This is the last entry of my eating series: NOLA Love, where I take you on an eating journey through the wonderful city of New Orleans.  If you missed parts 1 and 2...find them here and here.  Let’s get to eating!

It’s Monday.  I wake up and find myself thinking of all deliciousness that this city has to offer.  Lindy has already gotten up and gone off to work. I feel a little guilty for sleeping in.  Just a little. I may have a bit of a food hangover. And probably, a GOT hangover. It’s my last full day in the city for all things food and that makes me a sad panda.  I’d better get to putting things in my mouth.  

For breakfast I decided to dig into my balls.  Of cake. (From Bakery Bar).The ones I neglected to eat last night as we were watching The North battle the Night King at Winterfell.  I make some hotel room coffee and open my box of cake. Lindy commented last night that the baked goods were pretty “soft.”  As I investigated what was left of our cake balls, I tried some red velvet, some chocolate, and some tres leche. Lindy was right, they were all a little...soft.  Not just soft in a moist, well-baked kind of way. It actually felt a little too soft. Oddly moist, as Lindy would say afterwards. Even though we bought a wide array of flavors... (red velvet, chocolate and peanut butter, cookies and cream and tres leche) there was no distinctiveness.  The soft, oddly moist texture actually overpowered any flavor there might have been. The cake also leaned toward the sweet side, which didn’t help define any flavors, but instead, it just was a sweet and soft ball. Definitely would have passed the test for design and finesse by Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood (of The Great British Bake Off fame), but I think would have scored low marks for the flavors being “a bit muddled.”

Today there was no working out, not even pretending to do the minimum.  I am going out on the “Garden Tour.” It’s a walking tour, so that counts for exercise right?  Last time I was in NOLA, I did a carriage tour around the French Quarter that also went into some history of Marie Laveau (a voodoo practitioner from the 1800s, who is renowned in Nola) and the importance of the cemeteries in the city.  I had wanted to do the Garden Tour but didn’t have time to fit it in. I promised Lindy and a couple of her coworkers that I would deliver po-boys during the day. So basically I was on a mission.  Take in more of the city and bring back bomb ass food. My husband was flying into NOLA for work that evening and we were all going to go out for dinner. I would finally meet his boss and wife and Lindy would finally meet my husband. She had never met him in the few years that we have been friends, and she is convinced that he is made up.  Tonight was the night to prove that he does exist.  

Before I leave the hotel room, I note that there is still a bottle of rose in the hotel mini fridge that is in need of finishing.  Must make sure I do that. I travel to the Garden District, which is just West of the French Quarter. Remember, I still have no 2019 mobile technology, so I am off exploring on a whim and a paper map.  On my way out of the hotel I visit Lindy who is hard at work. She’s being very important as a stage manager for a conference in the hotel. She takes pity on me and lends me her phone for the afternoon. We devise a plan for her to know that I am not dead as I am out on my walking tour.   I will periodically email her from her email. Yeah, you read that right. 

Plan in place, I jump into a van taxi.  I arrive at the meetup point for the tour at the Garden District Book Shop.  One of those locally owned bookstores that just make you feel good. I have a few minutes before my tour starts, so I peruse the books.  I see that they have the newest book from George R.R. Martin (Fire & Blood: 300 Years Before A Game of Thrones). I purchase it for my husband (and me) and take off on my tour.  

The only photos that I snapped during the walking tour. Cemeteries and Architecture.

Besides the food culture in NOLA, I love that there is always something new to do or see as a  tourist every time you visit. NOLA, for me, will be one of those places that I will visit many times in my life and always have something on my to-do list for the next time.  Case in point: during the tour, I found my next thing for me to do in between eating adventures: visiting historic slave plantations. Maybe doesn’t sound like a great time to some, but I love learning about the historic and regional culture that makes up a place.  That includes all points of history, the pretty AND ugly.  

The tour was informative, fun and interesting.  It was led by a die hard, born and raised local and she seemed to know EVERYTHING.  I felt proud that I was able to answer some trivia questions thanks to our surprise private tour at Antoine’s (Read Part 1, shout out to our back waiter).  Having only really explored the French Quarter, like many who visit NOLA, it was fascinating to learn about the gritty past of the entire city and the resiliency of its inhabitants.  It is one of the biggest port cities in US and  has weathered storms and disease,  The Garden District was settled by people coming from farms and The Plains, so the architecture differs from what you find in the French Quarter.

​My tour guide was impressed by my eating itinerary and said I was definitely hitting all the right places.  I told her that I had initially wanted to go to Domilise’s for po-boys, but felt that it might be a little too far for my limited time, and was going to settle on delivering po-boys from Mother’s to Lindy.  My guide said that I absolutely had to go to Domilise’s. Can’t argue with that. Thus, the decision was made. I could walk my happy, food-loving butt down Magazine street to Domilise’s and get delicious po-boys.  Which is exactly what I did. 

I pop in and out of some artist boutiques and resist the urge to buy treats at every cafe I pass.  I keep my mind focused on the po-boys from Domilise’s. I do get Lindy a little present and mentally take note of a NOLA tank top, with the hope that Lindy and I can be annoying and buy matching ones.  

I send Lindy an email so that she knows that I have not been Taken (which is good, since I don’t know Liam Neeson).  After a few more blocks with substantial thigh rubbing, I arrive at Domilise’s. Tucked off of Magazine St., in a neighborhood, Domilise’s stands on a corner.  The only thing that that demarcates that it’s a business is the hand-painted sign.  

I see a few people standing around outside and I assume that they have ordered and are waiting for their prized po-boys.  Inside this institution was a mix of dive bar and small town diner. It had a lived-in feel...definitely felt historic. And busy!  A clump of people were nestled to the side and I noticed they were holding laminated cards with numbers on them. I picked up on the system and searched for the numbered cards.  Apparently, I looked like an out-of-towner because after a few moments I was pointed in the direction of the counter (it was literally within one foot of me) where the numbers were being held.  

Number 11.  Shouldn’t be too bad, I thought.  Seems like everyone was waiting for food so I figured that I should be called up in a MacDonald’s minute to order.  There were three people bustling about the kitchen and they were working the counter as well. Old school operation with a finely honed system that had been put in place for years.  There is no loud speaker or some perky host that comes out to yell your number to tell you that it’s your turn. You have to remain vigilant and pay attention.

Turns out people were waiting not for food but to order.  And they were only on number 4. I went back outside since there was no room to wait in the doorway.  I watched people walk in and out of the door. Seemed like a mix of locals and tourists. Everyone seemed to know the drill.  Grab a number and wait. I eventually started telling people where to grab a number. I felt like I was part of the system. 

Some people left after seeing the line.  Some people patiently waited for their food before going off to the airport to fly back home.  The numbers slowly ticked by and I was happy to stand in the shade, people watch, and wonder if my thighs were going to stop being sweaty and chafing.  I made friends with No. 8 so I was able to know when my turn was coming close. No. 8’s wife was from the area and when they are in town they ALWAYS stop at Domilise’s.  I was happy that I was going to try a place that was such an icon in the community. 

Ok, so after No. 8 left, it seemed like the No. 9 and 10 came around quickly and then it was MY TURN!  I am pretty sure I skipped to the counter and I happily handed them No. 11. I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t getting no small size.  Mine were all large. Obviously. 

Fun fact: I love oysters!  And my mind had been set on getting an oyster po-boy in my stomach.  I order my oyster and couple of shrimp po-boys to bring back to Lindy and I wait a few minutes longer.  The ladies in the kitchen moved around almost hypnotically as they threw breaded seafood into the fryer, sliced, and built the sandwiches.  She told me that they have been using the same bread for over a 100 years. It gets delivered fresh every morning. Sacks of bread were piled up against a wall all waiting to be turned into delicious sammies.  

She rolled and bundled me up.  I asked for directions to the streetcar, got pointed in the right direction and off I went.  I clutched the bag of po-boys like my life depended on it. No one was taking these from me! I walked my chafed thighs to the streetcar stop and checked my paper map to make sure I was going in the right direction. 

Even though I was hungry and tempted, I waited until I got back to the hotel to eat my po-boy.  I am very nice eating friend. I went straight to the conference room to deliver the sandwiches (I kind of felt like an awesome Santa) and sat down to finally eat my treasure!  These sandwiches had taken a few hours to procure and I was ready to eat. 

The bread was crusty and soft.  Not quite a baguette or ciabatta but a bread that was made to be a vehicle for shredded lettuce, mayo, tomato and choice of protein with a little hot sauce.  I am not sure if I even breathed while I DE-VOUR-ED my po-boy but I do know it was damn good. I could tell that had it been fresh, it would have amped up the awesomeness of it… it was a little soggy by the time I got around to eating...but hey, No. 11 ain’t complaining.  

I ate my po-boy quickly enough to get back to my hotel room to wait for my hubby to call since he was landing any minute in NOLA.  On the eating itinerary, I had initially planned for Jacque-Imo’s but the only reservations I could get were for people who were their 20s (9pm) or people in their 80s (5pm) and with a five person party we didn’t want to risk standing in line forever.  My hubby’s boss and wife (who are locals) helped navigate eating anxiety and suggested Meril. This is the 11th restaurant by Chef Emeril Lagasse but the 4th in NOLA and named for his daughter. I was excited to compare and contrast two of Chef Emeril’s restaurants.

Note: Due to my neverending technology complications, I don’t have all my usual food photos for this section.  I used my husband’s phone for ease and after he shared the photos with me he erased them, but I didn’t get them imported...so, alas, no photos.

My husband and I get there early.  We are hungry. Naturally. We decided to order something at the bar while we wait for everyone and to quell our appetites.  The ambience was very chic and had a youthful and sophisticated vibe to it. They have classy hand crafted cocktails and a good variety of beer and wine.  The menu is set up as sharing plates. Great! One of everything please. Okay, we didn’t order one of everything but there were many plates on the table. There was a mix of proteins, veggies (which my husband doesn’t touch), carbs, and cheese engulfing our table.

This is where you can berate me for being a bad food blogger (hey! I am still getting the hang of it).  Since, I don’t have any photos to reference, I am not sure of all of what we ordered. I know, I know. Trust me, I know that I am the worst right now.  But let me tell you in an overview how I felt about Meril. I think it was creative and clever. There was a definite distinction between the vibe and food crafted between Emeril’s and Meril.  I am not a chef restaurateur, but I can imagine how hard it is to craft a vibe that is authentic while cooking up great food at a multitude of restaurants. I would definitely go back and check out Meril again.  While the menu offered fare that was more “southern” or “New Orleans,” they definitely took more liberties to play with the flavors and offered more of a global variety of flavors too. It seems like the menu gets updated pretty often because looking at the menu now (Meril menu), there are about 20 things that jump out at me that I must eat...that I know that I didn’t eat when I was there. 

But not all is lost… here is one pic at Meril. 

Now it is time for THE LAST LUNCH.  It is Tuesday and I am flying out today.  But first I get to have one last meal with my friend, Lindy.  The place is Cochon. The day is sunny and I am wearing pants so my thighs don’t chafe.  I am already winning. 

We both agree that lunch was good. Across the board good. It hit all the satisfying foodie checkboxes. Well cooked, well seasoned, comforting, and creative. 

Lindy wept tears when I had to leave. Ok, she didn’t say she did, but I know that she was crying in her heart. She actually had the afternoon off to go explore NOLA after I left. Like a good student, she took my advice on the eating itinerary and dutifully chose a place that we couldn’t get to.  

She went to Port-of-Call. I went there on my first trip to NOLA in 2011 and I was not disappointed. I was told to get a burger with everything and a baked potato. I told Lindy to do the same. She did (minus the sour cream because she’s a heathen). Still, I was proud of her. Lindy also had an amazing po-boy that was pretty close to our hotel. She is still raving about that sandwich. Now, I will have to go back and hunt it down. 

I hope you have enjoyed all the LOVE I have for the food of NOLA. I will definitely be back. To eat. To talk with locals. To eat some more. My husband already has two work trips planned to the Crescent City and I am trying to figure out a way to go ...to eat. As far as more eating food trips with Lindy, we are currently trying to figure out where to eat next. Comment below with your suggestions from your travels or must-eat places in your hometown! 

Some photos from around Nola. Including me helping Lindy work and her fabulous po-boy and cheese biscuit.

Thanks so much for reading! What are your favorite things to eat in NOLA? Leave a comment! Connect with me on IG @dana.does.things - would love to hear from you! Next week, we got my first Bread Showstopper - a filled loaf! And then it’s on to Dessert Week and some other (smaller) eating adventures.  

Until then...happy baking, happy eating, happy repeating. ​

P.S. Lindy did get us those matching tank tops...
P.P.S The cross stitch that I got for Lindy as a present (she stitched it herself) 
P.P.P.S (Last one, I swear) My hubby does exist.

***Sorry about making you wait for this second part of this series, but summer and vacation AND general procrastination were the culprits of the delay.  I won't leave you hanging for this long again!***

This is the second post in my series NOLA Love...love of all food things in The Big Easy.  If you haven’t read my first post, find it (here).  We got an eating itinerary to get through, so LET’S GOOOOO.  
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Waking up Sunday in NOLA after our three-dessert-day before, I knew I had to get my butt to the gym.  I would like to say that I worked out for many hours and burned a trillion calories, but let’s be real...I did the minimum on the treadmill in order to call it a work out.  There was sweat on my face so it counts!

Ok, you may remember that I alluded to some tragedy with my phone in the previous post.  That threw a wrench in my plans of discovering a delicious breakfast spot on Sunday morning (while Lindy toiled away at work) and instead I had to trek it to a Verizon store.   In an effort to not sound like a whiny (old) millennial, I will briefly recount my phone imploding on itself. It went like this:

Dana gets on plane with a hungry belly.  Dana puts her phone in “airplane mode.” Dana reads a magazine and imagines all the food she is going to eat very soon.  Oysters. Beignets. Gumbo. Shrimp. Cheese! *Plane is making final descent* Dana is so happy to eat… oh and to see Lindy.  (Yes, Dana knows Lindy will be mad when she sees that she comes second to food. But really, so does Dana’s husband.)

*Plane lands* Dana takes out phone to text Lindy that she has landed… Dana sees this:

*Dana gets off plane and tries to figure out how to find Lindy to eat*

Dana is tempted to pick up white courtesy telephone to page Lindy, however she realizes that it’s 2019 and the only phone numbers that Dana has memorized are her family's’ restaurant.  In Iowa (that her family no longer owns.)  And the house she grew up in (which strangers live in now) and her hometown Pizza Hut. None of these numbers will help Dana locate Lindy. How DO people find each other in 2019, when cell phones implode?

Dana spots a baggage carousel that is promising to bring in a flight from San Diego.  Dana posts up and scans all passengers walking into baggage claim looking for a Lindy.  

*Dana harasses passengers that look like they may be from San Diego*

Dana and Lindy find each other at baggage carousel one and they eat happily ever after. *Cue Music*

After slightly sweating at the gym, Dana finds herself in an old school taxi on her way to the Verizon store (in Mid-City) where they tell her that her phone has imploded on itself and will never, ever come back to life.  The Verizon people will have to send her a new one, but the only option that works is to send it to her house AFTER she gets back from NOLA. Dana will rely on the paper map she picked up the day before to get around to her eating adventures. 

Paper map in hand...now we eat. 

The eating itinerary:  St. James Cheese Company, Emeril’s (BONUS! Bakery Bar)

I found St. James Cheese Company on some internet list that said must-eat-here-if-going-to-new-orleans.  I saw a couple of locations and just my luck, one within walking distance of our hotel. It also carries bread from Bellegarde Bakery which I wanted to check out, but unfortunately at the time of my visit they did not have brick and mortar retail store.  UPDATE: Bellegarde brick and mortar is officially open!! (@bellegardebakery) Another reason for me to come back.  Bonus: if you don't live in the area, you can order a variety of their flours online.  

With my analog paper map tucked into my purse, I left the Verizon store and jumped on a street car to go to lunch.  I hadn’t had anything in the way of breakfast...I don’t even know if I had any coffee. So you know I am HUNGRY. I sit back and watch the city blocks of the Crescent City go by.  Side note: I love taking public transportation. That’s one of the reasons I loved living in and around the cities of Chicago and San Francisco (SF, you are still one of my favorite places on earth).  You get to see a city from a whole new perspective, with less stress than driving around and dodging traffic, construction, and confusing GPS instructions. As you pass through the city streets, you can make a mental note of restaurants and cafes for your next eating adventure.  Plus, generally cheaper than taking a ride share or an old school taxi.  

The street car was efficient (the few times I took it) and clean.  I happily jump off at my stop and duck out of the way of foot traffic to check my paper map to figure out which way to delicious food.  Remember that city pride I wrote about in my previous NOLA post? I had no less than two offers to help me or walk with me to St. James Cheese because they were concerned that I was looking at an actual paper map.  The locals want the tourists to get where they are going so they can keep coming back. Tourism is the number one industry for NOLA after all. Also, the locals gave me a pronunciation lesson. I finally learned how to say this street: Tchoupitoulas (CHOP-uh-Tule-les). 

  (The video below isn't mine, but you can get an idea of the helpfulness.)

I find St. James Cheese nestled next to a hip looking coffee shop.  St. James Cheese looked pretty hip itself and vaguely reminded me of a cafe that you would see in France.  I’m early (and hungry) to meet Lindy and the place is fairly quiet. I take a look around at the small market and the cold case of cheeses.  I want all the cheese. I always want all of the cheese. I take a seat and peruse the menu. Immediately, I see 5 things that I want. My hunger is getting the best of me as I wait for Lindy.  I figure if I order something before she gets here, I am doing both of us a favor, right? Right.

I walk up to the counter and decide today is a rosé kind of day.  And it just makes sense to order a whole bottle, since we have a mini fridge in the hotel room.  I mean, IT MAKES SENSE.  

St. James had a special that sounded like it would go deliciously with rosé.  A delightful pimento cheese dip/spread with some pickled cucumbers, red onions on the side and a chutney jam thing.  A basket of toasted Bellegarde (!) bakery bread to pile all-the-things on and then to go directly into my mouth. In my excitedness to eat, I forgot to write down what the chutney jam thing was.  Figs. Something with figs. Sorry, I was excited to eat.  

Lindy is not surprised to find me already eating when she gets there.  Since she is on a short lunch break, I briefly take her through the menu and tell her my thoughts on what we should get.  Again, Lindy is not surprised that I want to eat everything. We SLIGHTLY narrow down our selections and place our order. 

A croque madame, Mac and cheese (add bacon - always), and a delicious baked Brie-like cheese, called Harbinson served with candied walnuts and strawberries.  A basket of more Bellegarde bread and some side salads round out our lunch spread. No regrets. The croque madame had all the elements a croque madame should have.  Thick buttery bread, covered with ooey-gooey cheese sauce, salty ham, and a perfect sunny side up egg that creates a richness with the runny yolk. Seriously, me on a stranded island and endless croque madames.  #welcometomyfantasy

Mac and cheese.  I am a sucker for Mac and cheese.  I must order it whenever it is on a menu.  I need to find the best mac and cheese in the world and test all of the recipes to make the best Mac and cheese in the world.  And then I must eat it all. It’s food research, okay? Luckily, Lindy also shares a passion for this quest. Unfortunately, the Mac and cheese at St. James Cheese,  fell victim to the No. 1 pitfall in my “Perfect Mac and Cheese Checklist”: soggy pasta. Limp, lifeless, over cooked pasta is not a good vehicle for melted cheese sauce, no matter how delicious.  Texture should not be overlooked in the perfect mac and cheese. The pasta should have a bite or toothiness to it and the pasta type should be able to hold its own against the sauce. Next, the cheese sauce...it just wasn’t “saucy” enough for me...I know that I may be a little extreme in my want for saucy mac and cheese (but c’mon, give me all the ooey-gooey cheese sauce!), so I can perhaps let that slide, but the cheese sauce wasn’t well seasoned or very memorable. The bacon was good and pepped up the dish overall, but the mac and cheese overall was not-the-best-mac-and-cheese-in-the-world.  The quest continues.  

The baked Harbinson cheese was brie-like and a great sharing size and the walnuts and strawberries accompanied it wonderfully.  However, It was a little too mild for me. I like my brie-like cheeses to have a funk to them. The bread was delicious with everything and in every form.  Thank you, Bellegarde. Can’t wait to visit your brick and mortar soon. 

We hungrily devoured as much as could and got Lindy back to work (only 3 minutes late).  I stashed our leftovers in our mini fridge and spent the rest of the afternoon walking and doing things around the hotel.  Eagerly waiting for our dinner reservations at 7pm.  

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​Lindy and I had planned to walk to Emeril’s together but she was running late with work so I went ahead to make sure we didn’t lose our reservation.  I had never eaten at any of Emeril’s restaurant and only know Emeril through his “BAM” persona.  I had nothing to gauge his restaurateur status against. We had reservations at the Chef’s counter. Sitting up close and personal in the grill station’s…um, grill, so to speak.  

Perusal of the menu as I waited for Lindy, showcased some southern and NOLA classics with a chef’s ingenuity.  I was personally intrigued by the whole menu, but even my stomach could only digest so much at a time. I patiently waited for Lindy to arrive and curb my ordering habits.  I did ask the grill station master, what was her favorite thing to eat and she replied with the utmost honesty: “I can’t eat any of this food anymore.” I get it. You cook it all day, everyday...it’s hard to enjoy afterwards.  But she did say that the BBQ shrimp were definitely a must have. Check. One order of BBQ shrimp. 

Lindy arrived.  Wearing pants as to not repeat the “shorts-gate” of Antoine’s 2019.  My friend had rushed from work and I could tell she needed some food to quell her frustrations.  Also, we had to get a move on because Game of Thrones (#GOT) episode 3 of the final season was on this night and we had to get prepared for that.  

Lindy and I debriefed about her work and quickly got down to eating business.  I told her that we must get the BBQ Shrimp and from my observations, the portions of the Pork Chop were E-NOR-MOUS.  Maybe enormous enough for us.

After some delicious amuse-bouche, (according to good ol’ Wikipedia: An amuse-bouche or amuse-gueule is a single, bite-sized hors d'œuvre. Amuse-bouches are different from appetizers in that they are not ordered from a menu by patrons but are served free and according to the chef's selection alone. ) crostinis topped off with something wonderful and delicious...sorry, again, I was excited to eat...we get down to business and order dinner.

As we ate our way through our appetizers, we watched the dining room fill up and dinner orders being crafted in the kitchen.  We had a hard decision to make for our entree selections. Do we get the E-NOR-MOUS porkchop? Do we get the fried chicken that looked crisp and juicy and artfully fried?  The duck was also calling my name. But after some negotiations we settled on the Grilled Lamb T-Bone and the Lobster Fettuccini. We decided that lamb was the way to go because it isn’t something that we both order much of and the saffron rice that accompanied it sounded like something that needed to be eaten.  Lobster. I am a sucker for lobster and we hadn’t had any this eating trip and pasta.  I mean, pasta. Enough said. 

I often shy away from lamb because based on past experiences of it being too gamey.  The couple of times that I have cooked lamb at home, I don’t think that I was skilled enough as a home cook to do it well.  For these reasons, sometimes I tend to overlook lamb when dining out. This lamb was juicy and tender, cooked to a nice medium rare/ medium, and the saffron rice and beans complemented it.  Not too gamey. The lobster fettuccini, while hearty, was a little lackluster. The lobster was cooked well with the sweetness of the meat coming through, and while the noodles had a decent bite nothing stood out to me.  Don’t worry though, we were good girls and cleaned our plates. No doggy bag required. 

All in all, I will have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by Emeril’s. Not because I thought he was a chef that didn’t know what he was doing, but since I haven’t really followed his career and I’m not sure about his foundation of food, I wasn’t really expecting much. Watching the kitchen staff, was like watching a well-oiled machine.  It was mesmerizing watching food flying in and out of pans, fryers, and hands. The proteins were cooked well and everything had great seasoning. I felt the admiration and respect for creole and New Orleans food in his dishes. It’s funny because my all-around food champion mentor, Anthony Bourdain, also used to give Emeril a lot of guff about his cooking, and Anthony Bourdain had nothing but praise for him when he went to his restaurant. Check out this episode of "No Reservations" (Emeril's segment starts about minute 27).

This may come as a surprise to you, but we decided to pass on dessert.  *GASP*  But before you get up in arms, we had to honor the eating itinerary. Since we couldn’t fit in Bakery Bar the day before, tonight was the night.  Desserts would make a good addition to our GOT viewing.  Plus, Bakery Bar was endorsed by our server. So, off we go.  

We decided to walk the short distance to get our desserts, to help aid our digestion and walk off some calories.  The journey to the Bakery Bar wasn’t that far, however, there were a couple of sketchy blocks. The things we do for cake, amiright?  I would suggest that if you were walking to the bakery bar late at night bring a friend or take a ride share.

Bakery Bar was very unassuming. In fact, the first thing we noticed was a large “for lease” sign on the side of the building.  We didn’t even think that the building was inhabited. However, upon closer inspection we realized that this was our final destination. When you first walk into the bakery bar it literally is a dive bar with that hipster vibe. Dimly lit, a full bar, and an offering of board games.  Lindy and I zeroed in on our goal which was all the baked goods. READ: We came here for cake.

The Pastry case had an assortment of cakes as well as balls. Let me be clear: balls of cake. Cake balls.  It’s just so fun to say/write. I have never been one to turn down balls of cake. We decided to get a regular cake slice that showcased even and thin layers of cake and a few balls (of cake.)

There was a lot of options, so we decided to get a few different balls of cake. Our flavors ran the gamut: peanut butter, chocolate, red velvet, cookies and cream, etc. No time to enjoy a cocktail at the bar...we decided that we needed to get back to the hotel so we can settle in and watch Game of Thrones. It was time.

According to my eating itinerary I did demand popcorn while we watched Game of Thrones. But the pickings were slim to find a place with popcorn (and prepped just the way I like it. 80% butter, 20% popcorn).  And did I really need to eat more carbs after delicious shrimp, scallops, and lamb? The answer is probably yes, but I decided that the cake balls would have to make do.

We settled into our hotel room happy and full, with a box of cake.  I was prepared to watch Jon Snow defend Winterfell against the Night King.  Not gonna lie, the intensity of that episode actually made me forget about the box of cake.  Obviously, breakfast is what cake is made for.

No spoilers on the episode in case you are still catching up. But it was a very long hour for me and Lindy as we watched it together in the dark. Stay tuned for my next installment of NOLA Love where I will take you on a hike to go get Poboy‘s. Check out @Dana.does.things in Instagram for more content.  

I am baking up dessert week in my kitchen for my next GBBO challenges...new posts on that soon.

Until then, happy baking, happy eating, happy repeating.