The Big Easy

New Orleans is a party town like no other. With their anthem song in my head “when the Saints come marching in” and “WHO DAT” rolling off my tongue…we partied hardy in celebration of our dear friend Joe’s Jazzfest, lovefest, and foodfest birthday weekend. You can hear the music playing all day long in the streets from the BBQ festival in Lafayette square to the brass band escorting us to dinner to our very own “Felson Five” jamming together for yet another gig. Eats were plentiful at Dick and Jenny’s, August, and NOLA.   Muffalettas at Mothers, Po Boys at Johnny’s, and Beinets at Cafe Du Monde. It’s the home of the fried fare.  Southern hospitality was rampant especially at the grand Dame of old line restaurant Galatorires…Authentic French Creole and jackets required even for lunch. The beauty of tradition is that it never changes.  We even made time for a little give back with paint brushes in hand for a non-profit organization, Youth Rebuilding New Orleans started by youth, for youth, following Hurricane Katrina.  Unfortunately, there is still a lot of work to be done in this city with soul.  The weekend was as perfect as the symbol of New Orleans itself, the fleur-de-lis, which is said to represent perfection, light, and life.

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