Southern Beers: Abita Gets Toes Tapping in New Orleans

I mentioned that I returned from New Orleans with sore calves, but I forgot to tell you about my neck.

I woke up on Sunday morning thinking I had simply slept on it wrong, however as the day went on it became clear: The muscles that support my head were sore… from dancing.

Soak up that image for a second: I sure as hell dug in, burying the head and looking at the floor, swinging the arms and losing sight of my surroundings. No idea why I was staring at my feet so much – my moves aren’t that complicated.

If you’ve traveled with me or followed this blog over the past year, you know I have no clue what I’m doing on the dance floor, so I’m as surprised as the next that I enjoyed it for as long as I did. Who knows, maybe I’m coming around.

Or maybe it was because before we danced, we drank.

Come on – it’s New Orleans!

Abita Brewing Company (Abita Springs, Louisiana)

I was familiar with Abita’s flagship brew Purple Haze before my trip to the Big Easy – it’s available on beer menus and at distributors throughout the country – but I had no idea the brewery had such a grasp on the city, nor that it produced such a solid line of beers. It began in 1986 about 30 miles north of New Orleans, and today it is rare that a local restaurant does not carry at least one of their products on tap.

Andygator Dopplebock

I found the Amber to pair nicely with gumbo/sausage dishes and po boy sandwiches, and its makeup and structure reminded me of Yuengling Lager. Easy drinking, smooth, and a good cooking compliment, it’s what I would refer to as a pitcher beer – most people in your group will find it agreeable (as compard to Purple Haze and its specific raspberry flavors).

I discovered the Andygator Dobblebock at the Bulldog on Magazine Street (they had five or six Abita beers on tap), and I thought it was a good showcase of the brewery’s range. It’s a high-gravity brew, meaning it’s blended, in this case with pale malt, German lager yeast, and German Perle hops. At 8.0% alcohol, it drinks heavy and goes well with gorganzola/blue cheeses and crawfish dishes.

Lazy Magnolia Brewery (Kiln, Mississippi)

A little over a year ago I received a few bottles of Lazy Mag Southern Pecan in my beer of the month club (which is a fantastic gift idea, by the way), and I have since been awaiting the day when I could get it on tap, or at least find it in the store (the one frustrating thing about the beer club is that they overcharge to reorder specific beers).

I had not been in town for five minutes when I saw a six-pack of it on the grocer’s shelf (love it when that happens – I’m the guy who typically stands there for ten minutes trying to make a decision). According to Lazy Mag, it’s the first beer in the world to be made with whole roasted pecans, which I think adds a slight sweetness that you don’t always get in brown ales.

I was surprised to read that it’s the first in the world brewed with whole pecans – the traditional malty and caramel flavors of the brown ale seem to go well when paired with nuts in other forms (desserts, for example), so why not beer?

Sweetwater Brewing Company (Atlanta, Georgia)

When I was in St. Simons, Georgia, I wrote about how well the Sweetwater 420 (extra pale ale) went with the infamous Southern Soul Barbecue. From that same brewery comes the Georgia Brown, and I suppose my fondness for it officially puts me on a brown-beer kick.

I got involved with this brew at the Atlanta airport of all places – they have a draft house in concourse B.  It’s not overly heavy (both in terms of drinkability and alcohol content, 5%), and that makes it a good beer to have on the run in my opinion.

Even though the South is traditionally known for its booze (whiskey, bourbon), don’t overlook the microbrews that hail from the area. Most of these breweries are relatively young – Sweetwater began in 1997 when the owners moved to Georgia from Boulder, Colorado.

Hopefully I’ll do a beer story on Colorado my next trip out – the Rocky Mountain water seems to churn out good brews. Cheers for now!

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New Orleans: Late Nights Not Bound to Bourbon Street

As I was boarding the flight in New Orleans that would eventually take me back to Philadelphia, I kept my head on a swivel, scoping out the faces of those around me. I found my seat and focused on the doorway as the people entered, hypothesizing the scenarios of their visits based on expressions and appearances.

There are places around the world where people have a tendency to depart worn out as opposed to rested, and the United States certainly has its share: Any plane out of Las Vegas, for sure, but also Sunday afternoon flights from fiesta-oriented towns such as New Orleans and Miami. Most likely, a handful of passengers on the plane have had a wild weekend, which is good for both people-watching as well as in-flight conversation.

I would have been happy with eavesdropping across the aisle, yet as luck would have it the man who sat down next to me had been in town for a bachelor party. Lucky me, although he also may of felt fortunate – I hadn’t been getting much sleep, either.

Beginning of Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

Bourbon Street:

The man next to me on the plane said it better than I ever could: Bourbon Street does an incredible job of quarantining all the assholes.

I laughed when he said it. Neither of us were trying to be a prick – we admittedly had both spent some time exploring the scene (and I certainly didn’t complain about the strong drinks), but let’s be honest: It’s no place any local hangs out. It’s the same bar over and over, each block relatively the same, and the crowd is a bunch of drunk out-of-towners who are feeling good about themselves and looking to let loose.

No judgement, I played along: I drank a few Jesters and walked the street, saw some women lift up their shirts and danced to a live band. But it wasn’t somewhere I wanted to spend all night – I knew there was a time limit to my tolerance.

The good thing is that although it gets the most attention, Bourbon Street is merely the gateway to nightlife in the New Orleans.

Magazine Street:

Magazine Street eventually dead ends into Canal Street as you drive east on it, running parallel to the Mississippi River and cutting right through the heart of the Garden District (Uptown). Bye-bye Bourbon – this is much more the scene for meeting locals.

Restaurants, bars, and shops line the neighborhood street, and there are significantly less bells and whistles (no party push, no loud clubs that I saw). The majority are locally owned and run with outside seating under the live oak trees, great for walking and menu/window shopping.

With the help of a friend I found a great beer bar called The Bulldog (located between Toledano and Pleasant). If you’re ever in town on a Wednesday, they run an interesting special that allows you to keep the pint glass of every beer you drink (you can cash in ten of them for a free T-shirt, but I’d keep the glasses). Happy hour at the Bulldog is legit: 2 p.m. – 7 p.m., Monday through Friday, and they have 50 beers on tap and 100 more in bottles.

Frenchmen Street and Marigny:

On the eastern end of the French Quarter is the appropriately named Frenchmen Street, known for its live music scene and lack of neon lights (aka its local feel). This is a great spot to wander after you’ve had your fill of Bourbon Street.

We walked further east into the neighborhood of Marigny (see map below) and ended the night at Mimi’s in the Marigny, recommended to my group by a local and recognized as Best Neighborhood Bar by Where Y’at and Best Bar in New Orleans by readers of The Gambit.

Mimi’s serves Spanish tapas until 4 a.m. on Friday and Saturday and has music and dancing on the second floor (either a band or DJ). Expect a younger crowd and a hipster vibe.

My advice: Window shop when you’re in New Orleans. Most places do not charge a cover, so be sure to take advantage and pop in to preview the band/atmosphere of a few different spots. Don’t decide on specific bars, decide on the neighborhood and let the night take you where it will. With so many bands playing at so many different venues almost every night, visitors could drive themselves crazy trying to pinpoint the perfect place.

Here’s a map to help you get your bearings:

From west to east: Magazine Street (The Bulldog), Bourbon Street, Frenchmen Street, Marigny (Mimi's).

Beginning of Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

The infamous Bourbon Street drink.

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Closing the Curtains: Wake to Write, Rest for Alaskan Cruise

Yesterday I returned to Philly from New Orleans, arriving long after the sun had set and far after I would have preferred to be in bed. My head was bobbing for most of the second flight out of Atlanta – I don’t really even remember the drink cart coming through.

Rhapsody of the Seas, Royal Caribbean

The stories will begin to filter out this week, however I must admit that getting back into gear after a memorable weekend is never easy – I think that concept is universal, even for travel writers. I’m good about having fun anywhere and everywhere I go, but there’s a big difference between covering a destination and eating one up, letting it under your skin.

The people you travel with certainly play a large part in determining which way the trip goes, and this morning when I woke up with a stomach that was still full and calves sore to the touch, I knew we had taken the Big Easy head on (cheers guys).

As much rest as I would like to pencil in this week, I truly can’t afford to spend too much time horizontal: I confirmed last week that I will fly from Philadelphia to Seattle on Thursday and depart on an Alaskan cruise this Friday. We will be shoving off via the Rhapsody of the Seas (Royal Caribbean) and head for the Inside Passage, making three stops in Alaska (Juneau, Skagway, and Tracy Arm Fjord) and one in Victoria, BC.

Fingers crossed on seeing something like this in Alaska.

In addition to New Orleans coverage, I will also be finishing up a couple stories from the past few weeks: GoNOMAD and Famtripper features on Detroit, Denver, and Nassau are in my queue.

These short breaks in my schedule are typically the hardest part of my job – the lull between two high points – yet the timing on this one is perfect given the packed schedule of late.

With New Orleans in the rear-view mirror and Alaska in the windshield, consider the curtains closed until Thursday morning.

Rhapsody of the Seas

Fingers crossed on seeing something like this.

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Trash or Treasure: Controversy Piles Up on Heidelberg Street

When I expressed my thoughts about the Heidelberg Project to an off-duty bartender, she grew displeased and defensive, the awkward elephant slowing creeping into the room and settling down next to us. We were sitting at a round hightop capping off the evening with a few brews, and the infamous street had been beating around my brain all day. My friends said little, allowing me to dig my own hole with the local patrons.

Let me get this out of the way: I highly suggest you go check it out/take a tour when you’re passing through or visiting Detroit. It is a world-wide known site that carries immense political importance in addition to artistic expression. It can be looked upon as an outdoor art museum, if nothing more. With that said, let’s go a little deeper into the controversy swirling amongst the people of Detroit.

I wasn’t trying to offend anyone that night at Tommy’s Bar – nor is that my purpose now – but I do want to talk it out, throw out some ideas. In a world of love/hate political standpoints, wouldn’t informed neutrality be an interesting mindset? I think it’s all right to be down the middle on some things – to understand both sides – and I’ll be honest: While my first impression was that Heidelberg is certainly creative, I’m having a hard time deciding whether I find that creativity cool or callous.

The cool: According to their website, the mission of the Heidelberg Project is to inspire people to use artistic expression to enrich their lives and improve the social/economic health of the greater community. They are engaged in art education, working to be sure it is an everyday aspect of students’ curriculum throughout Michigan.

The Project began with the decorating of houses, and it successfully transformed a neighborhood. To a place where people were once afraid to walk, visitors flocked. Founding artist Tyree Guyton included children in his daily work, with the main goal of developing the city’s first indoor/outdoor museum.

Those are good things, there’s no denying that – the intention is certainly there. And I think people should be able to express themselves any way they want. Art is a matter of opinion – just because pop music draws more ears (and more money) does not mean that underground styles are less valid.

However, the best intentions don’t always brew the best results.

The callous: The Heidelberg Project is indeed a political protest, if not entirely then certainly partially (it is meant to draw attention to forgotten neighborhoods).

There’s nothing wrong with standing up for yourself – I’ve got no problem with that – but I do think one needs to be measured in their methods. Looking down on the issue from a distance, I find their approach a bit hypocritical – you can’t put unity and compromise in one hand and wave the middle finger with the other. I think sometimes interest groups forget that abrasiveness does not breed brotherhood (and many citizens as well as the government have expressed their opposition to Guyton’s art).

This piece is called "Haiti."

The bartender said to me that perhaps the government should consider the same. I agreed, completely – it takes two to tango. But, at some point, I think you need to consider what the main goal of the project is. The bartender said it was to rebuild the neighborhood.

Twenty-five-plus years after the project’s launch, the neighborhoods still sits vacant, tourists aside. When another writer in our group asked Executive Director Jenenne Whitfield (who is married to HP’s founding artist Tyree Guyton) what the others living the neighborhood thought of the street’s project, she answered, “What people?”

The government has twice destroyed parts of the project citing public safety, and no one has moved back into the neighborhood. I found myself wondering what has been accomplished. I understand the process is part of the purpose, however at some point you would think some positive results would be required to validate the path and distribution of finances.

Just to play devil’s advocate: What if the time, energy, and land went towards building parks and playgrounds? A pile of shoes with a lawnmower on top is full of symbolism and beauty, but would it not be better suited for a museum?

The Heidelberg Project seems to be thinking on those terms of late – it plans to open a House that Makes Sense Center as part of what they refer to as their Cultural Village, a headquarters made from found and recycled materials (which will include an exhibition space, artist-in-residence space, a children’s workshop, and a library).

There’s some interesting stuff going on, for sure, and I’ll be following along to see how it plays out in the next few years. Make a point to head over at some point and shoot me a note with your thoughts. Is it trash or treasure, or both?

Photos:

The death of the auto industry.

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Calling All Ghosts: Wake Wants to Speak With Spirits

On a recent ghost tour, a woman from the Howard County Board of Tourism joked that the more spirits you consume, the more you see.

I’m unfortunately not finding that advice to be true – and I’ve certainly put it to the test. Two weeks ago in Savannah I took advantage of the city’s drinking tolerance (no open-container law) while cruising around on a trolley with Old Savannah Tours, and last night I bar hopped in historic Ellicott City as part of their Dare to Taste the Spirits Tour (just outside of Baltimore in Maryland).

Paula, My Ellicott City Tour Guide.

Nothing – not one sighting or feeling or sound (although there was this one moment in Savannah that interested me, read below). And, to be frank, I’m starting to take it personally. I mean, does Casper have a problem with me or something?

On these tours I’ve heard stories: Tables being flipped over, pennies found all over the house, dogs freaking out, the sounds of high heels on hardwood in a carpeted office, figures standing over people when they awake at night, impressions in bed sheets, doors opening and slamming, the feeling of being “passed through,” hearing voices.

Yada yada yada – it’s kind of starting to annoy me that I haven’t experienced something myself.

I’m working on a short story called The Promised Land that explores the idea of spirits and ghosts – who/what they are and why we see them as we do – so perhaps its completion will entice some visitors to my bedroom after dark.

Hopefully you will have better luck (or at least avoid the bitterness I’m feeling). Here’s the scoop on two ghost tours I recently checked out, let me know if you capture any proof.

Old Savannah Tours: Trolly Tales of Historic Haunts

I was standing in the spot where she landed on her head, the concrete crushing her face and the blood spilling out of her nose, mouth, and eyes. She had jumped from the second-story balcony, diving into the pavement below. It is said she killed herself when she found out her husband was having an affair with one of the slaves. She was the wife of Francis Sorrel, and according to the stories, she still haunts the house.

Old Savannah Tours Trolley

Today, it’s known as the Sorrel-Weed House and is widely accepted as being the most-haunted property in Savannah (it’s the final stop on the Old Savannah Tour). A guide will lead you through the house, sharing the history beyond the walls. It was here that I had the moment I referenced earlier – probably my closest call when it comes to interacting with a spirit.

Our guide pulled out an electromagnetic field detector and she held it above the table in the dining room, locating a spot where the device began to beep. I didn’t think much of it until the sensitive area began to move, both up and down and left to right (it wasn’t staying in one place, reducing the chances that the energy was coming from an eletricity source).

When she could no longer find it in the lower half of the room, she handed the detector to me (I’m taller). I was holding it up above my head, the device going off. I could trace an outline of the area – a few feet by a few feet – but soon it shifted again and I found it down near the table, literally right in front of me. I felt and saw nothing, although something was definitely putting out a moving electromagnetic field. A ghost? Who knows, but at least I finally had a hands-on experience to consider.

Sorrel Weed House, Savannah

Later, down in the basement, we were able to view the feed from infrared motion detectors. I saw “orbs” on the television screens, floating and swirling randomly throughout the room. Some say they’re nothing more than dust, but the concentration of them changed based on who was in the room, which seems to debunk that theory.

When we sent a pregnant woman into the room, more “orbs” appeared on the monitors (according to our guide, ghosts are especially attracted to pregnant women and children).

The other stop on the tour is the Pirates House Rum Cellar, where pirates used to prey on locals, turning them into slaves to work on their ships. For more information, visit Old Savannah Tours.

Howard County, Maryland: Taste the Spirits of Ellicott City

Although Washington D.C. and Baltimore are the main attractions in the region, historic Ellicott City is considered one of the most haunted small towns on the East Coast. The combination of granite, flowing water, antiques, and electricity are said to attract and retain spiritual energy.

It is a cute town, lots of shops and restaurants along a hilly street with many granite stone buildings. I found a good, interesting way to explore the different restaurants/bars was the Dare to Taste the Spirits Tour – you will not only get yourself a bit of the history, but you’ll take in the spirits of the town, in both the literal and paranormal sense.

We tasted wine at the Wine Bin and beer at the Diamondback Tavern, two of the six possible stops. As you drink and enjoy the vibe, your guide will fill you in on the tales associated with each place – the events that occurred right where you’re sitting.

More information and a coupon are available on the Howard County website.

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2012: It’s the End of the World As We Know It?

On the way to check out Eastern Maryland we stopped at the Calvert Marine Museum where the prehistoric past, natural history, and maritime heritage come together to explore the story of the Chesapeake Bay. There was an exhibit that captured my full attention, its message especially relevant given the upcoming end of the Mayan calendar in December of 2012.

When I was in Mexico I interviewed a young Mayan man, who promptly debunked my loaded questions. He said it was just as if your grandfather had been unable or forgotten to finish something before he passed. Despite my prying and enthusiasm towards the now commercialized doomsday theory, he wouldn’t budge. In so many words, he told me it was a bunch of crap.

Well, I’ve got news for the Mayans (and the rest of the world): Sooner or later, the end is coming.

The exhibit that caught my eye dealt with the changing landscape of the earth over the past 400 million years. At some point, the earth’s crust will rumble and the oceans will rise. We’ve seen examples of this in recent history, although none have been “significant” enough to permanently reshape the land mass.

I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, but education is a part of travel. You can’t just ignore things that make you uncomfortable. The graphics below speak for themselves:

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