A friendly tip: Tourist is a dirty word here in New Orleans.
Our Chamber of Commerce certainly doesn't think so. Nor do the French Quarter T-shirt vendors and saloon keepers, the Lucky Dog hot dog salesmen, the Garden District tour guides, the hoteliers, the chefs, the cab drivers and, most of all, our eelish elected officials. They want your wallet.
Yet we defeated citizens of the Crescent City curse you. We curse you not because we dislike you personally (undoubtedly, you have many fine qualities) but because you make it harder to get a dinner reservation, a parking place, a concert ticket or just a decent night's sleep. You remind us of just how tacky America can be, of how tacky our graceful, old city has become to amuse you, and, most of all, how we couldn't survive without you. Or at least your wallet.
So consider any unpleasantries dispensed with. I shall guide you through our town, reluctantly, the way a surrendering general turns over the key to a conquering army.
You, in turn, must make a promise: If you must vomit outdoors, as so many of our fine visitors do, stay away from my house. Aim for Bourbon Street; they pay people to clean it up there.
Welcome to town.
First, a geography lesson. New Orleans, located below sea level on occasionally dry ground between Lake Pontchartrain to the north and the Mississippi River to the south (yes, south), mocks conventional compasses.
For example, the Mississippi River divides the city between the East Bank (which is actually north) and the West Bank (which is actually south). In fact, in the early evening, residents of the West Bank can admire the sunset over, yes, the East Bank.
This is only one of our directional quirks. As you might imagine, locals don't offer directions with the usual east, west, north or south. Instead, there is Uptown (which is west), Downtown (which is east-southeast) and Mid-City (which is actually north). All destinations north of St. Charles Avenue (the city's geographic equator) are known as "lake side" while everything to the south is "river side." Confused? Call a cab.
The neighborhoods most frequented by tourists include the French Quarter, Faubourg Marigny, the Garden District, Uptown, Mid-City and the Warehouse District. The St. Charles Avenue street car touches all these destinations except Faubourg Marigny and Mid-City. And it only costs a dollar.
You must eat. But where?
Practically every street corner offers bread-breaking establishments if you're not choosy. But you are choosy. You want to to feel the hot sauce seep into your pores and the cholesterol seep into your heart. Yes, you want to live! (Until you get back home and rededicate yourself to the Stairmaster.)
Start at Uglesich's, a neighborhood joint two blocks off St. Charles Avenue near a somewhat dicey area. I'd recommend lunch, simply because out-of-towners wouldn't want to get lost here at night. On the outside, this place looks like a dump, which also aptly describes its interior. Owners applied a fresh coat of paint this summer only after reassuring regular patrons that such improvements would not threaten the ambiance. Here you are in the belly of the beast of down home New Orleans cooking. Order anything you can't pronounce; it's all good. Oyster fans should load up. Prices are reasonable, as evidenced by the varied clientele from laborers to lawyers. The address is 1238 Baronne, two blocks lake side of St. Charles. Call for directions at 504- 523-8571.
Chances are good you are staying in the French Quarter. You have a little money to burn on a fine meal and want a night out. The city's most famous restaurants also are among its most expensive: Galatoire's, Antoine's, Brennan's and Commander's Palace. Of the four, only Commander's Palace in the Garden District is located outside the Quarter. All offer delicious food, distinctive atmosphere and heavy-handed drinks. Any of these would be terrific, though I prefer Galatoire's simply because it remains the most impervious. I'd estimate dinner for two in the neighborhood of $60 to $120, depending on wine and drinks.
These old guard haunts hold no monopoly on good eats: Nationally known chef Susan Spicer's Bayona on Dauphin Street in the Quarter, Emeril Lagasse's namesake Emeril's in the Warehouse District, Kevin Graham's new contender, Graham's, near Canal Street -- all are the sort of airy, chic places frequented by this city's most airy, chic people. Throw in Mike's on the Avenue, the Windsor Court (with the highest culinary ranking in town) and Gautreau's (hidden away on Soniat Street in Uptown, a delight) and you have arguably the highest concentration of great restaurants outside New York. And really you haven't scratched the surface.
But what of the starving student? Well, liquid lunches can sustain you for only so long. Get a po-boy, the Cajun cousin of the submarine sandwich. I favor shrimp po-boys (Vultures of political correctness will be relieved to know this term carries no racial baggage in this city otherwise weighted down by racial baggage). For po-boy joints outside the French Quarter, try Parasol's at 2533 Constance just below Magazine Street; or Franky and Johnny's at 321 Arabella Street; or Domilise's at 5240 Annunciation. All are cheap, good grease joints.
The truly desperate can resort to a Lucky Dog. These foot-long, water- soaked wienies are sold in the French Quarter from hotdog-shaped vending carts. Readers of John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces" may recognize a few real-life Ignatius P. Reillys hawking dogs on Bourbon Street.
You must drink. But where?
People in New Orleans drink with the same serious abandon that people in Atlanta reserve for physical fitness and clothes. Imbibing is a civic responsibility.
There must be an understood rite of passage whereby all tourists on maiden voyages to New Orleans head straight to Pat O'Brian's off Bourbon Street and slug down a few Hurricanes. I've done it, and I admit there is a campy sort of appeal to swilling pink drinks as some phony Irishman bangs away on the piano amidst the heaving, touristed masses. So go ahead, but remember those Hurricanes may taste sweet, but they carry a kick.
Since the French Quarter is overrun with bars, I'll leave it to you to figure out where to go for your watered-down $5 highball.
For people who enjoy drinking as a companion to conversation rather than a prelude to throwing up, I'd recommend lunch at The Napoleon House on Chartres Street in the Quarter. The food is mediocre on a good day. But how can anyone resist a building erected two centuries ago as a home for Napoleon on the off chance he could escape his Elba exile? The short Frenchman never made it here, but someone a few decades ago fortuitously transformed his getaway house into a bar regarded by many as one of this fine nation's sublime watering holes. I don't disagree. Have a Pimm's cup.
Beyond the Quarter, drop by the stately Columns Hotel on St. Charles. The Victorian pub in the back is a classic and the twenty and thirty somethings gather here late on weekends. This is a great place for an afternoon drink or two after your lunch at the Napoleon House. Sneak up the magnificent stairwell to the second-floor balcony and you'll find yourself eye-to-leaf with the gnarled limbs of an aged live oak. I've often sat and listened to the steady thrum of the St. Charles street car as its steel wheels grind over the rails.
Finally, yes, Dixie beer is brewed locally. That doesn't mean you have to order it. Get yourself something good.
You must carouse. But where?
The unlikeliest place to hear good live music and dance into the early morning is the Mid-City Lanes Rock-n-Bowl at 4133 Carrollton Avenue. The owner, John Blancher, is one of Earth's most easy-going, good-spirited people and his place exudes the same welcoming feeling. Every Thursday night is Zydeco night, and regulars dance to the area's best live Zydeco and Cajun bands. If you don't know the steps, don't worry. The regulars will gladly show you. And be ready to sweat; zydeco is a serious workout. For anyone who doesn't want to dance, you can bowl or order an alligator po-boy from the bar. One of the favorite joints of the local crowd.
The late-late-night college crowd often winds up at F & M Patio Bar at 4841 Tchoupitoulas Street in Uptown. This place gets going about midnight when the pool tables are covered in plywood and the real dancing starts. The city's most famous bar, Tipitina's, is just down the street at the corner of Tchoupitoulas and Napoleon. With no air conditioning and few amenities, Tip's is a sauna in the summer, but depending on who's playing, this is the best place to hear live music in New Orleans. Rub the bust of the late Zydeco great, Professor Longhair, for good luck.
Jazz fans should try Snug Harbor at 626 Frenchman Street in Faubourg Marigny, just east of the French Quarter. Two other nearby clubs, Cafe Brasil and Cafe Istanbul, usually offer good, eclectic music as well.
All of these are places outside the French Quarter. Every first-time visitor will want to spend at least a few hours wandering Bourbon Street at night. I can't say that many of the bars or clubs on Bourbon (with the Absinthe House excepted) are particularly good but the aggregate effect of the crowds make it an interesting freak show for people watching.
And a final word of caution: New Orleans is a fantastic city where people like to forget their inhibitions and go wild. Do so, and have fun. But be careful. This is a dangerous city for people who are not cautious. When walking at night in the French Quarter, stay with groups of friends. The Quarter is heavily policed but muggings do happen. And if you find yourself deciding between walking somewhere at night or taking a cab, take the cab.
Enjoy. Laissez les bon temps rouler.
