A Pig Eats in NOLA (pt.2)

Like I said, our trip was mostly aimed at warmth and eating. So while it was blissfully warm out, it also happened to be incredibly humid. (Which despite my skin and makeup looking phenomenal for the first time since Hawaii, my hair ended up being a legitimate knot.) Whatever though. I like to think I rocked some sort of Blake Lively messy side-braid and most of my pictures don't have closeups so it looks cool from far away. #lifehack

The food was fantastic. We ate at some chains but this will be the first time in ages I withheld judgement. Good food is good food and the fresh seafood was impossible to beat. When you live in the Midwest, you are naturally suspicious of all seafood and seafood bearing restaurants. Fresh? Just flown in? What, do you FedEx it overnight with my Amazon order? Everyday??? Is that why this meal costs exactly my rent and cell phone bill combined? 

In any case, read on if you're on a diet or not hungry and are a masochist.

Oysters. Oysters are everywhere. If you're a texture person, I beg you to make your first time trying Oysters somewhere off of a coast. They are velvety, smooth (not chewy) and just a little bit briney. Not much, but just barely enough to make you want one more to try and catch that drop of the ocean to savor one more time.

Oh, so you like garlic and butter and some spicy seasoning that I can't quite identify as cajun or creole, breadcrumbs, parmesan, and epic amounts of sodium? Why, yes, I do, too. Charbroiled oysters are where it's at. This was our first meal in NOLA and it set us up for an addiction to the shelled delights that I can't quite shake. 

We were under the impression and unfortunate assumption that Crawfish/Seafood Boils would be a big thing in Louisiana,  so we fruitlessly searched and asked around to no avail. We did, however, find a fun tourist spot to sit down and engage in the delicate act of eating crawfish. 

By delicate, I mean not at all, because you man-handle this crustacean accepting that you will, in fact, end up with shells in your hair and lemon juice in your eye. It's not a sexy meal to watch someone eat but the reward is sweet, indeed. 

I'd only ever had crawfish in buffets before but those will never compare. They literally pale in comparison to these delights and although I wither at the whole animal concept when it's presented to me to take into hand (literally) if I want to eat, these were the tasty morsels to convince me that it is oh, SO worth it.

A favorite food of mine has made a monster out of me. Fried chicken. I don't know what it is, but I have a serious affection for good and thoughtful fried chicken. I recently tried that chain stuff and was legitimately sick for a day after eating it. Manfriend and I have put it on our 'banned list' unless we're having a biscuit and honey packet shortage that we just can't overcome.

Anyway, Fiorella's on the edge of the Quarter is a little den of heaven. Seafood, although delicious can feel insubstantial and sometimes you just want to be full.  This fried chicken, although different in texture and flavor was crispy and all the right kinds of juicy.  The breading was just heavy enough where it wouldn't peel away from the meat leaving you with the fake battle we all wage of "Should I eat the best part of this fried chicken or pretend like I'm in it for the meat...?", where you inevitably lose and make some excuse about hungry children in Africa or whatever.

A shining star that I can't get over is the Red Beans and Rice-- the side that came without flourish to our chicken. What the what? How have I been missing this important line of Sir Mix-a-lot's greatest hit and the South's staple? Nobody told me it would be this good. I mean, there's bacon in it. Or some kind of bacony bit. I don't even need to know but I will dream of this meal for years to come and I will make many attempts on red beans and rice in the interim.

Mint Juleps When in the south, you should be required to drink Mint Juleps. In New Orleans in particular, people are partial to the Sazerac. It's not my cup of tea but it's bold if you like sweet citrus flavors with hints of Absinthe. I personally loved the Gin Fizz I had at the Roosevelt Hotel. The bartender was absolutely artistic in how he made this cocktail and it was worth the hype. Whoever invented that little diddy back in the 30's gets my personal thanks and a high-five.

The local beer was good although I can't say I had much of it. Beer gets me full and full means less room for food. So, there's that.



Merchant
Our hotel was next to this adorable restaurant, Merchant. Aside from everyone inside being insanely friendly, the food was phenomenal. Originally we went in just to get grub and go but chatting with the staff, and who I think was the owner of tags and our epic search of a seafood boil left us laughing and too entertained to leave. Off the beaten path, this place is adorable and won't smell like tourist (i.e. me). Sure to become a staple for the city, based on staff alone but don't worry the crepes (arugula, proscuitto and balsamic) are a definite given to winning you over.

We had crepes at Cafe du Monde and Cafe Beignet, and I won't write about them because the lines speak for themselves. Just go. Go often. Bring something to do while you wait, because there's always a line, but do not mistake this for a tourism trap-- it's loyalty and worthiness leaking out of glorious tiny balls of dough. So just go.

The capstone to our trip was our grand finale dinner. We sought far and wide for a seafood boil and despite not having experienced one first-hand, this made up for it.

Turtle Soup
Yes. It's exactly what it sounds like and I haven't been able to look at the turtle emoji since. Why I feel so much guilt, I don't know because I probably eat foods that people's Grandma's used to keep as pets, too. But with some encouragement, I pressed past my memories to dive in. The stew is a dark and brooding mixture-- undercurrents of heat swam in each bite but not enough to actually burn you-- just enough to keep you waiting for the bite so you continue to eat until you realize that the low and fleeting warmth it all you'll get. The texture of the turtle was similar to a small, cooked oyster. This particular version at Tableau wasn't so well done that I'd write home about it, but for the sake of trying it, I did, and I didn't hate it. If someone tells me there is a place with the most amazing turtle soup in the world, I will go and try it again with my head held high and full of expectation.

Frissee
What is more French than Beignets and Frissee? Not much, and I was most certainly elated to try this dish. The sun was setting and I was buzzed from my French 75, so upon finishing my bout with guilt and turtle soup, I devoured this salad. With all intents to order an entree, I was stuffed and pleased that I had to force myself to order dessert. Don't be fooled by the playful greens-- the potatoes are substantial and covered in a clarified butter that counteracts the vinaigrette, and you won't have enough time to breathe between bites leaving you full and content.

We had some butterscotch pudding to finish and there was no time for photos. You'll just have to go down to New Orleans and check out these spots yourself. But not alone. Because I'll go with you.

My heart goes out to you New Orleans for opening up a world of flavor and a dimension of eating I'll never forget!

xoxo

Relax, it's Summertime!

There are a lot of songs going through my head that ring up under summer cliche but somehow none of them seem to capture the joy that summer can evoke.

The southern half of our country can probably start rolling their eyes now, but nothing is so sweet in the Midwest (or "North" if you're of the new school) as the warm scent of grass and evaporating rain climbing through your open windows.

It's overwhelming to try and do everything-- the picnics, the parties, the relaxing -- it all takes time, commitment to being organized and frankly can be straight up stressful. And although I wouldn't trade being exhausted by the endless on-the-go that summer brings, fall is often a welcome respite.

But instead of wishing away one of my favorite seasons, I'm going to try and squeeze in a few extra hours into my days specifically for myself so that the next few months don't seem so daunting.

• Aside from trying to train for the half, I want to read more books. I'm considering converting back to paper but audio books are perfect for road trips (of which I have many) and they have been a great treat during my runs (don't worry Queen Bey still makes her usual appearance during the jaunt).

• I want to start cleaning out my closet (again). The purge feels so refreshing and kind of freeing to get rid of pieces that don't fit you 'just so'.

• Of course, I want to be great about my training for the race. And I think this will be a great way to learn some discipline for the sake of learning.

• I want to start building up my barcart. As a former bartender, it seems foolish not to treat yourself to one great drink at home every once in a while. Obviously wine is amazing but there's something special about whipping up a drink and sipping it in your pajama pants. Does that count as a life hack?

• I want to go on a road trip to find the perfect Midwest seafood. After #KChohandJCoDoNO my heart still aches for the brine of a fresh oyster or the sharp kick of creole seasonings. I won't settle for the fact that fresh is the only version of best-- not with all the amazing chefs and restaurants popping up in the city like hotcakes (see what I did there?).

I just made up that last one but I think it's important to have goals that aren't too serious. It gives the others perspective and you something to look forward to. No love lost if I don't find the perfectly tasty seafood treat between ND and WI but I can at least enjoy the thrill of the hunt. (Think: California Dark Beer Tour 2009).

Side note: I'm thinking of taking my food adventures on the road and investing in a camera to capture all their glory. What do you think?

What will you do to keep sane in these seemingly crazy summers?

Moved by the Stars ... to Run?

It isn't very often I get time to stargaze. I have a lot of trouble grasping the vastness that encompasses our solar system and the galaxies beyond when I'm not looking toward the heavens for the answers they might provide. But in most of the big decisions of my life that come in the form of an epiphany I have noted that they are always made under watch of the moon and the Milky Way.

If you've followed my Insta or read my last post, you know I've been traveling for love and leisure alike as of late. Wedding season is upon us and it has made me consider life quite a bit lately. Perhaps it's the repetition of telling people what you're doing with your life that makes you wish you had something cooler to say, or the inevitable groan that follows when people ask you, "When are you getting married?".

Never-the-less, I finally have a moment to gain some perspective on life and last night, while searching for Orion's Belt with man friend, something in me shifted and I made a decision (or two).

I have wanted to be a "runner" for a while. I have run casually in the past and even done a race or two with friends for fun. I thought that maybe the high would last long enough to propel me to my next race and I could begin a stead habit of running for sport and leisure. I've been slacking wholeheartedly in the exercise category also, so it felt inevitable that I would have to make a choice sooner than later. (My metabolism has contentedly decided to catch up to my age and take it's sweet toll on my body-- something I had hoped would happen a few years down the line yet.)

Alas, now that the dust has settled for a little while and with the peace of a relaxing Sunday with nowhere to be, a clear head can prosper. Which apparently means using the inspiration from your friends to sign up for a half marathon.

Um, what? So much for staying relaxed, dust settling, and that kind of whatnot.

I figured I should stop wishing I could and making excuses for why I shouldn't (middle school sprained ankle anyone?). Turning this introspection into action seems like a big leap, and although I'm terrified that I'll get injured, die or embarrass myself in some other way on this run, I've got just over 4 months to become the "runner" I always wanted to be.

Any advice out there? (Excluding my little brother who happens to run marathons for funsies and ran college track-- stop showing off already, jeesh!)

Maybe my next epiphany will be more leisure oriented like Ice Cream Fridays or Siesta Sundays.

Look forward to more scribblings on this likely painful but exciting experience--inside and out.

Monster Dash Half Marathon, I'm comin' for ya!

XO

A Pig in NOLA (pt.1)

Read this with a southern accent if you can. It's better that way.

Tourisme 

I'm finally just coming off of my post-vacation high, and accepting that it's over. That real-world-blues that follows shortly after pretending like you aren't a tourist while blatantly doing touristy things is heavy on the heart and almost makes you wonder why you went.

Almost.

I went to #NOLA ya'll! For those of you not in the know, that's Nahlens to you. And boy was it a trip. 

Let me start by saying I never vacation. Like truly vacation. I bought multiple Dr. Scholl's products while on this trip so let that paint the picture for you of how into this I got. I travel quite a bit, but it's almost always based on work which means I always have an agenda--some other motivation that makes me go somewhere for the benefit of getting something done. Last time I checked, vacations are for exactly the opposite. 

And so it was.

After an extremely impulsive afternoon, I found myself with tickets to the Big Easy. And because I never actually take vacations, I didn't actually believe it would happen. With any other sort of good news, I sing it like I'm a Disney villain with a great melody. But this time I was so nervous something would go wrong, that I just sat back and ignored it until the day before I had to start plane hopping. At this point I was more concerned with my 3oz containers that I didn't take the time to research or make any plans.

This is so incredibly unlike me, but so is vacationing so I just rolled with it. Kathy, my partner in crime, and I had only two things in mind: getting to where it was warm hot and stuffing our little brown faces with seafood like the gluttons we aimed to be.

We luckily have similar interests in history, architecture and food so once we hit the city we were thoroughly giddy to just be in a new place, no schedule required. When does that ever happen? When do you ever get to just completely be somewhere and know you are fully present? My mind was genuinely blown away and I will say that overstimulated is an understatement.


New Orleans in itself is fabulous. It's a city that doesn't pretend or give any pretenses about who she is (I think it's a she?). She's flamboyant and romantic and everyone we met was more than happy to tell you how much fun you'd have in this Southeast Sin City.

Bourbon Street is everything you expect it to be at night: full of temptation with beer and daiquiris spilling into the cobblestone streets. In a city filled with this much neon, you feel like you're in a Girls Gone Wild audition on the Vegas strip. It's a bit racy for my Saturn Return-blood but it's hilarious if you accept it for what it is. Or if you imagine a petticoat version of it (I had Louisiana Purchase on the mind a lot).

Of course, in a place hundreds of miles away from your friends and family, you would expect that you run into someone you know and Kathy and I did just that. I think that's the kind of magic Bourbon Street harbors; it's quirky enough where you are not really that shocked and aside from my maxi dress doubling as a bar rag on the post-downpour streets, I'd say I would have enjoyed people watching into the wee hours of the morning. (Note: The bars don't close in New Orleans with the exception of one hour every year. One. Hour.)

We actually stumbled onto Bourbon by accident. We arrived early and needed to kill time before check-in and found ourselves wandering 75% of the French Quarter before dinner time. My fitness tracker told me we walked roughly a half marathon. On the first day. Genius, right?

Giving my feet a break and trying to look discreet about it.

Wrong. Insert the inserts. In a desperate attempt to save my feet, I tried multiple Dr. Scholl's inserts and only met demi-success with one set. I only tell you this because it was a significant part of my morning so if you go to NOLA, wear comfortable sandals (Not closed shoes because: Your feet + humidity for 12 hours = just throw those shoes away.)

Preservation Hall. I love Louis Armstrong so it's an honor to be in a city that adores him and keeps his spirit alive through his brassy tool. Everywhere you went there was music trickling in from not too far or next to you if you're lucky. See my favorite tuba here. So when presented with going to a jazz concert I imagined some variation on our Middle School Jazz Pops concert right before the whole band came on stage-- some organized situation with chairs and tiered seating but I couldn't have been more wrong. Preservation hall is the size of my college dorm room with the closets removed. It's dark and all exposed wood with a few benches meant for you to snipe for relief on your toes should you have been lucky enough to wait the hour in line to get up front. As soon as the music began, however, I was sent back into time.

Louie, Ella and the whole gang were going to show up in a bit to play me some jazz in our parlour room. Suddenly I was wary of police coming in to bust us for violating noise restrictions but we were going to bring down the house in the meantime. 

The beauty of the south is nobody is in a rush and it worked so well because neither were we. The majority of our time was spent "lollygagging" as my grandma would call it. Along the way we stopped for some museum tours and accidentally stumbled on a National Mint museum. My favorite, of course, was the Pharmaceutical Museum. We walked past it and it caught my eye when it was closed, which only heightened my giddiness when it was open for $5 tours the next day. The curator was phenomenal and presented a plethora of information on 19th century medicine that makes you question current medicine considering the outrageous treatments society used to think helped them but in fact killed them (think Belladonna and gold cased pills).

The tourism part--if you embrace it-- is very entertaining in a place like New Orleans. People love to tell you about the city, it's history, it's nooks and crannies and I loved hearing about it. It led to some amazing historical sites and of course fabulous places to eat. In fact, they're especially adamant about the food. It was glorious. Oh, what did we eat? Well funny story...