Showing posts with label Mardi Gras. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mardi Gras. Show all posts

I'm Officially a New Orleanian, thanks to Chrissy Gemmill and Etsy

Hello and Happy Spring! I hate to say that the blogging will be a little light through the month of April--Mr. Luz and I have 3 weddings (one in D.C., one in New Orleans, one in St. Louis) in the next 5 weeks--but who wants to cook right now, anyway? I'm living off a diet of takeout, beer, and sunshine until I get my fill of all 3 and only then will I go back to my tiny kitchen.  In the meantime, guess what? More non-food related posts! Just be happy that I'm not detailing the ever-downward spiral of my Lady Gaga obsession. (Anyone in the market for a custom-made Gaga lavender blonde/yellow/platinum wig? Visit my Ebay shop. I wish I was kidding.)

Unlike alot of my posts, this is about someone else's passion.  I found Chrissy Gemmill while Christmas shopping on Etsy.com (a crazy awesome site where talented people sell their handmade artistry to lucky people like you and me) last year.  Her inspired and edgy-yet-elegant metal-work creates jewelry that, for lack of a better descriptor, gets taken seriously. WTF does that mean, right? I mean that her jewelry gets noticed, not because it's frivolous or flashy but because it's unique, boldly expressive, and beautiful.  In sum, I'm a big fan.

And maybe you heard that the Saints won the Superbowl.  For me, that moment cemented the rebirth of New Orleans in a mixture of tears, confetti, and hardships packed down by thousands of dancing, jumping, joyous feet, and so I started looking for a keepsake that would represent all that crying, stomping, and celebrating every time I looked at it. I started looking for my fleur de lys.  If you've spent much time in New Orleans, you know that it's the only place where it's cool--actually, where it's required of you--to proudly sport any and all logos, symbols, colors, whatever, associated with the city.  It doesn't even matter if you get your New Orleans t-shirts at a tourist shop. 

So it's about time that I got my "signature" fleur de lys.  I didn't want one that would be mass produced and, while beautiful, generic. I didn't want one that would be perfect, and polite because New Orleans is neither of those things.  And so I asked Chrissy Gemmill to do her unique, expressive, inspired magic for me.  And though it's probably impossible to be happy doing custom jewelry pieces when you are an artist with your own vision, Chrissy agreed and was great to work with. (Thankyouthankyouthankyouthank you, Chrissy!!) 

Coincidentally, I was boarding a plane to NOLA when she emailed me these photos of my necklace, and it wasn't 100% the airport bloody marys that made me a little teary when I saw them.  Chrissy hand cut/hammered the pendant pieces, and incorporated the team's colors in the black patina on the fleur de lys and in the vintage brass chain.  Then she threw in her signature chainmail element to amp up the gothic New Orleans theme while keeping it elegant. 
Thanks to Chrissy, I finally have my own fleur de ly and it's 100% me while also being 100% New Orleans. And when I'm not wearing it, my big blue plastic shark from Lucy's Retired Surfer's Bar on Tchop. Street in NOLA proudly sports it on my dresser. I have to say, it looks pretty cool on both of us.

Chrissy Gemmill teaches jewelry-making classes in Frederick, MD (not too far outside of D.C. and worth the trip) and you can purchase some of her pieces at The Muse in Downtown Frederick.  You can also buy her pieces at her Etsy store, available here, and check out her latest projects on her blog, Chrissy Gemmill Jewels.  

NOTE: Anyone who would like to bestow a gift on me at any time--and feel free to do so--I'd gladly accept a Chrissy Gemmill Skeleton Key Bracelet. Please and thank you.StumbleUpon.com

And then, there was great joy.

I can't stop watching this, and I can't stop crying. The people of New Orleans are rare.  They have the fortitude to make it through the hard, heartbreaking times and the spirit to anticipate the joyful times that make it all worthwhile.  It's not about Katrina, it's about unabashed hope in spite of endless disappointment. It's always been that way in NOLA, and here is their great reward. Congratulations, New Orleans--the Black and Gold are going to the Superbowl!  



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Missing NOLA Every Day: Mardi Bike and Plum Street Snowballs

I'm back from Camp Energy Nerd, and now I'm gearing up to host a birthday soiree for the magnificent Liza Jane. Said soiree will require at least 2 lbs. of Ghiardelli chocolate, 5 lbs. of various cheeses, and oodles of champagne, and yes you can come if you dress up and bring her presents.

With all the excitement, I'm on track to miss my semi-annual New Orleans visit. DC crushes my soul, so I promised myself that I would visit NOLA every six months to carry the sights, sounds, and feel of my flipflops on the old, gnarled sidewalk back with me. I can't make it back until February, so until then I will stalk my steamy, swampy lover via Google Images (Google is pretty fantastic for stalking, in general. I highly recommend it.) Right now I'm missing Plum Street, where I used to live, and it's neighborhood snowball shop.

Plum Street Snowballs serves soft, snowy shaved ice doused with dozens of flavored syrups "by the pail," and days where the owners didn't have a softball game, or a bar mitzvah, or something else keeping them from opening up shop, there will be a line around the corner and a crowd of people sitting on the sidewalk, enjoying their snowballs.

Mr. Luz and I heavily relied on Plum Street Snowballs to get us through bar studying, and we'd scrounge for change in the cushions and pay in dimes if we had to. If you went to Plum Street Snowballs on a quieter afternoon, you'd find yourself in a sunny, verdant neighborhood alongside a sleepy "mardi bike," and some lovely, friendly, genuinely happy folks. I really can't wait to go back.
The scene behind this photo was the scene I walked past every day during my last year in NOLA. God I miss those beat up sidewalks.

Photo Credits:
Photo 1--Jason Perlow on eGullet
Photo 2--from Gwen's Flickr account
Photo 3--by Infrogmation of WikiMedia
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Where's a Second Line When You Need One? It's Mardi Gras!

Happy Mardi Gras!


If I were in NOLA, I'd be sitting on the porch of the Columns Hotel right now. I'd be enjoying a brief moment of lazy sunshine between a morning full of parades, and the costumes and craziness of Bourbon Street. And I'd (hopefully) be with some of my best friends.

As it is, here in D.C., I'm debating on wearing my Coors Light outfit + cowboy hat out to Dupont Circle tonight, modeled after the artistry of these fine gents. Ok, just kidding. But I would be awesome if I could pull it off.


In honor of my friends and lazy-sunshine-memories, I give you just a few of my favorite (mostly anonymous) pics from Mardi Gras past. Click on the photo itself for a larger view, as blogger hates me and I can't figure out how to make it do my bidding just yet.

House Gutting in Mid-City in February...
it was hard work, but now I know how to tear down lathe and drywall.

Gathering for the parades on St. Charles Avenue. I love the kiddos on ladders.

Floats, floats, floats. "Throw me something, Mister!"

Pat O'Brien's famous courtyard patio...the perfect place to enjoy your Mardi Gras Hurricane.
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Who Doesn't Love 25 cent Martinis?

Well, it's back to the grind, ya'll. Mr. Luz and I just spent 4 days in New Orleans for a wonderful homecoming. Every once in awhile, it was unsettling to be enjoying NOLA as a tourist, and for such a short time. It was like having the perfect dream after you hit the snooze button--you intuit that it's fleeting, and have a difficult time accepting that.

Luckily, I get to relive some of the debauchery here. I decided not to review every meal, but I will post pictures that I hope will illustrate the unique beauty that keeps N'awlins on the hearts and minds of those who have enjoyed her decadent ways.

Our first full day in NOLA, we celebrated 25 cent Martini Lunch at Commander's Palace. In addition to beautiful dining rooms and flawless service, Commander's offers a diverse menu and four different martinis for 25 cents each during Martini Lunches.





(And before I forget, this Top Chef's season finale was filmed there! I can't wait to check it out, even if the German dude wins.) From the minute that you walk into the restaurant, every one greets you warmly and treats you like a VIP guest. We sat in their downstairs dining room, and enjoyed the easy pace as we sipped our first martinis and waited for our menus.

I ordered their gulf shrimp with melted onions and Abita beer BBQ sauce on grits, and Mr. Luz chose their Black Angus short ribs on creole cream cheese smashed potatoes. My shrimp were spicy and rich, and the citrus in my (25 cent!) cosmopolitan made every bite new and tasty. The fact that Commander's uses Certified Black Angus beef meant that Mr. Luz's short ribs were perfectly marbled and tender.
Mama and Pappa each had the smoked pork loin, which was cooked perfectly and tasted DIVINE, and Mama opted for the crab boil winter vegetables as a healthier option to the molasses sweet potato prep on the menu.
Of course, you can't go all out for Martini Lunch and not linger over dessert. These are trying economic times! We shared the fresh baked strawberry shortcake and the brioche bread pudding, and enjoyed our last martini(s) while basking in the glow of a quintessentially New Orleans experience.
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It's King Cake Season in NOLA!

Twelfth Night has begun, and that means it's officially King Cake season! If you've never been to New Orleans during Carnivale (the month-long celebration up to, and including, Fat Tuesday) then you've missed out on this tasty cinnamon brioche confection. According to tradition, a small baby Jesus trinket is baked into the King Cake, and whoever gets the piece with the baby must bring the King Cake to the next gathering. Two of my favorite people on earth have been transplanted to D.C. with me, and since we can't just roll down to the Whole Foods on Magazine Street to pick up our King Cake, the Transplants decided to learn how to bake them. For some reason, there seems to be a shortage of Tiny Baby Jesus in D.C. (just ask the Evangelical Republicans), so they had to make due with some more...devious? trinkets, courtesy of a nice lady at a local wine shop. Check out the recipe here http://www.nolacuisine.com/2007/01/06/king-cake-recipe/


The Trinket I: Now that I think about it, it probably wouldn't be socially acceptable to show a baby Jesus half-buried in a bowl of pecan and sugar cane filling...
Though traditional King Cakes are round, and SMOTHERED in thick icing and purple, green, and yellow sprinkles, our Yankee version came out beautifully.


Trinket II: Looks like Mr. Luz has to bring the next King Cake.



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