A Frolic of My Own

Jazz, Books, Food, and the Writing Life

Blogging from New Orleans, La

28 April 2006

Before the summer heat (and possible another hurricane) makes New Orleans uninhabitable, the city celebrates a month of festivals. Last Saturday, I sunburned my neck and arms at French Quarter Fest, a free festival that draws more locals than interlopers. The music was fine, although the gritty New Orleans sound is better suited to a small bar than a sunny field. My favorite group wasn’t even local, at least I don’t think. Palo Viejo, half latino and half anglo, played south of the border pop with a dose of ska.

The food at French Quarter Fest always lives in the shadow of the mighty Jazz Fest offerings. It was no different this year. The best thing I had were desserts from Flour Power, a bakery in Chalmette that used to supply the deli at Martin’s Wine Cellar. They were caramelizing the praline crème brûlée in their little booth with a blow torch.

The food couldn’t touch the offerings at Savvy Gourmet, where later that night the U.S. chapter of Slow Foods met. The place was packed, and I ended up wedged against the wall behind a fashionably dressed older woman. Turns out that I was standing behind Alice Waters. The Kitchen Sisters, well known to NPR listeners, where there with their tape recorders. After a panel of local culinary luminary shared their tales of horror and recovery, we all got to taste some of the greatest food Louisiana offers. Leah Chase was cooking and signing books. Corbin Evans ran the kitchen. And many suppliers of seafood and produce made recipes to show off their products.

They even let a New Yorker participate. Cocktail master Alan Katz, whom I told hosts a satellite radio shows on drinks, mixed sazeracs for the crowd. As he carefully assembled the cocktails, he confided to me that the bottle of Pastis actually held homemade absinthe.

Sunday afternoon, I made a brief trip back to French Quarter Fest to hear Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra debut “Congo Square.” It was an 80-minute collaboration with Odadaa!, a vocal group from Ghana. The piece had an Ellington air about, no surprise from Wynton and no disappointment either.

Enjoy Jazz Fest this weekend. I’ll be in Oklahoma visiting my family, but next weekend I’ll be at the Fair Grounds.

Posted by Todd at 10:09 am | No Comments

21 April 2006

Two weeks ago I was in L.A. and I haven’t said a word about the trip. My meeting was at Marina del Rey, which turned out to be nothing more than a marina. Rich old people drove their Jaguars to the dock and unloaded fishing poles. Scruffy hippies, who were probably also rich, fiddled on their boats. Not much there otherwise, except for the Ritz. That’s where my meeting was held. The staff at the Ritz sure knows how to treat you right.

Cabs drivers in L.A. are another story. Last time I was there, I was impressed by the “life is cheap” attitude of my cabbie. He almost flattened a few pedestrians to make sure that we avoided traffic. This time, every cab driver was either dumb or belligerent. Sometimes both. One cabbie refused to drive me over to the Ritz until I provided an exact address. He just sat there and made me go into my hotel and call. The cabbie from the airport continually asked me if he was making the right turns. I explained several times that I didn’t know L.A. Keep in mind, the route from LAX to Venice Beach, where we were staying, only involved three turns. I gave him the printed directions from the hotel. And he had the route plugged into his GPS navigator. I’m still not sure why I tipped these guys.

Venice Beach was better than I expected. Things looked grim at first. It was nothing but stands selling cheap tourist trinkets. Farther down the beach, I found an odd collection of international fast food stalls, the Muscle Beach public gym and a clown troop from Bassel, Switzerland. I also found a great bookstore with a biographer of Horace Tapscott, an obscure L.A. jazz pianist who’s not so obscure in L.A.

Posted by Todd at 5:41 pm | No Comments

17 April 2006

Hank Stuever of the Washington Post shops at the world’s most expensive Wal-Mart. It’s in Plano, TX. They have sushi and five hundred dollar bottles of wine:

Time passes, loitering around the world’s nicest, newest nowhere. The shoppers here frequently say, in the sweetest Texas drawls, “Excuse me” and “Ooops, I’m sorrrrry” when their carts are even remotely in your way. So we bump into them sort of intentionally. This might be our very favorite thing of all: the infinite politeness. They’ve all read their Joel Osteen. They’re all living purpose-driven lives.

Somewhere in Northwest Arkansas, there is a dead man turning over in his grave.

Posted by Todd at 10:40 pm | No Comments

Up to 3,400 people will die. More than 700,000 could be homeless. The damage alone might cost $125 billion. According to the Washington Post, these are the consequences if an earthquake on the scale of 1906 strikes San Francisco. Any politician or resident of San Francisco who doesn’t take the threat seriously should visit New Orleans and see how powerful nature can be.

Update: The New York Times connects the dots between San Fransico in 1906 and New Orleans in 2006.

Posted by Todd at 7:27 am | Comments (4)

5 April 2006

I’m off to L.A. for a few days. Andrea will be in Laredo, TX, Thursday and then off again Friday. We’re jet setters.

The weather sounds nice in L.A. Highs in the 70s. Today, it was 102 degrees in Laredo.

Posted by Todd at 4:59 pm | No Comments