ARNAUD’S – A FRENCH QUARTER TRADITION FOR NEARLY A CENTURY

ARNAUD’S –PART 2

Operated by the Casbarian family since 1979, Arnaud's fed as well.

Here’s what we had:

·         Arnaud's fabled cap bread, a warm loaf of French bread wrapped neatly in a cloth. Customers are encouraged to break the bread together and cover their table in crumbs.  We did so, till the loaf was gone.

·         A pair of French 75 cocktails – citrus, sugar and a lovely blend of champagne and cognac. Yum.

·         Shrimp bisque that would make founder and French wine salesman Arnaud Cazenave proud.

·         Oysters Kathryn -- artichoke hearts, garlic, fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano and extra-virgin olive oil (our favorite out of a good half dozen cooked oyster selections)

·         Soufflé Potatoes (we’re stealing the back story directly from the menu) Legend has it that Collinet, French King Louis Phillipe’s (reign 1830-1848) chef unintentionally created soufflé potatoes by plunging already fried potatoes into extremely hot oil to reheat them when the King arrived late for dinner one night. To the Chef’s surprise and the king’s delight, the potatoes puffed up like little balloons. We hope that you will be equally delighted. Served with Béarnaise Sauce.

·         Pontchartrain -- a sautéed fillet topped with fresh Louisiana crabmeat. The fin fish fillet depends on what was fresh caught. Drum was what the kitchen had during our visit and it was tasty.

·         Crème Brulee – to be fair, the low point of the meal.  The loaf of bread to open the experience was outstanding....worth blowing the diet for.  The pair of small crème brulees that came to our table could have come from a faraway kitchen that provides routine desserts.

·         Café Brûlot -- Coffee, lemon and orange rinds, cloves, cinnamon sticks and Orange Curacao. Flamed with Brandy and made tableside.   We’re usually not big on tableside productions, but this was worth it.  Our young wait person yielded to a graybeard to come over and perform the dangerous-looking creation of this concoction. Even with cloves, orange rinds and liquor, the Café Brûlot is surprisingly smooth.

 http://www.arnaudsrestaurant.com

 

ARNAUD’S – A FRENCH QUARTER TRADITION FOR NEARLY A CENTURY

ARNAUD’S –PART 1

 

Arnaud’s Restaurant is not a hipster foodie hangout.

You will not find truffle oil-infused, miso-crusted cod pork belly sliders on the menu.

You will find comfortable, traditional renditions of fresh fin fish and shellfish from the Gulf.

You will be served by an old school wait staff that predicts your every need, without being intrusive during that special anniversary meal.

You will have a choice of a jazz lounge, one of the best bars in America, private dining rooms, casual dining options and the main dining room, with high ceiling and windows out on the Quarter.

You will be asked to wear a sport coat if you are a gentleman dining in the main dining room.

You will be in comfy, quiet confines – no mean feat considering how close the Arnaud’s complex to the most boozy, touristy, noisy stretch of Bourbon Street.

You will enjoy outstanding wheelchair access from curb to table – not always a certainty in the ancient French Quarter buildings.  My wife is a wheelchair user and the wait staff accommodated us without making an embarrassing fuss over her wheelchair.

You will eat real creole food, not the bastardized stuff that comes out of so many allegedly authentic kitchens.

813 Bienville St   (504) 523-5433

Formal dining room open 6-10 p.m. 7 days.

www.arnaudsrestaurant.com

EARTHBOUND TOMBOY -- THE BEST DISABILITY ISSUES BLOG EVER

LIFE IS A BULLRING

 

By Heidi Johnson-Wright

 Inspiration and strength sometimes come from unexpected places: the hues of a twilight sky, a silly escapade, a song lyric.

My husband and I were on a trip to Spain when we visited the Andalusian town of Ronda. It’s a lovely spot suspended over a canyon with three iconic bridges. Madonna fans will recall it depicted in gorgeous sepia tones in the “Take a Bow” video.

One afternoon, my husband and I dined at a lovely café, leisurely enjoying lunch and two bottles of Rioja. Next door was the bullring. No corrida de toros that day, but tours were available. We couldn’t resist.

After a pass through the arena’s small museum, we explored the field. Perhaps it was the joy of a pleasant day or the wine or both. I found myself possessed by the spirits of matadors past. I stood up and begin swooping my red jacket like a cape, daring my wheelchair to come at me, its handles like the horns of a bull. My husband began shooting photos as I posed, spurred on by the shouts of an imaginary crowd.

Perhaps it was silly, merely the momentary playfulness of a tipsy woman on vacation. But when we returned home, and I reviewed the pictures, I recalled the lyrics of a song I love. It was “Jean the Birdman,” by English singer-songwriter David Sylvian:

Life is a bullring

For taking risks and flouting rules

Who needs a safety net

The world is open wide

Just look out for card sharks

And the danger signs

I printed out one of my husband’s photos with the lyrics typed below. I posted it on my office wall.

On days when my pain flares or I’m anxious or things are just not going well, I look at the photo.

If only in my mind’s eye, I‘m back in Ronda -- clad in a bullfighter’s spectacular traje de luz – and life seems full of possibilities and adventure.  

http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com

TESTING THE TABS

from EARTHBOUND TOMBOY blog

 

By Heidi Johnson-Wright

It’s sometimes hard to gage how folks see you when you have an obvious disability. In their eyes, are you a pitiable creature, a thing to be loathed, a fetish object or simply another human being? I occasionally assume the worst about TABS – the temporarily able bodied. I catch myself now and then presupposing someone harbors bigoted views, even if they don’t.

When I was younger, I used to secretly put others through tests. Perhaps it wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but it seemed necessary at the time. I would make a new friend or meet a cute guy who was boyfriend material, then see how they would react to my disability in certain situations. I was B. F. Skinner and they, my lab rats.

When I went away to college at 17, I had my first personal care attendant that wasn’t a family member. I felt an immediate connection to her. She was enthusiastic but not fawning, and clearly had a sense of humor. She seemed perfect. Or was she?

One day shortly after Lexie had begun working for me, we were in the dorm bathroom. She was helping me with my morning ablutions. We were telling jokes – some cheeky, others raunchy – to pass the time. When it was my turn, I told her a joke that poked fun at disabled people but was straight-up hilarious. She laughed and shook from her head to her toes. Other people I’d told that joke to had frozen just after I delivered the punch line, afraid to laugh. Lexie showed no such fear. She passed my test with flying colors.

The tests I devised for boys were different. If -- when I first met them – I’d been walking, I made sure they’d see me later in my wheelchair. I then watched their reactions. Did their faces show shock or disgust? Discomfort or curiosity?

If a boy passed my initial test, then he moved to the next level. On a first or second date, I’d be sure to hold his hand at the restaurant or movie theater. My hope was he’d be at ease being seen with a disabled chick in public. Usually, he passed. Usually.

Looking back, I realize that my little tests were as much about my own presumptions and biases as anyone else’s. I wasn’t yet comfortable in my own skin and sometimes projected my discomfort on others. Now in my fifth decade of living with a disability, I can finally admit it. 

http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com/2014/11/testing-tabs.html 

EARTHBOUND TOMBOY: Person First Language

THE POWER OF WORDS

By Heidi Johnson-Wright

I’ve never been a fan of terms like “handi-capable,” “differently-abled,” and “special” when it comes to describing people with disabilities. They come off as trivializing, and make it sound like folks can’t deal honestly with their disabilities. I always imagine such terms were coined by someone who has never lived with a disability and dots each letter “i” with a tiny heart.

I dislike the word “handicapped” but I’m cool with the word “disabled.” And I’m a fan of people-first language. For those unfamiliar with the term, PFL is a way of speaking and referring to people with disabilities that respects them as human beings, rather than dehumanizes them. It emphasizes the person first and the disability, second. A man with a disability, not a disabled man. A woman who is blind, not a blind woman.

PFL represents more respectful, accurate ways of communicating. People with disabilities are not their diagnoses or disabilities; they are people, first.

I also cringe when I see disability stereotypes trotted out by the media. You’ve probably seen them yourself. Putting the person with a disability on a pedestal. Depicting a person with a disability as dependent or as an object of pity. Representing the person as having special talents or abilities because of his or her disability, i.e. the blind person who’s musically gifted.

I could live a long, happy life without ever again reading one more tear-jerking human interest story about incurable diseases or severe injuries. I’d like to see more stories that focus on issues of quality of life for folks who are disabled. Issues such as accessible transportation, housing, employment opportunities and social interaction.

Disability is a natural part of the human condition. The folks with disabilities I’ve met (and myself, too) would rather be known for the things that reflect on their character or their essence as human beings. They would rather be known as a devoted parent or a successful attorney or an amateur gourmet chef rather than as someone with a brace on their leg or someone who wears hearing aids.

So, please: no more heroic overachievers or long-suffering saints. No more cutesy terms that set the teeth on edge. No more stigmatizing words that leave a sting.

Just people – like everyone else.

http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com

MOTHER'S RESTAURANT -- OUR #1 NEW ORLEANS DESTINATION

Mother's Restaurant in New Orleans is so good that we've made four hotel bookings based on the properties being within walking distance of Mother's in the Central Business District.

That's how good it is.

In a city with 100s of good restaurants, we've been known to dine at Mother's once a day for four or five days in a row.

During a recent visit, we braved driving, sideways rain and a tornado watch to make it to the corner of Poydras and Tchoupitoulas for ham, biscuits and a Ferdi.

Mother's has been around since 1938.


Though many know it for its stalwart breakfasts -- served all day -- Mother's serves some of the best lunch and dinner comfort food in Louisiana.

What's a Ferdi?

A Ferdi is the best of all worlds:  Mother's famous baked ham on top of roast beef on top of debris -- the super well done juicy drippings of the roast -- on top of a huge po boy bun.

You can get it dressed with lettuce, tomato, yellow and creole mustard.

But we prefer to get it as is -- why would you want veggies and mustards to get in the way of all that meaty goodness?

The biscuits are huge and come stuffed with egg and meat if you chose them.

The meat is three kinds of ham -- baked, fried and Mother's delicacy: black ham...those sweet, crispy, intense end pieces.

Mother's is 100% wheelchair-accessible.

MOTHER'S RESTAURANT 401 Poydras New Orleans, LA 70130

Tel: (504) 523-9656                http://www.mothersrestaurant.net