As much as I hate Ole Miss (to the point where I even refused to watch Blindside), the already big football weekend was further amplified by the presence of a few Ole Miss faithful. At one time in my life I would have felt like I was harboring insurgents by letting a couple of Ole Miss grads crash at the house for the weekend, but, over time, my hatred for the in-state rival has given way to tolerance and acceptance. [Oh God, I think I just threw up a little.] Like every other visitor to New Orleans, the weekenders were determined to go to The Quarter. Even though Bourbon is as touristy and pricey as it gets in New Orleans, I decided to join these wild and crazy kids for what I thought would just be a few beers.A few beers. HA. If you have been keeping up with the blog, you already know of my infatuation with Tropical Isle. I’m still not sure how or why the cheesy, plastic tropical paradise lures me in every time I step my Chaco-tan-lined-feet onto Bourbon. It might be the arcade-like game in the bathroom that literally takes your quarter and measures to see if you could fill up a bathtub or swimming pool. I can't make something like that up. It might be trying to relive the YMCA days by throwing the tiny plastic grenades into the baskets that hang overhead like I'm taking my fare-the-well shot in an intnse HORSE game. Or it might be the fact that Tropical Isle always has the coldest AC during the summer- hey, us Mississippi folk know how to find shade and AC. Whatever it is that keeps drawing me into the establishment, the outcome remains the same- 2 hand grenades, 1 blackout, and 1 nagging hangover.
After trying to force my body to release me from the fetal position the morning after, I began the tedious task of removing the remnants of what I have come to call the Bourbon Street Stank from my weakened body, which now slightly resembled the look and feel of Gak. I had to quickly shake off this headache and gut rot, and perform one of the greatest comebacks in hangover history. An hour and 2 Sierra Mists later, I had gone from being a freshman on a Friday night after the first trip to the Hunt Club to a late-in-the-game-hero of the National Hangover League. Seeing as how we had 6 extra hungry folks in the house for the weekend, I decided to try out a few new recipes. The first was a simple take on homemade Gorgonzola Biscuits. Even if you’re not a fan of any of the blue cheeses, the amount in this recipe is just enough to add a hint of that distinct blue cheese taste without completely overpowering the entire recipe. The hot, golden biscuits came out of the oven tasting remarkably like a fluffy version of Mississippi cheese straws. Even though the biscuits turned out to be pretty damn tasty, the crowd pleaser was a version of Shrimp and Grits that I adapted from a recipe from one of Emeril’s restaurants- cheddar grits smothered with Louisiana shrimp and a mixture of baby portabellas, bacon, garlic, scallions, and a homemade Abita Turbodog Sauce.
Seeing as how this brunch’s original purpose was to simply cure the ailments inflicted upon us by the attack of the hand grenades, it was an added bonus that the recipes came out well enough to carry us through the rest of the college football filled Saturday, which also included a stop by Pat O’Brien’s to have a few ice cold Bud Lights with some good old folks from Gallman, Mississippi while catching a September 11th inspired rendition of Lee Greenwood’s classic performed by one of Pat O’s dueling piano players, Babs, who just so happened to be from It, Mississippi.
You seem to have acquired a bit of literary talent while attending Mississippi State. I also hear the Shrimp and grits were excellant. Just don't give up your day job...
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