Just a few vignettes of the wonderful French Quarter Fest this past weekend:
**The absolutely gorgeous and 7-month-pregnant chanteuse Anaïs St. John sitting on a stool on a stage on Royal Street, scissoring her bare legs deliciously, grinning knowingly, while singing a dirty ditty about a dentist named Dr. Longjohn, who does such great "drilling." Anaïs was backed up by the more-than-able Harry Mayronne Trio, but who could look at them while Anaïs was on stage? She makes the tamest standards smokin' hot.
**Cute-as-a-button and talented as all-get-out young fiddler Amanda Shaw joining Rockin' Doopsie on stage behind the Mint, after playing her own fest gig on another stage. The crowd was so packed in, nobody even had space to dance -- highly unusual at a Zydeco or Cajun stage. Amanda and Doopsie on stage were like yin and yang, or ebony and ivory, or any other cliche opposites -- but the truth of it is, they were totally together on the music they both cherish.
**Big Man and I had already eaten, but when we passed the food booth from the Royal Orleans Rib Room, we were caught up real short. The sign said, "Shaved prime rib on pistolettes with horseradish cream." Just the thought was pretty high on the Ohmygod Scale. Two pretty young women in the booth called to us, "It's good, it's really good, we promise!" but they needn't have bothered. The sandwich that was handed over to us -- the richest, darkest chunks of prime rib soaked in pan gravy in a hand-sized pistolette with sesame seeds, on which you pumped your own amount of horseradish cream -- was a platonic ideal of a debris po-boy. Wow! was it good!
**Kermit Ruffins, dressed in a dazzling white summer suit, topped with his new white straw hat (from Meyer's ça va sans dire), beguiling the huge crowd at the Riverfront with his trumpet playing, his crooning, and even his rapping. "What Is New Orleans"? Why Kermit Ruffins of course!
**We didn't eat any, but it had to be the best dessert, not only at the fest, but possibly anywhere: Oreo Cookie Bread Pudding with Fudge Sauce. Talk about overkill! A glistening dark brown almost black ball of creamy bread pudding, sitting in a styro bowl, topped with a river of thick fudge sauce. I think I gained a few pounds just looking at it. The folks behind the booth egged me on, but I managed to resist. But I went over to them and said seriously, "Now, y'all, this is just wrong."
**Astral Project playing sweet to an enthralled crowd in folding chairs in front of the Louisiana Supreme Court building on Royal Street, Tony DaGradi's sax moaning, David Tork on the keys, Steve Masokowski's fingers running on the fret of his guitar. But beautiful.
**On the day after his induction into the New Orleans Legends Park on Bourbon Street, the great Ronnie Cole (Ronnie, lose the rug!) playing swell piano with a really hot older-guy band (including a terrific trumpet player) on the Jackson Square stage, showing that hotness in musicians is not a function of age.
**A street band we've never heard of before with an older heavy-set black woman styling herself "Queen" on clarinet -- what a player! Such sweet tones, long held notes, sassy rhythm -- hey, where you been all my life? We'll be looking for her again.
**The good folks from the Praline Connection Restaurant were selling wonderful combo plates with tasty greens, rice, and a generous pile of *grilled* (not fried!) chicken livers, with hot pepper jelly sauce. On the Ohmygod Scale, this had to be right up with the prime rib pistolette. The greens were savory and spiced just right; the livers -- alone, before you even dipped them in the hot pepper jelly -- were tender and juicy, not charred at all, even though freshly grilled, and were wondrously spiced (maybe marinated?). Big Man said wonderingly, while we sat on the levee eating, "I always thought I didn't like chicken livers, but I guess I just didn't like the way they cook them up North." (We decided that that would make a GREAT commercial for the city: "Is there a food you don't like? Come eat it in New Orleans and we bet you change your mind!")
What? You missed all this? Oh, we feel bad for you! Make plans to come to French Quarter Festival next year!
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