This trip had been knocking around the back of my mind for a while. And for me, that’s a big piece of retirement travel — finally getting on with the travel I’ve thought about but never found the time to do. Like this road trip to hit Mardi Gras in Mobile (our first stop), New Orleans, and Cajun Country.
Monday morning, we packed up our parade haul — mini-Moon Pies, frisbees, plastic cups, plush toys, packages of ramen soup, and, of course, beads — and pointed the car west on I-10 towards the second stop on our Mardi Gras road trip, New Orleans.
Biloxi Detour
After just 90 minutes, we made a lunch detour at Biloxi, MS, to a little one-room joint, Parrain’s Cajun Cooking. It’s just a mile north of the casinos, but with its randomly painted wide woodplank walls and an old-school kitchen service window, it feels like it exists in a more low-key parallel universe. No king cake for breakfast, so we ordered a lap around the menu — cups of gumbo, jambalaya, and red beans and rice; adding in an order of deep-fried boudin balls because… why not?
Back to An Old Haunt
Our dinner in New Orleans was a bit more up-scale. We walked down Magazine St. to an old favorite, Pêche.
I first ate there when it opened in 2014 and haven’t stopped — because it hasn’t given me a reason to stop. And having been away from New Orleans for seven years, it was the obvious first stop. Walking in, it was packed – the bar, the tables, and the six-person back counter in front of the oyster shuckers that was my usual spot, and where I wanted us to eat. So we put our name in and headed over to the bar.
It’s a good-sized bar. Every seat was taken, and most people were eating as well as drinking. We settled in with the rest of the folks leaning against the walls, drinks in hand, waiting for a seat to open up. They had all sort of self-organized into an informal queue. A seat would open up and everyone would acknowledge the next person waiting. In other places I’ve lived — Chicago, Philly — people would’ve been angling to jump in front. But further south, it feels like politeness and some level of social order are still expected.
After one drink, a couple of seats at the back counter opened up. I ordered my usual — a half dozen oysters and the whole fish. Irene added a side of Brussels in her continuing quest for more vegetables.
I picked the Alabama oysters off the raw bar menu because, after years of eating Gulf oysters, I’ve found them to be much tastier than Louisiana oysters, which I think are better cooked — fried for po’ boys, simmered in a gumbo, or char-broiled in the shell. And also because the oyster shucker had cracked open a couple for us to try.
Then, while waiting for our fish, he gave us the Florida and Louisiana oysters that we’d passed up. So we’d ordered a half dozen oysters and then got comp’d another half dozen by the shucker. Gotta love New Orleans’ lagniappe culture. I tipped him extra — all the cash I had left in my wallet.
Gift from the Weather Gods
When I laid out this trip, the parade math wasn’t in our favor. Staying in New Orleans Monday through Wednesday nights was only going to give us one parade night — Wednesday. But the same Sunday rainstorm that chased us off our last Mobile parade forced New Orleans to reschedule its two Sunday parades to what had been an empty Tuesday night. One step back, then two steps forward — the rain dance ended up in our favor.
Tuesday afternoon, we walked along Tchoupitoulas St. through the Warehouse District, with a half-block detour for lunch at another old favorite, Cochon Butcher. Then we wound our way under the mess of overpasses that is US-90, helped by a squad of cop cars and motorcycles that were holding up traffic so parade floats could make the turn toward the marshalling yards across from the World of Mardi Gras Museum. A reminder that behind every successful Mardi Gras parade is a whole lot of logistics.
Walking past the marshalling yard, we saw float riders for the first parade — Femme Fatales — starting to assemble. Cars double-parked, unloading groups of middle-aged women hugging and chatting as they headed toward their floats… at maybe 2 p.m. for a 6 p.m. step-off. No wonder they looked so happy — and a bit lit — when we saw them again rolling past the Avenue Pub.
Walking Magazine Street and St Charles Avenue
We kept walking — up to Magazine St. and through the Garden District. Some stretches looked emptier than I remembered: empty storefronts, “for lease” signs, fewer places open-for-business. Some of that was probably businesses closing early for the parade. But it still felt quieter. Then as we approached Louisiana Ave., it came alive again. We dove into Boil Seafood House for our first crawfish of the trip and then headed up to the parade route.
Walking back across the Garden District along St Charles Ave. from Louisiana Ave., we could feel the crowd’s vibe shift — from friends and families relaxing outside their houses and across on St Charles’ grassy median they call “neutral ground,” to something a bit more rowdy, with a bit more of an edge to it as we got into the more commercial stretch.
Avenue Pub Balcony View
I was happy to step off the street and into yet another old haunt, the Avenue Pub. It was surprisingly uncrowded, both on the first floor and on the second-floor balcony that looks over the parade route.
We got to the balcony railing just as the Femme Fatales rolled by. We didn’t expect them to be able to hit us with their throws on the second floor, but the two-story floats made it possible. And the riders were good. Some even cleared us, the first row leaning on the railing, and hit the folks in the second row leaning against the back wall. We all traded beads and frisbees and light-up balls so everyone on the balcony went home with a complete collection of the night’s throws.
Wednesday Night Let-Down
After Tuesday night’s rescheduled parades, the regularly scheduled Wednesday parades were a bit of a let-down. The Muses parade wasn’t as good as I remembered. And we completely skipped the last parade even though all we had to do was ride the elevator down and walk out the hotel door. Instead, we watched out our window as a high school band marched up Poydras St. from the parade’s end-point to their buses home.
We were parade-ed out.
Scrolling back through Google Photos, looking at photos I took in 2015, those parade floats looked more intricate and clever, and they were all led by flambeaux — guys marching in front carrying big propane-fed torches. There wasn’t any of that on Tuesday or Wednesday night. Just tractors and trucks hauling float trailers that seemed to be built to maximize the number of riders.
We still enjoyed these parades, and maybe I’ve got a case of rosy retrospection. But I just didn’t think these parades were as good as the ones we saw 8-10 years ago.
Pilgrimage to the Ultimate King Cake
We got up early Wednesday morning to hit the ultimate king cake shop: Dong Phuong Bakery.
It’s about a 30-minute drive east — way out of the normal tourist zone, in some suburban light-industrial area. We got there at 7:50 a.m., just before the 8:00 opening time, figuring we’d be fine.
As I pulled up, I could see we were way wrong.
The parking lot was full. Cars were parked along the shoulder of the road. And the line of people ran the length of the building and then started doing Disney-esque switchbacks. I told Irene to get in line while I hunted for parking.
A rumor came down the line that the first guy showed up at 6:30 a.m. I didn’t doubt it. I saw people walking back to their trucks carrying a bag with their three-cake limit in one hand and a camp chair in the other.
Talking to people around us, everyone was from New Orleans, had been from New Orleans, or was visiting family there. We were the only ones within conversational radius with no obvious NOLA connection. We were also the only ones not maxing out the three-cake limit.
After an hour in the queue, we bought one traditional cream cheese-filled king cake. During our wait, Irene ducked into the bakery and came back with a couple of savory bun-style pork things that were very good. I’d make the drive back just for those.
But the king cake? Definitively the best of the 8-10 we tried on the trip. Runner-up: Dropout Bakery back in Mobile.
Slipping Out of the Bubble to Bywater
On our last afternoon in New Orleans, we popped over to Bywater.
I’ve been going there since my “Drive South” trip in 2012, when a guy sitting next to me in a Louisville bar told me about it. (One of the underappreciated benefits of sitting at a bar: accidental travel intelligence.)
Bywater has always seemed to me to be a bit run-down—or maybe “highly worn”—in a slightly hipster way. Smallish shotgun-ish houses all crammed tightly together along narrow streets that default to single lanes because of the cars parked on both sides.
I’ve always liked it because it’s anti-French Quarter in the best way. Not a “tourists go home” vibe. More of an “I don’t give a damn about you, whoever you are” vibe. An indifference that feels honest rather than performative.
This time through, Bywater looked a bit cleaner, tidier. Not necessarily gentrified, just that a lot of places looked to have been recently painted. And an old manufacturing or steel fabrication plant on the edge of the neighborhood had been converted into a very solid microbrewery.
Maybe this tidying-up is the early stage of gentrification — conversions to Airbnbs and boutique inns behind fresh paint jobs. Maybe the tourist bubble has made it out here..
Or maybe the Home Depot had a really good sale.
Packing Up and Heading West (again)
We came back to New Orleans expecting one parade night and got two. We came back hoping our old favorites survived the COVID years and the subsequent inflation surge, and we found Pêche, Cochon Butcher, Avenue Pub, and Café Beignet still standing.
Maybe it’s where we were hanging out — the Central Business District (CBD), the Warehouse District, the Garden District — high tourism neighborhoods that have been floating on a raft of revenge tourism. Maybe the neighborhoods away from the river, outside the usual tourist path, have had a harder time. But whatever it is, I’ll take it. I was happy to eat and drink well on our return to New Orleans.
We gathered up our growing tangle of beads, stuffed animals, plastic cups, special chalices, and whatever else we’d accumulated (except the Moon Pies; we ate those), loaded the car, and pointed ourselves west toward the next stop: Lafayette and Acadiana.
Coming next: Gulf Coast Mardi Gras Road Trip Stop 3 — Lafayette and Acadiana
Recommendations for New Orleans
Food & Drink
- Pêche Seafood Grill, 800 Magazine St. — Ask for the back counter seats in front of the oyster shuckers. Worth the wait.
- Cochon Butcher, 930 Tchoupitoulas St. — Solid lunch spot for sandwiches and small plates
- Avenue Pub, 1732 St. Charles Ave. — Second floor balcony for parade watching, great tap list
- Boil Seafood House, 3340 Magazine St. — Divey but good Gulf seafood
- Dong Phuong Bakery, 14207 Chef Menteur Hwy — King cake and savory pork buns; arrive earlier than you think you need to
Parade Strategy
- Skip the French Quarter parades — too crowded, tight streets, small parades
- Garden District along St. Charles Ave. is the sweet spot — better crowd, easier to catch throws
- Avenue Pub’s second floor balcony gives you parade views with a great beer selection
- Check parade schedules — weather cancellations will reshuffle everything
Neighborhoods
- Stay in the Warehouse District or CBD for easy walking to parades and restaurants
- Bywater for anti-tourist authenticity (though that may be changing)
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