National WW2 Museum in New Orleans

If you want to immerse yourself in World War 2 history, the National WW2 Museum in New Orleans should be on your list to visit. It comprises eight buildings that cover a wide range of themes — the European and Pacific theaters, the Holocaust, faith in times of war, aviation, decorated veterans, and relics that are undergoing restoration — and is associated with the Smithsonian Museum. I could have easily spent a couple of days there. The photos give just a glimpse of all I saw.

The National WW2 Museum is in the Arts district, an easy walk from the Central Business District, and on the Hop-On Hop-Off Bus line.

Eating in New Orleans: My favorites

Our trip to New Orleans this week was my first since the early ’90s. I don’t remember a lot about that visit, other than watching a man carry a goat up Bourbon Street at 2 AM. Sorry to disappoint, but that episode didn’t repeat itself during this trip.

There’s plenty to share about our time in New Orleans, and I’ll start with the food, which mostly ranged from wonderful to exquisite. There was also a bad restaurant (we nicknamed it The Cre-Hole), but that was an outlier.

These were my five favorite meals. Be forewarned that I’m not comparing apples to apples, and Jill’s list may be different from mine. This is a completely subjective accounting of the delight I experienced at a range of restaurants.

First, Luvi. It looks tiny, but appearances are deceiving. The interior is merely small, or in restaurant-speak, intimate. Jill started with a Pom Coco, and I had a Mr. Miyagi while we debated the menu. “Feed Me” or a la carte? While we thought about it, Jill praised her cocktail. I tasted it, and while mine was great, her’s was on a different plane. If it’s on the menu, try it.

We went with “Feed Me.” Do this.

We were treated to four off-menu fish courses. Each one was a surprise, and though we had our faves, every single course was delightful. They were, to the best of my memory:

  1. Halibut, yuzu vinegar pickled kiwi fruit, truffle oil, and roe. (Jill’s fave)
  2. Tilefish, totatoes and Asian pears.
  3. Two kinds of salmon, manchego, peaches, and smoked soy sauce. (Mine)
  4. Tuna, wasabi roe, watermelon, and feta.

We followed this with dessert: Small scoops of black sesame coconut, dragonfruit, and black magnolia tea ice cream. There was also some wine (a sauvignon blanc) but frankly, the food grabbed our attention in a way that made us forget about the wine.

If you’re visiting NOLA, go to Luvi. Seriously.

Turkey and the Wolf. Until we went to Luvi, this counter service sandwich shop in/near the Garden District served up the best meal of my visit. I’d been longing to try their Collard Greens Melt. It was everything I hoped for and dreamed about. I don’t like frozen margaritas, but their’s made my sandwich even better. Jill bought me their cookbook, which is full of cooking wisdom like “relax a bit” and f-bombs, and I’m going to make this sandwich. And every other sandwich they sell. Go, because you will not regret the time you’ll spend standing in line or searching for a table.

Besamé. I started with a Mole Verde, which is a cocktail that contains tomatillo. I had never had such a thing, and I won’t miss the chance to have one in the future. Wow. Dinner was Peruvian ceviche, arepas, and lamb lollipops smothered in a delicious sauce and roasted pumpkin seeds. Every bite was wonderful, and I wish that dinner could have gone on for hours, with the laughing server feeding us endless lamb lollipops. Put this one on your list.

Palace Café. Yes, we went for a more-or-less traditional creole meal. I had andouille crusted red snapper, and Jill had pecan crusted catfish. Both were excellent. The service was funny, attentive, and thoughtful. It’s everything a restaurant should be, and if I hadn’t eaten at Besamé and Luvi it would be far more memorable.

Dat Dog. Jill had a sausage with blue cheese and blackberry jam/sauce/something and it was not your typical hot dog. Her sister, a Chicago dog. I went for the duck sausage with creole mustard and grilled onions. The french fries were topped with crawfish etoufée. The beer, an IPA by Gnarly Barley. The only thing missing was the option to order a Michigan, but if there was a Dat Dog in Plattsburgh, it would be my go-to hot dog place. Sorry, Clare and Carl’s.

The art inside our front door, and the debate that followed

The first impression of our Plattsburgh bungalow is…polarizing. Since before we closed on the house, we’ve heard many opinions about what we should do with the walls just beyond our front door. Here’s a taste of what people are debating.

A local artist, Les Cosgrove, painted the entryway walls in 1995 in her distinctive style. It’s a riot of colorful, supernatural cats and feminine icons, and it touched off a running debate among friends and strangers who stopped by to satisfy their curiosity. Everyone had the same question: What are you going to do with/about that?

There were three trains of thought: 1) Paint over it, 2) Leave it, or 3) Split the difference, paint over most of it, and frame the remaining parts of the painting. Jill and I vacillated. We’d pour a glass of wine, stare at the walls, and continue the debate. We did this a lot.

For several weeks, we’d veer between answers. One week, we were keeping it. Another week, we chose option 3. Completely covering it never felt like the right thing to do.

The house has an interesting history, with art and literature baked into it, and in the end history won out. The cats, as we call the painting, are staying. At least for the foreseeable future. Nothing is permanent, but for now, the cats stay.

You can see Les Cosgrove’s work throughout Plattsburgh, including at the Koffee Kat Espresso Bar, where she contributed to painting the interior and sells her art and jewelry. It’s worth a visit, and the coffee is excellent.

Making a home in the North Country

If my move to New York had worked out as planned, I’d be putting my North Carolina house on the market right about now, and scheduling movers. But Jill and I seized an opportunity to buy a reno-worthy 1939 bungalow on a perfect street in the city of Plattsburgh, I sold my house in two days, and life accelerated.

The house, to put it kindly, is a project. But, it’s on a perfect street. Location, you know. And it was a bargain.

Jill and her dad worked miracles to get it ready for my arrival. By the time I touched down in P’burgh, the heating system was sorted, scary electrical problems dealt with, and some surfaces saw new paint for the first time in ages.

First major project: Refinish the hardwood floors, which had seen years of abuse and neglect. This meant living in the basement and great room for a couple of weeks, and while we navigated this with little disturbance, I do not recommend it to anyone.

But, voila!

Let’s go to an illustration of before and after. Our living room, in its post-purchase glory. Ouch.

And after paint and floor refinishing:

Next up: Replace the water line into the house. We don’t touch or even look at the galvanized pipe that’s way past its expiration date, so in a week or so we’ll have a trench across our yard, a new section of sidewalk, and shiny copper pipe that’s ready for the next few decades. Until then, fingers crossed.

People who know about this house know about the cats. That’s a story for another chapter. But until then, here’s a taste.