Walkin' Back to New Orleans

Actually, I flew back. A couple weeks ago. Sorry, Fats Domino. I'm really sorry, Fats Domino. Don't hate me for flying back to New Orleans. Just don't. And if you don't hate me, I will forgive you for not playing at JazzFest that one year and Lionel Richie came on in your place. Although maybe you were telling the truth that you had some medical condition that prevented you from playing. Actually, Fats Domino, it would be cooler in a way if you just blew it off. I would've admired that "I'm Fats Domino, and I don't give two fucks" attitude.

Since all my restaurant reviews are from the year Zero B.C. and also because we are in Vegan MoFo right now, I thought I'd share my opinions on where to eat in New Orleans if you're a vegan, 2010. The best part about these reviews, though, is they will show you how much I've grown since I left there a year ago. Fascinating.

Tandoori Chicken -- My first stop, in Metairie, where David Duke used to -- and for all I know still does -- iron his robe and hood. Ignore the name Tandoori Chicken, vegans, and get out your fork. Still my favorite restaurant in the New Orleans area. Owner Singh dude cooked me a custom order of saag without paneer. No cream in the dish either, just in my jeans, 'cause it was so goddamned good. What? If you can't cream in your jeans when someone cooks you some tasty Indian greens, then why don't we all just go fuck ourselves in the 1950s or something?

Parkway Bakery & Tavern -- Had two french fry po boys. Now that is some starch. Tell 'em to hold the gravy. And bring your own vegenaise. Which reminds me . . .

I will now take a break to congratulate myself on my unique contribution to veganness -- my commitment to vegan condiments. Because I like po boys so much, and because a po boy isn't shit without a mayonnaise-like substance, I bring my own jar of vegenaise wherever I go. I also bring salt (vegan!) and non-white sugar. I've faced a lot of ridicule, been spit on, etc., for being so vegenaise-centric, but there's nothing like feeling the heft and cool glass of the vegenaise jar in your coat pocket when you're headed to the po boy shop. My only dilemma is whether to put all these great condiments in a holster, a man-purse or a fanny-pack-like dispenser that creepy people used to wear to make change.

Bennachin -- From Gambia and Cameroon -- two of the best African countries; no, two of the best countries, period, motherfucker, I will beat your ass! -- come a combo dish you will want to have heterosexual sex with. I'm talking about jama jama ni makondo, which consists of some pretty dang fine down-homey Spinach, fried plantains, coconut rice and a white roll. I got a ginger drink, too. And it's in the French Quarter -- a block away from Bourbon Street, in fact. So you can digest while exploring one of the world's most sophisticated titty-watchin' scenes.

Surrey's -- And now for Part I of the brunch segment of our program. They have some genius in the kitchen cooking the potatoes. Good enough to make up for the hot water they pass off as coffee -- weak, man. On the other hand, the word "vegan" is still on the menu.

Satsuma -- A perfect place to bring a vegan-hatin' friend, like I did. I gave her the sugary, crackly top of my muffin, and she briefly shut up 'cause it was so dang good.

Fair Grinds -- More savory and sweet vegan snacks than a New Orleans coffee house in its right mind should have. Also the best coffee in town. And it's got such a groovy hippie vibe, I had a massive LSD flashback that I am still on right now -- the screen is melting, man, Microsoft Windows 7 and Facebook are growing genitals, and they just jumped in a pile with Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg . . . Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!

Pho Tau Bay -- While I'm on this LSD flashback, I'd just like to say that this is a very fine Vietnamese establishment. Indeed, I had a perfectly good order of vegetarian soft spring rolls and pan-fried noodles with vegetables and tofu and washed it down with a splendid sugary lime drink.

Kim Son -- So China and Vietnam were sitting around one day, drunk as usual, when China said, Hey, Vietnam, let's start a restaurant called Kim Son. Let's, said Vietnam. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see if you can still flush the urinals by stepping on a wooden board, but I did have me some nice lemongrass tofu and brown rice and grease-bomb (in a good way) fried egg rolls. If the beautiful magic that is Kim Son is any indication, China and Vietnam should join hands more often in restaurant land.

Dickie Brennan's Bourbon House -- After an exhausting day on Bourbon Street -- getting chafed from marathon lap dances, puking chunky blood and bribing a cop with a wallet full of crisp hundreds only to have him violate 42 U.S.C. sec. 1983 by tasering my balls off -- all I wanted was a restorative bowl of soup. And boy did this place do me. They have a creamy cauliflower number that'll make you feel fresh as a field of daisies. With fabric softener.

Lebanon's -- If everyone in Beirut had been eating the vegetarian grape leaves at Lebanon's back in the '80s, they would've been too satiated to pull the pins on all those grenades. While we were there, personal injury lawyer extraordinaire Morris Bart rolled up. I screamed, "Hey, Buddy!" That's his nickname. He immediately scampered over to our table to pay tribute to me. "Dazee," he said, "you are one hell of an attorney at law." "Well, I do declare, Buddy," I said, "you are one hell of a human being."

Beaucoup Nola -- The snowball I had was so weak in flavor, I wanted to punch it in the nuts.

Rocky's Gourmet Pizzeria

If I had a nipple for every time . . . oh, fuck, I've used this metaphor already. Okay, those stinkin' non-vegans, they never shut up about it: "Pizza without cheese? What's the point?" Well, you might ask yourself a complementary question: "Pizza in New Orleans? What's the point?" If you've come here for the pizza, I say, get ready for some punishment, Monsieur Masochist. Nevertheless, this is one of kittee's favorite foods, so we regularly brave the bullets whizzing by, the drunk drivers busting through red lights (in New Orleans, just so you know, it doesn't matter if the light is green, yellow, red, or white, non-Hispanic -- you call it a red light), and the Palmetto bugs the size of Ron Jeremy's member in search of what we know will be underachieving dough-sauce-vegetable food. But you know what, it doesn't even matter, brother, New Orleans is still the greatest, grandest city in the world! At least that's what New Orleanians think. The real question is what should a painter paint. The thing which one can't locate. That's what Mr. Jasper says anyway.

Rocky's Gourmet Pizzeria, 3222 Magazine St., 891-5152 (LD)

Our New York pizza snob friend Mr. Billy likes to say, If you want some good matzo, go to Rocky's. Well, the whole wheat crust that we get is a bit on the er, um, crackery side, to put it politely, but this is still our favorite pizza parlor, and it can be yours, too. Here's what you do. Order a Big Al's Roasted Garlic or a Farmer's Market with the red sauce. If you don't specify the red sauce, you may end up with the non-vegan white sauce or no sauce at all. Tell 'em to hold all the cheese--mozzarella, feta, all of it--and substitute olive salad (pickled olives, carrots, cauliflower and spices in oil). Then mow down that pizza and guzzle a glass or pitcher of one of the many varieties of the fine local Abita beer. If you're getting poorer while The Man gets richer--or even if you are The Man-- remember that all food tastes better after you don't eat for two days.

Any taco truck

(LD)

One of the things that white New Orleanians like to lick their own balls about (and yes, I mean the women, too) is how wonderfully goddamn nice it is that their city is so fucking diverse.

Cut to the Uptown cultural sensitivity store:
White New Orleans woman: "Hmm, honey, what kind of wallpaper should we choose?"
White New Orleans man: "Oh, Jesus. I can't decide between the black-man-shooting-another-black-man or the second-line theme."
White New Orleans woman: "I love it when we congratulate ourselves."
White New Orleans man: "Wow, I am feeling guilty about my skin privilege."
White New Orleans woman: "Thanks for ruining it, jerk."

What a beautiful tale. And now there's yet another flavor in the gumbo.

That's right: It's Spanglish time on wheels all over New Orleans! Beware the tacos de cabeza y de lengua. Just say, Me gustaria una horchata, and you'll be ok.

Farmer's Markets

Crescent City Farmers Markets:

Tuesdays and Saturdays.

Thursday Markets:

Broadmoor Farmers Market 3 pm to 7 pm Free Church of the Annunciation, 4505 S. Claiborne Ave Mid-City Green Market 3 pm to 7 pm 3700 Orleans Ave [pkng lot of American Can Co]

Ninth Ward Markets:

Upper Ninth Ward Market Saturdays, 1pm - 4pm Holy Angels Convent, 3500 St. Claude Ave. Lower Ninth Ward Farmers Market Sundays, 10am - 1pm St. David's Church on St. Claude Avenue

Vietnamese Farmers Market:

Saturdays, 6am - 9am 14401 Alcee Fortier Blvd, New Orleans East -- If you want to get up that early just to buy some snow peas, it's your funeral.

Daily:

Magnolia Farmer Co-Op & Market Place Open daily, 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. Corner of Jackson and Simon Bolivar Avenues

Whole Foods Market

5600 Magazine St., 899-9119; 3420 Veterans Blvd, Metairie, 888-8225 (BLD)

I'm not sure if you've ever heard of it, but there's this tiny little chain of grocery stores that has the kept unionization to a perfect zero percent, even though Whole Foods dictator John Mackey believes in the free will of the individual. Apparently he makes an exception when he's capitalizing on your labor. So a big fuck you to United Auto Workers, but a big fuck yeah to vegan food. Go get the Fair Trade chocolate chips and the one or two other vegan items in the store, but don't tell anyone, or soon you'll find yourself waiting an hour for a space in the parking lot.

Extra bonus review of Whole Foods' pizza: if you dig New York-style pizza, the Whole Foods uptown probably does the best reasonable facsimile. In addition to the usual toppings, you can pile it high with the most scrumptious yuppie delights, including artichoke hearts, button and portabello mushrooms, a mix of eggplant, squash and zucchini, and sundried tomatoes. Just watch out for the Hummers with the Kerry/Edwards bumper stickers whizzing around the parking lot.

Mona's

Mona's, 3901 Banks St., 482-7743; 504 Frenchmen St., 949-4115; 4126 Magazine St., 894-9800; 1120 S Carrollton Ave, 861-8175 (Middle Eastern, LD)

You can't spit or throw a rock in New Orleans without hitting a Mona's. Or spout some sad cliche, apparently. So it's inevitable you'll end up here sometime or other. And while you should do everything in your power to get to Lebanon's instead, you'll probably be quite satisfied at Mona's. Go for the huge green salad or the grape leaves plate, and you'll have a good day.

Breaking news. Supervegan fields of garlic reports that Mona's now poops its grape leaves out of a can. When I had the leaves a couple days ago, they were way too tangy. I drowned them with salt, and that made them better.

FYI, I love salt, and salt loves me. I have low blood pressure (80 over 50), so bring on the sodium. I'm one of those eccentric and at times annoying diners who doesn't even taste for salt before dumping it on my food.

Byblos

Byblos, 3218 Magazine St., 504-894-1233; 1501 Metairie Road, Metairie, 504-834-9773
(Middle Easter, LD)

(This review refers to the Uptown restaurant, the Metairie location is more of a deli and is counter service only).

I've never been to a fancier Middle Eastern restaurant. The serving staff are prettier'n Barbie and Ken with a radical makeover. You also get to eat on glamorous white tablecloths and stab your falafel balls with forks so heavy you need a fucking crane to lift them.

My advice is too ignore all the rich bitches surrounding you and just dig into the mezze. You can pick from the standards like falafel, hummus, and baba ganoush or go cuh-cuh-cuh-crazy with grape leaves, mujadarah, foul, and brown rice. Stay away from the spinach, which seems to be sauteed in butter. And make sure you ask if the spinach pies are vegan because I've forgotten now, and I'm too damn lazy to call and confirm this.

Plus, on Thursdays, you get to pitch an R-rated tent over all the belly dancers shakin' and bakin' right past your table

Nacho Mama's Mexican Grill

Nacho Mama's Mexican Grill, 3242 Magazine St., 504-899-0031
(Mexican, LD)

Stay away. Kittee had a cold black bean burrito, and I had some other kind of crap I only have bad semi-suppressed memories of. Of course, it's wildly popular here, proving yet again that we are all alone in this great void.

Taqueria Corona

Taqueria Corona II, 85932 Magazine St, 504-897-3974
(Mexican, LD)

We used to hate this place and dazee gave them a really mean and ugly review. I deleted it, since we love it now. I don't know what happened, but it's really good. Order the cebollitas, which are char-grilled green onions doused in lime juice, olive oil and salt and make sure you get the salsa cart brought to your table so you can drizzle some salsa negra on whatever you choose. Kittee likes the taco salad and dazee goes for the tiny petite bean burrito, it don't matter 'since their beans are vegan. The guacamole is just OK, but the margaritas are good with a nice taquila.

Sake Cafe

Sake Cafe, 2830 Magazine St., 504-894-0033
(Japanese, Sushi, LD)

Kittee thinks the vegetable rolls are the bee's knees; I think the avocado rolls are the bee's balls. As in reallly good bee's balls. The creamy avocado rolls went down more easily. The last time I ordered the seaweed salad, it was cloyingly sweet. And the tofu steak, while OK in and of itself, was accompanied by a dipping broth that may have been wrung out of sweaty socks. Plus, the house salad was buried under dressing a bit too thousand-islandy for my comfort. Better were the cucumber and bean-sprout salads, which may be the only things that keep me coming back. (Warning: the second time I ordered the bean-sprout salad, it was polluted with strips of fake crab.) Oh, I did have maybe the best glass of sake ever, pearl sake, an unfiltered brew that came off almost like spiked rice milk. Of course, Sake Cafe almost ruined the whole thing by serving it in a martini glass, for christ's sake. Demand that you be brought a shot glass or you'll look creepy.

I don't think kittee would disagree with me about the atmosphere--it's intimidatingly sleek, modern, and humorless. The bathroom is frightening--oh, it's clean enough, but try taking a whiz while an up-tempo lite jazz groove pumps in your ears and you know you have a heavy, heavy paper towel waiting for you after you drive your hands. Don't forget to wear your thin Armani sweater, linen slacks, and fake tanning cream, ya'll. As far as I know, kittee is the only woman with sweaty, hairy armpits to have ever dined at Sake Cafe.

Miyako

Miyako, 1403 St. Charles Ave., 504-410-9997; 3837 Veterans Blvd., 504-779-6475;
(Japanese, Sushi, LD)

Miyako advertises the largest hibachi tables in town. If you can deal with the stench of sizzling meat soiling your nostrils, you could do worse than eat here. There's a vegetable tempura entree (maybe vegan, maybe not) and the St. Charles location is right on the streetcar line.

Kyoto

Kyoto, 4920 Prytania St., 504-891-3644 (LD)

We last ate here once about three years ago. The room was pretty enough and the food presentation precious in the usual finicky sushi-restaurant way. I don't remember much about the chow. It was probably OK. Why haven't we been back since. Why? Why does a mother love her ugly fucking stupid baby? I have no idea. Does everything have to make sense? Can't we just bask in god's mystery? Yes, I know, another helpful review.

Nirvana Indian Cuisine

Nirvana Indian Cuisine, 4308 Magazine St., 504-894-9797
(Indian, LD)

You know when you've been to a restaurant a long time ago and you remember you didn't like it that much, and you haven't been back for decades? And then you go again? This is my story. I hit the buffet recently. The standard two or three vegan choices packed a wallop, briefly making me regret my hiatus, only to have my world come crashing down around me thanks to the ice cold pakoras. How perfectly goddamn delightful it all is to be sure, plus kittee doubts they have anything vegan, so definitely barrage waitstaff with thorough questioning.

August Moon

August Moon, 3635 Prytania St., 504-899-5129, 504-899-5122
(Chinese and Vietnamese, LD)

Kittee likes this place more than me, though it does get points for being MSG-free. You be the tiebreaker. I've had better Vietnamese soft spring rolls, though the super-crunchy tofu inside just about made up for the too-sweet peanut hoisin sauce. kittee thought the eggplant was just right. It was too sweet for me. The lemongrass tofu with vermicelli noodles and General Tso's tofu were kind of lacking in personality. OK, time to put on a (mostly) happy face. August Moon is also open late, it's right across the street from a Kwicky Mart ("a pack of Kools, a Gatorade, and a Penthouse--will that be all, sir?") caddy-corner from a hospital (very handy in case of heart attack caused by uncontrollable rage kindled by denial of soy milk).

Commander's Palace

Commander's Palace, 1403 Washington Ave., (504) 899-8221 (Weekend jazz brunch, LD)
When you make a reservation, tell 'em you request a vegan meal.

Is it snooty? Yes, and I quote, "Dress is upscale, jackets preferred at dinner. No Shorts." So if you go in there like a wise guy with your long white t-shirt and your jeans hanging low, I don't care if you're Lil fuckin' Wayne, expect to be dragged back to the kitchen and have a shaving cream pie smashed in your damn face.

What I suggest for the ladies is to wear something baggy and sleeveless, something that shows off your sweaty armpit hair nicely. I didn't see that banned by the dress code.

Is it touristy? Yeah, but who gives a shit? Look around, and you'll also see something far more repulsive -- a bunch of rich white New Orleans uptown prunes with huge gold broaches and earrings so heavy, their lobes drag on the ground. You know who you are -- you Nancy (Worms Have Recently and Justifiably Torn the Dead Flesh From My Bones) Reagan lookalikes who care more about what to wear to your no-blacks-allowed Mardi Gras ball than about Chopper City soldiers killing one another at a rate unsurpassed by any other city in America.

Disclaimer: Commander's is a fully integrated eating establishment. If you're a person with color, and you have a jacket and a couple hundred bucks, you get a table at Commander's, no questions asked.

Well, that's some expert sociological analysis right there. It's making me hungry.

The one time I ate there, Commander's served the tied-for-best (with Cochon) fancy vegan meal I've ever had. It was grilled veggies and a salad -- and I can't really tell you what made them so magical because I have a bad memory -- but someone back in the kitchen put some fairy dust on that shit or something. Someone else I know reports similar results.

Now, I hope this review doesn't have unintended consequences, like Commander's chef jizzing in your appetizer just because you're vegan. Not all vegans are this bitter and nasty. And yet so willing to speak the truth.

Well, I was gonna write more, but the doggie's gotta go pee pee and poo poo.