We arrived late(ish) last night, tired and famished. So we checked in, unpacked, and then braved the streets of New Orleans.
There were lots of drunk people. Lots. And surprisingly enough, a huge chunk of them were older than us. For some reason, neither of us expected that.
We tried to go to ACME Oyster House for an oyster po-boy that was highly recommended by a friend who grew up around these parts. Not knowing how it worked, and wanting to see how long the wait was, we started to go in only to be shouted at by a member at the waitstaff that we had to wait in line. “Wait in line!” Multiple times. To be fair to her, there was a glob of people standing outside the restaurant. To be fair to us, it looked nothing like a line. And we weren’t trying to cut. Needless to say, we left. You could even say, we left in a huff. Well, I left in a huff. Kyle doesn’t generally huff much.
We wandered around, trying to get Yelp to load to figure out where our next best bet was. And we finally landed at the Palace Cafe. It was nice. The shrimp remoulade was AMAZING, as was the blueberry tart (so says Kyle. I don’t generally eat blueberries willingly.)
The pecan pie was not as good as my Grandma’s, but that was no shock.