Fear and Loathing in New Orleans

New Orleans has a well-deserved reputation for sin, sex and alcohol. Sort of a Disney of Debauchery with more litter. But the biggest shocker is that you can, in fact, bring the kids. And you should.

I went once in my pre-kid days. I had gone to cover Hurricane Georges, a Category 4 monster that turned at the last minute, sparing New Orleans demolishing the coastline near Biloxi. But I loved the taste I got of the city, the jambalaya, the balconies dripping with vines, the music and the unbeatable food. So, we booked a family trip during Lent, calculating the city would be tamer.

Our first stop was Cafe Du Monde, an open air joint that dates back to who knows when and specializes in fried dough doused in confectioners sugar, or “beignet.” (Sounds classy in French, doesn’t it?) Faced with fried dough, er, beignet, my kids looked at me confused, as if an alien had stolen their vegetable-pushing, candy-hating mother and replaced her with a stranger who said odd things like: “You want another beignet? It’s French for fried dough! Have another!”

Then off to a mangrove swamp for a tour. In our case, alligators and snakes lounged on rocks and logs as we puttered by in a pontoon boat. Prehistoric-looking mangrove and cypress trees emerged from the water with huge knots, and Spanish moss drifted down.

In our case, a Cajun man who had been a firefighter told tales of helping his grandmother collect Spanish moss and drying it to stuff his mattress. Less charmingly, he also described alligator hunts and the snake that once dropped from a tree into the boat. It wasn’t one of the poisonous ones but a tourist got so upset that she was hospitalized.

We eyed the trees warily.

The LSH (long-suffering husband) had agreed to New Orleans hoping to see live music — including Preservation Hall — a dingy hall with little seating, no bathroom and the best music north of Brazil. And Preservation Hall — the old jazz, the corny jokes, the raspy singing — was the highlight of the trip. Son sat on pillows up front, close enough he had to duck so he wouldn’t get hit by the trombone. Crazy good music.

When you go, make time for street acts -- magicians, gymnasts with patter and interesting enough mimes that you won’t want to punch them. We also saw Cajun blues legend Coco Robicheaux, and more than a few bands dressed as pirates. (We never did really understand the pirate band phenomenon.) One of the best street bands was an oddball Cajun-ish jazz-ish quartet playing in the street. They were barely in their early 20s, skinny, filthy and the best thing outside Preservation Hall.

People who are better organized than we were would have made plans to take cooking lessons and phoned for reservations to Emeril Lagasse’s restaurants. But in true, New Orleans style, it all worked out. We sat at the bar and had dessert at NOLA. The best bread pudding ever, but kind of a watery Sazerac — a New Orleans drink from the 1800s.

Shut out of our first choice one night, we were pointed to Nora’s — just off Jackson Square — which had an excellent goat cheese tart with a tasty crawfish garnish.

Sunday morning, Palm Sunday, the LSH reluctantly agreed to walk down Bourbon Street with the kids. “How bad can it be?” I said. “Everything will be closed.”

And most places were, although the advertisements don’t get taken down at the end of the evening which is how we got the Bourbon Street Learning Experience.. I hustled the kids past a few posters, hoping they didn’t register. I was wrong of course and a few days later Daughter was overheard telling her cousin knowingly, “‘No cover’ means the ladies don’t wear shirts.”

At a Bourbon Street gift shop, we pushed past the inevitable bins of dried alligator heads (Who BUYS that crap?) so the kids could buy souvenir baseball hats and I bought LSH and me matching “Will Cook for Sex” aprons to wear when the kids are old enough to be humiliated by them. (Okay, so I buy that crap.)

Anyway, I have fantasies that once the kids go off to college that the LSH will join a New Orleans pirate band and I’ll work the door at Preservation Hall. We can live in a tiny French Quarter apartment, eat bread pudding and drink homemade Sazarecs.

Here’s how to make a Sazerac: Take a lowball glass, add a bit of Herbsaint or Ricard and roll it around to coat the outside of the glass. Fill it with ice. Then, in a cocktail shaker, dissolve a teaspoon of sugar in a little water, add 1 to 1/2 ounces of rye, two dashes of Peychaud's bitters and one dash of Angostura bitters. Dump the ice out of the first glass, and pour in the drink. Rub a twist of lemon around the lip, and drop it in. Ah, New Orleans.