the big easy

So, R and I headed down to New Orleans for a few days... (a bit of a celebration). We fell in love with New Orleans last year, and couldn't wait to go back. So much fun, so much good food, so little time.

Had a lovely meal at Bombay Club, famed for their list of 100 martinis. Best dirty martini ever. The food wasn't too bad, either. The waiter, however, had this British accent that was completley fake. For the record, I called upstate New York, although R didn't believe it until I tricked the waiter into forgetting his faux accent. (hah! i am good!)

The waiter also kept referring to me as "the lady". As in, "Does the lady like her martini?" "Would the lady like a piece of bread?" "How is the lady's meal?" Now, he knew that R was also a girl, but he didn't refer to her as "the lady". And, he didn't address the questions to R, but to me. I've never been spoken to in the third person. Very bizarre. Very. But, the lady did enjoy the martini and the meal. The bread pudding was not so impressive...

The next night, we wandered into the New Orleans Vineyard and had a fantastic meal. Out of this world good. In fact, the bread pudding was so good that we went back again Friday night for dessert.



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