It's a dog eat crawfish world.

A billboard on St. Bernard Avenue

Most people don't know we have a dog because they never see him, but we do.  I walk him every morning.  Our first round about the neighborhood is the first of my daily errands.  After that, I ride about town to local bakers and caterers and out-of-the-way hot plate shops.  I catch up on the gossip, share a little of my own news, and bring breakfast home.

Tres leches cake

I was at Norma's the other morning when two of the guys at one of the tables were talking about how one of the guys' dog had developed a taste for crawfish.  I sat down and mentioned that our dog doesn't touch crawfish when I walk him in the morning.  There are as many crawfish shells as chicken bones along our path, but the dog is only interested in the chicken bones.

"When it comes to crawfish, a dog never eats leftovers until he's had the main course," the other guy with a dog said.  "I live further riverside on Bienville and I walk my dog every morning, just like you.  This is a crab boil street and there are shells all over the ground around my house.  They're like oak leaves.  My dog never touched them until I gave him a crawfish right out of the pot.  He seemed to like it, so I gave him another, then another.  Now, he can't get enough of them.  If somebody has a crawfish boil today, he'll be pulling me across the street tomorrow."

He took a sip of his coffee.  "Don't feed your dog fresh crawfish," he told me.  "If you do, every morning will be worse than pulling your dog away from a bag of McHardy's."

The best fried chicken on North Broad Street

When I got home, I told Frau Schmitt that I would like to conduct a little experiment to prove or disprove this thesis.  She told me that this probably isn't one of my best ideas.  She is usually right about these things, but I've got the idea for a picnic project in City Park.  

One thing we like to do after we're done with our morning routine, but before we start our afternoon routine, is to walk up Esplanade Avenue and take a turn downtown.  We walk past McHardy's Chicken and Fixin', cross Bayou Road, and pop in at the Crawfish House.

The best boiled crawfish on North Broad Street

We buy a couple pounds of boiled crawfish, an order of potatoes and a few ears of corn, and we head up to City Park for an al fresco lunch under the Musical Oak.  It's a monumental oak tree hung with bass-tone chimes and falsettos.  It's a very peaceful place to eat crawfish on a lightly breezy day.

Sometimes, we bring our dog.  We haven't fed him anything from the Crawfish House.  It takes about two years for a German to acquire a taste for Cajun seasoning. Boiled crawfish are too spicy for a lovable dog.

That said, I'm thinking of feeding our dog a few crawfish to see what will happen.  Who doesn't like crawfish?

Morning in New Orleans

Nobody ever said the life of an innkeeper is boring. 

A votre sante,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.