Monday, 27th
August 2012
The night before Isaac was due to hit,
Bex and I were invited for drinks and dinner at the house of my
friend Lander (whom I know through my very excellent ex Paul
Eros – they studied together at
Corpus Christi, when I was
going out with Paul). Lander's family seat is in the Garden District,
on Prytania Street – a good couple of miles west of our new billet
at the Melrose Mansion, which is on the corner of Burgundy and
Esplanade.
We weren't sure how easy it would be to
get a taxi, but we had a mission to fulfil (we'd asked if we could
bring anything to the party and Lander suggested gin) so we decided
to walk west to Canal and look out for an off-licence on the way. We
found a small general store with a wide range of booze, but no gin
(it's not big in the South, which is odd, considering how refreshing
a gin & tonic is – not to mention the medicinal properties of
quinine).
Finally we found a liquor store selling
what I remembered to be Lander's poison – Bombay Sapphire – and
hopped in a cab which was delivering some hardcore revellers to
Bourbon Street. The whole of Bourbon, as we walked along it, was
eerily deserted; there were six people on the corner when we took the
cab – three getting out, a bouncer and us. Once we got in the cab,
there was just one.
Arriving at Lander's – am imposing 1860s mansion complete with historical plaque on
the front gate (New Orleans is justly proud of its history and every
other building – including private residences – seems to have a
little brass plate with a potted biography of the place on it) – we
found it apparently deserted. We couldn't knock on the front door, as
the formidable gate wouldn't open; I texted him, and just as I was
about to call he opened up – he'd been out back closing the
shutters and generally “hunkering down” (that's an actual
technical hurricane term used a lot on the news).
Lander welcomed us in to his frankly
jaw-droppingly beautiful home, led us through to the kitchen at the
back, and fixed us a couple of gin-and-tonics so stiff you could have
lit them on fire. Our Bombay Sapphire had been unnecessary in the end
as Lander had discovered a couple of spares in the fridge (see
below). We repaired to the living room (or one of them) and chatted
for a bit – mostly about the weather, but for once this was by no
means small talk – until Lander's other friends, Kathryn and
William, arrived.
|
It's going to be a three-day storm, right? |
Kathryn, soigné and blonde, is a
former journalism major turned medical student to whom natural
disasters seem to be a hazard of the job: she'd also survived one of
Australia's worst floods in years when she was studying in
Brisbane, and had had to abandon everything in her house to jump in a
boat when the floodwater had reached her second-floor bedroom window.
By birth she's a New York Yankee, but she seemed unfazed by
the whole thing.
|
Overkill? |
William was a native New Orleanian –
a trainee lawyer with a sideline in sailing. He said he spent a month
or so on the water every year, which sounded pretty sweet, and has
sailed all over the world, sometimes for the firm (it's that kind of
organisation) and sometimes for leisure. He too was pretty laid-back
about the approaching storm: he lived just up the road and had laid
in provisions, lamps etc. at home, but swung by Lander's to meet us
and hang out.
We moved back into the kitchen to
refresh our drinks and, incidentally, to admire – sort of –
Lander's extensive collection of firearms which appeared in the photo
he'd sent me the day before. Amazingly, I hadn't actually clocked the
guns when I first saw it, but there they all were – a Remington,
a revolver, even a
Tommy gun (for the
completist). “Just in case,” he said, with an unnerving grin. Bex
and Kathryn were somewhat daunted by the firearms collection, but
Kathryn was eventually persuaded to pose with one for the “hurricane
party” photo below (I brandished my drink as my primary defence against
the storm).
|
Hurricane essentials: (L-R) Gin, bullhorn, lamp, gun |
Hurricane parties are something
of a tradition in New Orleans when bad weather hits: they're a
combination of house-party and lock-in, and can take place either at
someone's home or at a bar or restaurant – anywhere people can
gather to drink, eat, and watch the news.
When power outages are so
common during storms, somewhere which still has electricity becomes
as a flame to moths: it's extraordinary how quickly our Neanderthal
homing instinct for light and warmth kicks in when the lights go out.
|
OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO NICE (Bex's plate pictured) |
When the storm is not too serious, there's a real (what we English
would call)
Blitz spirit about the whole thing, and a mild carnival
atmosphere of danger and excitement. If anyone's ever been snowed in
or cut off by weather for a few days, you'll know what I mean.
Anyway, around 10pm we started getting
hungry, so Lander hauled an entire lamb (or so it seemed to me) out
of the freezer, in chop form: this, marinaded and then barbecued, was
going to be our dinner.
Once the lamb had been defrosted and expertly barbecued by Lander as below (it was around midnight, by now) and the table had been laid and candles lit, we moved in to the dining room for possibly the most sophisticated impromptu hurricane dinner party ever thrown.
|
Man. Meat. Fire. The eternal triangle. |
As token vegetarian I got pasta and pesto –
but what pasta! It was, as William said, “lighter 'n' air” and
cooked in about three minutes. And what pesto! Lander just happened
to have giant bushes of fresh basil growing in his garden, and this
(combined with a couple of heads of garlic, lemon juice, and some
olive oil) was whizzed up in the Cuisinart into the best and freshest
pesto I've ever tasted. This storm-orphan business wasn't so bad
after all.
|
Best (and only) hurricane party ever! |
The pictures don't do the meal, the environment, or the guests justice, but they're the best I can do: Bex and I were heartily grateful to have been wined and dined in such a generous and hospitable fashion, and we owe enormous thanks to Lander and his lovely friends for making us feel so welcome.
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