Today began like every day on this trip – with a brand new pair of socks. it’s funny how much pleasure I can get out of a $7.71 pack of Fruit of the Loom crew socks.
Everyone says go to Mother’s for breakfast – the cab driver, the concierge, people on travel web sites – they all love it. Lucky for us it is just down the street.
Even at 9:30 on a Tuesday there was a line outside. After a short wait we were ushered inside and sent to the end of the order line. The decor inside was screaming tradition, with many photos of famous actors, singers, and especially military men. There were also old newspaper reviews of the restaurant framed and hanged with pride.
I was feeling a Billy Goat Tavern vibe as we had many rules to follow – don’t block this, don’t stand near that. Ordering was quick, mostly because of the military style efficiency of the clerk. “Next order please!”. I felt sorry for the poor woman behind us that tried to order from the lunch menu before 10:30.
We found a table and gave our receipt to the server. It wasn’t too long before our food came out. At this point, Kelly and I have very different thoughts about the place. She had Mother’s famous ham with her meal, and it was delicious. Her eggs were done just right, and she even enjoyed a few bites of the grits. The biscuits came out a little late (“Is coming biscuits, lady”), but they were tasty.
My eggs, however, were pretty much awful. Undercooked yet burned at the same time, and cold. My grits were a cold patty (as in cow patty) of wallpaper paste. The sausage, while good, was way too spicy – my own fault for ordering them. So I basically sat there and watched Kelly enjoy her breakfast waiting for my biscuit (“Is coming biscuits”). I don’t think I’ll be going back there again.
(OK, I’m done whining. )
After breakfast we hopped on the streetcar to head to the far side of the quarter, where we found the flea market and French market. Much of our souvenir shopping was taken care of there.
At this point the heat had gotten to us, so we caught the return streetcar back to the timeshare. During the ride we had a nice chat with a couple from Arkansas. They have spent several vacations in New Orleans and had some tips for us.
Hot and tired, we had a cold drink and took a nap.
For supper we went to El Gato Negro. The cat outside wasn’t entirely black, but he did seem intent on keeping the area in front of the restaurant free of pigeons.
Why would someone visit a Mexican restaurant while in New Orleans? Because this one does it really well. They are known for their margaritas, but what we will remember most was the made at our table guacamole.
Actually, something that we may remember more was the deluge of rain that started coming down while we were eating. The amount of water was unbelievable and it just kept on coming. At one point, while we were at the door waiting on a cab, the owner was outside catching dime-sized hailstones.
Unfortunately, our cab never came, so we ventured out under cover of the many balconies to a busier street. it didn’t take long to find a cab and head home.
