streets and ended up at a bar with live Zydeco music. I discovered a champagne-and-cranberry cocktail called the Poinsettia. My friend discovered that it doesn't need to be Mardi Gras in order to show someone your boobs.
Yesterday I actually restrained myself and had a salad for lunch, but then I wanted to try a beignet, so Eliza took me to an amazing little coffee shop where I tried chicory coffee, hot chocolate, a special kind of cafe au lait, and some beignets with powdered sugar. So good! Then for dinner, yet another new friend invited me to her place for crawfish and The Sopranos. And crawfish, it turns out, sit there on your plate in a pile of eyeballs and antennae, and you have to rip them apart and suck out the innards, so I think that might have been my one and only crawfish experience. They were tasty, but... yeah. Eyeballs. Antennae. I had to focus on the beer and not the crawfish. As soon as I started thinking about them too hard, I had to stop eating. But it didn't kill my appetite too much: after that we went out for pecan tarts. Again, oh my god. Words cannot describe.
The moral of this story is, if you are going to the south, you will make best friends immediately, and you will eat. A lot. And it will taste awesome. And then you will have to go home and go straight back to counting points. Oops.
I am going out of town yet again this weekend. This is for work, though, and the trip will probably not involve that much eating. I think I managed to find a hotel with a fitness center, and even have ambitious plans to work out while I am gone
HAHAHAHA. Oh god, that is hilarious. Clearly I had no idea what I was in for, going to the south. I certainly had no idea I would make several brand-new friends and spend the weekend in outrageous fashion. I kept staggering home, very late, slightly drunk, exhausted, in no condition to work out or even form coherent sentences, and getting up extremely early in the morning for conference stuff.
The thing is, I've never been to the south before, and never tried southern cooking. So I wanted to try all these things that you can't get anywhere else! On Friday night I went to Phil's Oyster Bar right by my hotel and tried this divine spinach and artichoke dip (the chips were unbelievable; best chips I've ever had) and some fried crab fingers. And a salad, in an effort to try and balance out all the fried stuff. When I asked the server what a "po' boy" was, he looked at me like I was an alien and said, "WHERE are you FROM?"
By Saturday I'd met an extremely cool person who asked me if I wanted to hit the town with her. Our shuttle driver recommended a place downtown, Poor Boy Lloyd's, and I had a shrimp po' boy, which is a specialty of the house, and OH MY GOD. I will be dreaming about that sandwich. I also had fried pickle chips which were so divine. And I tasted my friend's red beans and rice (of which I am not a fan, but I figured I should taste it). We wandered the streets and ended up at a bar with live Zydeco music. I discovered a champagne-and-cranberry cocktail called the Poinsettia. My friend discovered that it doesn't need to be Mardi Gras in order to show someone your boobs.
Yesterday I actually restrained myself and had a salad for lunch, but then I wanted to try a beignet, so Eliza took me to an amazing little coffee shop where I tried chicory coffee, hot chocolate, a special kind of cafe au lait, and some beignets with powdered sugar. So good! Then for dinner, yet another new friend invited me to her place for crawfish and The Sopranos. And crawfish, it turns out, sit there on your plate in a pile of eyeballs and antennae, and you have to rip them apart and suck out the innards, so I think that might have been my one and only crawfish experience. They were tasty, but... yeah. Eyeballs. Antennae. I had to focus on the beer and not the crawfish. As soon as I started thinking about them too hard, I had to stop eating. But it didn't kill my appetite too much: after that we went out for pecan tarts. Again, oh my god. Words cannot describe.
The moral of this story is, if you are going to the south, you will make best friends immediately, and you will eat. A lot. And it will taste awesome. And then you will have to go home and go straight back to counting points. Oops.
