You can’t have a second line without a first line.
My fall was consumed with college football. As a Clemson University Alumna, I normally don’t pay much attention to the SEC. But that was my new assignment. Collegiate rankings, betting lines, and Heisman contender talk from every division was thrust upon me. I just wanted to stay afloat as a one-person crew, but thought it best to know what was actually going on in the sport. I dived in. I even placed some bets, once I grasped over/under and point spread concepts. All those trips bring me here to the College Football Playoff in New Orleans. A playoff between Coach Dabo Swinney, who brought redemption to the upstate, and Louisiana’s Cajun son Ed Orgeron. Swinney has been to this dance before, but Orgeron is a newcomer, and for him, more is on the line.
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New Orleans is like Las Vegas to me. The night-life is ever booming, open containers are encouraged, and too much indulgence can leave you with a bad morning after. Ah, but the food! While Vegas brings world cuisines to a well-lit strip; in Louisiana, French, African, and Spanish roots give birth to Cajun & Creole kitchen wonders.
Work wise, I was expecting my weekend to be multiple news stand-ups with little to no one-on-one interviews. Essentially, the bigger the game, the more streamlined my workload becomes. So, in between media duties, I obliged my tastebuds. After a morning of sports stand-ups, my first stop was at a homely institution aptly named Mother’s Restaurant. This southern staple is a greasy spoon with NOLA sauce. We order their Ferdi Special and a side of grits, because, why not? Ham, Roast Beef, Debris (the beef bits that fall in the gravy), dressed, and sitting in aus jus gravy. The tangy mustard balances well with the savory aus jus. But this po’ boy is big! I got the regular size and can only finish half! The locals respect this place and I become a believer.
Famous Ferdi Special
The rain comes in on Saturday and makes for a dreary media day. Xavier University hosts each playoff team: Clemson first, then, LSU. The HBCU’s basketball arena has multiple small stages allowing the press to clamor over each other to hear Coach O’s raspy growl, play trivia with Isaiah Simmons and watch fans crowd Trevor Lawrence. It’s a mad house. I wasn’t going to be apart of the fight. I wait for our moment to get a key interview and then serpentine out of the fray. Rinse and repeat.
Once the maneuvering of the day is done, I need comfort food. This is a two part effort.
Shrimp & Grits at Luke.
Bananas Foster at Brennan’s.
The shrimp and grits are sassy with andouille sausage giving it a little kick. But the winner of the day is dessert. I don’t if you know the history of Bananas Foster, but I’ll save you some time with the recipe and origin story found here. At Brennan’s each one is made table side and the smell of the brown sugar, butter and banana liqueur is so fragrant your mouth will water. This will, hands down, be the best Bananas Foster you will EVER have in your life. Trust me.
We have a midday start on Sunday, so beignets kick-off our morning. I know all beignets are not created equally, but I’m a fan of Cafe Beignet just as much as Cafe du Monde. But we have to be tourists, so we grab a table at the latter. Feeling a little under the weather, I try to make the rest of Sunday as lazy as possible. Even on the Sheraton Canal Street’s 45th floor, you could hear the drums below. I’m restless. I have to explore. Baton Rouge and Clemson have officially descended upon the French Quarter. An LSU band leads a murder of fans donned in purple and gold down Decatur Street. A sea of orange and purple drunkenly sway on Bourbon Street. Everyone shouting Go/ Geaux Tigers. And then comes the second line, following the brass.
It’s an interesting thought the roll the first line plays in the fabric of The Big Easy. The horns sound lively in celebration, and, at a funeral precession, the tone belabors like a melancholy whine. Those tones are proof that New Orleans is a resilient city, that marches on during the beautiful and the ugly. In the wake of natural disasters, its residents press forward and rebuild. They make magic out of mud and transform old things to new. So it’s fitting that a modern culinary gem would be housed in a century-old Lutheran church.
Nestled in a Mid-City neighborhood, the beauty of the old structure is retained at Vessel. Dim lighting, classic cocktails, and a farm-to-table menu immediately catch my attention. Four of us at the 7-top decide on the scallops for dinner, and they do not disappoint. 3 large scallops served over a bed of lemon truffle risotto, resting in a chive oil.
Delicate and exquisite.
It’s Monday! Game Day. I knew from the previous weekend that the SuperDome’s pressbox doesn’t have the best food, so I stop to get my favorite dish in New Orleans. Barbecued Shrimp at Mr. B’s Bistro. Barbecue in this part of the world refers to a Worcestershire-Butter sauce. It tastes fatty and decadent, so pairing it with shrimp and giving you bread to sop it up, is only right. I am now ready for the game.
Or so I think. Ultimately, Clemson falls to LSU. I’m bummed for my team, but thrilled for a coach that needed it. Before this season, all I heard was how Ed Orgeron wasn’t a good fit at USC for the lifestyle there and there were rumors that LSU planned on releasing him . By the time I had met him, none of that mattered. The team was already on a tear. Before the playoff, I watched LSU play 4 times this season and with each visit Coach Orgeron granted interviews and never made us feel rushed. He gave Baton Rouge restaurant recommendations and recalled a long ago meeting with one of our reporter’s kids. He cried after the victory over Alabama. That was the game that sold me on what he and his team were about. Joe Burrow is something special, but Ed Oregron is a fire and a force. I’m quite sure his hometown parish instilled the same thing New Orleanians teach their young— the fight. He persevered. He silenced the doubters. This season he deserves all the things.