New Orleans – Sunday Jazz Brunch

Sunday morning was Brunch Day! We slept in late then got ready for our 11 am meal, and what a meal it was. We sauntered over to Arnaud’s Restaurant in the blazing mid-morning sun and we were quickly seated. My co-workers commented as to how colourful we were in comparison to the other guests. I was more concerned regarding the number of people in jeans (and I’m not talking fancy jeans) and khaki shorts than the cultural diversity in the room. I thought this was supposed to be a fine establishment with a time-honoured Sunday Jazz Brunch. We found the service a little lacking. For example, we had to remind them at least twice to bring our bread basket, and close to the end of our meal resorted to making a display of our glasses so someone would realize they were empty.

But the food, a four course “prix fixe” menu, was pretty good and the dixieland jazz trio a delight. We had the Bananas Foster, a dessert created  in the 1950s at another New Orleans establishment, Brennan’s, and it was actually good. I say actually, because I’m not a huge fan of bananas outside of Ghana.  Plus, seeing them create it at the table-side added to its delicacy.

So, I don’t know if it is because I had been eating full meals over the prior couple days but I was so full after brunch. On-the-brink-of-nausea-full. This wasn’t good as the plan was to try Cafe du Monde beignets, those fries at Iris, some more gelato, and dinner later on because one of us badly wanted to try turtle soup.

So we walked around, in and out of stores. A few hours later, determined to try the legendary beignets, we went to Cafe du Monde and split a single serving (3 beignets). We seemed to like Cafe Beignet‘s beignets better, but not because these were bad. Who knows, if we had eaten these first, we may not have liked theirs as much.  We actually then made our way to Iris, to at least try the Sazerac (and likely the fries) but to the relief of our waistlines, Iris was closed. Gluttons I tell you.

So we went home with our full bellies and slept. And slept. And slept. It was so difficult waking up for our dinner reservation. It was at Galatoire’s at 9:30 pm, a reservation made on the spur of the moment the night before in a quest for good turtle soup. Let me tell you, if it wasn’t for that reservation, confirmed again during the day, I would not have gotten out of bed. Actually, it felt like one last meal too much. Can you imagine begrudgingly being led to another meal? Yet another meal?!

Well, 9:30pm at Galatoire’s is pretty much closing time and it took them a while to find a clean table to sit us at. Now it could be because we still had sleep in our eyes, but everything was so subdued. The patrons here seemed old and stuffy. I would have to conclude that these are New Orleans residents who probably have been coming to this establishment for the past, oh, four, five decades or so! The anticipated turtle soup arrived and it didn’t look like much. I guess in hindsight, if one wants to really try a dish, they should try not to get the scraps at the bottom of the pan. I mean, they were closing down all around us. I doubt they were putting any effort in the food creation in the kitchen. I had a salad – seriously, no space in the inn. The vegetarian platter? It ended up being the dreaded plate of assorted grilled vegetables. They looked rather sad.

We skipped dessert and walked along Bourbon Street popping into bars here and there. Sunday was definitely quieter, but not your typical Sunday quiet.