House of the week: Shotgun on 6th Street

6thst
Picture Pippin on the porch!

No matter how hard I try to steer my focus away from house-hunting, there will always be those stray moments when I find myself drawn to a Curbed post or catching myself before I click on realtor.com in my bookmarks. Today I had one of these moments only to find, yet again, another house to cry for.

Located on 6th Street in the Irish Channel, this 1300 square foot shotgun certainly isn’t a mansion. It isn’t a luxury abode that would find itself in Architectural Digest and it definitely wouldn’t be enough for a couple looking to start a family, but for me? For me it’s just right. Those telltale details that set my heart racing are all present and accounted for: high ceilings; hardwood floors; floor-to-ceiling windows; transoms; and exposed brick fireplace mantels. It’s only two bedrooms and one bath, but that’s plenty for John and I. There’s also an adorable front porch, a cool wrought-iron fence and a sweet patio out back just right for grilling. Continue reading

Still slurping …

What do you think? Have I given in or gone up? In all honesty, I thought creating a new venue on which to spew forth my love for the Crescent City might get the juices flowing again … so to speak. A shmancy new WordPress template seemed like just the fix, after all, who uses Blogger anymore? So here she is (I’m a she, so why can’t my blog be female?), in all her glory. I’ll take all and any feedback, unless you’re just trying to sell me something.

It’s … it’s … an ice cream po-boy?

When it comes to ice cream sandwiches, nothing is finer (in this Bay Area girl’s most humble opinion) than an It’s It. These rather notorious cookie and ice cream sandwiches have been around since 1928 and, regrettably, I tend to judge all other similar confections by their standard.

Now admittedly, It’s-It has gone somewhat downhill since I was a kid. The ice cream isn’t as creamy and the cookies seemed to have shrunk, but I will never forget being a sweaty, hungry 10 year-old girl who was treated to pizza and It’s-Its after a continuous stream of disappointing soft ball games. (*Our coach was flaky and cut out on the team right before our big game, taking all of the candy money we earned with her, but that’s another story). Smooth, dense chocolate ice cream sandwiched by two, chewy oatmeal cookies and dipped in dark chocolate … I can almost taste it.

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Tuning out

I want to be her again. Blissfully unaware, biding my time, plotting my escape to a place that finally understood and accepted me, exactly as I was. This moment was only one year before I made the move. This moment was three years before the levees broke.

My heart is wrenched recalling this moment because it took too damn long to find my home. My heart is wrenched recalling this moment because it was pulled from my grasp after only two short years of euphoria.

My heart is wrenched because this place, while it still somewhat resembles the paradise I lost, is rapidly becoming the place I ran away from … and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Should I run again? Or should I stay and find whatever solace I can among the remnants? Where would I run to?

 

Breaking my fast at Biscuits & Buns on Banks

*Warning – Today I will be venturing into the realm of “too much information.” If you can’t hang with a bit of over sharing, I suggest you ramble on.

In a vain attempt to make a long story short, I suffer from recurrent UTI (a.k.a. urinary tract infection). Over the past several years, it’s gotten so bad that I have developed allergies to all of the typical antibiotics that “cure” UTI. That’s right, I break out into hives (or worse) when ingesting Cipro, Macrodantin, Bactrim (or any of the sulfa drugs), Doxycycline etc. I’ve tried many different remedies or forms of prevention, everything from non-sweetened cranberry juice and herbal extracts to D-Mannose, which, for those of you wondering, doesn’t work.
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Swooning at Shaya

While I realize that everyone and their brother’s mother are waxing poetic about Shaya, I just can’t help jumping on the bandwagon. After all, Alon Shaya was awarded the 2015 James Beard for Best Chef: South and he is the undeniably creative force behind one of Downtown New Orleans’ most popular restaurants Domenica. So I’m getting on the praise train, not only for the above reasons, but also because Shaya is next in line on my (pitifully delayed) blogging schedule and because the restaurant is, without a doubt, fabulous.  Continue reading

House of the week: Greek Revival on Philip St.

It seems I will continue to torment myself by searching through long listings of elegant New Orleans-style homes until either I win the lottery, write a best-selling novel or some philanthropic soul becomes empathetic to my misery and gifts me my dream house. What? It could happen!

During my latest tour of self-imposed dolor, I discovered this little beauty on Phillip Street. Naturally, all of the features you know I adore were present and accounted for including the ubiquitous hardwood floors and high ceilings, transoms, ceiling medallions, floor-to-ceiling windows, sliding pocket doors, exposed brick fireplaces and a freaking guest house out back past the courtyard.
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Craving CIBO

Although during hot, summer days like today I tend to hide in the air-conditioned comfort of my apartment, I can’t help but hanker for something to eat that unfortunately, does not reside in my fridge. Since well past the lunch hour, I’ve been craving a good deli sandwich and the closest option in my neck of the woods is the Carrollton neighborhood newcomer dubbed CIBO.

This quaint, Italian-style deli opened up not too long ago in a space that has seen a long train of fairly unsuccessful ventures. For a long time, this little house-turned-restaurant on Carrollton Avenue was the home of Maurice French Pastries, but after they moved out, nothing has really stuck, until now (I hope).

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Melting for Brown Butter Southern Kitchen & Bar

Several months ago, my friend Lorin and I met for lunch at Brown Butter Southern Kitchen & Bar. Located in Mid-City, Brown Butter opened up inside a strip mall early this year and seems to have made quite an impression in the six months following.

The restaurant was already jumping when we arrived, even though it was a bit late in the lunch hour. After saying hello to several people (including food writer Todd Price whom I finally met in person) we sat down and placed our order. Continue reading

Burned again…

While staring at the cursor, flashing in its own mind-numbing way, I tried most strenuously to write about what I enjoy writing (and raving) about, New Orleans’ food. But it wouldn’t come out. The cursor kept right on blinking while my mind kept right on churning about a recent scrape.

Y’all don’t know how difficult it is for me to write right now. My brain is playing this horrid game of back-and-forth between “Kim, just get it out, you’ll feel better” and “Don’t be such a Debbie-downer. No one wants to read that shit!” While I desperately want to talk about a great local restaurant, I’m so incredibly bummed that I let myself get crapped on … yet again … that I’m really not in that warm fuzzy-kind of mood. So here it is:
For free, I submitted 12- 100 word write-ups to a company once called Chowzter (now FoodieHub) on different dishes I thought people visiting New Orleans ought to try. The pitch to me was that they had designed an app and that once they stopped giving it away for free, I would receive 50% of the apps sold in New Orleans. My expectations were not high, but I thought it was a small price to pay to be included in this vast community of exuberant food lovers from all over the globe. Honestly, a lot of the people I’ve met through Chowzter are amazing photographers, writers and epic gourmands who have educated me on the cuisine of places I’ve never visited, and if my luck keeps running this way, likely never will. 
In order to establish presence in different countries, Chowzter held frequent awards ceremonies in cities like London and New York … they even came to New Orleans and feasted at places like Parkway Bakery, Brennan’s, Commander’s Palace and more, exploring what our city had to offer. It pleased me to to see them revel in my home and grant awards to not only the city, but to Coquette in particular for their Smoked Pork Gumbo, which I nominated for consideration in “The Tastiest Feasts of North America.” I also wrote a few articles for their newsletter (for which I was paid, thank goodness) on po-boys, Creole vs. Cajun cuisine and our killer Carnival confection, king cake. 
Just recently, I was going through my emails to discover that there was another awards ceremony, the “FoodieHub Global Awards” for which Willie Mae’s Scotch House won “The Tastiest Fried Chicken in the World” on my nomination. What’s so disturbing about this news was that I never submitted a nomination for anything. Additionally, I didn’t submit the photograph they used on the FoodieHub website, although it most definitely is mine.
So here’s what happened. Because I never responded to the nomination request for the “FoodieHub Global Awards” (emails I discovered in my junk box after-the-fact), someone over there at FoodieHub decided to take a photograph from my blog and nominate Willie Mae’s for me. So kind of them, don’t you think? Not only that … they took the articles that I wrote on po-boys, etc. and re-purposed the images and words into 100-word clips for the app.
When I finally worked up the nerve to call them out on this egregious error a few days later, I got nothing but push back — “But we sent you the nominations email and you never responded” and “here are the emails we sent” — all of which had no bearing on the fact that they essentially stole from me, used my name without my permission and thought it was okay.  
Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad Willie Mae’s won, that the restaurant and our city got a little extra global recognition, but I really wish someone would have asked me first.