Trust Me

Traveling means having to trust strangers. Even if there's no language barrier, it takes me a few days to get my bearings, and having absolutely no sense of direction makes it just that much worse. It means having to worry about basic needs like food and shelter, even if that just means locating a restaurant I read about or making sure that the cab driver took me to the right Hilton. Living in New Orleans for a month means redoing all of our routines: from walking Roscoe, to finding a grocery store and bank, to figuring out who has the best takeout.

I have to admit that on Tuesday we pretty much limited ourselves to finding great food and drink. We did our research and had not only a Plan A restaurant, but also a Plan B restaurant just in case. Fun fact about New Orleans—most restaurants close on Tuesdays, not Mondays, which meant we needed a Plan C. By that point, we were dying of hunger and so a rundown corner store suddenly fit the bill.  Frady’s One Stop Food Store offered a small but oddly curated selection of gallon tubs of “heavy duty” mayonnaise, Mexican cokes, and canned green beans. 

Frady's--where they command you to eat!

A short woman with a groomed moustache was behind the counter, and asked us for our order. Let me emphasize that this was not a woman who had neglected waxing her upper lip for too long. Clearly, she took great pride in her carefully grown and meticulously groomed mustache. Behind the glass cases, I could see chafing pans of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It looked surprisingly good, but not the right call when dripping sweat. A local came in to get a refill and sensed our confusion. She insisted that the roast beef po-boy was the best in the city and folks came from all over to get their hands on one. But there were still so many decisions to be made. What kind of roll? What kind of cheese? What size? The woman behind the counter was too nice to correct us when we gave the wrong answer, so we simply said, “make it the way you would like it.”

We'll be back for more po-boys soon!

Later that evening, Mimi's in the Marigny was our stop for dinner. Their specialty is tapas, along with live music every single night of the year. One of the tapas had the irresistible name of “Trust Me.” Chef’s choice--could be hot, could be cold. Meat or veggie? Who knows. You just have to trust, and that’s what we did. It turned out to be grilled and peppered trumpet mushrooms. And those mushrooms were heaven after so much BBQ, Slim Jim’s, fast food burgers, and Skittles.

Sometimes it’s good to trust strangers.