Last night we took a trek across the Ponchartrain causeway (over 23 miles of bridge) to En Provence, the last of our John Besh restaurant experiences. And we certainly left the best for last.

En Provence is more than a little out-of-the-way, but it’s certainly worth the trip. It’s a little restaurant off in the boonies in Lacombe, LA, with the look and feel of a rustic French farmhouse. Besh is raising his own pigs and chickens in the back, in addition to raised gardens that provide herbs and veggies for the kitchen.

There’s quite a story behind this restaurant, but I’ll leave it for others to tell: http://www.simonesez.com/laprovence_general.shtml. However I will tell you about eating there. In fact, I can sum the experience up in one word: fantastic.

It didn’t hurt that the evening started out with complimentary glasses of champagne, to celebrate our 20th anniversary. And it only got better from there.

Besh has kept many of the staff that were at the restaurant before he bought it in 2007, including Joyce, who has been the “mother” of the restaurant for 20-some years. She’s not a hostess in the traditional, show-you-to-your-seat way; in fact, there are other people who do that, but she is the hostess in the welcoming, friendly sense. The night we were there, she visited with every table, and made us, at least feel as though we were her personal guests in her home. She even wrote us a poem–which I intend to frame–celebrating our anniversary.

The food, service, and atmosphere has everything that was lacking at Restaurant August and Luke. It is warm, friendly, and welcoming. You feel as though everyone is really glad that you, personally, are there, and that you, personally, matter. The food was excellent; Besh has a way with salads, but the blue cheese-buttermilk dressing here was, well, to die for. I had a trio of “Wild game” including boar, venison, and house-made pheasant sausage, and I couldn’t decide which of the three I liked better, although the venison stew may have edged out the others by a hair. DH had the same thing, so I wasn’t able to compare my dinner to his. I had a cheese plate for dessert; although not something that showcases anyone’s art, it was delicious and exactly what I wanted.

And it doesn’t hurt that the prices are about half of what they are in the city.

In fact, En Provence comes pretty darn close to Commander’s Palace on my list of great restaurant experiences. Now if it can just keep up to this standard for 40 years, as CP has done, I may have a tie.

Wow. Last night, we ate at Commander’s Palace–and it’s as good as ever. The food was fantastic, the service attentive but not obnoxious, the remodeled interior delightful. They were able to get my husband’s steak cooked the way he liked it; my fish was so flaky and tender that I couldn’t stop eating it even after I was stuffed. It was sweet and wonderful and romantic, and we were the second to last people to leave. Yet we never felt rushed; our servers (Commander’s Palace uses a team approach and it works) made us feel as though we could have spent the night there.

My first experience with CP was way back in 1974, the year the Brennans took the restaurant over from the Morans. My soon-to-be husband (my ex, now) and I took our $164.00 tax refund and used it for a week’s vacation in New Orleans. Even back then, $164.00 didn’t go far in that city. We camped in a state park north of Lake Ponchartrain, ate cheaply, and pinched pennies.

But one night, we decided to splurge, and made a reservation (from a pay phone) at CP. We put on our best duds, and showed up at the restaurant, inappropriately dressed, and obviously young and out-of-place. It would have been totally legitimate for them to seat us at some back table near the kitchen. And we wouldn’t have known that were were being treated shabbily.

But instead they gave us one of their best tables. It was in the garden, right by a fountain that had a big turtle swimming in it, and they treated us like royality. I even remember what I ate: turtle soup, flounder stuffed with crabmeat, and and dessert–Baked Alaska, which was flambed at the table by our server. I remember her, too–a middle-aged lady who ladled the flaming liquor across the table cloth in a fantastic display of showmanship. We shared a bottle of wine, and then, with trepidation, asked for the bill.

It came to $25.00. That’s all, and even back then, that was way, way too little, and we recognized it, even in our naievety. (Although that was a huge chunk of our entire budget.) When we asked about it, the manager said it was their way of welcoming us to New Orleans–and inviting us to come back.

From that moment on, CP has held a warm place in my heart, and I’ve made it a point to eat there every time I visit New Orleans. It’s always been great, no matter the circumstances. I’ve never had a bad meal or a bad time there. And that’s something to say about a restaurant over a span of 30 years. Chefs (including Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse) have come and gone, the service staff have obviously turned over several times (our servers this trip weren’t even born back in 1974), but the restaurant remains a bastion of great food and service. I have to attribute that to Ella Brennan, who has ruled the place for as long as I’ve been going there. And I learned that she lives in a house right behind the restaurant.

So forgive me, John Besh, but you’ve got a ways to go to match up to Commander’s Palace!

Yup, that’s where DH took me as a surprise. Most of my friends and clients guessed; I thought it might be but didn’t want to know for sure. But I’m here and I’m loving it.

I’ve always had a great relationship with this city; I’ve been coming here for 40 (gasp! has it been that long?) years now. Not regularly, but once in a while. I’ve been here as a kid with my family, with my first husband (and we were broke!), with my daughter to celebrate her 21st birthday, on business trips, with friends, even by myself. I’ve always had a great time here. But this is my first post-Katrina trip–and the city has changed.

How could it not? People are frustrated by how slowly recovery is happening. There are entire areas of the city that are still being cleaned up; large sections of it are nothing but debris and old concrete slabs where houses used to be. And that’s progress. People are living in trailers in their driveways. The population is down by 40%, and 1 out of every 25 people is homeless.

New Orleans is no longer “The city that care forgot.”

Yet, while there is a sense of frustration and impatience in the city, it’s still a great town. There’s history and culture and character and soul in New Orleans that simply doesn’t exist any place else. New Orleans is New Orleans, and you can’t mistake it for any other city.

There’s still cafe au lait and beignets at the Cafe du Monde–and it’s still almost impossible to get a seat there. There’s still buskers playing jazz on the street corners. Bourbon Street is still it’s slightly sleezy self, and there are still art galleries and antique stores on Royal. And then there’s the food.

The food is why we are  here. DH has managed to get reservations at three of the four restaurants owned by John Besh, a celebrity chef, and one of my favorites. We ate/are eating at Restaurant August on Monday, Luke (for lunch) today and En Provance on Wednesday. We’re skipping Besh Steak at Harrah’s Casino in favor of one of my all time favorite restaurants ever, Commander’s Palace, which is where we’re going tonight.

So far, I’m not overly impressed with August or Luke. The food at August was so-so for the price, and the service spotty. Our server seemed to be too busy to keep on top of our table. They were unable to cook my husband’s steak to his specifications, and my entree (veal stuffed with shrimp) was not well balanced. I felt the shrimp overwhelmed the sweetness of the veal, not to mention the shrimp had not been well cleaned and were gritty. (Yes, I know about veal; I very rarely eat it–as in twice ever in my life. So don’t get on my case.) However the salads were fantastic.

Luke is more of a luncheon/bistro place than the upscale dining experience Besh is going for at August. (Luke actually has two dots about the “u” in the name, but I don’t have that option in WordPress.) The food there was better, at least for what the restaurant was trying to be, but the service was perfunctory. Adequate, but perfunctory.

It will be interesting to see how Commander’s Palace stacks up. I’ve eaten there five previous occasions, and every one of them has been fantastic. It was closed for a long time after Katrina; I wonder what it’s like now. I’ll let you know!

I remember the days when flying was fun; an adventure, and it wasn’t that long ago. The flight attendants were friendly, the other travelers seemed to be happy to be going someplace, rather than grimly trying to endure a miserable experience. But boy-howdy, how that has changed.

This trip (to New Orleans, by the way!) really brought home to me how much attitudes have changed. (Except for a three year old traveling with her mom across the aisle from me. She was giggling and going “Whee!” and kicking her legs like a little kid on a carnival ride. It made everyone in the area around her smile.) The flight attendants were close to surly, and well not exactly rude, they certainly didn’t go out of their way to make anyone feel welcome. In fact, prison guards are more pleasant. (I’ve given workshops at a woman’s penitentiary, so I know first hand.)

Is it that hard to smile? To say please and thank you? To at least pretend that you are happy to have people flying on your airline? After all, if we didn’t, you’d be out of a job.

To my way of thinking, as the airlines struggle to come up with ways to decrease costs (which means decreasing services), it’s more important than ever to have flight attendants step up their friendliness in order to make travel less of an ordeal. Attitude is everything, and it’s contagious. Flight attendants have a fabulous opportunity to influence a whole plane-load of people for better or for worse. I’ve seen it happen both ways. And it makes me wonder why more of them don’t step up to that challenge, and try to make what has become a trying experience as pleasant as possible.

For that matter, we all have the opportunity to influence the attitudes and moods of others every day. How can we all step up to the challenge and make our influence a postive one?

OK, my dear hubby almost blew it. He asked me if I wanted to know where we were going. I, of course, said “No!!” and quite indignantly, too. Don’t spoil the surprise! And don’t offer to, either. If I don’t know where I’m going, or what’s going on (at least in this situation), I don’t have to worry about taking charge, making decisions, and being responsible for absolutely everything, which is my default mode.

He reminded me that I’d find out tomorrow anyway, when we got to the airport. Well, that’s soon enough for me!

Well, it’s Saturday, and tomorrow we leave for someplace. I’m trying to pack, a task I hate (how do I know what I’m going to feel like wearing in three days?), and although I really don’t want to know where we’re going (I love surprises), it does make this chore a bit more challenging.

I think it’s because I’m so right-brained; I can see multiple possibilities even when I know what’s going on, and when I don’t, well, the opportunities are endless.  Add to this the fact that I haven’t bought any new clothes in six months, and what I do have isn’t city-chic; it’s Colorado casual. And then, it’s snowing here. It’s hard to pack for warm weather when your mind (and body) is crying for thick, fuzzy sweaters. Finally, come to think of it, this is the first time I haven’t bought new clothes before a trip. Good for me! (We’re taking my parents to Ireland in September, and I’m really trying to save.)

Anyway, my right-brainedness means that I’ve become a famous over-packer. To try and keep things under control (especiallly with the airlines cracking down on how much luggage you can take), I’ve made a few rules for myself–and mostly, I follow them: 

1. Choose a color and stick to it. I often choose black; it’s easy to match, and then I toss in one or two colorful accents.
2. Every top must be able to be worn with every bottom. I aim for 2 to 3 bottoms and 2-3 tops with a jacket.
3. Use accessories (scarves, jewelry) to change the way an outfit looks.
4. Everything must be comfortable–and fit well.
5. I take only well-broken-in, comfortable shoes, and again, all in one color. I try to limit myself to only two (or three) pair: a dress pair and a walking pair. (But I break this rule most of the time; how can a woman get by with only two pair of shoes?

So I guess I’d better get back to it and see how well I can follow my rules. After all, we’re only going for 4 days; how hard can it be?

Wow, what a crazy couple of weeks! I have been keeping notes, but not writing and posting (something to do with a romantic 20th honeymoon, then being crazy busy), so here’s my chance to really catch up.

 I’m going to go ahead and date these posts as they happened, not as I am posting them, so you won’t have to read miles and miles of text as I get caught up! So even though this is dated March 14th, I actually wrote it on March 31st. Are you confused now?

I hate DST–the whole concept of it. It makes no sense; we don’t get any extra daylight, it’s miserable, expensive, un-ecological, and dangerous. Here’s why. 

Daylight saving time (and that’s the correct spelling; it’s saving, not savings; like man-eating tiger, it’s daylight-saving time), actually increases energy consumption. A recent study done in Indiana, which decided to adopt DST state-wide in 2006, (prior to that, DST had been on a confusing, county-by-county basis) showed clearly that moving the clocks forward resulted in a 4% increase in electical consumption, at a cost of 8.4 million dollars for the state. If we extrapolated that across the country, that would be the equivalent of two additional coal-fired power plants running full time.

Why? Well, we may not have our lights on, but by leaving for work and coming home earlier, we run our furnaces more in the mornings, and then, by summer, our air conditioners more in the evenings.

Another economic study, involving what is called “opportunity cost” (see http://www.mcall.com/news/opinion/anotherview/all-right_col-a.6301625mar07,0,6005316.story) suggests that the simple physical act of changing our clocks by an hour twice a year costs about $1.7 billion annually. Now this is calculation is rather contrived and artificial, but it does have some merit, if only in making us more aware of the hidden costs of  this bit of foolishness.

Other studies have documented a significant decrease in productivity for the first week after switching to DST, as well as an increase in auto accidents, especially those involving pedestrians. During the first three weeks of DST, a pedestrian is three times more likely to be hit by a car than in the month prior to the switch.

Other side effects? How about increased insomnia, increased stress, and decreased sex drive (I thought that one would get you!). Most people will suffer from a minimum of two to three nights of lousy sleep.

So DST doesn’t make sense, on so many levels. And I’m sure I could find even more evidence against the practice if I looked a little bit more.

Oh, by the way, contrary to popular belief, Benjamin Franklin did not propose daylight saving time in 1784 in Paris. He did make a satirical and anonymous proposal to that effect however. The Germans and their allies were the first to put the idea  into practice during World War I.

As many of you know, I recently hired a professional organizer to help me figure out how to deal with my piles and stuff. She came up with a very nice, neat system, that worked for about six weeks: a small apparatus that holds hanging Pendaflex-type files. The idea being that everything that I’m currently working on will hang in this apparatus. It’s nice. But . . .

 Reality struck. Also as many of you know, I’m giving my Non-Linear Time Management telecourse next week. Since it had been a couple of years since I’ve taught the course, I decided to review it, which, of course, meant rewriting it to bring it more up to date. And that means that right now there are six very fat file folders,  three binders, and seven (yes, seven) books on my desk. All of which are research materials. How are they supposed to fit in one hanging file?

Plus I’ve had another great idea about inspiration and quotations etc. for this blog. That project has three additional books on my desk.

Plus there’s this short piece I wrote on handling rejection-dejection that I want to rewrite and send to a client, and there’s the research material for that in a third pile.

Oh well. I’m right-brained, and I’ll never, ever be able to fit everything I’m currently working on into one 10 X 12 hanging file-folder system. Plus, if I put it away, it’s as lost as if it fell into a black hole. I guess I just need to learn how to stack piles neatly.

But at least I can still see my desk!

I don’t remember if I told you; my DH is “kidnapping” me for our 20th anniversary. This means I know I’m going somewhere; but that’s all. (I kidnapped him to San Diego last year for his birthday.) Well, he gave me a couple of hints and here they are:

Weather report: Pack for highs in the 70’s (74-78 forecast at this time) and lows in the 55-65 range. Very good chance of rain next week but usually sunny. Moderate to high humidity.Major activities: At least 2 nice dinners out (”Business Casual”) and at least one nice lunch (I’m paying, have been saving up.). You’ll be surprised and amazed (hard reservation, great food, famous chef)!!!!

Location: Medium sized city, not coastal. Four star historic hotel. Mostly walking distance to attractions.

Travel: Leaving DIA at 1040 on Sunday, returning at (theoretically) 1505 on Thursday. About a 4-5 hour flight (including one connection, sorry).

Hmm. I’m stumped. Napa (where I thought we might be going) is closer than 4 - 5 hours. Hawaii is too far away. It’s not coastal. There are attractions. I don’t think Las Vegas would be an option; anyway, it’s closer than 4 - 5 hours. New Orleans, hmm. Maybe, but the weather forcast isn’t right. It’s someplace with really good food, and it’s not New York, given the weather. Any place in Texas is closer than 4 to 5 hours, even with layovers.

 So what’s your guess?