The bar’s grand opening was Friday, coinciding with the opening day of French Quarter Fest. I hadn’t heard anything about the bar, or the grand opening. What was great, and an “only in NOLA” moment, was that as I was leaving the festival and heading back to my car at Burgundy and Conti, I chose a fortuitous route up St. Louis St. There was a big crowd on the street in front of Antoine’s; everyone had champagne glasses and waiters were running around in the street with platters of soufflé potatoes and fried oysters and bottles of champagne.

After grabbing a potato from the platter pictured above (which had been piled high seconds before, it was like those films of piranhas stripping a capybara down to the bones in the Amazon), I asked the waiter what all the hubbub was. He explained it was the opening of the bar, Antoine’s is the oldest family restaurant, yada, yada, I stopped him, thanked him, told him I was a native and moved on inside.

There’s a fair selection of absinthe and a proper fountain, ready for dripping. I hope they don’t do the fire thing when they serve it. I would have ordered one, but, hey, the champagne was free.

It was just a super event to stumble upon and made the day absolutely perfect. The bar opens out onto the street and I hope they maintain an atmosphere like I found on Friday; a mix of elegantly dressed patrons happily mingling shoulder-to-shoulder with the casually dressed masses.

They’ll be serving a selection of appetizers and soups from the restaurant, including an Oysters Foch poboy. If you’re not familiar with Oysters Foch, it’s a dish normally consisting of a piece of toast, smeared with pâté de foie gras and topped with fried oysters and Colbert sauce. Reflecting the restaurant’s 150-plus year history, the dish is named in honor of France’s Field Marshal Foch; the pâté on the toast represents mud on his soldier’s shoes, the Colbert sauce their spilled blood. Dishes somehow just don’t seem to get that amount of inspiration anymore. The bar serves its version as a French bread po-boy, the only variation from the classic dish being it’s “dressed” with lettuce in addition to the pâté and sauce.

Ain’t New Orleans grand?

Mr. Francis has dedicated himself to preserving two big traditions from African-American New Orleans: the Mardi Gras Indians and the Second Line. I talked to him a little while when I dropped in last week. We were talking about how the Mardi Gras Indian tradition got started. He said the traditional explanation was that a Buffalo Bill Wild West show came to New Orleans, a spectacular featuring hundreds of cowboys and Indians, and the African Americans were inspired to mask as Indians. Not so. “It comes from the black man wanting to do his own thing, something on Carnival other than pulling floats and carrying lights.”

He let me take some photos inside, above is a sample. Most of those costumes were given to the museum by Big Chief Victor Harris of the Mandigo Warriors and Spirit of Fi-Yi-Yi and Fi-Yi-Yi.

I told him I’d never seen an Indian on Mardi Gras day. He told me to come back on Carnival. The Indians all stop by around 12:30.

So, for the first time in a long while, I went downtown for Carnival. Nolanotes joined me, she wrote a post about the whole thing today that’s more than I could have come up with. Here are some more pictures from today: Indians, costumed passers-by and a walking club called the Northside Skull Gang. Pretty scary get-ups, but as Nola notes, everyone was super friendly.

The Skulls were leading a gospel tribute to Antoinette K-Doe, who died Mardi Gras day.

All in all, it was a great Carnival season, thanks to Nola and family’s hospitality and the company of some bloggers–Daisy Duke, in from Chicago, Stacey, Lisa (from Pennsylvania), Katie and Loulou, who came all the way from France to enjoy Mardi Gras.

It is unique among all Mardi Gras parades in the city because it alone carries on the old traditions of Carnival celebrations, by using decorated mule-drawn floats with satirical themes, accompanied by costumed revelers dancing in the streets to the sounds of jazzy street musicians.

Unlike last year, where temperatures were in low 30′s, the weather was rather pleasant this year. I went wandering around before the parade kicked off. Down to the newly-renovated French Market. Unfortunately, it’s not so much a farmer’s produce market, it looks more, like Master Shake once said, “like a flea market threw up in here.” Because it is a flea market now. With stuff like this:

Because we know nothing says “New Orleans” like
gator heads, beads and Bourbon Street signs.

Moving on: Back at Royal and Gov. Nichols for the parade, I was well-armed. Camera. Absinthe. Rye. Peychaud’s. Everything needed for a batch of Sazeracs. We were invited to watch the parade from my sister’s landlord’s balcony, and didn’t hesitate to accept the hospitable perch. Nola noted we might not get some of the goodies that are handed out by marchers, and we would miss out on some of the up-close raunchiness. But the photo ops were great, and many beads were nonetheless scored.

This year’s theme was “Krewe du Vieux’s Stimulus Package.”

The guy in the back”s costume says, “I got your stimulus
package right here,” with an arrow pointing to his crotch.

The parade ended and the crowd moved down Royal.

]]> http://www.mybigeasylife.com/archives/2009/02/08/krewe-du-vieux-2009/feed/ 4 http://www.mybigeasylife.com/archives/2008/12/10/sazerac-academy/ http://www.mybigeasylife.com/archives/2008/12/10/sazerac-academy/#comments Wed, 10 Dec 2008 23:09:30 +0000 Pete http://www.mybigeasylife.com/?p=494

“On my honor I will do my best: To do my duty to God and my country…”
Oath, Boy Scouts of America.

“I vow to personally buy the first Sazerac for any visitor who asks ‘Hey, where do I get a Hurricane?’ and pledge to pull out the Herbsaint and Rye no matter the time of day when a guest indicates they’ve never sipped the historic drink of New Orleans…”
Oath, Sazerac Academy.

It just goes to show there are oaths and then there are oaths. The Boy Scout oath is a heavy-duty thing to put on a kid, but you know, kids grow up. They don’t always hang on to the ideals that were thrust upon them when young and naive. They pick up bad habits, like smoking and sex and driving too fast and drinking whiskey and cussing.

But bad habits are in the eye of the beholder. Take whiskey drinking. In the right environment (New Orleans), whiskey drinking can be downright educational, and, if you believe the wisdom of our Creole forefathers, medicinal.

Quote of the day:

There is no way to fit more molecules of alcohol into a cocktail than a Sazerac. -Eben Klemm.

Ann Tuennerman is the driving force behind the New Orleans Culinary & Cultural Preservation Society. Its mission: “to preserve the rich history of the restaurants and bars of New Orleans and the unique culture of dining and drinking famous to the city, while educating locals, visitors, and the hospitality industry about this culinary heritage.” It also produces Tales of the Cocktail, the annual culinary and cocktail festival held each summer here in New Orleans.  (Previous posts on Tales here, here, here and here).

The Society hosts other events during the year, notably today’s topic, the Sazerac Academy. Held periodically through the year, the Sazerac Academy is an educational tasting event, where one can learn all about the official cocktail of New Orleans, the Sazerac. Sparse ingredients—Peychaud’s Bitters, rye whiskey, Herbsaint (or absinthe, now it’s available, but officially, it’s Herbsaint) and sugar—are it.

I was lucky enough to be invited the last Sazerac Academy of the year, which was held at the historic Napoleon House. We learned why the Sazerac is sometimes called “history in a glass.” Indeed, there is a lot to the history of of the Sazerac that parallels the history of New Orleans itself. The drink is, after all, the official cocktail of New Orleans, an appellation gained through the efforts of Ann Tuennerman and a couple of New Orleans area legislators. Ann explained what should have been an easy process was delayed in the face of major opposition by, from what I surmise,  lawmakers from less enlightened parts of the state (i.e., most of the state lying north of I-10).

It started with Antoine Peychaud, a French colonial from St. Domingue (now Haiti) who arrived in New Orleans after the slave revolt and subsequent Creole diaspora in the early 1800′s. A planter and a pharmacist, Peychaud’s family concocted a recipe for bitters—various plant extracts infused in alcohol—there were lots of bitters going around back then, we learned. Peychaud set up shop on Royal Street in the building that is now James H. Cohen and Sons rare coin and collectible shop between Conti and St. Louis. That fact blew me away; I always thought Peychaud’s business was located on Chartres where the Pharmacy Museum is located today.

Peychaud dispensed his bitters as medicine, mixing them with Cognac in a little egg cup, or coquetier. The coquetier looks a little like a modern two-sided jigger and is said to be the source of the word cocktail. But, we learned, that may just be legend, as references to cocktails have been found in newspapers from before Peychaud began his establishment.

Sazerac-de-Forge et fils was the brand name of the Cognac Peychaud used to serve his bitters with. Eventually it became the name of the bitters/brandy concoction itself, which then was passed on as the name of subsequent coffee houses (saloons) where it was served, and then on to the most famous of all, the Sazerac Bar at the Roosevelt Hotel.

Changes in the Sazerac reflected changes in New Orleans. Its days as a predominately French city were coming to an end by the 1850′s as more and more Americans flocked to the city. It was then that a string of American businessmen began controlling the Sazerac, finally Americanizing the drink when, in 1872, Thomas Handy  substituted rye whiskey for Cognac as the drink’s base spirit. He also began adding small amount of absinthe to the drink’s recipe.

More history: absinthe was banned in 1912 and then all alcohol was banned in 1920. When prohibition was lifted, J.M. Legendre immediately began producing Legendre Absinthe in New Orleans. Two months later the Feds came in and put a stop to Legendre’s absinthe. Their complaint? First, it did not contain wormwood, so it wasn’t absinthe. Second, absinthe was illegal, so he couldn’t sell it as absinthe. Legendre re-labeled his spirit Legendre Herbsaint. Like absinthe, Herbsaint’s predominate flavor is anise; it became the accepted substitute for absinthe in making Sazeracs after prohibition. (Legendre promoted the hell out of Herbsaint, producing some classic advertisements. Collector Jay Hendrickson has many images online here.)

The Sazerac Company is a one-stop corporate source for everything you need to make the official cocktail of New Orleans. It now makes Peychaud’s Bitters using the same recipe as Antoine Peychaud; it produces Herbsaint and a great rye whiskey, too.

After all this history was presented by Ann and Michael (whose last name I didn’t catch, but he’s the head bartender at the Swizzle Stick Bar) [Glassberg-thanks, Mr. Cocktail], Michael proceeded to demonstrate the proper technique for making a Sazerac. We swore our oaths as newly-minted Sazeractivists, then got to making our own cocktails.

It was 11:00 a.m. I had to drive back to work. I could only take a few sips. I was sad.

Here’s the official recipe. As with many culinary masterpieces, the secret lies in the preparation as much as in the ingredients themselves, so pay heed to the instructions below.

The Official Sazerac Cocktail

1 cube sugar
1½ ounces (35ml) Sazerac 18 Year Old Rye Whiskey or Buffalo Trace Bourbon
¼ ounce Herbsaint
3 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
Lemon peel

1. Pack an Old-Fashioned glass with ice
2. In a second Old-Fashioned glass place the sugar cube and add the Peychaud’s Bitters to it, then crush the sugar cube.
3. Add the Sazerac Rye Whiskey or Buffalo Trace Bourbon to the second glass containing the Peychaud’s Bitters and sugar.
4. Empty the ice from the first glass and coat the glass with the Herbsaint, then discard the remaining Herbsaint.
5. Empty the whiskey/bitters/sugar mixture from the second glass into the first glass and garnish with lemon peel.

A final quote, on the nature of the Sazerac and why it indeed is, and has always been, spiritually the official cocktail of New Orleans.

If any cocktail can conjure up the image of New Orleans, it is the Sazerac; made with whiskey for its strength, absinthe for its fanciful nature, bitters for its joie de vivre and sugar for its sweet hospitality. -Debra Argen

TALES OF THE COCKTAIL OPENING RECEPTION TO BE HELD AT THE NEWLY RESTORED ROOSEVELT HOTEL
TOAST OF THE EVENING TO OCCUR AT THE ORIGINAL SAZERAC BAR

NEW ORLEANS, LA—December 1, 2008 – Tales of the Cocktail, a cocktail and culinary festival celebrating the history and culture of dining and the cocktail in New Orleans, has chosen The Roosevelt New Orleans as the site of the July 8, 2009, opening-night reception for its seventh anniversary event.

Tales of the Cocktail runs through July 12, 2009.

The historic downtown New Orleans property, a Waldorf=Astoria Collection property shuttered since Hurricane Katrina in 2005, opened in 1893 as the Grunewald. In 1923, it was rebranded The Roosevelt in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt and retained its distinctive moniker until the hotel changed hands in 1965 and was renamed The Fairmont. The grand hotel will reopen in late spring 2009, reborn as a Waldorf=Astoria Collection® hotel.

The summer’s most spirited event, Tales of the Cocktail explores the history and contemporary life of the cocktail at various locations in the New Orleans French Quarter. The event welcomes celebrities, mixologists, chefs, authors and cocktail experts as presenters and special guests from around the globe for seminars, dinners and galas.  Top spirits names such as Dale DeGroff, Tony Abou-Ganim, Robert Hess and Kevin Brauch once again will take part in educating industry and consumers alike about the cocktail.

In more than a century of operation, The Roosevelt served as the backdrop for many historic events and often made history in its own right. Key among plans to restore the property to its previous grandeur and appeal will be the reopening of the hotel’s famed Blue Room and legendary Sazerac Bar. In the golden era of supper clubs from the 1930s to the 1960s, the Blue Room played host to some of the best-known names in entertainment and big bands – including Tony Bennett, Louis Armstrong and Sonny and Cher – as well as to elaborate floor shows. The Sazerac Bar, a Roosevelt landmark for decades, again will serve its signature Sazerac cocktail and Ramos Gin Fizz – both invented in New Orleans and made popular worldwide by The Roosevelt – among other delights.

“Hosting our opening night in conjunction with the newly restored Roosevelt is an honor,” said Tales of the Cocktail founder Ann Tuennerman. “Tales of the Cocktail celebrates the history of the cocktail, and what better way to introduce visitors to our city than with the city’s official cocktail, The Sazerac, at the original Sazerac Bar,”

The New Orleans Culinary and Cultural Preservation Society, a non-profit organization dedicated to raising funds to benefit hospitality industry members, produces Tales of the Cocktail annually. Its mission is to preserve the rich history of the restaurants and bars of New Orleans and the unique culture of dining and drinking famous to the city, while educating locals, visitors and the hospitality industry about this culinary heritage.

Tales of the Cocktail, a culinary and cocktail festival, allows the connoisseur or amateur to fully experience (taste, see and learn about) cocktail culture in New Orleans and around the world. The event’s annual components are Spirited Dinners, a Seminar Series, Cocktail Hour, Cocktail Luncheons, walking tours of the French Quarter, and classic and contemporary cocktail parties — all presented by the country’s hottest chefs, authors, bartenders and cocktail experts.

For more information on Tales of the Cocktail, visit the Web site at www.TalesoftheCocktail.com and register to receive email updates, or call 504-948-0511.

The area she’s standing in, I believe, was once the site of a small shotgun house that did get washed away and floated down a couple of blocks towards 37th Street. I’ll put that picture up soon. This one would have been taken October 30, 2005.

Will Smith’s streetcar is located at the Prytania Theatre. It features Stella and Stanley from Streetcar Named Desire. He added sponsors John and Gayle Gish to it as well. Will was at Tales selling his Mardi Gras krewe giclees. He also had a new line of burlesque girl paintings on hand for sale.

Also posted at StreetcarArt.com.

But first things first. Today’s kick-off event was Toast to Tales of the Cocktail in the Riverview Room of the Hotel Montleone. NOLA blogger Loki of Humid City and the Krewe of Chartreuse offered up the first ceremonial toast of the day, which was dedicated to the Sazerac cocktail’s enshrinement as New Orleans’ official cocktail.

Ann Teunnerman, founder of the New Orleans culinary and cocktail event, spoke this afternoon and went over some of the highlights of the five-day celebration. When Ann announced Tale’s revival of the Green Hour and return of absinthe to America, the crowd went wild.

I have been assigned to write a story about absinthe and New Orleans, so my attendance at the various Tales of the Cocktail events will be centered around those featuring the spirit. There are many, many other events taking place: seminars, symposia, luncheons, dinners, tours and tastings. Here is the listing and ticket information.

Today’s event was tasting of absinthes offered by Lucid, Marteau and La Fee.

That’s the money shot of the day: absinthe being prepared the old-fashioned way with an ice water drip from a fountain.

The Absinthe Museum of America, opening this Saturday, is located at 823 Royal Street and hosted today’s event. Many absinthe artifacts—absinthia to the collector—will be on display, including this still, the fountain and glasses below, and many spoons, old bottles and artwork.

Ted Breaux, a New Orleans native and a driving force behind absinthe’s return to America was on hand. He is the also the creator of Lucid and several other varieties at Jade Liqueurs, overseeing its production at the Combier distillery in France’s Loire valley.

Marteau is made by Gwydion Stone, founder of the Wormwood Society, which is dedicated to bringing absinthe back to its rightful place in cocktail culture.

A number of bloggers/twitterers were there this afternoon. Loki, John Martin of Off-Focus, Leisa, Mr. Gunn and Robert Peyton of Appetites braved the afternoon heat to attend. Here’s a photo of John, Mr. Gunn and Loki, I’m sorry I had to leave for dinner with my folks and didn’t get more people in the picture.

More from Tales later this week. There is another absinthe event Friday at the Montleone’s Carousel Bar. I’ll attend that and make another report.

One thing to note is that it is Lent in Southern Louisiana. Forty days of sacrifice in preparation for the Easter celebration of Christ’s resurrection. For Catholics that’s supposed to mean a 40-day (not including Sundays) fast, along with various penances and abstinences. Not too much is going on in the city, although St. Patricks day falls during Lent, and, Lent or not, we will parade and drink. There Will Be Cabbage.

A cornerstone of the Catholic fast is the “no meat on Friday or Ash Wednsday” sacrifice. At one time the church required no meat for the entirety of Lent. It was in anticipation of all of this sacrifice, fasting and penance that Mardi Gras (carnival, from the Latin for “farewell to meat”) was invented. If you want to get technical, though, author Henri Schindler says in Mardi Gras New Orleans that carnival’s roots lie in ancient pre-Christian pastoral rites performed by shepherds in search of “greener pastures and the remission of sins.”

So, if you’re not to eat meat, what does that leave? Seafood, vegetables and diary products; the point being that, in New Orleans, is it really a sacrifice when your faith forces you to eat seafood?

I say yes, to the extant you have to make a conscious commitment to not eat meat, it is a sacrifice. You have to be aware and not pop a sausage biscuit into the microwave when half asleep, or pull up to the drive-through and say “cheeseburger” like you always do.

Once the conscious commitment is made and remembered, though, the sacrifice seems not so terrible when faced with the seafood choices abounding in New Orleans. Take, for example, the following à la carte entrée choices from Antoine’s:

Mind you, that’s just a mere snippet from Antoine’s menu of seafood items. You say you, like me, don’t have the cash for Antoine’s? Don’t worry, there are lots of places around town where you can keep the faith with a meatless meal. One of hundreds is Venezia; its Metairie location was where we stopped for dinner after the streetcar sponsor party last week.

Venezia is another old-school New Orleans creole-Italian joint that serves some of the best pizza in town. It also has a full menu of Italian standbys like lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, chicken and veal Parmesan and antipasto. They also serve a lot of seafood, including a regular menu item of trout almondine.

Thursday night I saw on the board of specials as we walked in that they were going hog-wild with the almondine sauce. Soft-shell crab almondine and shrimp almondine were on the board. I asked the waitress if that was fried shrimp with the almondine sauce on top, and she said it was. I said, “I’ll take it.” For $12.95, it could not be beat. And it comes with a side of spaghetti and, what we call in New Orleans, “red gravy”—that’s tomato sauce to everyone else.

Here it is (with Nola’s lasagna and Sun’s toy monkey lurking in the background):

The pasta closer…

And the shrimp…

Let’s sum up:

It’s Lent in New Orleans. Not much is going on. You can’t eat meat on Fridays, but you’re in New Orleans, and seafood choices are plentiful and delicious. You could go to Antoine’s for white tablecloths and a tuxedoed waiter and spend $40.00 for seafood. But you’re in New Orleans and you can choose one of hundreds of more casual restaurants (where drinks are in plastic glasses and it’s o.k. to have babies and baby toys on the table) and still get food like that pictured above for under $15.00.

So, suck it, Ohio. (and Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, both Dakotas, Nebraska and every other landlocked, snowbound…well, you get the picture).

Families have their carnival traditions through the season as well. It might be a tradition which parades to go to every year, and often families have a traditional spot to watch those parades every year.

A tradition I witnessed going on full tilt at Bacchus this year is the traditional tossing of beads from the crowd at the Baby Kong float. I was unaware this was a tradition—I just thought the people on the neutral ground had gone nuts. Reverse throws pelted the float. Who knew?

Carnival has its traditional rituals that bring the season to a close Mardi Gras day. One grand, one ignoble.

A grand spectacle, the meeting of the courts of Comus and Rex signals the end of the formal carnival season. Since 1892 Rex, his queen, dukes and other court members leave their ball and travel to the Comus ball where the monarchs meet. Shortly after the ball, and carnival, end for the year.

On the streets a different ritual takes place at midnight on Mardi Gras day. State troopers and New Orleans police mounted on horses form a wall at Bourbon and Canal and push the crowds back, making way for a fleet of street cleaning trucks. This is the official close of Mardi Gras. It’s an awesome sight, I’ve witnessed it a couple of times in my younger days. Seeing this article on NOLA.com got me thinking about it again.

On the other end of the scale there is just plain rudeness. Read Nola’s post and the ensuing comments. But I think there has to be a sliding scale of rudeness when you’re talking about Carnival parades. And location has to be taken into consideration, as well as the scale of the event. In the end it just may not be worth it to try to stake out a claim in strange territory to an open-ended event.

Endymion’s return to Mid-City was a really big deal. Business along the route counted on parade day to be a real revenue boost as food and booze sales increase with the crowds. More importantly, a lot of churches along the route sell parking spaces, food and beverages for Endymion’s passing to the point where they may not need to hold any other major fund raising events during the year. For the two years when they needed it most, after the storm, these churches and businesses were hard pressed to make up the lost revenue.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that when Nola, CS, guests and I arrived for Endymion at 1:30 (to park in one of those church lots), the neutral ground was already completely staked out by ladders the length of Canal Street as far as you could see. The non-retail business up and down the street (law offices, insurance agents, etc.) cordoned off their front yards and held private parties. There was a lot of grilling going on, luscious barbecued meat aromas wafted about. Our 25 pieces of Popeyes kept the hunger at bay, though. We weren’t totally unprepared.

We staked out a corner and sat on the curb; ate, talked and people watched waiting for the parade. We wondered when the police would come to close off the intersection, surprised they had not done so earlier and doubly surprised traffic still flowed down Canal fairly regularly as four o’clock approached.

Next thing we knew one person put a chair down in the street. Then a few more, and within minutes the street next to our little corner was blocked off by portable chairs and ice chests and the twenty or so people who had been standing around increased tenfold. Nola tells the tale from then on pretty well.

Two standout events. First, one of the drunken fools encroaching on our space pulled out a bottle of Crown Royal and offered it to me. Given the earlier tensions I was kind of surprised, but grateful. I had just been thinking about fighting my way to the bar.

The second event was something I was trying to prevent. Last year, as Endymion was winding down, I was walking down the street not paying attention and WHAM! big pair of beads in the face. This year I vowed to be on the lookout at all times. Vigilantly on the lookout, I caught a pair in mid-air, looked down at them, thinking, “That was a pretty good catch,” when WHAM! a big pair of beads in the face.

So maybe no more Endymion, or at least not on Canal Street and not without an early escape route.

A Different Day, a Different Corner

So Sunday was a new day. Rested and recuperated we headed out. I vowed to be better prepared and go by a chair before heading to the route. We got started a bit late, not realizing our preferred route to the uptown roost near Tipitina’s was blocked by Thoth. I got CS and guest as close as I could and unloaded the beer and food for them to carry the rest of the way while I went to park; doubling back eventually to Jefferson and St. Charles.

I began the long walk, toting camera bag containing camera, whiskey and two water bottles. Once I hit Napoleon I decided to take a break, watch the parade and pour the first cocktail of the day. Moving on after a swig or two I finally located the rest of the crew enjoying sandwiches in the shade on Napoleon Avenue. SoMo has some pics and a pleasant, non-Grinchy account of the day.

Long story short, no one invaded us. Great place to watch the parade. Saw Hulk Hogan, Coach Miles and the Tigers. Got a doubloon from the Hulkster and caught a lot of beads. Sun and the other kids had a good time. Got a ride back to the car, and back to the house in time for the last 3 minutes of the Superbowl just in time to watch the Manning Miracle. And no beads in the face, either.

Throws this year included the famous blinking skull and also a clear squishy blinking High Priest doll.

And a Skull Shall Lead Them:

Bulletins posted along the route gave notice of the krewe’s intents, including a command performance by the Dancin’ Dawgfighters:

The Skeleton Krewe hands out bulletins in advance of the route.

Blame Duck Gumbo:

Pop Tarts:

The Dancin’ Dawgfighters:

Left Wing Chicken:

Road Home Closed:

And I scored a buttload of blinkies thanks to the guys on Float 12

The theme of the parade Nola wrote about was “Olympics d’Etat.” Floats depicted fictional Olympic events based on what we had actually been through in and after the hurricane in ways that poked fun at our pain. “Refrigerator Hurling” and “Looter Shooter” were themes I remember and there was float based on Aaron Broussard’s tearful TV appearence.

2007′s offering spared no one. Local scandals like the “Dollar Bill” affair and Vinnie Marinello’s arrest for murdering his wife were fair game for the lambasting; national figures got the treatment as well, with the White House and Condi Rice targets.

Another throwback item this krewe keeps alive is the parade bulletin. Krewes in the past printed these poster-size handouts that featured artist renderings of each float in a kind of parade on paper. An explanation of the float’s theme was put on the back. I tried to locate the 2006 bulletin to scan and present today, but have not found it yet. Here are some highlights from the 2007 bulletin.

In 2007 the theme was “KDTV in Dictavision,” the “Dicatvision” a reference to the krewe’s Dictator–it has no king (another officer of the krewe is called “The Special Man”–if you don’t know why that’s funny then you’re not from around here and I can’t even to begin to explain it).

“No. 7 Murder He Wrote

Criminal Genius he is not, as Vincent Marinello left more clues than a blind man at a urinal and his alibi was as believable as his toupee. While Vinnie may want to think that the outcome of his trial is a “wide open betting affair,” the Dictator’s verdict is already in: GUILTY! By reason of stupidity. His fate is sealed tighter than Sheriff Lee’s pants after a buffet.”

“No. 11 – I Wants to be a Millionaire

In this game show, there’s only one contestant— “Dollar Bill” Jefferson—and he always wins! Maybe it’s because he makes up the rules as he goes along, ironically, he has been playing this “game” for decades, but only recently has he taken it national by letting the Federal Investigative Network videotape some of his more outrageous moments. In tonight’s episode, he has once again made it to the million-dollar round. All he has to do to take home the loot is choose the correct “honorable explanations” to open the freezer and take home the cash. Which will it be—his 401 (k)? His appliance rebate? His Road Home grant? Or his flood insurance settlement? We can’t wait to hear his “final” answer!” The way we figure it, the loot was supposed to be his “retirement” fund—but in the end, he’s probably going to retire to Club Fed!”

“No. 8 The Worst Wing

What a difference a year makes. After this series was granted a four year renewal in 2004, ratings have fallen precipitously since then. We see President Bush in his tower, seemingly insulated from the criticism and holding his course, but the discontented are getting restless. They are ascending their scaling ladders, all hoping to pull the castle down. Everyone from the Democrats and Katrina refugees to foreign dictators and fanatics from Iran. To top it off, the Fourth Estate smells blood. This series will definitely be canceled in 2008.”

“No. 12 Wheel of Torture

Buy a howl from the lovely Dungeoness as the wheel turns along with our stomachs. Round and round she goes, with shifting clues as to the riddle of what is “legal”. Bon chance at solving this “Before-and-After” puzzle before your turn in Mistress Condi’s Chamber.”

“No. 10 Blunder Woman

“Louisiana’s waiting just for you!” Funny, she looked so much stronger in the comic strips-and on the campaign trail against her Ghandi-esque younger opponent four years ago. Now, it seems, she has blundered her way into one tragicomic episode after another—and her red,white and blue costume can’t hide her sagging…fortunes. From her “Road Home Alone” program to her weepy, whiny fits of finger pointing, The Governess has truly lost control of her charges. She was billed as a super-hero before the going got tough. Now she’s just another frumpy grandma who can’t seem to find her own road home. Not to worry, Miz B, “Dr. J” will show you home–to your retirement home, that is, come this autumn!”

“No. 16 Dome Improvement

Who knew? When the season began and the Saints beat the Falcons in the first game back in the beautifully refurbished Superdome and the national spotlight was on New Orleans, that was plenty enough–or so we thought. Who could have known what was coming? No one, not even Buddy D broadcasting from Saintly Radio Upstairs wearing a halo, could have foreseen St. Reggie, St. Drew and baby-faced Coach Sean Payton taking our beloved Saints to the NFC Championship Game. Bless you, boys–you’re our heroes! The Dictator and his loyal revolutionaries salute you! Go Saints!”

One of my brother’s friends, a doctor, came over and asked me to follow his fingers as he waved them in my face. He pronounced me neurologically fine. I sat there for a while and tried to make it back to the house but walking was difficult. I made it to my car and then home. To a lot of growing pain. It ended up I had torn two ligaments in my groin. The orthopedist I went to said, “You know when they say a football player tore a groin muscle and will be out for 4-6 weeks? You’ll be out for 4-6 weeks.”

He was right. It took about that long before I could walk without crutches. I did get some good shots that day and have misplaced all but one of them. I have several old hard drives lying around, they also should be somewhere in that stack of backup CDs I have…somewhere.

Here is the only shot I have from that day. It’s one of my favorites and it had been transfered from computer to hard drive to hard drive as part of a separate collection. It’s my cousin’s kids and their friends reaching out for throws.

I call it “Mardi Hands.”

King cake from Fresh Market in Mandeville. Another winner, not as flavorful as the Marguerite’s from yesterday, but moister. Plus, it comes with doubloons!

Now I must fulfill my obligation and get one for Monday. I’ve got a PJ’s on the way into work, along with Rouses, Walmart and Nonna’s. What’s it gonna be?

Here is today’s king cake. If I had arrived any later it would have been disappeared like an Argentine dissident. It’s from Marguerite’s in Slidell by way of the PJ’s in Covington, who sells them in St. Tammany’s western sector. Great king cake, anyone with a Slidell connection out there should look into getting one. Very moist, cinnamony with an almond extract flavor, either in the icing or the cake, I couldn’t tell.

Heads other than mine prevailed. The powers that be decided it was more important to show we could pull it off, and after we did pull it off, I decided they were right.

We caught the combined Bacchus/Endymion parade at its source on Napoleon and Tchoupitoulas, the Tipitina’s corner. Here are some pics of the parade and sights from the street.

Apparently satire is not something you only find on a float.

Nola has pretty much laid out the krewe’s story and the theme of last night’s parade, so I’m just going to add a few more pics. It’s probably going to be my last parade until Mardi Gras weekend; I’ll make up for it in the upcoming weeks by posting some pictures of carnival past.

And of course, the Leg Lamp at Flanagan’s. I knew I was deserving of a Major Award.

I started to leave a comment in response to her question, but it started to be as long as a post, so I decided to just post it. So here goes.

What do I do on Fat Tuesday?

I could write several books on the Fat Tuesday adventures I’ve had from high school through grad school. Always shared with great friends and family, sometimes with out of town visitors (I love playing tour guide). Some of the times were hilarious, some were beautiful, and some were truly horrible; none are necessarily fit for public consumption.

I will briefly share my most memorable Fat Tuesday. Some friends of mine who lived on State Street uptown near Prytania had several out of town guests. From Ireland. After spending a crazy Lundi Gras with them and crashing on the floor, we rose early and packed up all the booze we could carry and set off on Mardi Gras morning. We walked, from State Street, down the length of St. Charles Avenue. Through the course of the day we caught Rex at St. Charles and Napoleon (too late for Zulu). And then truck parades. Lots of trucks in those parades.

As the day and the infinite truck floats coursed on, we walked down St. Charles through the crowds, running into people we knew and making friends with some we didn’t (usually through a shared bottle or flask), always keeping an eye out for the Irish who were absolutely floored at everything that was going on.

We ended up in the Quarter around 4 or 5pm. Wandered in and out of bars; at midnight, as the police and street cleaners shooed everyone out, stumbled onto Canal Street where an empty cab just happened to have stopped. We cabbed it back uptown safe and secure, beaded and besotted.

The past two years I’ve started going back to the parades in the city. Big confession here: I have not done Fat Tuesday in the city since I don’t know when.

I hate to say it, but after the Friday-Sunday mayhem with Krewe D’Etat, Hermes, Tucks, Endymion and Bacchus and so on, I’ve been sufficiently satisfied with Mardi Goodness that I’ve counted my blessings and gone back into exile on the Northshore before things really ramped up for Lundi and Mardi.

This year I solemnly pledge to at least stick around for Lundi Gras, if not for the big day itself. I will take advantage of the lodgings that friends and family have available—either in Jefferson, Metairie, or perhaps, in the French Quarter. Yes, I have a place I can stay in the Quarter. A place to rest my head, yes; a place to park my car…maybe not so much. Time will tell.

I was going through some old pictures on my computer and found some parade prep pics I’d like to share. Parade goers know that no parade is complete without the Budweiser Clydesdales. The eight-horse teams pulling the big red beer wagon are an awesome sight for kids. The one-ton beasts with dinner plate-sized hooves loom over the crowd and definitely made an impression on me as a young parade goer.

I caught them as they prepared for a Slidell parade, the Krewe of Perseus. I was lucky enough to be introduced to the team: Scott, Bud, Smokey, Ace, Luke, Duke, Mick and Archie, along with their human handlers and canine mascot, Doc the dalmatian.

First step, get the horses out of their luxurious travel trailers. Believe me, these horses travel in style. I think there’s a guy who cleans up if they poop while the trailers are on the interstate.

Next, a little grooming.

Time to put the harness on. It’s a three-man job. The things weigh over 100 pounds.

After the horses get hitched together and to the wagon, Doc, the canine member of the team, takes his place next to the driver.

A driver’s-eye view of the team. From closest to the wagon to the front of the hitch: Scott and Bud; Smokey and Ace; Luke and Duke; Mick and Archie.

And my favorite shot, this one as the team arrives for the night parade of the Krewe of Olympia in Covington. Mick and Archie are in the lead.

That’s how the Budweiser Clydesdales prepare for a parade. What’s your story?

There’s more to Mardi Gras tradition than parades, beads, doubloons and king cakes. The costumed balls thrown by various krewes and organizations like the Twelfth Night Revelers are heralded by elaborately designed and printed invitations. The invitations evolved into works of art themselves and have become treasured keepsakes among the families who are lucky enough to receive them. Souvenir favors handed out at the balls also become collectible treasures.

Mardi Gras: It’s Carnival Time in Louisiana is the Louisiana State Museum’s permanent exhibit at the Presbytyre next to St. Louis Cathedral. Examples of the giant knives, stylized king cake pieces from Twelfth Night Revelers are on display there. Many examples of invitations, ball favors, costumes, gowns and the kings, and queens’ jewels from krewes over the years are on display.

Along with the page at Mardi Gras Unmasked, I also ran across an article in a Northshore publication with a history of Mardi Gras ball invitations and favors and resources available for studying them at The Historic New Orleans Collection and the Louisiana State Museum. It also has an article with good info on king cakes, their history, and a run-down of Northshore king cake bakers. One of the Northshore bakeries in the article is run by a couple of French ladies who bake a traditional Galette des Rois, a puff pastry concoction filled with almond paste.

Hulk Hogan to reign as king of Bacchus
Posted by The Times-Picayune December 18, 2007 11:52AM
Categories: Krewe of Bacchus

Hulk Hogan, star of the wrestling ring and reality television, will ride as Bacchus XL two days before Fat Tuesday, the megakrewe announced today.

Hogan, who will lead Bacchus’ nighttime procession on Feb. 3, said one factor that motivated him to accept the title was the chance to visit the patients at Children’s Hospital, a traditional stop for Bacchus’ monarch, according to a Bacchus statement.

…

The Krewe of Bacchus has always chosen a celebrity to lead its parade. Granted, not always an A-list celebrity, but someone who is generally well-known and popular. Danny Kaye was the first Bacchus king, and many out there today may not know who he is.

But I do know one thing, and that in the history of carnival, this is as low as it gets. Hulk Hogan may be a “celebrity,” and that may be the sole qualification of who is chosen king.

But Hulk Hogan is no Danny Kaye, or Raymond Burr, or Jim Nabors, or Phil Harris, or Bob Hope, or Glenn Campbell, or Jackie Gleason, or Perry Como, or Henry Winkler, or Ed McMahon, or Ron Howard, or Pete Fountain, or Dom Delouise, or Charlton Heston, or Kirk Douglas, or Lorne Greene, or John Ritter, or William Shatner, or Alan Thicke, or Billy Crystal, or Dennis Quaid, or Steve Guttenberg, or Gerald McRaney, or Harry Connick, Jr., or Jean Claude Van-Damme, or John Larroquette, or Dick Clark, or Tom Arnold, or Drew Carey, or Jim Belushi, or Luke Perry, or Larry King, or Nicholas Cage, or John Lovitz, or Elijah Wood, or Sean Astin, or Michael Keaton, and he’s certainly no James Gandolfini, who reigned in 2007.

Now, some wonder why not some other celebrity, such as Harry Shearer, Brad Pitt or John Goodman, who have a connection to New Orleans? I can see how Brad Pitt may not be able to be king for scheduling or logistical or security concerns, but come on now, Hulk Hogan? I just can’t get over it.

And it’s the same night as the Super Bowl, which we all know the Saints will be starring in.