Photo by Alistair James
Six months ago yesterday, I got married in New Orleans. In all this weekend’s news regarding the fifth anniversary of Katrina, I had to take a moment today to consider this miracle on a personal level, and all the ones that led to being able to have a wedding in New Orleans.
A few weeks ago, I found myself wanting to dig up the NOAA warning from 5 years ago today. I still recall how much it scared me & how unfortunately right those fears turned out to be. I remember being up late in the night of the 28th — maybe ’til 3 AM on this night five years ago, until I forced myself to leave the TV, watching CNN and waiting for Katrina to make landfall. I copied out the weather service warning, and apparently I wrote extra notes, remembering another time.
Thirteen years ago last week: we left Baton Rouge for New Orleans during Hurricane Andrew. Going 50 minutes southeast was supposed to help and Dad, having been recently diagnosed with his brain tumor, had the rights and coverage for us to stay in the hotel adjoining the hospital where he had his radiation treatments. I remember we came back once Andrew passed, but we came back to a beat up city, power lines down, roofs gone, electricity out, & school canceled. Forty trees lost in our backyard! Electricity out for at least a week. Miserable in August–my long hair wasn’t dry for days. It was that muggy. I remember losing it with the Entergy repairmen, yelling at them for taking so long, letting us go without relief. We seemed to be the last in the city to get power restored. I wonder what they must have thought of this crazed 16 year old girl on a rampage. (In my defense, my Dad was dying.) A part of me is mortified, a part of me laughs.
I remember that rage at feeling like we were forgotten.
What if this storm kills Louisiana?
I can’t fall asleep while I go relive this childhood anxiety I had that preceded all hurricanes that came into the gulf. Evacuating was never a thing we needed to do. Wouldn’t it feel silly if the storm turned? Wouldn’t it be a waste? I remember the waiting, the watching, and waiting some more for the power to go out, the power going out on its own schedule regardless of wind, the power coming back on either early or late into the wait. You never could tell. Passing time talking to neighbors. Getting the radios ready, flashlights placed all over. Candles. Watching the sky, watching those low, strong clouds roll in. The Prejeans next door drinking through the storm. Hurricane parties were a thing. Are they a thing right now?
I called my mom earlier though I haven’t seen anything ominous about East BR Parish.
What to do. What to do. I can’t get over the “WATER SHORTAGES WILL MAKE HUMAN SUFFERING INCREDIBLE BY MODERN STANDARDS.”
URGENT – WEATHER MESSAGE
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE NEW ORLEANS LA
1011 AM CDT SUN AUG 28 2005
…DEVASTATING DAMAGE EXPECTED…
.HURRICANE KATRINA…A MOST POWERFUL HURRICANE WITH UNPRECEDENTED STRENGTH…RIVALING THE INTENSITY OF HURRICANE CAMILLE OF 1969.
MOST OF THE AREA WILL BE UNINHABITABLE FOR WEEKS…PERHAPS LONGER. AT LEAST ONE HALF OF WELL CONSTRUCTED HOMES WILL HAVE ROOF AND WALL FAILURE. ALL GABLED ROOFS WILL FAIL…LEAVING THOSE HOMES SEVERELY DAMAGED OR DESTROYED.
THE MAJORITY OF INDUSTRIAL BUILDINGS WILL BECOME NON FUNCTIONAL. PARTIAL TO COMPLETE WALL AND ROOF FAILURE IS EXPECTED. ALL WOOD FRAMED LOW RISING APARTMENT BUILDINGS WILL BE DESTROYED. CONCRETE BLOCK LOW RISE APARTMENTS WILL SUSTAIN MAJOR DAMAGE…INCLUDING SOME WALL AND ROOF FAILURE.
HIGH RISE OFFICE AND APARTMENT BUILDINGS WILL SWAY DANGEROUSLY…A FEW TO THE POINT OF TOTAL COLLAPSE. ALL WINDOWS WILL BLOW OUT.
AIRBORNE DEBRIS WILL BE WIDESPREAD…AND MAY INCLUDE HEAVY ITEMS SUCH AS HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES AND EVEN LIGHT VEHICLES. SPORT UTILITY VEHICLES AND LIGHT TRUCKS WILL BE MOVED. THE BLOWN DEBRIS WILL CREATE ADDITIONAL DESTRUCTION.
POWER OUTAGES WILL LAST FOR WEEKS…AS MOST POWER POLES WILL BE DOWN AND TRANSFORMERS DESTROYED. WATER SHORTAGES WILL MAKE HUMAN SUFFERING INCREDIBLE BY MODERN STANDARDS.
THE VAST MAJORITY OF NATIVE TREES WILL BE SNAPPED OR UPROOTED. ONLY THE HEARTIEST WILL REMAIN STANDING…BUT BE TOTALLY DEFOLIATED. FEW CROPS WILL REMAIN. LIVESTOCK LEFT EXPOSED TO THE WINDS WILL BE KILLED.
AN INLAND HURRICANE WIND WARNING IS ISSUED WHEN SUSTAINED WINDS NEAR HURRICANE FORCE…OR FREQUENT GUSTS AT OR ABOVE HURRICANE FORCE…ARE CERTAIN WITHIN THE NEXT 12 TO 24 HOURS.
ONCE TROPICAL STORM AND HURRICANE FORCE WINDS ONSET…DO NOT VENTURE OUTSIDE!
Camille crushed the area 40 years ago. Will Katrina be the same?
Images in the editorial feed are not alleviating these fears.
over Sara’s island
A long layover gave us just enough time for dinner in Manhattan. We scored the last walk-in table at Babbo (with plenty of backup options thanks to friends’ suggestions). Amazing braised oxtail gnocchi, black spaghetti with rock shrimp & spicy salami Calabrese, bufa di mozzarella, a special season item of contorni of ramps, grilled octopus with limoncello vinaigrette: fantastic meal. We wrapped it up with chocolate hazelnut cake with orange sauce and hazelnut gelato. The perfect way to ensure 7 hours of hibernation. I noticed Seattle’s Salumi on the menu as well.
Once finished, we wandered back to JFK via the convenient West 4th stop nearby.
I really really love NY.
To borrow from notmartha:
Things I Learned the Hard Way
AirTrain’s great for quick transit from JFK, but watch out for the subway connections. We hit a snag trying to catch the E from Jamaica Station, which was closed for the weekend. Better to have taken the LIRR and transfer again at Penn Station, rather than ended up on the slow NYC bus “shuttle” through neighborhoods of Queens.
Tomorrow night, I fly back to Seattle. Today, I reconnected with two old friends. One, I hadn’t seen in 15 years since I moved to Provo, UT. C & I met in the afternoon. The other I’d seen sooner, maybe 7 years ago. I spent Saturday evening with Jean and her friends. Both have so much meaning in my past, I could tell stories for hours. I didn’t take their pictures though. Maybe next time. It didn’t feel necessary in the moment; I’m not sure why.
Before I saw them, we started the day at Another Broken Egg. This is the 2nd outpost of a place east of Baton Rouge, in Mandeville. My mom’s talked up this place for the last year and now I know why. The Redfish Benedict is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in Baton Rouge; maybe one of the best things I’ve eaten for breakfast. The dish incorporated pan-seared redfish on french toast, with two poached eggs covered in andouille hollandaise sauce. I hesitated on ordering — wasn’t I trying to avoid heavy sauces after a Summer of gastronomic excess?
Well, after consulting with the waiter and even considering their Crabcakes Cavallo, I went for the redfish over the crab (seemingly similar, but replace the redfish with shrimp and crab cakes). It’s one of the most rewarding decisions I made all trip. This is another place I’m taking Mr. T the next time we visit. Address info at the bottom of this entry.
Then I was at the Capitol again while my mom had really, truly, finally tied up all the loose ends. I spent some time wandering the halls at the Capitol, taking pictures of the art deco lanterns in the Senate, House, and back hallways.
In the evening with Jean, we helped her friends organize their grandmother’s recipes to make a cookbook for Christmas. Since I love vintage, community-driven cookbooks like a fat kid loves cake (& uh, me too!), I was thrilled to participate. We deciphered the recipes — many didn’t have titles. We sorted. And finally, we designed layouts to preserve recipe scraps and the handwriting. I hope I see the final product someday, in some form.
one of the retro recipes
Today was my mom’s last official day of work, ever. Before I went to visit pick her up at the end of the day, I went to lunch at Roberto’s River Road which is surprise! on River Road, along the Mississippi, southeast of Baton Rouge. It’s officially in St. Gabriel, but Sunshine and Plaquemine both seem to like to make claim on it.
I had stuffed shrimp wrapped in bacon, deep-fried. It was awesome, but what caught my attention was the side of corn. I’m recreating that at home. Also, I finally had “Sensation Salad.” I say finally as I’ve since learned that it’s a Baton Rouge classic but you could’ve fooled me as I never heard of it. (A twist on a Caesar. I’d share a pic, but it ain’t purdy.) I’m bringing Mr. T back at Christmas the holidays. I’ve already got a few dishes lined up. They’re open for lunchtime and dinnertime, but closed every Sunday and Monday.
Near Roberto’s — I’ve wanted to stop to take pictures of this decommissioned General Store for years
I went back downtown. While I waited for my mom again, I walked around some more. The capitol guards struck up conversations about digital cameras. I was impressed how they seemed to know more about my camera than I did.
Washington’s step at the capitol
Then I found Strands Café, thanks to a tip from Eliza. I ordered a prosciutto & provolone croissant, a chocolate croissant, and a lemon meringue tart to try over the weekend. (All were classically great.) I ordered an Iced Orinoco Mocha for the moment. Strands is a gem, a coffeeshop with great pastries and exquisite chocolates. I got to talking with the owner as they were winding down. She grew up in Baton Rouge, graduated from my high school, moved away, spent time at Le Cordon Bleu in Sydney, and came back last year to open her place. If I lived here, I’d visit all the time.
Once my mom was ready, we headed home to get ready for her final dinner with her colleagues. We went to a hibachi grill (akin to Benihana) and I gotta say, I had a great time.
Sidebar: I kept hearing radio commercials for this haunted house and saw it on our way. I wish it fit into my schedule this trip.
(I kept the underexposed image for the creepier effect.)
I went with my mom in the afternoon to attend a colleague’s retirement party. (My mom is also retiring this week.) Wandered the grounds around her work a bit.
My mom kept all the postcards I sent her from trips I’ve taken in the last five years on her office wall. If you click through to Flickr, I labeled each card’s location.
Early this morning, I flew out of Seattle to get to New Orleans via Minneapolis. My first time in the land of ten thousand lakes, long overdue.
It was my favorite kind of flight: uneventful. I worried heading to the airport since I couldn’t figure out which airline would actually be my carrier. The Alaska/NWA/Delta info was ambiguous. I couldn’t get pre-assigned seats. Turned out flights weren’t full and I scored aisles and half empty rows.
After I arrived, we stopped for dinner in Ascension Parish at Sno’s. I went for the stuffed softshell crab.
Up bright and early to head back to Seattle.
Tonight, book club. This month: The Yiddish Policeman’s Union. I give it a C+. I was pretty proud I finished, but it was a slog. Reading shouldn’t be that.
I might’ve enjoyed something from this rack, better.
Re: the Diana story — what is this, 1995?
Behold: the Giant Pi. At the lavender farm on San Juan Island.
Last night during the UW-LSU game, Mr. T’s Dad suggested we take a daytrip up to the San Juans. I like to take visitors on a ferry ride while they’re here, since it’s one of my favorite things to do. I’d been thinking Bainbridge, since I’m familiar – I’d never been to the San Juans though have always wanted to go. I envisioned making elaborate plans for a first visit which seemed to stall efforts…see? Spontaneity is the way to go — without any over-planning, this morning, my mom & bro, Mr. T & me, and his parents headed north for a 10:55 Anacortes ferry time.
I’d heard of the Pig War over the years, but once arriving realized these Islanders seemed as reminiscent as some Confederate reenactment enthusiasts are about the Conflict between the States. (Or the War of Northern Aggression, depending on your ancestry.) As we settled into the Front Street Ale House shortly after noon, I noticed a poster soliciting participants in the “Pig War Re-inactment” (sic). So, you know, if you’re into that, head on up.
San Juan Brewing’s Front Street Ale House is great. Perfectly situated near the ferry terminal, with unique spins on pub menus and quirky proprietors. We sampled their Bacon Beer, but the swine was subtle to the point of being invisible. I had their Ale Braised Bacon Caprese Grilled Cheese. House-made bacon + caprese ingredients, all in a sandwich = it made my day. Most everyone else in our party had delicious tempura fish and chips. Mr. T & his Dad raved about the beer.
After lunch, we walked Friday Harbor then piled back into the van to check out the original American Camp, a lavender farm with massive sculptures installed throughout the grounds, Lime Kiln Point State Park for possible whale-watching, English Camp, then finally Roche Harbor. More pics are here.
They take crap from anyone. (Nice!)
We made the 6:55 ferry back to Anacortes. We tried to patronize Anacortes’ Greek Islands Restaurant once on the mainland, but they close at 8. Instead, we hit up Esteban’s. I wouldn’t send anyone out of their way to a place that’s not exactly authentic but boy did this place nail its genre. Amerimex cuisine with good service, newly painted Autumn scenes in the windows, and unlimited chips and salsa. It was the perfect small-town end to a day reminiscent of my childhood road trips. We were home by 10:30.
Two days into our trip, Mr. T’s coworkers talked of the Saturday San Francisco Street Food Festival. I know Seattle plans to have one soon in SLU, but this seemed like such great luck to have our trip coincide.
After scoping out massive crowds, we decided to hit up Humphry Slocombe first. Our ice cream flavors: Peanut Butter Curry for him, Ancho Chocolate + Cinnamon Brittle for me. I also tried Secret Breakfast (bourbon + cornflake), Prosciutto ice cream, and Pepper + Mint (wicked good). The day’s flavors are in this picture.
We headed back to the fair before waiting for another local friend to meet up with us.
Crowds were deep. The festival was far more well-attended than organizers anticipated. And frankly I spent the last two days of our trip feeling full — the ice cream for brunch didn’t help matters. So I didn’t want to spend time in lines 50-100 deep. I wandered, looking for photo ops. The sheer variety of what was considered a small sampling of San Francisco’s culinary scene made me feel like I’d found my Mecca.
This guy looked like good people. I almost got in line after watching him work the crowd of onlookers.
I know what to get gastrognome for Hanukkah:
We hung around for the Mission for longer than planned since the neighborhood seemed a black hole for cell communication and there were a lot of crossed messages. Sadly, we missed out altogether on spending more time with a couple of folks, but Pete came out to find us since we had our plans a little more solid with him. He took us away from the Mission, into the fog through Golden Gate Park and over to the Beach Chalet. We hung out for a bit before heading back to SFO to return to Seattle.
See you next month, San Francisco!
———-
Humphry Slocombe is at:
2790 Harrison Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
Mr. T’s colleagues travelled en masse to the Mission for lunch at La Taqueria. Dessert at Mission Pie put me over the edge. I was still full by dinner at Town Hall, where they were covering New Orleans’ greatest hits. I caught the bridge above during our walk back to the hotel.
Afterward, we met friends at Absinthe Bar & Brasserie in Hayes Valley. We’d met the owner in New Orleans in March…the drinks we tried in NOLA were great again, but anything new was a travesty. Ah well. Company of koroshiya & Jared more than made up for it. I hope we see ‘em again on our next trip back to the Bay Area!
For this other picture – if Jen was our bartender at our first stop — Town Hall, our fellow patrons were right on:
Today’s goal was Chez Panisse in Berkeley. I had an amazing lunch in the cafe: heirloom tomato salad + house made spaghetti arrabiata + Meyer lemon ice cream with Mexican wedding cookies. (I have a long history of loving those cookies, the ice cream just made it all the better.)
Afterward, I spent time in the Ferry Building near our hotel and took the picture at the top.
For dinner, we went to Anchor and Hope. We followed dinner with Rye SF. Both were marginal.
I still haven’t sorted it out, but I wasn’t compelled to take the “real” camera out today. Most were from my phone.
Mr. T had some business to attend to in San Francisco, so we took the opportunity to spend a few days there together. We took an evening flight, our first on Virgin’s service from Seattle to San Francisco. It was an okay flight, but we were stuck in front of the noisiest potheads ever. After several mix-ups and problems at the Hyatt Regency San Francisco, we got our room settled by 11. It wasn’t the greatest start, but I take these things as good omens.
I’d thought we’d settle for midnight In ‘n Out, but instead we walked to 15 Romolo in North Beach. I’d learned about them in a great SF Chronicle article about late night dining.
We had an heirloom tomato salad, jambalini (jambalaya croquettes), their burger & fries. All of it was amazing. Next time I’m in San Francisco, I’m headed here after a late night flight. As they say on their site & menu — they are “delicious, not precious.” Precisely!
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.
This is the price and the promise of citizenship.
This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.
This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.
So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled.
————————————————
I started to write something very different about the morning I spent with friends at the Palace Ballroom downtown. I can sum that part up: excellent food, excellent company, followed by walking through downtown and the Pike Place Market. I reread Obama’s speech tonight, to capture a quote here and my thoughts moved in an alternate direction.
Since the election, I’ve studiously avoided naysayers and their negativity that would sap joy and my happiness out of this Inaugural occasion. I wouldn’t pretend I’m without any cynicism as I have years of habits to undo. But it’s remarkable how stark and ugly and, frankly, confining it seems now. I’ve noticed that this shift in avoiding negativity in one aspect of my life was just ever so slight, but it’s becoming enough to change the ground beneath, beyond politics.
We spent last night in Portland, as planned. As I always expect with the Ax, we had a late, late night in the PDX, leading to a late start south to Ashland. He is a brilliant host and was in rare form Friday night.
We arrived in time for the end of a Wedding Eve BBQ. Then, we narrowly skipped the chance to see Comedy of Errors at the Oregon Shakepeare Festival. But, Mr T was hungry. As he’d so kindly driven the entirety of the 8 hours from Seattle thus far, I didn’t push the issue and we bid Captain Amy and the Butcher to have fun while we wandered the town.
Ashland makes its name catering to the Festival-goers. We’re lucky to have found Louie’s, a place with American standards (burgers, pizza, fancy sammies, tacos) with a nod to bistro presentation but not the prices. The food was excellent and the setting was nearly perfect.
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