[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Well, if I hadn't read it with my own eyes I would not have believed it (not that we should believe everything we read). Looks like there is to be a second Camellia Grill, this one in Destin, Florida, beloved by teenagers on spring break everywhere.

As I said to Kelly Leahy, co-blogger here at bloggingneworleans, there can be only one. Even if the reopened version in Nola is doing well enough, the new owner is messing with some pretty serious karma to try and duplicate his success outside of the Crescent City. It was a miracle the Camellia Grill reopened at all given the devastation and destruction left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Why tempt fate?

But, that said, if you're going to tempt fate, you might as well do it in the pan handle. If a greasy spoon operation is going to make it anywhere, it can make it in Destin. Not that Destin is lacking in diners--to the contrary, they're everywhere.

In fact, one of my favorites (besides the Camellia Grill, of course) is the Donut Hole. There are two locations of this fine dining establishment, and I can pretty much guarantee you both will be getting a run for their money once the new CG opens.

As much as I eschew the idea of taking something native to Nola out of it and trying to achieve success with it elsewhere, I can't help but hope the venture is a successful one. If the new outpost is a hit then surely there will be enough money to sustain New Orlean's (dare I say it?) favorite diner.

Either that or the new establishment will be a total money pit that will be the financial ruin of the owner which will lead the original Camellia Grill to ruin.

The thing is, either way, you simply can't recreate the Grill. Everybody knows it's not the food that people really go for. You can get eggs and a side of bacon anywhere--especially in Destin, Florida. It's the people at the Camellia Grill that make it the special place that it is. And I can assure you they won't be popping up in Florida any time soon to make you an omelet.

I don't know off the top of my head how many of the original staff returned to the, uhm, original Camellia Grill. From what I heard some had returned, others declined, and some, of course, we just never heard from again. Who knows what happened to them. Perhaps, just perhaps, fate will bring them to Destin.

My concern is that the owner will turn his attention away from the original CG and spend too much time (and money) worrying about the new outpost. It's a thin line everyone in Nola walks these days given the shaky economy, the lack of people to do the work, oh, and why not--the crime. To step over that line--oh, I shudder to even think about it.

What's even more concerning is that the opening of the new CG is really just a metaphor for what's happening all over New Orleans: everyone is turning their attention elsewhere and setting up show somewhere, anywhere else.

After two years all I can offer you is my exasperation. And, sadly, in a way, my compliance in this matter. When and if I'm ever in Florida again, I know I'll visit the new Camellia Grill. And I'll complain that it's not the original and it's not the same--and it won't ever be the same. And maybe that's the point.

I'll eat the food and hark back to days long, long past when I was basically just a kid eating with some friends after a wild night (or two). I'll remember a time when I actually had the time to just hang out, to relax, to have a good time, without having to think about the future of New Orleans and then feeling bad about the whole thing to the point where I didn't even want to eat my meal anymore. It just felt wrong.

And it will feel so very, very wrong at the CG in frickin' Destin, Florida. But, on a positive note, if I can get myself to the CG in Destin, then I can get myself to the real deal in New Orleans. Hopefully others will feel the same way.

Thanks to Ashley Morris for the head's up.

Photo of omelet (not from Camellia Grill) by nickgraywfu.

[This is a continuation of the author's series on New Orleans lessons, to commemorate both the 2nd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina as well as her 10th anniversary of living in New Orleans .]

S is for Savoring

It's no coincidence that I've learned how to meditate while living in New Orleans. Nor is it a coincidence that I've learned about the Slow Food movement and taken up gardening. If my northern family thought I was slow before, they think I'm downright sluggish now, after ten years of New Orleans life. And that's fine with me: living slowly allows me to contentedly follow my own muse, and screw the rest.

People ask how we can deal with the heat down here, and it's simple (but not always easy): slow down. Don't run anywhere; take your time and just relax. Sit and have some water. Take a nap. Watch the sunset. Savor your life before it passes you by.

T is for Traditions

Because we take life so slow around here, we make the time to hold onto our dear traditions. From red beans on Monday to grillades on Sunday, our heritage finds its way into our daily lives. If you take the streetcar downtown, or go to the racetrack on Thanksgiving, or eat king cake on Twelfth Night, or fix black-eyed peas and cabbage for the new year, or go to Galatoire's every Friday, or drive in the Mardi Gras truck parade, or start Jazzfest in the Gospel tent, you know what I mean.

I could go on and on with these standard traditions, but there are plenty of good ones dreamed up by our creative population. Grilling out on the neutral ground for Lundi Gras. Making waffles for brunch on Super Sunday. Spending Halloween in the graveyard. Rereading Gone With the Wind to cope with an Ash Wednesday hangover.

If you've got a juicy tradition to share, please leave a comment - you know we New Orleanians are always hungry for new ways to pass a good time!

[This is a continuation of the author's series on New Orleans lessons, to commemorate both the 2nd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina as well as her 10th anniversary of living in New Orleans .]

N is for Neutral Ground

Wouldn't it be great if there was a world's neutral ground? People from all nations could go there to catch beads at Mardi Gras parades, have Sunday afternoon cookouts, and park their cars when the rain falls a little too hard. While the world's powers continue their endless warring, us regular folks could gather on the streetcar tracks and make fair-trade deals: one can of High Life for a Popeye's chicken breast. No glass allowed, friends, it's safety first out here.

How great would it be to see kids from all cultures fighting over a plush football tossed from a float? To sing drinking songs in every language? To hang out in a place where traffic's permanently stopped so that people can sit in their lawnchairs and shoot the shit?

This is my dream, dear readers, and it may never come true. Fortunately for us here in New Orleans, there's always a neutral ground, no matter how many battles life throws our way.

O is for Okra

I'd never given much thought to this hardly little vegetable until my neighbors planted it in spades this past spring. From its lowly spot on the table - rarely seen in its pure state, but hidden in gumbo or fried beyond recognition - I never would have imagined that it came from a plant that towers above my head and blooms such exquisite flowers.

If you only knew okra from its restaurant incarnations, you'd never guess that it grows so fast that if you don't pick daily, those stinkers will end up as long as your forearm. Sadly, they're too tough to eat at that length, but their long, tapered shape remind me of witch's fingers. And voila: another Halloween costume is born. This year, keep on the lookout for the lady wearing a dried-okra skirt!

[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

People often ask me why I love New Orleans so much. They ask that a lot more now than they did before Katrina, as you might imagine, but it's a question I never tire of answering. And it's a question to which there are many, many answers.

One of the myriad reasons I love New Orleans is for the coffee. I've probably mentioned this in countless blogs, but there's just something--sumthin'--about the way coffee in New Orleans tastes that is better than anywhere else I've sipped it. New York City offers a pretty good variety of coffees, and many of them are downright tasty, but they don't have that special something that Nola coffee offers.

For years now I've figured that special something was really just in my mind. I thought I just loved Nola coffee for the simple reason that I was in Nola when I was drinking it. That would be special in and of itself. But that's not it.

Then for a while I thought maybe it was the chicory. Chicory was added to coffee way back when to enrich the flavor when coffee had to be watered down to make it go a little further. In the old days there were no Starbucks and money for coffee was tight. Enjoying a cup could be seen as a privilege. In order to make the coffee last a little longer during times of economic strife chicory was added to give coffee back its robust edge.

But the chicory isn't what makes Nola coffee special. I'm pretty sure at this point most coffee in Nola does not have chicory in it. Either that or I've gotten so used to the flavor I couldn't tell you otherwise in a blind taste test.

Finally, the other day, my husband shed some light on this mystery. He was doing research for a paper on human rights in New Orleans before, during and after Katrina when he came upon a personal blog neither of us will every be able to turn up for you, sadly. This blog revealed the truth behind Nola coffee that I am sure all the locals already know: it's made from concentrate.

Gee. You'd think I could have figured that out. In fact, I did figure it out sometime before the storm but forgot about it. We made the discovery at our beloved and now defunct Cafe Au Lait. When we ordered iced coffee and the person behind the counter whipped out this container full of what I thought was merely iced coffee (regular and decaf!).

No no no no no. It was concentrate. I know, because we asked, about ten seconds after I tasted it. It was marvelous, divine, and clearly the best cup of iced coffee I'd ever had. Ever.

Now, to be honest, nothing makes a good cup of iced coffee better than adding the proper complement of milk. I prefer cream. I mean, I don't get it in New York, but in the south and especially in New Orleans, all the coffee seems to come with cream in it. Or, rather, half and half--although mostly it's real cream.

And it's unbelievable. The combo of the concentrate and the real cream is so smooth and creamy yet flavorful with the richness of the actual coffee taste. I pretty much can't live without it.

And now I don't have to. In this blog my husband uncovered a recipe for making the perfect concentrate. In fact, I started up a batch yesterday I'll be going to check on in a few minutes. I can assure you this first experiment will not render anything as good as what is by now old hat in New Orleans, but you have to start somewhere.

The coffee beans are not from Nola, for one thing. Although they're a good brand found locally in Louisville, Kentucky (of all places) these beans are not going to stand up to what could be found in New Orleans. Plus, since this is my first time making concentrate I'm sure I don't have the measurements exactly where they should be.

The recipe found on the blog called for essentially a half pound of coffee beans ground and soaked in five cups of water for at least twelve hours. No word on how finely ground the beans should be or whether the beans could be pre-ground or if you need to grind them right before you make the mixture. Also no word on whether the mixture should sit at room temperature or be put in the fridge.

I ground the beans on the spot and then added a teaspoon-full (or so, I wasn't measuring, which is always my downfall) of ground chicory. Eventually, I'll need to turn up filters and filter out the coffee grounds.

The rest will be, as they say, history. Hopefully this attempt at recreating one of New Orleans' finest offerings will turn out better than the time I tried to make rose mint iced tea. Either way it will kick the butt of what passes for iced coffee around here.

According to the blog, restaurants are starting to catch on to the concentrate "trend" and are making their own versions to sell at higher prices. This is ridiculous, of course, because anyone can make concentrated iced coffee. take me, if I can do it, anyone can.

Perhaps the best part of coffee from New Orleans--besides drinking it in New Orleans, possibly getting it with a little chicory, and having it from concentrate--is that it's still inexpensive. Like with most places in Nola, the purveyors of iced coffee don't know how to offer anything less than the best.

Photo of delicious New Orleans iced coffee by Mike Rowehl.

Ok, I might now totally be irritated with Beyonce. Before I was just sorta annoyed, but now I may be royally ticked. According to this, which I scooped up from my beloved Pop Sugar, the Queen B claims she is Creole.

At a recent promotional event B was asked what her favorite smell was (don't worry, it wasn't a question totally out of context as it was a perfume promotion). B replied it was her mom's cooking, which is actually sweet as pie. Beyonce claimed her mom makes really good gumbo, which may be the case. But then she had to go and say she was Creole.

Now, this may be true and it may not. If it is, more power to B. If not, then she now annoys me more than Fergie.

So, good citizens of New Orleans (and the Gulf Coast), please edify me as to the accuracy of Ms. Knowles' comment. Is she, or isn't she? I mean, she could be--no one is saying she's definitely not. It just smells a little of self-promotion, not "Creole" cooking.

Pic of possibly Creole Beyonce by Pex Cornel.

On the third Wednesday of every month until December (Sept 19, Oct 17, Nov 21, Dec 19, 2007) businesses across the Lakeview area will be getting together in the parking lot at Robert E. Smith Center on Harrison Ave in New Orleans (across the street from Starbucks) for the Harrison Avenue Marketplace, an Outdoor Monthly Market. The first market was this past Wednesday and I happened to be in the neighborhood and grabbed some shots of this first ever community wide event

The lot was packed with current and former residents of the once flooded area of the city. As I walked through the 400 or so people I over heard talk of rebuilding, pre-fab housing, real estate, hurricanes and renewal. Various booths were set up selling food and trinkets. Plus some home remodelers were there showing off their talents. Of course the real estate agent tent was popular as well.

Drago's was grilling up seafood for a long line of residents. Unfortunately I didn't get to taste any of the food, because all transactions required cash and I didn't have any (though there are a number of ATMs nearby).

The Crispin Schroeder Band played live on the building side of the lot to a flowing crowd.

The City Park Produce stand (usually on Marconi at Orleans and City Park Ave) had a booth with fresh picked fruit and vegies by the pound. Nearby, Whole Foods also had a booth with organic food and community info. Plus the Bucktown based shrimper in the truck next to this booth had live shrimp for sale ready to take home and fry up or boil.

The great thing about this market is the number of people who came out to help support this neighborhood. Lakeview had 18 feet of water in some places and is right next to the 17th Street Canal breach. In the background you see the St. Dominic Catholic Church and School. The Church has reopened and the school is still looking for help to continue its tradition of elementary school excellence. Behind me at the other end of Harrison is the empty Hynes Elementary (where I went to K-6) and up the street on Canal and Harrison is St Paul's Episcopal Church and school. This truly was a family neighborhood before the storm and is struggling to return with the homes on the streets nearby slowly being rebuilt.

Finally, speaking of kids, bring yours to next month's market on Harrison for great food, music and fun.

Before you may wonder why I would think any Starbucks is better than our local favorites, let me reassure you I still think Starbucks in the McDonalds of coffeeshops (especially with the extremely low quality of frappuccino I got today). But in this one case, I plan on getting drinks at this location whenever possible. The Starbucks you see pictured above is the brand new location that took over what was once Coffee and Company in Lakeview. In the heart of one of the most devastated areas of the city, Starbucks has decided to invest in the future of New Orleans and has opened this location with normal operating hours (open til 9pm everyday!) and a line around the front of the building that is a badge of honor. After the jump you will see a close up of this line that is painted around 5 feet up the wall on the front of the building.

You see the paint is at the level of the flooding on the street that is one of the highest areas in this neighborhood. The building was remodeled, not torn down, and wears this paint proudly. I love the fact that Starbucks is helping bring back New Orleans and helping us never forget at the same time. Not if only we could get pictures of this location framed on the walls of Starbucks around the country. So join me and patronize your local coffeeshops, but also make sure you grab a venti frap with extra whip from the newest New Orleans Starbucks in Lakeview and help rebuild New Orleans.

I was inspired by my colleague Amanda Anderson's recent post, which also reminded me of something fun. Amanda recently celebrated her ten year anniversary of living in New Orleans (god love her) and was going through the alphabet, reflecting on what each letter brought to mind about our beloved (and beleaguered) Crescent City.

She reminded me of a game I used to force my husband to play with me. This was before we had the baby and he became such a big help that I felt bad trying to engage him with it. It's a stupid game with essentially no rules and no winner, that I cleverly call "A to Z." Spectacular, no?

Basically the point of the game is to pick a topic and go through all the letters of the alphabet (the English one) and come up with, well, you know, things that describe said topic or fit into it. And naturally I've forced him to, on at least one occasion, go through the alphabet with regard to Nola.

We came up with gems like B for booze and beads and boobs. We amused ourselves with C for Cajun and Creole Cooking. And the Columns Hotel. And the broken Concrete I fell on when we were running down St. Charles (another C!). Z naturally went to Zydeco (and the Zydeco Cha Chas, another C!).

As Amanda seems to be slowly engaging in just that very thing, I was delighted to read her sections for 'A, B, and C.' Clearly I have a sister in this silly but fun way of organizing my experiences and thoughts on New Orleans.

Some of the stuff Amanda covers we all know quite well, such as Mardi Gras Beads (B). Others, I imagine, as they come up, will be more from the perspective of someone who's really lived the life down in Nola, not just visited. It's the little details, after all, that make a life and an experience.

I'm sure there are millions of things I have yet to see or do in New Orleans, just as it's not possible to go through everything there is to see and do in New York. They're both ever-changing, dynamic cities, for better or worse (lately, it seems both occupy the 'worse' category), with new places opening up as quickly as another closes, new or re-discovered neighborhoods popping back into focus for a moment--if brief at times--in the cultural limelight.

To my credit, I think I've seen a fair amount of New Orleans over the past fifteen years (or however long it's been--I really can't remember anymore!). Some of what I've seen has been touristy stuff--which, by the way, you shouldn't knock as it's probably the best time you'll have ANYWHERE--and some of what I've done was more off the beaten path. Regardless, the sum of my experiences has contributed to my idea of what New Orleans is.

More importantly, those experiences have contributed to what New Orleans--the city and the magical place in la la land--means to me. Every visitor and citizen alike has an opinion of New Orleans, whether they love or hate it, and each has his or her own definition of what the city is, what it's like and what it's about.

This is not necessarily tantamount to why they love it. Rather, it's what they think of when they close their eyes and someone says (and probably mispronounces) 'New Orleans.'

New Orleans means a lot of things to me. And they're not just with regard to drinking and getting stumble-down drunk in the Quarter or flitting around the cemeteries with a camera basically begging someone to mug me.

New Orleans means, to me, slowing things down a bit. You know how Emeril is always (annoyingly) telling us he's going to kick it up a notch? Well, for me, Nola is all about taking it down a notch--which is pretty easy since the speakers in New York are clearly set on '11' all the time.

It's about a nice, steady, soft breeze, the cool shade of an ancient oak tree. It's about having no timetable or schedule whatsoever--instead doing whatever we want whenever we feel like it, or get around to it.

It's about not being bothered! It's about having dinner, you know, whenever. It's about choosing to hit a museum or sleeping in and having a nice brunch. It's about running along the river and thinking, "Oh, if only the path went further!"

You know, that kind of thing.

I think we have a collective view of New Orleans--the Mardi Gras, the Jazz Fest, all that. We know what we know and we know what the travel guides tell us: "Hot weather in August! Stay out of the cemeteries at night! Jazz, jazz, jazz!"

But what about the gal who made me and a friend of mine the best veggie po'boy we'd ever had, which wasn't even on the menu, just because she could? Just because she had the time, and--hey, why not? What about things like sitting in a streetcar enjoying the view and the breeze--could there be a calmer, more tranquil commute? And, to boot, no one seemed to be in a rush or worried that they would be later.

Well, I guess the latter item could be a bad thing, especially in a struggling economy, but still. It's nice when tourists aren't faced with the onslaught of rush hour like they are here in Manhattan--woah, Nelly!

Now you're starting to get the idea, right?

So I ask you, beads and riverboat cruises and boozing aside, what does New Orleans mean to you? We all know what it means to miss our fair city, but what about it do we miss so much that we simply cannot let her go?

[Every Thursday, Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

Recently--as in yesterday--my mother-in-law sent me a little present as congratulations on getting a new job. It was a Williams-Sonoma cookbook entitled "Authentic Recipes Celebrating the Foods of the World: New Orleans."

I was immediately overjoyed by her sweet, thoughtful, and very personal gift. Then, as I started flipping through the pages full of beautiful photographs of the city and its culinary intricacies, I got a little sad. Ok, I'm lying--I got a lot sad.

I was sad because I won't be visiting any time soon. I was sadder because the photographs in the book were obviously pre-Katrina, when everyone was still having a grand old time eating and drinking and making merry. I was sadder still when I noted in the back of the book that it was published in 2005.

I hate 2005. Can I just say that? I mean, it was a crappy year for EVERYONE.

Now then, getting back to the book: I love it. It's fabulous. Whether or not the meals one can make from it are in any way shape or form 'authentic' remains to be seen by me. This is primarily because, although I've visited Nola too many times to count on my hands, I am both a vegetarian and a creature of habit.

This means that I've walked by Galatoire's, but I've never been inside. What the hell would I eat that they serve anyway? Same for all the grand old culinary dames in the Crescent City.

No matter, though, 'cuz now I have the cookbook full of what I hope are trade secrets. I mean, ok, it's no secret that Bananas Foster was invented at Brennan's and that they still make the best one ever. The recipe for Bananas Foster is, of course, among the many notable and well-known Luziana yummies offered in the W-S cookbook's pages.

But, even better than the recipe is the pictures of Brennan's and of the guy making the Bananas Foster. I recognize that bow-tied uniform. Heck, I recognize the guy making it!

All that recognition really makes me homesick for a place that is not even my home. How crazy is that? It's crazy. Trust me, I know.

But, getting back to the book, it's not just full of recipes that may or may not be the real deal (although it looks pretty real to me!). There is a section on New Orleans cocktails--those that at least partially claim to have been concocted for the first time down here. There's history and how-to on everything from the Sazarec, which we all know and love, to something called Brandy-Milk Punch, which to me sounds basically like egg nog served year-round.

They also offer their take on the Mint Julep, which I'd always taken for a Louisvillian drink--seriously, you should see people chug these things down at the Derby; it's like they were marathoners downing Gatorade--and the cajun martini, which I'm thinking is basically a martini made with Absolut Peppar and garnished with okra or something.

I'll let you know 'cuz you can get your bottom dollar I'll be making all of these now that I have the recipes, authentic Nola or not.

I have to admit, like with most cookbooks, my favorite part about this one is the pictures. I played a game with my husband of looking at the pictures and guessing the location of each. Many I knew, but not all. There is one pic in particular that had me laughing--it's of a bunch of guys dressed like Napoleon in none other than--you guessed it--Napoleon House.

The Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone is pictured--I've been there, but not to stay at the hotel, just to hit the bar (what does this say about me? It says I appreciate a beautiful, revolving bar), as is Brennan's and Antoine's and Galatoire's. Never been to any of them.

There are shots of Acme Oyster Bar. I've been there. There's a photo of Albertine's Tea Room at....you guessed it: my perennial favorite, the Columns Hotel.

There a shot of Dick and Jenny's, where I've never been. There are photos of Tujague's, where I've not been and the name of which I can barely pronounce. I would be let in, though, because I can pronounce it. Seriously--it's Two Jacks. Sadly, I think Rachel Ray was the one who informed me of this.

Basically, my MIL is feeding my addiction to New Orleans. I feel like I'm in Nola rehab right now, or Nola prison, only folks are piece-mealing me anything they can get their hands on to keep my happy for the time being.

First it was some cool pictures, now it's a cookbook. World better watch out if I actually attempt to make anything out of it. Once I tried to make vegetarian jambalaya and it turned out horribly, just horribly. But, my pluck is back, and now I have real recipes to work with.

I'll begin with the drinks, and, if I ever get off the floor, move into the apps and on to dinners and sides. I will, of course, be making the vegetarian version of these things, so who knows how they'll turn out. The first recipe is for a tomato tart, though, so I think I'll be pleasantly surprised.

Since this book was a gift I don't even know if you can get a copy at Williams-Sonoma any more. I would hope so. And I would hope W-S has updated the cookbook for the current year. It saddens me so much to think that life for so many both in and outside of Nola stopped in 2005. What a crappy year.

But, back to the book. I checked it out on amazon.com and noted it is still available. I checked out the reviews, which, touchingly, are filled with tears of those who love the city as I do and miss her so, so, so much. You really ought to check out those reviews. They'll make you feel a little less abandoned, a little less un-loved.

I was so happy and so sad all at once, all over a book. Not just any book, a book about my true love. This story, the one where I cook, er, at least try to cook, will hopefully have a happier ending than did 2005. What a crappy year.

Then, just when I was feeling my worst, I saw the picture that summed it all up for me. It was of my beloved, and no more, Cafe Au Lait. I really miss that little place.

[Beat the Heat offers interesting and entertaining--and tasty!--ways to cool off in New Orleans this summer.]

Well, I think the article in the Crescent City Farmers Market weekly news bulletin says it all, but don't take my word for it. Check out the Farmers Market this week and sample one of local juicer Amanda's fruity concoctions. In fact, you'll have to--I'm stuck here in NYC. At least I have air conditioning.

This Tuesday I also have word that the Farmer's Market will offer FREE WATERMELON to folks who stop by. Now, if there is anything more refreshing that sums up summer than watermelon I haven't seen it. Or tasted it. Or basked in its cool refreshment.

The only thing left to do is get the free watermelon people with Amanda to make some sort of watermelon juice creation. Talk about tasty and refreshing. And sticky, but that's to be expected in these parts this time of year, no?

So get yourself on over to the Farmer's Market this Tuesday or Saturday. Yes, it may be hot--or perhaps raining--during your visit, but it will be well worth it when you enjoy Amanda's special papaya lime juice. You'll cool down AND help the local economy, as well as the environment, all at the same time.

Remember, the Tuesday market runs from 9:00AM (when it shouldn't be too hot and you could enjoy a nice cool juice for breakfast) until 1:00 PM (when you can enjoy one for lunch) at 200 Broadway, the Uptown parking lot. The Saturday market runs from early-bird 8:00AM to high noon at 700 Magazine Street.

Photo of lime juice with orange juice, another fabulous treat, by gigijin.

Can someone please try this juice and let me know how delicious it is? After all, I have to live vicariously through you.