Pontchartrain Pete

Note: Well, official (late) blog congrats to Nola and CS on the early rising of Sun!!!

Well, we finally made it to Mr. B's in the Quarter last Thursday. After a hard day's work helping Pete's mom and dad, who have been painting at the sister's still-hurricane-ravaged condo building out at the lake, we went down to the recently re-opened bistro for nice dinner. We started off with some cocktails; mom had a Chopin vodka and tonic with lime, dad a Crown and water, and I with a vodka martini, straight up with a twist. Sister stuck with iced tea.

We decided on a crab cake and tasso shrimp for appetizers, both fantastic. Soup three ways for mom and dad--demitasses of gumbo ya-ya, seafood gumbo, and soup of the day, which was tomato-basil. I just had some of the gumbo ya-ya, Mr. B's signature thick, dark, smoky and spicy version of andouille and chicken gumbo. Entrees—dad the barbecue shrimp, mom a softshell crab, sister a bowl of the gumbo ya-ya and a tomato salad and I the shrimp and grits, despite my original craving for the grilled fish.

Celebrity sightings: James Carville walked in while we were eating, and earlier in the week sister's landlord said hello to Angelina while walking on Royal Street. She was walking on the sidewalk, and passed a woman with a child in a stroller. Angelina told her hello, sister's landlord said hello, and was inside the house before she realized it was Angelina she had passed.

Last night, we had dinner at Irene's Cuisine. The original plan was dinner at Mr. B's Bistro, which is one of my favorite places in the city. Mr. B's just recently reopened. Although IT did not flood the French Quarter, many buildings suffered rain damage. Mr. B's suffered doubly. Rain poured in the building, which is bad enough. What's worse, it's also one of the few buildings around here with a basement, where the restrooms and offices were located. The water gathered in the basement and had no place to go.

I kind of had my heart and stomach set on going to Mr. B's. I checked the menu on the internet. I had it all planned out. Gumbo Ya-Ya. Hickory grilled fish. Or barbecued shrimp. Bread pudding for desert.

But, change of plans. Mom called. "It's too far to walk to Mr. B's. We're going to Stella!." I'm thinking, Stella!—what Stella!? I wanna go to Mr. B's. Whaaaahaaahaaah. I check the internet. I find Tom's review. He likes it. He thinks someone should pop out of the kitchen and scream STELLA!!! every now and then. I find the menu.

It looks adventurous. It looks expensive. It looks like:

Sake and Miso Glazed Japanese Mero Seabass with Udon Noodles, Roasted Local Green Garlic, Buna Shimeji Mushrooms and Lobster, Crab and Shark's Fin Broth

Avocado Shake with Espresso Granita and Jalapeño

Moving on...still Friday the 13th at the French Quarter Fest...

To Woldenberg Park, and another extended outlay of music stages and food booths. As I was looking around trying to plot a strategy, I heard a loud plane overhead, and looking above spotted an F15 flying fast and low over the riverfront. I picked up my camera and switched it on, hoping the plane would circle back around.

Hello everyone, Pontchartrain Pete here (just call me Pete, Pontchartain can be hard to spell and is too long to type). Today's my first stint as guest blogger for Nola at nolanotes and for this and future posts I'll keep with the "all things New Orleans" theme. Being single and male, your author will not, however, be discussing any issues relating to pregnancy, childbirth or spousal strife.

One continuing theme is going to be "the things that are ours." Although not fully developed, the idea is that there are certain things that are unique New Orleans things, and it just happens that these things are also the things that draw "the others" to town.

I'll try to more fully develop this topic in later posts, let's go to a really big "thing that is ours," this year's French Quarter Festival.