There was this restaurant which hadn’t been on my radar as a destination, but the one we’d meant to go to told us on the phone Our last seating is at 8:45 on Sunday, and it was 8:35 already, so.
So we opted for this New American place also in the Bywater. Trendy. When we arrived it was Well, no reservation, give me a few minutes, trust me and after 15 minutes of being ignored by the bar and searching our phones for alternatives, he gave us a table that had been empty in plain sight since we walked in. It’s like they want to make you sweat and make the reservation-rule-abiders feel good and special.
Anyway we had a pretty smashing meal and a nice Alsatian blend and got friendly with our server, who turned out to be a recent-ish transplant, a singer, in love with the city, on that arc, that high note where you’re meeting people and making things happen. We talked with her at length after meal service had finished and she told us about a bar farther out that she liked, so we decided Fuck it let’s go.Continue reading “A Late Sunday in The Bywater “
That great mechanical pencil got lost last Thursday, when I’d got about halfway through this drawing– lost it on the walk home I guess. So I had to go buy a new one. A changing of the guard; turning point, perhaps.
(Or Bacchanal on the rainy day)
Here is a pencil drawing I did this evening of the wine store/bar in Bywater that Ben and I fell in love with. The place was at the ass-end of Chartres Street, in an Industrial/residential milieu that definitely grabbed our Brooklyn-based minds (Think Gowanus area). This patchwork-quilt of a building, in particular, looked like a gracefully crumbling chateau frozen in time between shotgun homes and the military base/aged-industrial bend in the wide river.
Below are a very, very few selects from the photographs I took during our recent trip to New Orleans. I will be adding a rather large amount to my Flickr page soon, but for now… (see link under the third photo for more)
UPDATE: There are loads of images on flickr now– click HERE to see those.
Wednesday afternoon, first stop after checking into our hotel: Pimm’s cups at the crumbling delight that is the Napoleon House in the French Quarter.
The lovely decrepit doors of Preservation Hall