Doves Don't Cry

Morning Call in City Park

It is heresy to say it to some people, but I'm going to tell you that I prefer Morning Call over Cafe du Monde.  They sell the same stuff: coffee and beignets.  As far as I can tell they all wear the same uniforms.  One is really pretty much as good as the other, but I like Morning Call better.  There isn't powdered sugar all over everything.  The view is better in City Park, too.  

We were walking the dog around the back of the building when all three of us decided to cross over the bridge to mysterious Dovecote Island.

Dovecote Island in City Park

If you've ever gone on a plantation tour, you know what a dovecote is.  Those Creoles sure ate a lot of squab.  You don't see it on many menus nowadays, only at places like Antoine's or Commander's Palace.  It's like getting sweetbreads at Clancy's.  Back in the days when gentlemen wore swallowtail coats, everyone who was anyone owned at least one dovecote.   

The dovecote on Dovecote Island was worked by inmates from the New Orleans Home for the Indigent prior to the federal levee failures during Hurricane Katrina.

It wasn't an abattoir

Doves still like to live there.  I've never seen anyone stand in the middle.  Everybody just sort of cranes their head barely in to see what is up near the rafters.   

It looks just as impressive from the outside.

City Park Apartments

The sun was so hot that the sky was almost white.  We decided to take the dog home and go out to lunch someplace cool.  You'll never guess why we picked Mandina's.

Air conditioned

Liver is the special on Thursdays.  I had the turtle soup.  Frau Schmitt doesn't like liver.  She had the other special.  It wasn't squab.

For the people who live in New Orleans, or for just people who are interested, I found this column interesting in The Lens today.  

A votre sante,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.