Making a pig’s ear out of Nola on day one 

I’m pretty much the last person in the world to visit New Orleans, so I can’t dazzle you with the unknown like I can when I drive all over Canada. Because I know you’re dazzled by that. 

We’re in New Orleans to celebrate my sister in law’s birthday. We’ve got a cast of characters, and we’re staying in separate places in the thick of the French quarter. 

Little brother, bless his heart, made an itinerary for this trip. This is part of what I love about my brother–our extreme differences. So, where I put gas in the car and pretty much just drive to Canada, my brother sends our rag tag group a full-out plan, complete with highlights, colored fonts, and links.  

It’s hard to believe, but we are related.

But Little brother should have remembered that 2015 has been the year of miserably rainy vacations for Mill Girl. So we’re already rejiggering some of our plans. 

By late afternoon of day one, I had already had a Separator in a gay bar and attended a bacon happy hour. So kudos to our local guides Alex and Garrett for instant magic.    


I don’t think it gets much classier than this.
For dinner, we went to Root, an upscale farm-to-table operation. Now, the problem is, I’m sitting next to this guy:  

Garrett is Trouble. Yes, that’s a capital t.

So when the kitchen sent out a complimentary amuse bouche…  

Garrett looked at the size of it and made it clear his bouche was not amused. “We’ll be looking for a cheeseburger later on,” he mused. 

And it did appear that way at first. We ordered all but one main course and did it up family style. Dishes were small and respectable. Luckily, I’m not interested in blood sausage, so more for everyone else. 

Now, I’m not going to lie–I’m one of those terrible carnivores who loves meat but doesn’t want it to resemble its former animal self. I don’t eat meat off the bones, and I don’t ever want a fish eye looking back at me from my plate. So I had inner turmoil over the crispy pig ear plate. I was down with “crispy” and “pig.”  “Ear,” however, was disconcerting. And it was definitely a fried ear, cut into ribbons, on a plate. Sigh. But I tried it. And it was pretty good. Now I need to move on with life and not keep seeing the larger portion of pig ear that was on the plate–the part that clearly connected to the rest of the pig. 

In addition to being a bad carnivore, I’m a terrible Saturday night Nola tourist. I’m still not over daylight savings time, and I’m an hour behind here. So after dinner, it was going on 11 pm Mill Girl time. With travel, it had been a long day. So we all said our good nights and parted ways. I’m hanging out in a sweet little apartment, which I’ll write more about later. I’ll just leave you with this for now:  


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