…and all I got was this lousy photo. To be fair, that popcorn was unbelievable. Salty, cheesy, and spicy. Perfect with the sweat and sour notes of an Abita Amber. To be balanced, the Sazeracs were fair to midland. A little too sweet from an uncaring hand on the Herbsaint.

I know the place dwells on Rue Bourbon, but that doesn’t mean they have to suspend football helmets from the ceiling, does it? And is NOLA a hockey town? I don’t think so. That’s OK, three months from now my romantic notion of the place and its history will have erased all traces of NHL and NFL. (see column here)
Le sigh.