|
To the Nikon-necklaced tourist from Hoboken, the French Quarter is New Orleans. Weaving lecherously down Bourbon Street from topless bar to trinket shop; stopping in at Pat O'Brien's for an authentic hurricane in a souvenir glass; wolfing down Lucky Dog after Lucky Dog when not dining on Cajun this or blackened that; he (or she) has neither the inclination nor the information needed to explore the neighborhood joints that are the true heart and soul of New Orleans.
Hobokenite! Shake off those cultural shackles and come with me as we visit New Orleans' best (and cheapest) purveyors of food and drink. We'll visit the Irish Channel, the Ninth Ward, St. Bernard Parish, Uptown, Downtown and, finally, the ladies' hat department of a Canal Street Department store.
Drink
Saturn Bar:
3067 St. Claude Ave.
Hours: Open daily from 11:00 A.M. 'til ...
504-949-7537
First stop on our tour of the other New Orleans is that temple of inert gases and ethyl alcohol -- The Saturn Bar. Bennigans this ain't. A mad mural of a solar system gone awry covers the walls. Neon reliefs (in the improbable shape of the Chevrolet insignia) are suspended from the ceiling, bathing the entire bar in an eerie light.
The Saturn Bar is like a cosmic crap shoot; God knows what you will find. Will O'Neal (the owner) be too busy repairing a talking Barney doll to fetch your $2 Tanqueray and tonic or will he begrudgingly tear himself away from the closed-circuit television image of his own car to grab you a frosty $1.50 Budweiser from the bottom of the cooler? Will you be showered with gifts? The Saturn Bar has some of the hippest calendars and coozies around. Sometimes they are free; oftentimes they cost a dollar or two. God, or more accurately, O'Neal only knows.
The decor, on the other hand, is a constant. All is in a state of shambles which, in terms of style, might best be described as garage sale rococo. The castoff goods of three generations litter the floor. Behind the bar, trash mingles with treasure as bass fishing trophies vie for space with Absolut bottles.
There's a pool table in back, though it always seems to be covered with some half finished project of O'Neal's. I have seen air conditioners and motorcycles on that table; but rarely have I seen a pool ball or cue.
As for the rest of the interior, every conceivable surface is covered with dust so thick and inviting you'll be quickly convinced that this place, this shrine of clutter and culture, is the place (with apologies to William Faulkner) to trace your name out on the dusty table top of oblivion.
Snake and Jake's Christmas Club Lounge
7612 Oak St, near the corner of Oak and Hillary streets
Hours: 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. and until 10 or 11 a.m. during Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest
504-861-2802.
The Uptown and University neighborhoods of New Orleans are known for their stately homes, nestled among live oaks and magnolias. But few locals and fewer tourists are aware of the unlikely interloper found smack dab in the midst of all this Southern gentility. To look at the outside, one would guess that even the New Orleans Building Inspector is unaware of Snake and Jake's presence; the place is a shack.
There is no blinking neon sign out front; no lurid fliers are plastered about town in hopes of luring cash-flush conventioneers. The only clue to the bar's existence is a 5 foot Christmas wreath that burns as brightly on August 25th as it does on December 25th. With a storied history, including turns as garage, covert casino and speakeasy, Snake and Jake's can afford to be too cool to advertise.
But what about the name?
Though the building's 60-year history makes for an entertaining story (Ask about the machine gun that once guarded the casino entrance.), it was not until the 1960s when a Mr. Christmas bought the bar that the present moniker came into use. In the 1970s Mr. Christmas sold his bar to Snake and Jake, who sold the bar to the present proprietors; thus, the name.
Owned by Tony Tocco and Dave Clemens for the past two years, the bar is a haven for political liberals and uncompromisingly idyosyncratic behavior. As Jose the manager, often says: "We're all a bunch of misfits; there's not a pretty boy or high-falutin' diva in the place."
The juke box is filled with 70s soul classics. And with the exception of one Elvis Costello tune, there is not a single white boy in the box. Live music is offered on an infrequent basis and ranges from local rockabilly acts to late-night, star-studded jams.
Of course we all know that this description is entirely superfluous. With a name like Snake and Jake's Christmas Club Lounge, do you need any other reason to seek out this uptown treasure?
Milan Lounge:
1312 Milan at the corner of Milan and Prytania
Open from noon to 5 or 6 a.m. daily.
504-895-1836
"Ring the buzzer. No, it's not closed. Ring the buzzer, man. I can see people in there." At times it is hard to convince a first time visitor to the Milan that they need only ring the bell to gain admittance. Many are the times that I have sat on my favorite barstool and sipped New Orleans' best margarita while watching some alcohol-addled soul try to figure out how to get in the door of this cubbyhole of a bar.
Located just three blocks off busy St. Charles Avenue, the Milan is not one of those latter day Studio 54's where only the bold and the beautiful advance past the velvet ropes to gain admittance. The Milan is, by virtue of its unique entry system, restricted to those who can operate a door bell.
Upon being "buzzed in," you will find a modest, unassuming bar populated by modest, unassuming people. Twelve stools surround the bar in an l-shaped fashion. Every surface burns with the color of rich mahogany. At the end of the bar, a small glass case contains the owner's supply of darts paraphernalia. They're serious about darts around here. They are not serious about food; chips and frozen pizza are the sole offerings.
Billed as "Wrigley Field South," the Milan is best appreciated during a Cubs game when the house offers specials like: Free beer when the Cubs catcher hits a double.
Also home to a large late-night, hard-drinking, restaurant industry crowd, the Milan has its raucous moments; but most impressive is the sense of community that pervades the place.
Regulars, masquerading as guest bartenders, occasionally step behind the bar so that the on-duty bartender can play a game of darts or rest her weary feet. Chefs, stopping off for a nightcap, smuggle in an order of fois gras for the folks to taste. In a city of great neighborhoods and greater neighborhood institutions, the Milan is without equal.
| 
