In the evening, we ventured back out to dine at on of New Orleans’ original creole restaurants, Galatoires. Still family owned, the great-grandson of Mr. Galatoire was there to share their story of how creole cooking came to be, and of the restaurant itself– its famed mirrored walls have a history of being quite the matchmaker!
After a delicious steak and wine dinner, we made our way to Preservation Hall.
My Dad was an electric bassist, and growing up he instilled into the whole family a strong appreciation for all music, but particularly jazz. He taught my sister and I how to harmonize, improvise, trained our ears to “name that instrument” and (of course) to always be able to follow the bass line.
He also taught music lessons, and loved students but still held them (and us) to as high an esteem as any other professional. For example, if my 6th grade concert was simply mediocre, guess who did not get a standing ovation admist all the other cheering parents?
Being in a city that so celebrates jazz, and to enjoy it in a tiny hole in the wall that’s been home to incredible musicians as well as gives young talented people the opportunity to perform was an experience I would have loved to share with him.
After seeing a few performances, it was time to find our way back to our hotel. I felt like we were in a movie, roaming little cobblestone streets, people spilling out of corner restaurants, drinking wine in the streets, the warm night, everyone laughing and having a great time…
my love for the French Quarter runs deep and wide.
see Kate’s take here