We cleaned up from the Fest and met in the hotel lobby before dinner. As we were leaving, we spotted Wynton Marsalis, who many in the group saw play just a few hours later, arriving. After a picture with Lelaine, we walked through the CBD to Cochon for a late dinner. To continue the trend from earlier in the day, the food rocked. I had gumbo ya-ya; a bacon, potato, and gruyere tartiflette; crawfish etouffee (really branching out for me); and praline ice cream. Earlier in the day I thought the andouille, pheasant, and quail gumbo was the best I had ever had. This rivaled it, and was probably a little better. Both had a certain intense flavor, which my inarticulate self cannot describe, that was great and very different from other gumbos I have had. It is a good day when in consecutive meals you think something is the best you had ever had. The crawfish was ok, but I liked the sauce more than the crawfish themselves. You probably won't find me cracking too many crawfish shells in the near future. I was one of a few who didn't have the bread pudding for dessert, which earned raves from Zuzenak.
We then set off for Bourbon Street, grabbing a hurricane in a to-go cup for most and a Jester for Lelaine (she wanted to finish it off and say "Jester's dead") and then taking in the various debauchery. Lelaine even bought shots for everyone as we walked down the street. After trying to get into a packed Pat O'Briens, we found a relatively quiet bar on a side street and sat in the courtyard. Not exactly living the rock and roll lifestyle, but something that suited me just fine after a long day.
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