NOLA's Slow Rebirth

The city’s still hurting.

It may be business as usual with crowds filling the French Quarter again but the joie de vive is definitely feeling a quart low. New Orleans seems just as mired in its economic, educational and political morass as ever, magnified by the poignant losses exposed in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, like pulling a band-aid off a nasty scab that was nowhere near being healed to begin with. Now the nation and the world have witnessed the grim, gritty, muck-infested reality of the people who live there.

The political corruption and socioeconomic quagmires stretch back across so many decades, better days will be a long time coming—IF the parties involved can make the kind of commitment necessary to bring about healthy change.

But there’s got to be something the rest of us can do. And there is.

Visit New Orleans. Support the culture that gives our nation so many unique gifts—in music, art, cuisine, history—and teaches us how to let the good times roll, even when the times get tough.

During a recent trip to New Orleans in the heat of summer, I was surprised and pleased to see the French Quarter teeming with life: families piling into the Audubon Aquarium, restaurants with interminable waits, new museums sprouting up here and there.

The Southern Food and Beverage Museum has taken up residence at one end of Riverwalk, the bland and touristy—albeit blissfully air conditioned—strip mall that parallels the Mississippi and cozies up to the convention center. Inside, visitors stroll through exhibits showcasing the delicacies of the region, giving greater understanding the next time one sits down in front of an oyster po’boy, a bowl of corn grits and other iconic foods of the South.

SoFAB is also home to the Museum of the American Cocktail—an outstanding collection of everything liquor-related spanning the centuries. Gorgeous displays highlight the evolution of mixology with well-preserved artifacts: bottles, glasses, shakers and other paraphernalia like recipe booklets, aprons and even the appropriate LPs to spin, creating the proper aural ambience for martini imbibing.

Halfway down Royal Street, past the tony antique emporiums, a Creole cottage-turned-storefront sports a shop dedicated to the Green Fairy, which as been making a resurgence of late. Nasty stuff, absinthe, but it conjures the romantic bohemian days of turn-of-the-last-century Paris. At the back of the little boutique, an intimate “museum” of sorts awaits, ready to share the history of the liqueur through artifact displays and a looping documentary.

There are new things to see along with old favorites, there’s still good food to be eaten, and May Baily’s still mixes the best Hurricane in town.

So go.

Mt. Dora Exploras

A recent day trip with friends took us to this central Florida hamlet known for its antiques shops. If hardcore antiquing is what you’re after, here’s a hint: skip the old lady boutiques in town and head for Renninger’s on U.S. 441 for a real avalanche of the stuff.

Seriously, the downtown stores are nice—if you’re shopping for your granny or your bridesmaids: a lot of frilly, girly stuff and tacky gifts no one really needs, with miscellaneous knick knacks scattered in between. (The smarter shopkeepers plant Man Benches outside their doors for gravity-weary companions.) To be fair, I did find a couple of interesting boutiques and a good cupcake shop, but it wasn't enough to make me want to go back.

For lunch: The Goblin Market scored points for the mysterious, secluded entry into a viny, hidden courtyard. We might have been sneaking into the Goblin’s own library, all book-lined walls and dimly-lit exotic décor. Then the stuffiness set in. They need to throw open the windows once in a while. Stale air quality makes me feel like I'm dining in a place that's perhaps past its prime. (i.e: Gypsy Cab Co. in St. Augustine.)

I might have liked the food more if the whole experience rated a little higher. Everything took FOREVER, from ordering to getting the check, with nary a hint of apology from the lackadaisical crew. We were all starving by the time our salads and sandwiches arrived, at that point when just about anything tastes good.

I’m almost wishing we’d tried the intriguing Icelandic pub with its crazy beer-liquor mixed drinks or the seafood house with the gorgeous veranda view of the lake.

(By the way—theme of the day: scary dolls. We just started seeing a trend.)

After lunch, we headed to the mother of all antiques emporiums, Renninger’s. Set on acres of tree-dotted hillocks, it’s an indoor/outdoor wonderland featuring every make, model and era of vintage paraphernalia that one could hope for. In one corner, a path winds through a makeshift “village” of freestanding shops.

Then there’s the massive warehouse of vendor booths showcasing everything from miscellaneous ephemera to mission furniture. Even if you’re not in buying mode, it’s a treat to chat with the knowledgeable dealers and learn about their various wares.

Renninger’s aside, the next time I’m in the mood to explore a quaint central Florida town, I’ll probably head for Winter Park.

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