Running the Numbers In New Orleans

A fish below the ice in City Park

I noticed today that we've received our 333rd review on Trip Advisor.  I remember when we didn't have any.  For a smidge over two years, we've been ranked the #1 place to stay in New Orleans, and in all of Louisiana, really.  It's quite a feather in our cap and one of which we feel justly proud.  Believe me, we never thought we'd be ranked #1.

For those readers who haven't read reviews of our inn, and there are other places where you can read reviews about our inn besides on Trip Advisor, but, Trip Advisor seems to be where everyone thinking about coming to New Orleans goes to help make up their minds of where to stay, here's a breakdown by the numbers:

La Belle Esplanade

333 Total Reviews
323 Excellent                    
10   Very Good
 0    Average
 0    Poor
 0    Terrible

307 in English
 12  in French
   7  in German
   3  in Italian
   2  in Swedish
   1  in Dutch
   1  in Norwegian
   1  in Portuguese

Those are some pretty impressive numbers, if I do say so myself.  I always find it interesting to see how many reviews are written in languages other than English.  Very few, it turns out.  We don't have many but I think we have more than anyone else in New Orleans, though I haven't made a systematic study of the matter.  Let's just say we are a cosmopolitan inn.

We have no control of what our ranking is on Trip Advisor.  The number is based entirely on the ratings we receive from our guests. We know some other innkeepers who try to game the system and have friends or professional services submit reviews on their behalf.  Trip Advisor frowns on that and they seem to do a pretty good job of weeding out the falsehoods.  

Every one of our 333 reviews was written by someone who stayed at La Belle Esplanade.  I know because I recognize everyone who wrote a review.  When you run a small boutique operation the way we do, you get to know your guests.  This isn't a 400-plus-room hotel.  We only have five suites.  We spend a lot of time talking with our guests every morning.  It's a nice way to do business.

It's nice to stay here, too, apparently.  We don't have room service, but we are always around if you need help with something.  We don't have a microwave in the suites, or even in the building, but this way the house never stinks of popcorn or fish.  There isn't any valet parking, instead, you just park on the street in front of our house for free (not that you need to rent a car---you don't).  We have free wi-fi, too.  We're not here to nickel-and-dime you.  Pay the going rate and we'll throw in a lot of lagniappe.

So, not to boast or blow our own horn, but we're very happy and humbled to have the chance to do what we do.  We enjoy being innkeepers.  It ain't work when ya like whatcha do.  We're looking forward to reading and responding to the next 333 reviews.  Now, how many will that make?

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade
...where every morning is a curated breakfast salon.

Have I mentioned you can like us on Facebook?  I hear all the cool crowd is doing it nowadays.

How's the Weather in New Orleans?

A parade went in front of our house

Reading this where you are, you probably don't get to say that a parade went by your house last week.  

From where we are, this is something that happens a couple of times a year, each time as enchanting as the last time, or more so.  I'm not telling you this to boast about the parade-worthiness of our address.  It's just a fact of living where we do.  Next weekend, a marathon will be run in front of our house.  Next month, it will be another.  There is never a dull day on Esplanade Avenue.

People ask why we live in New Orleans.  It isn't just because of all the parades we see.  There are a lot of reasons we love living in New Orleans.  One of them is that New Orleans isn't in Canada.  We have nothing against Canada but when we saw this picture, well, we're happy we're in Louisiana at the moment:

What's the weather like in Ontario?

Then, when we look at pictures from Sweden, well, let's just say again that we're still happy we're in Louisiana:

What's the weather like in Uppsala?

Sheesh!  What do you people do with all that snow?

If you ask Frau Schmitt, she'll tell you that your humble narrator loves living in New Orleans and he isn't interested in living anywhere else.  Frau Schmitt is usually right about these things.  She'll also tell you that I generally like everybody no matter where they come from.  She is right about that, too.

Wanna know what people I like the most?  When I say I like them the most, I mean I like them the most at this moment.  I like whoever is sitting in front of me, as a general rule.  There are no strangers in New Orleans.  There are only friends you haven't met yet.  Of course, in our line of work, we tend to meet people as soon as they arrive from the airport.  We make a lot of friends, and I don't only mean the tangential Facebook kind of friend. You are always welcome to like us on Facebook.  I mean friends whose company we enjoy.  The kind of friends who share adventures and insights.  The kind of friends you don't forget.

I like people who come from Jacmel, which is a city in Haiti.  

There are longstanding ties between New Orleans and Haiti.  After the Haitian Revolution, the population of New Orleans doubled because displaced Haitians (I am trying to phrase this as politely as possible) wanted to live where people spoke French.  Voilá. Bienvenue à la Nouvelle Orléans.  

You will hear people say, and your humble narrator says this on occasion when prompted, that New Orleans is the northernmost Caribbean city.  It's true.  New Orleans has more in common with Jacmel than it does with New London, Connecticut or with Wewoka, Oklahoma.  

Mardi Gras season ended last week in New Orleans.  What does Carnival look like in Jacmel?



We recently had a gentleman from Haiti stay with us for a week and his lovely bride.  Yves turned me on to Carnival in Jacmel.  I've been talking to Frau Schmitt about it and we may have a trip to Haiti in our future.

Our recent guests, not the ones from Ontario or Sweden but the ones from Haiti, were on their honeymoon.  They are moving to a new country in the next month or so.  Guess where they are moving.  They are moving to none other than Port Moresby which was detailed in an earlier installment of this very same blog.  That was just two months ago.  It's a small world when you have omnivorous interests, even if the country in question is Papua New Guinea.

What's the only place better than Louisiana?



By the way, remember the picture of the giant crawfish we featured in the January 3 installment?  That picture comes from a restaurant in Sweden!  What did I say a few paragraphs above about not wanting to live in Sweden?  I take it back.  We have a chap named Orc to thank for pointing this out to us.

Do you know what they call crawfish in Swedish?  Swedes call them kräftfiske.  Anywhere where they boil up kräftfiske is okay with me.  God bless Sweden.

If you can't make it to Haiti, Ontario, or Sweden, and, really, who would want to at this time of year? you know where to find us.  We're on Esplanade Avenue in New Orleans.  Good memories are made every day on our street.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast
....where the rest comes easy.    

An Innkeeper's Work Is Never Done

A flower in the Rex Den

Yesterday was Mardi Gras.  Boy, what a day.  Like all good days, though, it had to come to an end.  It's 4:30AM on Ash Wednesday as I write this.  There's no time like the present to start one's penance.

You might think I'm going to talk about Mardi Gras but, frankly, I've been talking about Mardi Gras every day for the past two weeks and now that's it's over I'm done.  I'd like to just take a moment to share something with you.  It's time for my favorite feature of this blog:

Mail Call!

A reservation came in yesterday with the following note attached:

"No questions! Very excited for our stay. Your blog/website and writing style is authentic and draws in the reader... we are looking to enjoy the city on foot/public transport, both the usual spots but hopefully more time spent in the overlooked places."

I spoke with this chap on the phone.  Not only did he call the blog authentic.  On the phone he told me it's mesmerizing.  Maybe you agree.  For my part, I like this guy already.  It seems like he has a good head on his shoulders.

Copyright Emma Fick

In other news from the mailbag, Emma Fick has finished an illustration of La Belle and its sister houses.  That link will take you to other illustrations she's done of New Orleans for a book she's working on.  If you want to see her previous book about Serbia, it's here.  

We haven't met Emma in person, yet.  She's due to stop by the house soon for a tour and to get some of the inside skinny as to what the house actually holds (hint: it's a secret until you get here).

Another flower in the Rex Den

Well, it's 5:00 now and I have to sign off.  I have things to do.  You wouldn't know it to look at us but neither Frau Schmitt nor I are on vacation.  An innkeeper's work is never done.  It's a good thing we love what we do.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade
....where the rest comes easy.

Capitals of Louisiana

Every day has its surprises

New Orleans or Baton Rouge?  It sounds like a trick question.

People sometimes ask us which we like better, New Orleans or Baton Rouge?  We don't have to spend a lot of time thinking it over before we answer.  Granted, we live in New Orleans because we love this city and we don't live in Baton Rouge because, well, we don't love it there.

Answering this question isn't like choosing a favorite Harp Twin.  Baton Rouge and New Orleans are as different from each other as Camille and Kennerly are interchangable.



We meet a lot of people from Baton Rouge.  When people in Baton Rouge want to celebrate an anniversary, or spoil themselves, or just have a good time, they come to New Orleans.  I am not aware of any traffic in the other direction for these reasons.  Some New Orleanians go to Baton Rouge because they work there.  Baton Rouge is the capital of Louisiana so people sometimes go there for government business.  That's why I went the last time.  It wasn't a lot of fun.

Baton Rouge flag

When people tell me that they are going to go to Baton Rouge after their time in New Orleans, I always have the same question: "What  do you think you're going to do there?"  It's always the same answer: "We're visiting friends who live there."  That's a good reason to go to Baton Rouge.

I could say a lot of negative things about Baton Rouge, but I'm not going to.  That's not our usual tone here.  In fact, what die-hard, true blue Baton Rougians (is that a word?) may take as being negative, I think of it as more being just what it is, neither here nor there.  I have no strong feelings for Baton Rouge, pro or con.  What do I think about Baton Rouge?  Most of the time I don't think about it at all.

A building in Donaldsonville that is no longer standing

Baton Rouge hasn't always been the capital of Louisiana. 

There has always been a tension between the northern part of Louisiana which is more American, and, more properly what people think of as "the South," and the southern part of Louisiana, which is Acadiana, culturally more influenced by the French and Spanish who ruled here prior to the Louisiana Purchase (1803).

New Orleans was the capital city of Louisiana from colonial times until 1829.   In that year, the Anglo-Louisianians complained that New Orleans was too noisy and was too much a den of vice to conduct proper state business.  The Creoles, who were content to keep the seat of government in francophone New Orleans, did their best to keep the capital close to their home base.  A compromise was reached.

From 1829 to 1831, wee Donaldsonville in Ascension Parish, was the state capital.  Things were a little too sleepy in Donaldsonville,  even for the teetollers and the spoilsports, so the capital reverted back to New Orleans.

In 1846, Baton Rouge was designated the capital of Louisiana.  Once again, the "sinful" distractions of the Crescent City were thought to be detrimental to good government.  A central location was chosen no less than 60 miles upriver of New Orleans.  Since Baton Rouge is located on the first bluff from the Mississippi's mouth, it was chosen.  

Baton Rouge has stayed the capital ever since, with brief interruptions during the Civil War.  In 1862, when Baton Rouge fell to Union troops, the capital was moved to scenic Opelousas, Louisiana for nine months.  The governor's mansion is still standing on the corner of Liberty and Grolee Streets, just west of the beautiful downtown business district.  Opelousas is still a kind of capital.  The city bills itself as The Zydeco Capital of the World.

Opelousas fell to Union troops in 1863 and the state government up and moved again, this time to the most remote corner of the state, to majestically named Shreveport.  Shreveport may be a great place to live (the city's motto) but it apparently isn't that great a place from which to govern because the capital reverted to Baton Rouge in 1865.  The rest, as of this writing, is history.

All this historical talk has got me yearning for a little more harp music.

All this harp music is making me thirsty.  I'm going to walk down our street to Buffa's to catch Lucas Davenport, whose show starts in about twenty minutes in the back room.  I've had enough harp music for one day.  Mr. Davenport tickles the ivories.  That means he plays the piano.  He really knows his way over those eighty-eight.  It should be a nice night.  Why wouldn't it be?  This is New Orleans.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade
Where the rest comes easy.

Where Quality is Our Nature

Jazz it up with Zatarain's

"We have Zatarain's in our supermarket in Minnetonka," people tell me.  "Is it really from New Orleans?"  Minnetonka is in Minnesota.  It's close to the source of the Mississippi River.  We are close to the Mississippi's mouth.  Mmmmm.... Zatarain's.  Jazz it up!

Zatarain's is from New Orleans.  More properly, nowadays, Zatarain's spices and pre-packaged rice mixes are from Gretna, on the other side of the River, but the company started out in New Orleans.  Nowadays, it's a subsidiary of McCormick & Co., Inc.  You know the company; their products dominate the spice aisle in your local supermarket.  

Has Zatarain's strayed far from it's roots after being bought by a multinational spice company?  Well, here's a link to the Zatarain's website that purportedly teaches you how to speak like a New Orleanian.  Please don't try any of this out while you're here.  You're going to sound like a darned fool just like the lady who does the voiceover in those videos sounds like a darned fool.  Who thought that was clever?  Somebody who has never been to New Orleans, or, if they have been, they have a tin ear.

That Zatarain's mural on the side of the Queen and Crescent Hotel is on the corner of Poydras and Camp Streets.  The more modern skyscraper to the left is some anonymous office tower, but it has two statues in front of it that I like.

The Lute Player

I know what you regular readers are thinking: Our humble narrator likes a statue!?!  It happens.  I'm not dead from the neck up.  For newcomers to this blog, there are several past entries in which I bemoan modern art, public sculpture in particular.  Whatever assemblages of welded scrap metal you want to put on your mantels are none of my business.  Trawl through this blog's archives at your leisure; you can waste a lot of time there.  You can also learn what your humble narrator is like and get a taste of what it's like to stay at our inn.  

For our new readers, I have but one word: Welcome.  

Here are two more:  Stick around.

Here are nine:  Visit New Orleans and stay at La Belle Esplanade.

Back to the two statues I like on Poydras Street, they were made by Enrique Alférez, a Mexican-born Louisiana artist.  He has all sorts of statues in the New Orleans Botanical Garden and he made the fountain at New Orleans' Lakefront Airport.   

Here's the statue located at the other side of that building on Poydras Street.  It's David.

You can tell it's David because he's got a sling.  It isn't the kind of sling you'll be wearing if you don't watch your step while walking the crooked and tilting sidewalks of New Orleans.  It's the kind of sling used to kill giants.  

You'll find some tall people in New Orleans and you'll find some snappy dressers, too.  I went to Meyer the Hatter the other day to see if they could clean and block one of my hats.  You'll find at least four generations of hatters at the shop at any given time.  It turned out that they couldn't provide exactly what I wanted (I'm persnickety about this particular hat, my favorite) so I decided to try a home remedy, which is usually a recipe for disappointment.  I like to live and learn through trial and error, much like a hunter gatherer.  "Are you sure you want to try it yourself?" the guy at Meyer the Hatter asked me.  

I'll probably be buying a new hat in the near future.  No surprise there, though.

A hatter is not a haberdasher.  If you are looking for a haberdasher, there is one just two storefronts down from Meyer the Hatter.  There is Rubensteins.

There is a seersucker suit in my future, too.  Guess where I'm going to get measured for it and where I'm going to purchase it and have it tailored.  You've already guessed it, haven't you?  I'm going to go to Rubensteins.  That's where everyone goes.  They've been on Canal Street since 1924.  In the past 91 years, they've learned a thing or two about making men look good in a seersucker suit.

Wanna see a statue by Enrique Alférez that's in the Botanical Gardens?

Rose garden, New Orleans Botanical Garden

We haven't had any video in this installment.  Howzabout another snippet of Justin Wilson in all his Cajun glory?


We hope we'll see you standing tall in New Orleans.

The motto of the City of Minnetonka, Minnesota is; "Where Quality is Our Nature."  I'm going to swipe that motto.  Zatarain's should have done that years ago.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

New Orleans Fried Chicken Triangle

McHardy's Chicken & Fixin', New Orleans, LA

Before we get started with today's subject matter, which has been tackled before on this blog much, much earlier on, we need to get in touch with our inner Kali and provide a soundtrack:


Frau Schmitt and I went to the Prime Example on the corner of North Broad Avenue and St. Bernard Avenue a few nights ago.  Amii Stewart wasn't the headliner, she wasn't even in the room, but the band did play a rousing version of Knock on Wood.  The whole room was dancing, your humble narrator included.  That was something to see, I'll tell you.

You know what they say in New Orleans?  They say: "Dance like nobody is watching."  I take that motto to heart.

I bet that when the 10-piece funk band that always plays at the Krazy Korner on Bourbon Street plays Knock on Wood the whole bar is hopping.     

We had a guest recently who had done his homework and learned through geographical triangulation that we are, indeed, located equidistant between the the apices of the little discussed, though well-known among cognescenti, New Orleans Fried Chicken Triangle (same link as before---I'm giving you a second chance).  Many people have lost there way within The Fried Chicken Triangle's borders.  Many more have found tasty paradise.

I was going to report our guest's findings after he had visited the three fried chicken restaurants within a five minute walk of our house.  He didn't have time to go the third, though, so this report will be incomplete from his perspective.  I'll supplement his findings with what information I'm able to provide, which is the usual modus operandi around hereabouts.  He inspired Frau Schmitt and your humble narrator to go on bivouac six blocks behind our house.  We regularly do this anyway, but this time we had a reason to do it.

Why, in five days and four nights, couldn't one person go to three fried chicken restaurants?  Because he spent one of those days taking a plantation tour. 

Our anonymous guest in question (he knows who he is and he's probably reading this installment right now), the tertiary subject of today's installment, has taken plenty of plantation tours.  He has been to New Orleans numerous times over the years.  His least favorite tours are the ones that present life on a Mississippi River plantation like a Culture Club video:


If VEVO doesn't allow you to see it here, you'll have to click the embedded YouTube link to watch this video there.  It's worth a gander.  Think Oak Alley when you watch that clip.  Karma chameleon, indeed.

Our guest wanted to see Whitney Plantation.  Who can blame him?

Dooky Chase's isn't going anywhere soon, Dooky Chase's will be open the next time he visits our fair city.  This is a chap who has been to New Orleans many times over many years.  You'd think he would know the city like we do, but he has tended to stay in the French Quarter most of the time.  No harm in that, but there's a whole other city out here waiting to be discovered.  We went to Dooky Chase's for lunch ourselves, to try the fried chicken.

This post is getting to be more convoluted than usual.  Are you following along with me this far?  Even I'm getting lost in the wheels within wheels.  Let's cut to the chase and get this fried chicken business out of the way, shall we?

The first day, our guest had fried chicken at McHardy's and he told us it was the best he's had in a long, long, and even one more long time, and, lunch had only cost him $5.00!  That's what he said, "That was the best fried chicken I've had in a long, long, long time."  

The next day, he went to Willie Mae's Scotch House.  Ms. Willie Mae Seaton died last Friday, which has nothing to do with the quality of the chicken, but I thought I would mention that this New Orleans icon is no longer with us.  May she rest in peace.  

Our guest's verdict comparing Willie Mae's chicken to McHardy's? McHardy's---no contest.

We went to Dooky Chase's this afternoon to pick up the slack left over from our new pal going to Whitney Plantation.  Our verdict?  McHardy's is better and not just because McHardy's is less expensive.

Before he left for the airport, I spoke with our guest, who, for reasons I'm not going to go into here, is going to remain anonymous for the duration of this article and probably forevermore.  As a professional innkeeper, I am always discreet about people's privacy.  Let's call him Chauncy.

I was talking to Chauncy and we both agreed that the reason McHardy's gets short shrift in the reputation department is because there's no sit-down dining.  It's a take out joint (hence the lower prices).  According to the Food Network, Willie Mae's has the best fried chicken in all of America.  According to a recent poll of New Orleanians, Dooky Chase has the best fried chicken in New Orleans.  According to the Creole grapevine in our neighborhood, it's always McHardy's that gets the top vote.  

At the hazard of sounding like somebody on Fox News when I say this, the mainstream media never asks the people who live in our neighborhood where to find the best fried chicken.  If they did, then I'd have to wait in line at McHardy's.  They don't, so I don't have to wait in line and for that I am grateful even though I'm sure Mr. McHardy, who is a prince of a fellow, wouldn't complain about the extra business.  Maybe somebody from the Food Network is reading this blog.  Shhhh.

Don't get me wrong.  I like both Dooky Chase's and Willie Mae's.  It's just that if I want the best fried chicken in town, I go to McHardy's and then I walk to the park and eat it there, which is a very pleasant experience, let me tell you.  If you are staying with us, I recommend enjoying your chicken in a park but you can always get take out and eat it in our back gardens, which are lovely.

The picnic table in our garden

I would prefer that you don't eat steaming hot fried chicken in your suite for the same reason that I ask that you to not eat boiled crawfish in your suite.  Both tend to stink up the house, the crawfish more than the chicken.  Don't be that person in your office who puts fish or popcorn in the microwave---no matter what you think, nobody likes it when you do that.  I know it's delicious, but it's nice to eat outside, especially this time of year.

And that brings us to the muddling conclusion of today's entry in the annals of New Orleans innkeeping.  Let's cut to a shot of this:

Macaroons!!

À votre santé, and,
Knock on wood,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

 

President Obama in New Orleans

A shadow on our house

I think I can safely speak for Frau Schmitt when I say that neither of us would mind if President Obama stopped by our house, even if he didn't spend the night.  As I write this, he's behind our house right now.  He's not in our back yard holding a beer summit.  He's five or six blocks behind us.  

I was running an errand and all the streets were blocked---policemen everywhere.  I figured it was the president so when I got home, I looked it up.  Sure enough, President Obama is in Tremé.

We have some guests from England who were very interested in seeing the president.  They were planning on having lunch at Dooky Chase's today so they may have gotten their wish.  The president ate there the last time he was in town.  No one called to ask me, of course, but I would have suggested he have lunch at Cafe Dauphine in the Lower 9th Ward, where he's going to be anyway later in the day.  

Now, to get on with what I wanted to write about today.


While I am interested in New Orleans transportation system, something caught my eye just after 1:56 in the video above, something very familiar.

That's Kathleen's el Camino parked on the street.

I always say, I wish I'd get a nickel for every time somebody takes a picture of our house.  I don't know how many times images of our house have been used, I only know the times I've seen it or what people forward to us.  Nothing I can do about and I don't begrudge anyone.  It's a compliment for a paint job well done.  Not that we painted the house ourselves.  It was this guy, who is the nicest contractor you'll ever meet.

As long as we're sitting around watching Convention and Visitors Bureau videos:



City Park, of course, is at one end of our street.  The English couple I just mentioned walked up there this morning.  The weather the past couple of days has been unseasonably mild.  It's been a real joy to walk around.  

Crescent Park is at the other end of our street.  It's very new so it doesn't have as much shade as I would like.  Give it a few years to grow into itself and I'm sure I'll enjoy it more than I do now.  Unlike the narrator, I can't get all excited about seeing the Mississippi River close up.

Armstrong Park is probably about the same distance from our house as the other two.  Walk down to Rampart Street and hook a right, in the uptown (upriver) direction.  Armstrong Park is a very interesting urban space.  This is another place that we don't visit often because there usually isn't much going on.  That said, when Jazz in the Park is going on, which is weekly in season, it's a good time.  

La Belle Esplanade

So, what did I want to write about again?  Who cares?  We've covered enough ground for today.  If you haven't stayed with us before, we look forward to meeting you.  If you have stayed with us before, we're looking forward to seeing you again.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.


P.S.  I just looked at the "Most Popular Posts" in the sidebar to your right.  For the first time since I can remember, "How Much Do Cigarettes Cost in New Orleans?" isn't listed there.  That, by far, is our most popular article.  

I think it's going to be knocked down in the rankings by "Ode to Golden Flake Potato Chips."  Everyday people are tweeting and retweeting links to it.  If you haven't read that one, check it out to see what all the excitement is about.  It's solid gold, I promise. 

Ode to Golden Flake Potato Chips

It's unexpected

By the time we're done with this installment, you're probably going to wish it was about dancing cats after all.  Well, if wishes were fishes we'd all be eating bouillabaisse.  

The local brand of potato chips is Zapp's and I've featured the various Zapp's flavors and packaging on this blog before.  When you go to the supermarket, though, there are some other local brands, i.e. local to the South, that you may not have heard of if you are from up North.  One brand, in particular, is the official potato chip of Talladega Superspeedway: Golden Flake.

Go 2 DEGA

Golden Flake is the official potato chip of a lot of things, most of which I have no idea what they are since I don't follow sports, including college football.  You can tell I'm not from Alabama, or from Louisiana for that matter.

Golden Flake is the inexpensive brand of potato chips found in the South.  I don't buy them often, but when I do I like the mesquite barbecue.  You just learned something personal about me.

Dip Style

You might think I like this flavor because of the taste.  They're all right on that front.  You might think I like this flavor for the way the crinkle cut construction holds up to aggressive dipping.  No, I don't ever have any dip in the house.  You might think I like this flavor because it's on sale.  You're getting closer, but that isn't the real reason.

I like Mesquite Barbecue Golden Flake Chips because of the doggerel on the back of the package.

Take your poetry wherever you can find it

You'll have to squint to be able to read the poetry in that picture, so let me transcribe it for you here:

A taste like barbecue.....it is true.

But with a touch of smoke.....just for you.

Mesquite barbeque spice in dip style chips because they are stronger.

This makes the flavor last even longer.


Amen, brother.  I get all misty-eyed whenever I read that out loud.  Try it yourself.  I can wait till you're done.

Some people (I'm looking at you Stacy) think that I make up some of the things I write about here.  I really don't have to.  I may emphasize some things for dramatic effect but when you have your eyes open for magic, you'll find it everywhere you look in New Orleans---even on the back of a bag of inexpensive snack food.

Now, since this is a blog about a boutique New Orleans bed and breakfast inn on Esplanade Avenue, let's get down to business.  Here is a picture of the sitting room in Le Pelican Suite:

Note the blue ceiling

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

Blue Dot Donuts in New Orleans

Canal Street Streetcar in the morning

We love it when celebrities stay at our inn.  I'm not talking about Rex Hollywood, who is a joy to have around, or about Frede Fup, who really is a celebrity, albeit in Denmark.  I'm talking about celebrities you know---the kind of people you see on your Yahoo newsfeed.  [Apparently newsfeed is a word since spellcheck didn't correct it.  Who knew?]  

I don't follow the Kardashians and I am disheartened that my Wheaties box idol, Bruce Jenner, is famous for what he (she) is famous for now.  No link there.  At least it isn't Mark Spitz.  Could you imagine the electrolysis bill?

Anyhow, back on topic, famous people stay at La Belle Esplanade. I can't tell you who they are.  I've signed a confidentiality agreement, as have the guests who stay in the other suites at the same time.  I can tell you this, though, the conversation at breakfast is just as interesting as it is any other day.  This is a boutique operation.  If you're sitting across from Laura Bush, what are you going to say?  You're going to tell her and her husband where you had the best fried oyster po' boy yesterday.

Laura Bush didn't stay with us recently.  Somebody else did.

That streetcar was still coming up Canal Street that morning

A celebrity is staying with us right now.  I asked if I could write about him in our blog.  He said yes, but he also said we couldn't call him by his real name.  What name did he prefer?  Billy Ockham.  He's traveling with his wife.  They stayed with us for six nights, which is a nice amount of time to experience New Orleans on it's own terms.  It's their 25th wedding anniversary.

"Should I spell that like Ockham's Razor?"  I asked.  "Yes," he said.  "Any relation?" I asked.  "No," he answered.  Here we go.  

You might know him and his bride or you might not.  They are very nice to have around the house and they've been enjoying the Clio Suite balcony that overlooks Esplanade Avenue.  Other than that, I cannot say any more.  My lips are sealed.

Let's listen to a song about Virginia.


Sic Semper Tyrannis.

Over the course of our breakfast conversations, I learned that Billy Ockham has a love of bacon.  It's nothing to be ashamed of.  A lot of people love bacon.  It's one way that Burger King keeps pace with McDonald's.  Wendy's, too.  Bacon.  The more the better, some people say.  Not me.  Not Mrs. Ockham either.  Frau Schmitt says that too much bacon is bad for my cholestrol and she is usually right about these things, but who are we to judge?

Since Billy Ockham loves bacon, I decided to pick up some bacon and maple donuts at Blue Dot Donuts on Canal street.  

Blue Dot Donuts on Canal Street

Blue Dot opened on Canal Street a bit over two years ago.  They're very popular.  The donuts are good.  They have a wide selection of specialty donuts.  When I go, I tend to pick up the maple and bacon johnnie logs, which are the real show stoppers in the case.  If I get there after 7:00, the Jesuit High School students have usually scooped up all the bacon and maple donuts so I have to get there when the shop opens, at 6:00.  I do this for our guests, whether they are international celebrities or not.

Where is that donut shop again?  I probably shouldn't tell you, but I will.

4301 Canal Street, New Orleans, LA

Now you know.  You can call ahead if you are so inclined to make a reservation.

I'd like to tell you more.  Frau Schmitt would, too, but we cannot.  Our lips are sealed.


À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

Life of a New Orleans Innkeeper

Our front porch

Nobody wears full length pants or long sleeves this time of year in New Orleans and it's only May.

The busy season is winding down for us.  People like to ask when our busy season is.  It's from the end of January until the 4th of July.  Then, things pick up again in the middle of September and we're busy until the end of November.  Then, we're busy around New Year's Eve.  Now you know.

A similar picture

We are continually blessed with good guests.  We hear a lot of horror stories from fellow innkeepers but, for some reason, we don't have any hair-raising tales to tell.  Ever day is a pleasant pattern of relaxed conversation in the morning and then people go out to have adventures in this magical city we call home.

Some people ask if we ever hold a wine tasting in the afternoon.  No.  We're in New Orleans.  I don't have to invent things for you to do.  You shouldn't be hanging around the house, anyway.  You're on vacation---I don't normally use this name for our city, but I'll say it--- Go enjoy the Big Easy.

A real Maltese firecracker stayed with us this weekend.  Remember, Tracey, that hot ticket who thought Tammie the Housekeeper doesn't exist?  Well, this Maltese firecracker was a hot ticket, too.  She was sharp as a pin, paying attention to everything.  It's guests like that who keep us on our toes, let me tell you.

I don't mean this in a bad way.  We like it when people notice what we do.  I don't think many of our guests give our suites the white glove test, though we wouldn't mind if they did, but if they do, we never hear about their findings.  

The Maltese firecracker said, "You two have thought of everything."  I wouldn't say everything.  The inn is still a work in progress and we are always adding lagniappe and fiddling with the details.  We've thought of a lot and we've been doing this almost three years, now.  We like to think we've gotten better along the way from opening day to here.  YMMV.

It's a big work in progress even if most of the pieces are already in place by now.

I'm beginning to detect a theme

We end today with a musical interlude.  Travis Trumpet Black Hill died last week while he was touring in Japan.  He used to play every Monday at the Ooh Poo Pah Doo Bar, a few blocks behind our house.  He was a very talented musician who will be missed in New Orleans and in our neighborhood especially.  He had a promising career ahead of him that was unexpectedly cut short under circumstances I'm not going to go into here.  



As you can hear, Trumpet Black could really play.  That clip was taken in Armstrong Park last year.  So far, 125 people (including your humble narrator) have viewed this clip on You Tube.  125?!?  Listen to that, man.

I saw his funeral procession this afternoon under the Claiborne Avenue overpass.  I didn't go to gawk because I don't like to do that.  I don't mind telling our guests about second line parades that are going on in our neighborhood, but when people ask if I know where there's going to be a jazz funeral, I usually say that I don't.  

One: I don't really follow those things.  Two:  Howzabout a little respect for the dead, eh?  If you stumble across it, that's one thing, but I don't want to feel like I just sold tickets to somebody else's funeral.

Living in New Orleans is already like living in an aquarium.  Nobody minds much that visitors watch everything we do and ask us a million questions about what it's like to be here.  I just showed an apartment to a fellow and, when I was done, I asked him when he'd be ready to move in.  "Oh, I live in Pensacola.  I was just wondering how much apartments go for here and what they look like on the inside."

He's staying in an illegal short term rental he found on Air B&B.  "There's no privacy but it was cheap and I'm meeting a lot of interesting people."  I'll bet.  He wanted me to show him the inside of our inn, "just in case for next time." Unfortunately, I had other things to do at that very same moment.

Live here long enough and you'll get used to things like this. 

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

A Dog's Breakfast in New Orleans

A dog in New Orleans

Meggen and I are irregular correspondents.  She sometimes writes to me.  Who knows why?  She always says that your humble narrator makes her laugh.  I don't mean to.  Maybe I bring a smile to your face, too, gentle reader.  That isn't my intent.  This blog's mission is only to inform, not to entertain.  What it informs you about is a matter of conjecture on my part since I just make it up as I go along.

Let's start this ride, shall we?

I know why Meggen wrote to me the other day.  It was to tell me that La Belle Esplanade was featured on the front page of the website she runs, Find Everything Historic.  You can waste a lot of time there if you click the link I've provided.  

If you search for travel destinations on Find Everything Historic, you'll only find one listed in the great State of Louisiana.  Guess which one.  I like Meggen.  Frau Schmitt likes her, too, and Frau Schmitt is a shrewd judge of character.  

Find Everything Historic

Meggen also told me that she wants to feature our blog on her website.  I said that would be fine.  I said, "The blog is a real dog's breakfast, for what it is worth.  People seem to enjoy it.  If you feature our blog, make sure you call it a real dog's breakfast.  There's no point in wasting a good phrase."

Truer words were never typed in an email.

When I typed it, I didn't really know what a dog's breakfast is, except for something that a dog would eat, which can mean just about anything.  I looked it up on Urban Dictionary, which I don't normally visit since most of the things defined on it are things I would rather not think about.  According to Urban Dictionary, the phrase "dog's dinner" has the advantage of being more attractively alliterative (which, itself, is a phrase that is attractively alliterative), but I prefer dog's breakfast, which, truth be told, I've always associated with a dog eating its own vomit.

This went in an interesting direction.  Remember, I did just say I make these posts up as I go along.

Street vendor at a second line parade

I've said it before and I'll say it again, you never know what you'll find when you walk around New Orleans.  The city is a feast for the senses.  

I was talking to our guests from Washington State this morning.  They arrived yesterday.  They went to the French Quarter for their first day in the city, as most people do.  "It didn't smell very nice down there," they told me.  They're from Tacoma, WA.  I used to live in Tacoma so I'm familiar with "the Aroma of Tacoma."  The French Quarter doesn't smell anything like that.  The French Quarter smells like, well, there's no way to put it delicately, it smells like vomit and piss and overripe garbage.  

That doesn't sound very good, does it?  It is what it is.  The French Quarter is beautiful and it really is something to enjoy, all olfactory considerations aside.  It's like being transported back in time.  Believe me, the French Quarter smells the best it has in 300 years.  Imagine it with horses.  When you are in New Orleans, you aren't in Minneapolis anymore.  It's a different kind of city.  We live in the sub-tropics.

That explains everything.

A new B&B in New Orleans

The old Police Jail and Patrol Station on the corner of Dumaine and North Dorgenois Streets is being converted into a bed and breakfast.  It's an interesting neighborhood in which to undertake that project.  It's close by to us and we wish them the best of luck.  It's a beautiful building that deserves to be restored.  I should tell Meggen about it.  She loves everything historic.  Just in case you don't believe it's an old police jail and patrol station, I took a photo of the sign carved in stone over the front door.

New Orleans Police Jail and Patrol Station

You never know what you'll find in New Orleans when you turn a corner.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.

The #1 Rated B&B in New Orleans

Somebody bumped into me when I was taking this picture

We are not ones to boast because we think it brings bad luck.  Nothing lasts forever.  It has been our good fortune to be ranked as the #1 bed and breakfast on Trip Advisor for one solid year as of this month.  To be more explicit, out of 144 B&Bs listed on Trip Advisor in New Orleans, as of this writing (it used to be 146), we have been considered the top of the list for sleep quality, location, rooms, service, value and cleanliness.  YMMV.

It gets better.  Out of 532 lodging options listed on Trip Advisor, we have scored the highest from traveller reviews for one year, month after month.  You won't see that when you filter the results on Trip Advisor.  They tend to steer people toward the bigger hotels, which is fine.  We only have five suites.  We don't want every Tom, Dick and Jane finding us on the front page when they are looking for someplace to stay.  We wouldn't have time to answer the phone.

Our position is unplanned.  It has taken us by surprise just as much as it has everyone else.  As I may have said before, way back in the day when we opened the inn and started this blog, neither Frau Schmitt nor your humble narrator have any background in the hospitality industry.  We've just made it up as we went along.  This isn't to say that just anyone can be Grade A Number One just by opening the door.  It takes some business sense.  It takes the kind of personality that enjoys interacting will all sorts of people.  It takes an encyclopedic knowledge of the city people are visiting.  It takes humility, goodwill and good cheer and attention to detail.  There are angels in the details.  A good innkeeper has to be willing to not have a day off for months at a time.  Thankfully, we love what we do.  It isn't really work when you enjoy your profession.

Being an innkeeper doesn't necessarily require good organizational skills, but it helps if your wife has them (doesn't it always?).  My usual befuddlement about what is going on tends to add to our inn's charm.  I'm quick on my feet when I need to be.

The sign in our foyer

NEW ORLEANS, LA.  

LA BELLE ESPLANADE.  

M. SCHMITT & M. KING.  

SEPTEMBER 2012.

I took the above photo the other night, in the wee still hours of the morning.  The reflection in the glass is our address, 2216, as the moonlight and star shine spill though the transom over our front door.  We live in a magical city.  New Orleans has treated us well.  That is what we try to share with our guests.  Dreams can come true on Esplanade Avenue.

Almost certainly, some young Turks will open a New Orleans B&B, tap into the zeitgeist, and claim the No. 1 position.  Nothing lasts forever.  Almost certainly, one of our fellow innkeepers will again reclaim their rightful place at the top of the list.  You'll notice that I don't call our fellow innkeepers our competition.  There is no competition, or, when there is, it is the most friendliest and convivial sort.  In New Orleans, you only have friends, whether you have met them yet or not.

Mardi Gras flowers in our lobby

We opened La Belle Esplanade in September, 2012.  We would like to thank the many, many guests who have stayed with us and who have shared their experiences with the worldwide web.  

Sometimes, people stay with us and accuse us of having our family or friends plant reviews on various online travel sites.  We've never done that.  Your humble narrator's mother, who is the other person who reads this blog (Hi Mom!) has never written a review on our behalf.  Neither has anyone who hasn't stayed with us.  Nor do we offer discounts or treats to people who do decide to write a review.  Firstly, we are allergic to discounts and, secondly, we believe in honesty.

I learned early on, when I was a wee lad, that honesty is the best policy.  This is one of the few things upon which Frau Schmitt and I both agree, and she is usually right about these things.

We are not young Turks, and we are not New Orleans natives either.  We have only lived in New Orleans five years now, but we call the city home.  The city calls us citizens, and there is no nicer compliment than that, let me tell you.

When you find yourself in the September of your years, we hope you find yourself as happy as your humble narrator.  We hope you meet wonderful, interesting people every day and that you get a chance to share what you know to enrich their time in the wonderful city that you, yourself, call home.

What's that he said?  The title of two Sinatra songs in the same post?  Why, yes, I do believe that's what I said, but I'm not going to share a Sinatra video, or even one of Maurice Chevalier.  I'm sorry to disappoint our regular readers (Hi Carol!) who think they've discovered my method.  Let's end this with The Soul Rebels Brass Band.  The Soul Rebels were at the front of a second line parade that went past our house this afternoon.  Why not?



Sweet dreams are made of this.  Let it roll.  That's jazz.

À votre santé,
La Belle Esplanade bed and breakfast.