Strategically Located Hidden Gems

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I had never really been to the Restaurant Row Recovery area other than as a quick drive by on my way towards other parts of the city. As it turns out this area houses so many culturally important destinations that at times I felt like I didn’t know the city at all.  So often “we” rarely venture outside of our comfort zones and truly experience what else the city has to offer.  I’d never heard much about many of these staples of New Orleans culture that were hidden gems in a sea of traffic and congestion. Yet, it seems like everyone already knew about these places, already understood their significance as a part of daily life. The almost limitless food options have made for a fun research experience.

So what and why should anthropologists care about food?  I think it tells us about what we think is important, clearly not all of the options are nutritionally significant nor financially attainable for some but here you have all types of restaurants and people coming together in crowds to enjoy what this area has to offer.  For the business owner, does this area attract people that would otherwise go elsewhere? With so many options what type of relationships are present?  What, if any community organizations bind them together?

So why do these certain spaces attract people?  What is it about the growth of this centrally located area that continues to grow and adapt to the major changes throughout the city?  When we consider the disparity on what we spend our money on, we find that food and entertainment has a special place.  Sometimes food as entertainment attracts us in ways we never thought of.

Thus far, some of the research teams have already delved into some of the big questions?  Like why are these restaurants here?  What are the relationships between them?  As anthropologists, I think we want to know the hows and why, the histories and social structures behind what makes these restaurants tick but we rarely get to know their back stories. I’ve particularly enjoyed eating in many of these places in the process of initial “research” as a way to understand the clientele, the menus, the employees and even the environment.

It’s been said that we are what we eat and what we eat reflects who we are.  To some extent understanding food and our relationship with it, gives us a better understanding of our culture and what it means here in New Orleans. To some, New Orleans cuisine is a masterpiece of culinary craftsmanship full of flavors and combinations otherwise unknown to the world at large… while to others, it is largely just a deep fried over gluttonous mountain of sauces masking the purity and natural flavors of whatever the given dish may be.  It seems like our relationship with food is complex and fraught with challenging contradictions, whether you are a local, a tourist or a new transplant to the city. Despite being the wealthiest nation in the world, 45 million Americans will rely on food stamps this month to put food on the table for themselves and their families. Food hardship, or the inability to afford enough food, affects families around the country, particularly those with children and throughout this city.  So how does an area full of choices impact not only the surrounding community but the entire city at large?  This area has a multitude of interesting selections but it is home to many staples of New Orleans culture that somehow potentially touch us all.  Through investigations on the how’s and why’s perhaps we can learn just a little bit more about ourselves and our city in the process.

Exploring Their Connections

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One of the objectives of our Restaurant Row Recovery Project is to try to better understand how restaurants have played a role, if any, in the relationships with, and within, the neighborhood and the Greater New Orleans area.

Obviously, as businesses, they compete to provide a service in exchange for an established price. From the other side, the consumer provides the restaurant owner and his employees a means of financial support. Bottom line is that these are businesses, and profitability is fundamental to their survival. But these local establishments seem almost as dependent upon their relationships as their bottom line. After interviewing some of the owners, employees, and customers of the Row it quickly became apparent that there was much more to this story.

For starters, most of the restaurant owners interviewed by my colleagues and I have described a type of local connection fundamental to their supply chain. Some, like the owner of EcoCafe, actively engage in more grass roots community networking, by striving to buy from local farmer’s markets as much as is absolutely possible. Others like, Paul Ballard, founder and CEO of WOW Café and Wingery, as well as PJ’s Coffee, are supplied by larger firms, but are nonetheless local. Frank, owner of Rinconcito, went so far as to express a sense of loss when he mentioned decreasing his seafood order from local supplier Vincent Piazza, Jr. & Sons Seafood Incorporated due to the BP oil spew plunging the demand for seafood. These all serve as examples of restaurants playing the role of consumer and local patron, but also express how each strives to maintain a connection to place.

Afternoon Delivery

The bartender and daughter of Delmy Cruz, owner of Fiesta Latina, echoed what Paul had said about being there not just to make money, but to serve a community in need. This got me thinking about what we, as consumers, need to have in a restaurant relationship. What is it we expect to get out of a restaurant beyond a quality meal? How are those expectations met? I know I enjoy going to the places where I know the staff. Making a connection to the people who work in my favorite haunts is fundamental to it actually becoming one of my favorites.

Paul talked about his amazement with the response to first opening after the storm. He said he had never heard so many heartfelt thank you’s in his life. He recalls seeing people piling their MREs (Meals-Ready-to-Eat distributed by the military in the wake of Katrina) on the table while they ordered their first familiar meal in weeks. Paul says he will always remember how happy people were to be in one place eating wings of all things. To them, the folks at WOW were heroes. They brought back something familiar. They brought back a little bit of normality and Americana: beer, wings, and college football.

Above all, these examples go to show how restaurants can often play a much larger role in the neighborhood beyond providing substance to an already nourished population base.  They can serve as counselors, organizers, entertainers, neighbors, and sometimes friends.  Of course, for our study group it doesn’t hurt to have a tasty baseline from which one can operate.

Minh-City Cafe

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One of my research adventures took place at Cafe Minh. It is located in what used to be Michael’s Mid-City Grill before the storm. When the latter restaurant did not re-open Post-Katrina, Chef Minh Bui decided that it would be a fitting abode for his Cafe Minh.

With his roots in Vietnam, Chef Minh got his New Orleans start cooking at places such as Emeril’s and Commander’s Palace. After mastering his skills, he developed a Vietnamese-French fusion cuisine that contains hints of local Creole cooking. His first restaurant Lemongrass was opened next to Angelo Brocato’s on Carrollton Avenue. A second location of Lemongrass located in the International House hotel was opened, and a third restaurant called 56 Degrees was also opened in the Whitney Hotel. Before Katrina, both the Carrollton location and 56 Degrees closed. After the storm, Chef Minh decided he wanted to return to Mid-City and opened Cafe Minh at its current location.

Cafe Minh fits perfectly in the Restaurant Row even though it is not physically in line with the others. About a block into Canal Street, it is still in close walking distance of the area, however. One thing we can recognize about the Restaurant Row is that even though there may be similar types of food (for instance, Wit’s Inn, Venezia, Theo’s, Papa John’s and Domino’s all have pizza), there is still enough variety throughout the restaurants that they are all able to survive. Among the Asian restaurants, you may find that Little Tokyo, Doson’s Noodle House, Yummy Yummy, and even Cafe Minh have similar items on the menu. Yet because of the creativity of the chefs, the different environments of the restaurants themselves, and the specific cravings of those searching out food, co-existing is not a problem for these places.

Another similarity I have noticed between the Asian restaurants is that the owners or head chefs all learned to cook in their birth countries. This seems to come full circle as they originally learn to cook in the authentic way of their birthplace, then they end up drifting into another type of cuisine (whether it be another Asian cuisine or something completely different), and in the end, they come back to their original style of cooking, adding a bit of their own flair. That little bit of flair and originality is what sets each of these restaurants apart from the other.

During my visit, I discovered that the food at Cafe Minh is excellent, however, when one typically thinks of the item he or she is ordering, one might not get exactly what they are expecting. For instance, when I ordered the fried eggplant, I did not expect it to be topped with mozzarella, on top of tomatoes, on top of a bed of lettuce, on top of toast. It was amazing nonetheless. This is an example of Chef Minh’s genius at work.

For dessert I had the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, and it was divine. Colorful and divine.

Also, while visiting Cafe Minh, I immediately noticed all of the artwork on the walls. With the high ceilings and ambient lighting, I almost felt that I was in an art gallery for a moment. The bartender even told me that the artwork is rotated by several local artists throughout the year.

When wandering Mid-City and you find yourself wanting something different than the norm, try stopping by Cafe Minh. If anything, the experience is one you’re unlikely to find anywhere else on Restaurant Row.

Paul Ballard, A New Orleans Inspired Wingman

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Wow!

This past week I had the opportunity to sit down with Mr. Paul Ballard, president and CEO of WOW Café and Wingery. Mr. Ballard is a larger than life kind of man with a captivating grin and a presence that leaves listeners hanging on his every word. His strong family ties and love for all things New Orleans were evident within the first several minutes of our encounter. We were just sitting down at a table overlooking a rainy Orleans avenue sipping cold brewed coffee when Mr. Ballard first surprised me by immediately thanking me for our interest in his company. For the first time in a long while I did not feel as though I were pestering someone who had more important work to do than indulge the curiosities of a budding young anthropologist. It was also about this time that I learned Paul was a title that Mr. Ballard was more comfortable with.

Paul is a first generation New Orleanian, who grew up in a music store, Tape City USA, owned by his parents. They operated locations in Metairie, the CBD, and on Carrollton Avenue. Paul said it was a big day for them when then franchisee Nancy Bounds opened the Mid City location. “It was exciting for us to be back in the neighborhood”, Paul said with a smile. This excitement, he later claims, was one of the main reasons he and his brothers, also his partners in WOW, thought it was important to get back open after the storm.

Paul graduated from Tulane University with a degree in History and an intention of going on to Law School. It was while he was attending Tulane he met his wife, and future mother of his 4 children (the youngest only a matter of weeks old). Like many of New Orleans’ college students he found work at several bars and restaurants around town. Sal & Sam’s, which he defined as New Orleans Italian fine dining, required he wear a tuxedo and understand the importance of a good sauce, a notion that stuck with him as the WOW franchise began to grow.

Paul also recounted his experiences as a bartender at Rosie’s Big Easy on Tchoupitoulas. “Having been around for the progression from 4 track and 8 track players to LPs and so on, working at Rosie’s, just down from Tipitina’s, was a blast. We grew up around the music”. He went on to say how he feels very connected to New Orleans culture. He spent parts of his childhood all over this city, and says that when he sees a WOW in some of his old stomping grounds he cannot help but feel good.

Paul’s narrative is a great example of how culture reshapes itself. He grew up part of New Orleans music and food scene. Now he and his wife are raising their own children in an entrepreneurial environment. They are exposing them to an avenue that is clearly one of the cornerstones of New Orleans identity: food. Hot wings and beer may not be the first thing you think of when you think New Orleans food, but the Ballard family has dedicated themselves to creating and spreading representations of New Orleans. I will explore more of this next week when I discuss the connections that Paul has established over the years including his links to PJ’s Coffee founder Phyllis Jordan, and Chefs George Rhode and Paul Purdhomme.

Restaurant Criticism

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I wrote recently that I would not engage in any restaurant criticism here.  And I won’t.  But an essential part of our research is figuring out where the restaurants—past and present—of our restaurant row fit within the complex New Orleans culinary universe.  To that end, I have spent many hours lately digging around in old newspapers, magazines, guidebooks, newsletters, etc. to see how the restaurants have been evaluated over time.

Since the late 1960s, restaurant critics have played an important role in shaping discussions about restaurants and dining in New Orleans.  For this project, I am looking mostly at material about our neighborhood, written and published locally.  This is simply a way of making a very large amount of material more manageable.  For another project, I am also looking into restaurant writing about New Orleans more generally, including some of the early efforts to legitimize the genre and the way it has changed over time, as the idea of culture, useful criticism, careers and other factors have come into focus.

1973 Edition of The New Orleans Underground Gourmet

Many people in New Orleans would agree that Richard Collin, author of the “New Orleans Underground Gourmet” (1970, Simon and Schuster), was the city’s first real restaurant critic.  He was also a history professor at UNO, where his work in food writing was not terribly well respected, both because it was not really academic work and because it probably did not seem like appropriate behavior for a scholar.  UNO would look on such things differently today.  That said, there is a relatively clear relationship between art, film and literary criticism and scholarship in related fields, so that it does not seem unusual for professors to write analytic as well as critical pieces for both scholarly and popular publications.  The ties between academe and restaurant criticism are less obvious, at least from a disciplinary standpoint.  Especially for a historian such as Collin.

Collin stirred up quite a bit of controversy with his writing, in the various editions of “The New Orleans Underground Gourmet,” in his columns for New Orleans States-Item, and in a few other guidebooks about the city.  His reviews were subject to protest at a meeting of New Orleans restaurateurs in 1975, with accusations that he lacked objectivity and, worse, that his wife, Rima Collin (also a UNO professor), had a professional interest in seeing some restaurants better rated than others.  These kinds of accusations and debates go with the territory, as Frank Bruni, former New York Times restaurant critic, notes in his recent book “Born Round: The Secret History of a Full-Time Eater” (2009, Penguin). But the tone of the original confrontation with Collin seems to suggest that in the early 1970s, restaurateurs had not yet figured out how to make sense—and use—of restaurant writing.

However, it is also true that Collin, along with other critics in the early years of restaurant writing, did not hesitate to dole out cruel commentary on restaurants.  Although such commentary still exists, many restaurant writers in New Orleans tend these days to only write about restaurants they can say nice things about, ignoring the rest.  The reasons behind this are not entirely clear.  Perhaps they feel they can leave the harsh comments to blog writers, on-line discussion boards like Urban Spoon, Yelp, Chowhound, etc.  Collin, however, left us with some very amusing evaluations of restaurants in our neighborhood.  Some include restaurants that have since become veritable institutions in New Orleans, which suggests that despite restaurateurs fear, it is possible to survive and even thrive despite the critical barbs tossed out by food writers.  Here are a few pithy comments about defunct restaurants in our neighborhood:

On Hazel’s Po-Boy, 208 N. Carrollton (where Taqueria Guerrero Mexico is today): “Hazel’s serves cheap poor boys that lack distinction, as well as luncheon specials on paper plates.” (“The New Orleans Underground Gourmet,” 1973, p. 132.)

On Mid City Kitchen, 303 N. Carrollton (near the corner of Bienville and N. Carrollton, on the site of a defunct strip mall, unreconstructed since Katrina): “On some days this is one of the great places in town. On most days it isn’t.  Inconsistency mars the record of a brilliant Cajun burger, well seasoned hamburger poor boys, and excellent roast beef poor boys.  On the bad days you wouldn’t recognize them.” (“The New Orleans Restaurant Guide,” 1976, with Rima Collin, p. 165.)

All, of course, is not negative.  Collin waxed poetic about many restaurants.  In 1976, he wrote about Mandina’s “This is what good old New Orleans neighborhood restaurants once looked like.  Mandina’s still does.  A joy to look at and a joy to eat in.” (“The New Orleans Restaurant Guide,” 1976, with Rima Collin, p. 108).

Some evaluations change over time.  But one that stays remarkably consistent is Brocato’s, which Collin and every other critic I have come across has proclaimed magical.  He writes that the cannoli “may well be the cheapest miracle in the world.” (“The New Orleans Restaurant Guide,” 1976, with Rima Collin, p. 72.)  And despite my promise not to engage in any criticism myself, I will admit that I believe that this is still true, 34 years later.

Much can be learned from looking at the way restaurant writing has shaped our restaurants and our way of thinking about restaurants.  Please let us know of any memories you have about restaurant writing, encounters with critics or ideas about how it should be done.  Who are you favorite (and least favorite) critics?  Tell us about them.


Distinguishing Nationality and Ethnicity: The Food Factor

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Where does nationality end and ethnicity begin? On the surface there seems to be an easy answer. Nationality is expressed in the form of governmental controls in which the individual pledges some type allegiance and in turn receives protections and other social services. Ethnicity on the other hand seems to supersede those limitations by including anyone who speaks a particular language, shares in origin beliefs or customs, and/or claims heritage in similar roots. Ethnicity when framed in this way seems much more inclusive.

Foods, and more particularly food ways, seem to challenge the broad sweeping inclusiveness of ethnicity. Nearly all of the restaurateurs gracing our study area seem to strive to stand out as individuals while simultaneously maintaining an adherence to the broader expectations of their potential customers.

Part of the dinning decor at El Rinconsito 216 S. Carrollton Ave.

I began recalling that the meals I have eaten at El Rinconcito – Breakfast, lunch, or dinner – have all been served with soft warmed tortillas. This did not seem out of place prior to my Colombian trip– hence the lack of blog entries – where I feasted on amazing national and regional foods. None of which included even a single tortilla shell. There were close equivalents, of course, known as arepas, but their function seems closer aligned with the pita. Arepas are often stuffed with a meat, cheese, or egg, and either grilled or fried pre or post stuffing. The breakfast ones served on the coastal regions often contained fish or shrimp and were by far my absolute favorite.

Excited to share in this cuisine with my wife I quickly looked over the El Rinconcito menu when I got home and found that despite the obvious Colombian influence, the menu was lacking in the unique food stuffs I found in either urban or rural dinning. Warm tortillas now seem out of place when I go there. Despite their lack of belonging in the South American foodways, however, I do still eat every one.

La Taqueria Guerrero at 208 S. Carrollton Ave. New Orleans

Some locations, like Taqueria Guerrero Mexico, Angelo Brocato’s Italian Ice Cream & Pastry, and soon an Italian Pie, are able to easily present national, and even regional, foods because ethnicity and nationality have become synonymous within some categories. Other places, like Theo’s Pizza, Mandina’s, and Juan’s Flying Burrito all claim a type of individuality by expressing a possessiveness over their cuisine variations. Whether the claim is to a particular lineage or place many of the restaurants in our study area claim a similar possessiveness.

Menu for Fiesta Latina of New Orleans

Among the restaurants I am currently studying –Fiesta Latina, El Rinconcito, Taqueria Guerrero, and WOW Café and Wingery – each applies differing regional ties to their menus. Fiesta Latina claims to specialize in Mexican and Central American foods, while Taqueria Guerrero offers more familiar Mexican cuisine. El Rinconcito defines itself as serving Central American and South American dishes. And WOW Café and Wingery – a Louisiana original – has sauce selections named on ethnic expectations – Asian, Bombay, and Polynesian – as well as more regionally specific selections – Texas, Acadian, and Kansas City.

What I want to know is this: what are some national and ethnic foods that you are most fond of? How do the versions of those foods stand up when exported out of their original place of consumption and creation? Do restaurants need to adopt some form of homogenization in order to be successful?

Pizza Galore

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I spoke with two guys about pizza this week.  One was James “Jammer” Orintas, one of the owners of Theo’s Neighborhood Pizza, located on Canal, right near the intersection with Carrollton.  The other was Dennis Scheuermann, the owner of Wit’s Inn, which is on the corner of Carrollton and Iberville.  Both had great insights into the neighborhood and the restaurant business.  Orintas, along with his partners, is from Arkansas.  Scheuermann grew up in the 9th ward and has deep roots in New Orleans.  This contrast alone suggests that they both personify New Orleans at this point.

Both restaurants sell pizza.  I am pretty sure that their pizza pies are made in substantially different styles (I’ve eaten Theo’s pizza many times, but I have not yet tried Wit’s Inn pizza…I’ll try to make up for that soon).  Theo’s is a thin crust pizza that is often referred to as “St. Louis Style.” I have heard that Wit’s Inn pizza has a thicker, chewier kind of crust.  They both seem to have a lot of fans (I am not going to try any restaurant criticism here, so you’ll have to do your own research if you want to decide which one you like better).  Theo’s has only been in the neighborhood since mid-2009 (they have another location on Magazine Street), while Wit’s Inn has been around much longer.

Interestingly, they do not see themselves as really competing with each other.  Theo’s serves beer and wine, but is primarily, as Jammer told me, a destination for families with kids who want an affordable and relaxing night out (indeed, I can verify that the place works for that – I’ve been with my kids, other people’s kids, hordes of kids…).  Wit’s Inn has a full bar and a more diverse menu (they also do brunch on Sundays), pool tables and various electronic games-of-chance that only adults may use.  Indeed, you must be 21 to enter Wit’s Inn.  Wit’s Inn seems to be a mixture of sports bar and neighborhood hangout, with the addition of a full kitchen and professional chef.

All of which seems like a happy situation, with the potential for both businesses to thrive.  Except that they are not the only pizza purveyors in our restaurant row.  Venezia, just across Carrollton from Wit’s Inn, is famous for its pizza.  Just up the street, across the Great Divide, there are outlets for Papa John’s and Domino’s.  If you are willing to travel slightly out of our research area, down to Banks street, you will find the Crescent City Pie and Sausage Company and Lazaro’s Pizza, which is nearly a secret pizza purveyor as far as I can tell. (Just to confuse matters, the owners of Juan’s Flying Burrito, which is around the corner from Theo’s, also own Slice, another local pizzeria, but they do not have a location in the neighborhood.)  New Orleans is not a town known for pizza.  And yet, you might think we have more pizza places than po’boy shops.

And now, the Italian Pie folks are opening a new store at 125 N. Carrollton, on the same block as Fiesta Latina, Doson Noodle House and Wit’s Inn.  Italian Pie is a local chain with a fairly large number of stores across the metropolitan area.  I have no idea what the new place will look like, but I do know that their pizza is popular with many people in New Orleans.

Which raises a question: is it possible to have too much pizza in a neighborhood?  The immediate issue is one of competition and survival.  Can all of these places thrive with so many different pizza options?  There are subsidiary issues, like parking, that come to mind.  Perhaps the different kinds of pizza make these all substantially different kinds of restaurants.  Jammer pointed out that one of the things that makes the neighborhood attractive is the wide range of affordable dining choices, from various types of pizza, to different kinds of Latin American food, Italian, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc.  Do people see the pizza places as too much of the same thing or do they differentiate between them, so that each draws on their own clientele?  Does the collection of affordable restaurants bring in business for everyone?

What kind of mix of businesses, or just restaurants—succeed in neighborhoods?  How do urban planners and policy makers think about this?  There is some interesting stuff written about this—in urban planning literature, as well as in hotel, restaurant and tourism business literature (and if you have a favorite article or book to recommend, let me know!)—but take a look at this meditation on business diversity in Washington DC (part 2 is here).  It raises an interesting set of issues about restaurant and business clusters that are worth thinking about.  What has your experience been, in our restaurant row or somewhere else where restaurants congregate? Is there a pizza tipping point? Or even a point at which a neighborhood has too many restaurants?  Or maybe not enough?  And would that point be different in New Orleans, where people love eating in restaurants, than in a different city, where food is less central to the way of life?

Carrollton Avenue’s Transformation

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This is a photo of Carrollton's 3600 block circa 1950. Although it was taken several blocks from our research area, it is important to note that the same fate has befallen this strip of businesses as has happened on "the row" - they have since been replaced by 5 Happiness Restaurant.

When I explained to Arthur that part of my project was to map out a history of the neighborhood, he launched into a vividly detailed description of what “the row” looked like when the Brocato family moved there in 1979. The only other food establishments on the street at the time were Venezia (still standing) and Hazel’s Po-Boy’s, an establishment since closed. The Red Door Bar was also around back then, and according to Arthur its clientele isn’t as rough and tumble as it was in the old days. Everything changes with time. The rest of the street was filled with businesses that were functional for the neighborhood. On one side, (Brocato’s side) stood Fashion Forward, David’s Beauty Salon, Johnson’s Hardware, and a used car dealership where Kjean’s now stands. Across the street was Ace’s Pool hall (now Wit’s Inn), a washing machine repair center (now Doson’s), and a sign painting business. A bit further down the road towards City Park was Chaubaud’s Marine, Music City, and a tire repair shop. There was also a small market nearby where neighborhood residents could grocery shop. The building where Brocato’s itself now resides was three different bakeries beginning in the 1920’s.

It seems as though this strip of Carrollton was a sort of one-stop-shop for daily errands. When I asked Arthur what he thought of the neighborhood now in comparison to what it was back then, he told me that things have definitely changed, but he isn’t sure whether or not they’ve changed for the better. He explained that as far as a restaurant boom is concerned, he felt that “the row” had reached it’s peak right before Katrina. Restaurants in general on Carrollton Avenue have come back strong post-K, but Arthur isn’t sure that that’s best for everybody’s business. On one hand, he reasons, variety can bring people to the neighborhood more regularly to eat, but on the other, there might reach a point where there are too many establishments vying for a set group of clientele. Judging by the line out the door on a summer Friday night, I don’t think that Brocato’s has much to worry about. Nevertheless, it is fun to reminisce about spending a productive afternoon in the 70‘s on Carrollton where one could park the car and walk to get one’s hair cut, pick out a new outfit, break for a classic Italian lunch and possibly wind down by playing some pool.

Arthur’s mixed feelings about the numerous food establishments got me wondering what other residents of New Orleans and specifically Mid City think about the changes to the area. If you can recall what Carrollton was like prior to its present incarnation, please feel free to chime in and comment! I’d love to hear what pieces of history our residents have to offer.

This is the intersection of Carrollton and Esplanade circa 1950. Bayou St. John is to the viewer's left and City Park is to the right.

Photos: Upper- courtesy of  www.old-new-orleans.com Lower: courtesy of www.neworleanscitypark.com

Doson Delivers

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On Thursday of last week, our RRR group met for lunch at Doson Noodle House. While enjoying our meal, I noticed Mr. Ha sneak in with his briefcase. Luckily, this gave me the opportunity to catch him and arrange an interview. When I asked, he said he was free right then and there (which would have been perfect had I not forgotten my notes!) so I decided that I would wing it. Even though I was improvising, I was still able to find out a lot about the history and inner-workings of Doson Noodle House.

Mr. Ha got his first taste of the restaurant business while he was working as a busboy in San Francisco. While there, he met a chef from Shang-Hai who taught him the Chinese style of cooking. In 1978, Mr. Ha moved to New Orleans, and he has been there ever since. In 1997, he opened Chinese’s Chinese on Oak Street. The name eventually changed to Doson Noodle House before the restaurant made its move. One week before Hurricane Katrina, Doson Noodle House’s new location (135 N. Carrollton Ave.) was set to open. After Katrina struck, the restaurant had to be completely redone, yet Mr. Ha says that Doson was the first restaurant to open on N. Carrollton after the storm. He said that there were days when he would open to a line that was at least three blocks long.

When things settled down, Mr. Ha says that he noticed many of his customers from Oak Street had migrated to the new address. I asked him if he knew many of his customers by name, and he said absolutely. He then pointed to several tables in the restaurant explaining who people were, whereabouts they worked, and that many of them frequented Doson’s several times a week for lunch. He also said that I would be surprised by the amount of deliveries the restaurant makes during the week.

While talking with Mr. Ha, I also had to opportunity to take a tour of the kitchen. Everything was spotless and several cooks had their own personal stations. One lady was hand-rolling the spring rolls (which are amazing by the way!) until they looked just right. Another lady was making Pho with fresh ingredients. The walk-in freezer was humongous, and I saw the biggest wok I had ever seen. While touring, Mr. Ha informed me that most of his vegetables come from local farmers and that if he, himself, would not eat something, then he most definitely would not serve it to someone else.

Not wanting to overstay my visit, I thanked Mr. Ha for his hospitality and gave him my business card. I’ve been invited back whenever I wish, and he said next time I’m welcome to talk with some of his regulars if they’re willing. So if you’re a regular to Doson Noodle House, beware! Other photographs and more to come next week.

I Did Not Miss My Calling as an Archivist

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I went to the District Civil Court to trace the chain of property owners for several of the restaurants in our project.   Seth Gray had told me about his trip to the Conveyance District (the branch of the DCC that houses the property archives of a certain time period) – his account of his research not only sounded wildly successful, but like something that I could do too.   He had sold me on the romance of digging through title archives in a stuffy silent room of the Court House so, armed with a pen and no real idea what I was doing, I set off.

After greeting me, the office receptionist plugged the addresses of my restaurants into the archive computer and rattled off instructions for what I needed to do next, utilizing a vocabulary and acronyms mostly unknown to me.  She must have sensed I had not followed her completely (possibly the vacant expression on my face – a result of my confusion and increasing light-headedness from not eating that morning) so she took a moment to write down all of the stats she had just looked up on my properties and told me to head to the fifth floor. On the fifth floor, an archivist was called over to assist me.  He, like the woman downstairs, began talking to me in archive speak.  My first reaction was to nod knowingly at what he was telling me about districts and notaries, etc., so as not to give myself away as an absolute research novice, but I reconsidered, realizing that would not be effective if I actually wanted to learn something.

The archivist set me up with five or so gigantic metal bound books of property title changes.  By set up, I mean I had these books in front of me on a long table where I could bend over awkwardly to read them .  For whatever reason, chairs were not made available for this type of research, but Seth was right about how excellent these documents are – they list births, deaths, divorces, and aliases of all parties involved.  They even list the previous spouses of all title vendors and vendees.  The information seemed too personal to be public domain.  I wanted to photograph some pages and handwritten property notes, but wasn’t sure if photography was permitted.  Rather than asking a researcher, like a normal person, I tried to capture the footage sneakily. Not so sneakily as it turned out, when I was unable to turn my camera to silent so that my every button push was accompanied by a chime .  I was like a really bad, boring spy.  Needless to say, my photographs from that day are not top-notch.  I am currently in the process of compiling title tracks for each of the restaurants I will be researching and have vowed to be more collected and adult-like the next time I return to the Civil District Court to complete these traces.