Blog a la Cart

The boat getting slammed in this clip is my dad’s friend’s sons.

As one YouTube commenter put it, “Holy Sheet!”

If you’re a nerdy sailor like we are in the Ulmer family, you’ll be saying just that. Hell, if you’re not a sailor, you’ll just let loose the traditional turn of phrase.

The guys getting railed in the video are running an Olympic campaign to represent Bermuda in 49ers, i.e. the kind of boat that you sail if you enjoy literally flying by the seat of your pants. I’ve sailed one only once, and I was flying by the poop in my pants. I’m not nearly hardcore enough for this kind of boating experience.

I know how self-congratulatory these posts are. But this one relates to an article that I think is worth a read. I was emailed a link to this post with the following thought included in the message:

This is what is so vital about your writing – it is rigorously focused on the activities and hard choices of adulthood.

If I’m achieving that in even a very small capacity, I’m satisfied. I’ll keep striving to push into uncomfortable realms, breaking down that BFF-ship – even if I do make occasional mention of my “lady” parts -  because that’s where the most important learning happens. I still stand by all I said here. And I hope I can continue to provide a perspective that opens people’s eyes. Makes them laugh. Makes them think. All with a dash of humility, honesty, and cute photo or two thrown in for good measure.

This review is structured around food. I’d argue that your taste buds are your most essential tool when exploring New Orleans. Although, all senses should be put to work to adequately absorb all she has to offer.

On that note, I gained at least 10 lbs during our trip. And I feel good about it. Because I ate like a queen and these were the kinds of meals that will stay with me for life. I will call those flavors to memory whenever I’m in need of a reprieve from the monotony of my daily palate. My mouth is still dancing with all the sensations from Palace Cafe’s Shrimp Tchefuncte.

So, prepare to salivate. It’s about to get Pavlovian up in ‘hur.

____________________________________________

Day 1:

What? Dinner
Where? Palace Cafe
Consumed? Shrimp Tchefuncte
Thoughts? Crystal’s Hot Sauce was purchased so that James and I can attempt to replicate this kind of culinary delight. Seriously, the number of flavors and taste explosions were unbelievable. Upon sampling his first bite, James paused and reflected, “Well… this is fun!”

Truth!

We then passed out. Baby on chest. Because sharing a small hotel room with a fitful 5 month old proved to be a challenging act indeed. Looks like we didn’t need to spend $50 to check the Pack n’Play after all.

____________________________________________

Day 2:

What? Breakfast
Where? Cafe du Monde
Consumed? Beignets and cafe au lait. Duh!
Thoughts? I mean, you can’t visit New Orleans and NOT do this adventure. They cover those fried delights with enough powdered sugar to stage one pretty dramatic crime scene.

We then wandered along the Mississippi, enjoying the lazy passing of steam ships. (Ed note: while typing that out, I happily sang in my head, M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I, a la elementary school. It was awesome).

We also visited the Audubon Aquarium, and watched the IMAX “Hurricane on the Bayou,” during which I cried more than the baby, who was a total trooper throughout the experience, only crying out in fear during the reenactments of Katrina. Girl knows when it’s appropriate to let loose a good scream. The film was overwhelming, to say the least.

What? Lunch #1
Where? Central Grocery
Consumed? Muffaletta
Thoughts? This is the birth place of the Muffaletta. It is like the ultimate Italian sub, on steroids. Every possible combination of Italian meats, on a ginormous sesame bun, complete with an assortment of cheeses and a chunky olive spread. The HALF sandwich is enough to feed a small army. Also, this is the grocery that supplied us with Crystal’s hot sauce. Double win!

What? Lunch #2
Where? Johnny’s Po-Boy’s
Consumed? Pork Sausage Po-Boy
Thoughts? James was disappointed that I didn’t opt for the full sized Muffaletta, so determined it was time to sample another New Orleans classic, the Po-Boy.  And yes, he finished the entire sandwich. When I say that we ate our way through the city, we literally ate our way through the city.

I grabbed some Praline cookies for the walk home. I was in the South, after all. Need I offer further reasoning? I think not.

We then headed back to the hotel and blissfully bathed in a tub deep enough to completely submerge my boobs. I tell you this because it is a rare and beautiful thing. A little something that I refer to as “Tall People Heaven.” I bathed every, single day to truly capitalize on the opportunity. Kaki thought that it was pretty grand, too.

What? Dinner
Where? Mother’s
Consumed? A little bit of everything… shrimp creole, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya, catfish po-boys, gumbo, fried chicken, collard greens, grits and debris (debris being the bits of roast beef that fall off the bone into the bottom of the pan while baking)… talk about a brilliant sampling of New Orleans’ legendary fare!
Thoughts? It was good. Real good. My belly literally ached from being stretched to capacity. I wish I’d had room for more.

This meal was particularly special as it concluded with a conversation with Tom Piazza (of this post). He spoke as passionately and poignantly as he writes. I fell even more in love with the city that evening.

____________________________________________

Day 3:

I was mostly in meetings all day, but managed to escape for lunch and then a lavish and extravagant dinner with fellow Ephs from the area. It was lovely. In every possible way.

What? Lunch
Where? Rambla
Consumed: The brussel sprouts. That’s all that need be said about this meal. Holy butter and bacon! If you think you dislike brussels, try this. I dare you not to fall in love.

What? Dinner
Where? Cochon
Consumed: A totally lavish 5-course meal. I was completely impressed. To serve over 100 people, 5 courses that are all mouth-wateringly delicious is quite the task. Brava!
First course: Chicken and Andouille Gumbo
Second course: Crawfish Pie and Boudin (essentially Louisana’s take on a meat ball) with Cochon Mustard
Third course: Catfish Courtbouillon. I have a soft spot in my heart for catfish as it’s the first meal my Grammy taught me to cook when I was a little girl.
Fourth course: Smothered Pork with Cabbage and Bacon Choucroute. The meat melted in your mouth. At this point my belly was so distended, I really wished I’d thought to pack my maternity clothes.
Fifth course: Lemon Buttermilk Pie

END SCENE.

____________________________________________

Day 4:

I had more meetings in the morning, and then, more eating. It’s a theme!

What? Lunch
Where? Commander’s Palace
Consumed? Many more outrageous courses. That were all so stinking good.
First course: Wild white shrimp remoulade over marinated hearts of palm and Creole tomatoes with limestone lettuce, ripped tarragon and spicy lemon vinaigrette.
Second course: Pecan-crusted gulf fish topped with champagne-poached jumbo lump crabmeat and spiced pecans in a crushed corn sauce.
Third course: Creole bread pudding soufflé with whiskey sauce. Stealing the thoughts of a fellow Eph and attendee, the word “outrageous” is not hyperbole. Just look at that thing!

Thoughts? This place is a New Orleans classic located in the Garden District. HIGHLY recommend. This is where my mom took me to celebrate my 18th birthday. It was a super memorable occassion, and very special to revisit the restaurant and share the story. It was at Commander’s Palace where I was first introduced to the Kir Royale. A table of gentlemen noticed the birthday balloons on my chair during that meal and offered to send over celebratory drinks to me and my mom. I, being 18, didn’t know what to order, so my mom recommended we sip Kir Royales. Smart, delicious choice! Not surprisingly, the New Orleans staff took no issue to serving the 18 year old birthday girl a cocktail, and I was hooked. At my wedding, 7 years later, the cocktail hour was equipped with a signature bar that served Kir Royales. James’ bar served up Dark n’Stormies (the obvious choice given his Bermuda roots).

Suffice it to say, I had to partake in an afternoon Kir to mark the occasion during our lunch.

After lunch, we took a tour of the Garden District, and I drooled and swooned over all the gorgeous mansions lining its streets.

The cemetery was hauntingly beautiful and unique as well.

We even passed Archie Manning on a stroll around the neighborhood. I nearly swiped the Giants hat off his head, but was pleased with the celebrity sighting nonetheless.

We then hopped in a cab and visited a friend of mine from high school who I hadn’t seen in nearly 10 years. She’s a fashion designer who relocated to the city 3 years ago and has no intention of ever leaving. It seems NOLA has that hold on people, especially creative types. It was so fun to see her studio, her creations, to hear about her life and the brilliant, playful, talented things that she is putting out into the world. I left donning a feathered wool cap that was quite the conversation starter at the evening’s dinner. I will be sure to document for a later post.

This was one of the highlights of the trip. To reconnect with an old friend, someone who I’ve always admired, and to be able to so easily fall back into conversation. To laugh. To share. To both be in such positive, inspiring places in our lives, and to value and respect those places, despite how very different they are.

She’s a reader of the blog, which I find flattering as my life could not be more different from her own. Yet she chooses to come and share in this space. I mentioned that I’ve been criticized by people for sharing too much. For being too honest and blatant in some of my writing. That at times, I make people uncomfortable. She laughed and said, “That’s funny. For me it’s just the opposite. I find all of that honesty to be really comforting.”

I’ll treasure that statement forever.

That evening we headed out to dinner in the French Quarter, the perfect end to the trip.

What? Dinner
Where? Muriel’s Jackson Square
Consumed? Crab cake, salad with a goat cheese medallion, petite filet mignon with wood-grilled gulf shrimp served over mashed potatoes with crisp haricots vert and topped with béarnaise sauce, and last, but certainly not least, crème brûlée.
Thoughts? The best part of this meal was the ambiance. Of course the food was delicious, but the restaurant itself provided a balcony overlooking Jackson Square where we all enjoyed cocktails and appetizers in the gentle Lousiana temperatures, to the sounds of street musicians, with a full scale wedding celebration occuring down on the cobblestone streets below. James and I sat in a quieter corner of the balcony, rocking a sleeping Courtland in her carseat (this was the only moment of peace and quiet, as she rebelled, loudly, for the rest of the meal. At this stage in the trip, she was over being a trooper). But that hour on the balcony, sipping sazerac, soaking in the sights, smells, and sounds of the city, donning my fabulous wool feather cap, was perfection.

We opted not to go out and enjoy the music and night life of the city, given the disgruntled baby in tow. She screamed for two hours straight when we returned to the hotel before finally unloading her bowels. All over everything. I think Mama’s gastronomic adventures had taken its toll on her baby system. She was ready to go home. And so were we. We missed her big sister and our crazy black mutts and the familiar sight of our purple mountains.

____________________________________________

Day 5:

What? Breakfast
Where? Merchant
Consumed? Duck Confit Crepe and Pancetta Crepe
Thoughts? Cool, modern atmosphere and decor. Even the staff were trendy. The food wasn’t the best, but after the week we’d had, it’d be hard to earn that title.

We managed to hightail it back to Cafe du Monde to grab beignets and cafe au laits to go. Best. Decision. Ever.

Then we boarded a plane and headed home to our neck of the woods. Bellies and minds full, exhausted, dreaming of a return trip for further exploration.

We arrived home to a blanket of snow in our cozy purple valley.

Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart & James W. Cart

We’re back. We survived four days of travel with a five month old and four days away from our precious first born. Seeing Sunny yesterday was magnificent. She’s even more grown up than when we left. How did that happen?

I asked her if she had fun at her playdate on Sunday morning and she responded, “Yes, Mama. Esmé’s house is pretty amazing!”

Oh sweetheart, you’re pretty amazing.

It’s going to take a couple days to readjust to life back home, catch up on laundry, work, sleep. Okay, who are we kidding, we’ll never catch up on sleep. But I can dream!

In the meantime, I lovely little jam to kick start everyone’s Monday morning.

Tom Piazza’s “Why New Orleans Matters”

And all across the city, in living rooms and dining rooms and corner bars, in dives and high-class parlors, in dens and on porches and in bedrooms, in the Ninth Ward and the Seventh Ward, Mid-City and Back o’Town, Carrolton and Irish Channel and Broadmoor and the Garden District and Gert Town, the French Quarter and the Bywater and Faubourg Marigny, everyone is saying the same thing: thank you for this beautiful day, thank you for one more day, thank you for this beautiful food, thank you for this wine cooler that my brother-in-law brought over, thank you for this bed because I can’t stand up, thank you for passing the potatoes, thank you for everything, thank you, thank you.

It’s a powerfully touching and genuine portrait of New Orleans written by a fellow Eph who I’ll be dining with in The Crescent City this evening.

It’s overwhelming reading his words, just as it’s overwhelming to walk this city’s streets, a juxtaposition of joy and sadness, spirit and despair. Such culture. Such flavors. Such music. All with the weight and aftermath of tragedy and trauma. I feel lucky to navigate her streets once again, sharing them for the first time with James.

To keep up on our adventures pictorially follow along on Twitter and Facebook

And if you Instagram, find us as @igalacart and @billsvilledad.

I’ll end by saying that I cannot recommend this book enough: for those who are from New Orleans, for those who live in New Orleans, for those who have been or are planning a visit, or for those who merely wish to understand why we’re fortunate to call her one of our own.

As you read yesterday, James and I are burning the midnight oil. Very literally. But that of course has not stopped my crafting compulsions. My fingers yearn to knit, y’all.

Did I honestly just write that? I did. And I meant it. Because I am an unabashed knitting nerd of late.

This weekend, after the kids were in bed and James was holed up reading applications, I turned to marathon episodes of “Private Practice” and a sweater kit from Wool and The Gang (they are my current obsession, btdubs). Why go to bed at 9pm like a wise and pro-active sleep-deprived adult when I could stay up knitting until midnight, right before the baby awakes for her first of many nightly feedings? Because reason and sleep deprivation do not coexist. Those two states cannot possibly exist in tandem. It defies logic, which is the hallmark of sleep deprivation.

The good news is that I have this cozy, bomb diggity sweater to show for my poor judgment (plus, I’ve never knit an adult-sized piece of clothing, so that’s pretty nerdy cool). The bad news? I now have photo documentation confirming (as though it required confirmation) what a hideous process it is to grow out one’s bangs AND that my roots are in desperate need of some blonde luvin’.

NOTED!

I pounded this project out in two days, thanks to the ginormous needles it required. Seriously, my biceps are killing it right now.

For whatever reason this sweater compels me to flex. It’s something about the chunky sleeves that make me feel like a super strong football player. I’m totally channeling Tom Brady (because I love him (YES I DO!) and he’s the only football player I can name off the top of my head. <Sigh> Way to let embarrassing confessions fly!).

If you’re not a knitter, you can purchase a Ready to Wear version of this sweater here.

Now, off to New Orleans! Alas, I did not pack this sweater because it is essentially the size of my suitcase. And, as I am traveling with the Reverse Peristalsis Extraordinaire (Miss Courtland Whaley herself), I did not want to be responsible for having to hand wash this shit in a hotel sink when it inevitably would get hosed with regurgitated milk. To be honest, I doubt it would even fit in a hotel sink. Size efficient, it is not. Awesome, however? Hell yes.

Photos: Courtesy of James W. Cart

I’m there right now. The dark side. A place filled with anxiety and guilt. It’s fueled by extreme lack of sleep. Side effects include covered in lies Twitter whines and ugly crying. It’s a yucky place. I hate this place. So I’m writing this to help claw my way out.

Some facts. Addison has a fever. Courtland is teething and congested and generally out of sorts. James is working 60 plus hours a week because on top of his part time work for the College, he reads for Admissions and he’s got a towering stack of files that he’s been tackling before our departure for New Orleans tomorrow morning. (Those files are not exactly travel friendly. Nor is it advisable to travel with Admissions files for other obvious reasons).

And, I, well I’m still adjusting to working full time while interrupting my day to breastfeed. And I’ve been on kid duty in the evenings so that James can get his reading done.

We are crazy with sleep deprivation. Cray-cray. Living in crazy town. What other obnoxious, hip slang can I use to describe this state of affairs? Oh yeah, bat shit. To the max.

Last night was the worst night we’ve had in a while. At some point during the evening, James and I each managed to sleep in the three different beds this house has to offer. Separately, of course. At 3:30am I found myself curled up alone on Addison’s 4ft toddler bed sobbing into The Sleep Sheep because I couldn’t get the baby to stop crying, Sunny was fitfully thrashing with fever in our bed with James, and I was on the verge of loosing my mind. I may or may not have yelled at the baby to JUST SHUT UP! before storming dramatically out of the guest room and hurling myself onto the toddler bed. I needed a time out. In a big way. Sometimes it’s better for parent and baby to have those time outs. To walk away. Even though it makes me feel like the shittiest parent on planet earth. When you start trying to argue with a 5 month old, you’ve reached a certain low and need to get yourself out of there. Fast.

So into the toddler’s room I retreated. Angry. Guilty. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. I set my alarm and went back to check on the baby after 20 minutes. She was of course sound asleep and when she awoke this morning, I was met with sweet baby smiles and coos. She seems none the worse for wear. But I can’t help but feel pitiful. Defeated. This parenting shit is the hardest thing I’ll ever do.

Fact.

________________________

I wrote the above first thing this morning while breastfeeding. Now that I am recharged thanks to coffee and a shower, I have some perspective and things of course seem a little less dire. It’s not quite so dark. But I feel that it’s important to share nonetheless, to remind my fellow parents that it’s okay to have those moments when we are at our wits’ end. When we need a time out. Take that time out, because when you tag back in and are greeted with smiling chubby chipmunk cheeks, you’ll actually be able to enjoy the sunshine that they provide.

Received the following email from James while at work. It was a forward from BJs Wholesale offering up BIG SAVINGS FOR THE BIG GAME, including…

ELECTRIC PIGS IN A BLANKET MAKER!!!!! at $20 I’m tempted to get that little bundle of health…although I don’t know where to buy mini-weenies….that’s fun to say.

God I love that man. Even after one of the worst nights on record with our sleepless, restless kids, he can make me laugh. A covered in lies post is coming, but I thought I could kick things off on a high note.

Skin rugs. Made from stuffed animal skin. Genius!

Kids as cultural producers thanks to colorful stickers and Yayoi Kusama.

More chunky knit inspiration.

As you saw yesterday, Kaki has found her toes. And boy are they delicious. So delicious that Sunny thought she’d take her sister’s lead and nom her toes as well.

We finally have some snow around these parts so we’ve been teaching Sunny to sled and bundling Courtland like the abominable snow baby. Remember this snow suit from when we first moved back to New England? Yep, it’s back in full effect!

James, Kaki and I are off to New Orleans on Wednesday as I have work meetings, James has never been, and Courtland is boob-dependent. Sunny will be hanging here with the pups and her Tine and then her Auntie Kimmy. We’ll see what Courtland thinks of the Big Easy. I’m preparing my belly for some muffuletta, beignet, fried Southern goodness. <drool>

Courtland: 23 weeks
Addison: 32 months