Last June (last month? yesterday?), my friend and I bopped on down to New Orleans for a few days, mostly so I could eat all the things. I feel like spending 4 days in Louisiana makes it okay for me to call it N’awlins and to talk knowingly about boudin and gator.
It was June in the South, so of course it was sweat-drippingly hot. I got there a few hours earlier than my travelling companion, so I decided to hit the gym in advance of all the eating I knew I was going to do. I had scored some sort of hipster guide to N’awlins while I was in Nashville, so I rated how much I wanted to try each of the city’s specialties (I’m serious about food, yo).
Once my friend arrived, we stopped at a wine-by-the-glass sort of place en route to dinner (not at Emeril’s but I had to take a picture, didn’t I! Emeril = OG), where I indulged all of my Louisiana fantasies: boudin, alligator, and fried, fried mac n’ cheese perfection.