Krewe de Vieux

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I went to Yo Momma looking to grab a bite to eat and a beer or five before meeting up on Frenchman Street for Krew de Vieux. There was probably going to be nonstop imbibing for the duration and while (as you know) I don't approve of that kind of behavior I didn't want to run the risk of getting cited for public sobriety during a Mardi Gras parade; how embarrassing? Yo Momma makes a perfect foundation for serious drinking. You go there when you're in the Quarter and want to eat, but another round of oysters isn't going to fill you up and you really want a break from red beans, rice and gumbo. It isn't often that I need a break from gumbo, but it does happen.

So, in the 700 block of St. Peters near the cathedral is Yo Momma offering a dozen different half-pound specialty burgers that are cooked just right. Most come with an enormous baked potato. If your Mardi Gras schedule calls for a one-meal day, this is the meal. It's next to a new place called Boondock Saints, which has the peculiar feature of running that movie of that same name on all of the screens in the place on repeat. Endless repeat. It's comforting to know that, somewhere out there, there is a bar acting as a shrine to Troy Duffy. Yo Momma's menu, on the other hand, is a shrine to pure carnivore joy. I have not as yet summoned up the courage to try the peanut butter bacon burger, but I've been just a half a handgrenade away from it. I was trying to decide between the Roquefort and the Royal Mounted burger when the heavily tattooed barmaid went over to the whiteboard and wrote three beautiful words: "Crawfish are back."

A guy had wheeled a huge stockpot up to the window and informed the staff that he was there and he had crawfish to boil, then he commenced to boil them. Four pounds of it later, my nose was running, my lips were burning, and I couldn't get the blissful grin off of my face any more than I could have gotten the cayenne out from under my fingernails. Not only did I get the batch with the garlic clove, but as an added bonus I happened to notice a brown unlabeled bottle on the bar.
"What's that."
"That's our hot sauce."

The cooks make it and bottle it only for use on the premises. It doesn't have a label, it doesn't even have a name, it's just "our hot sauce." I have a name for it now, I call it "that shrunken head voodoo sauce" because that's what I think it's made of plus habaneros, brown sugar, and Worcestershire.

I was cheerfully contemplating what else I might do with the shrunken head voodoo sauce (degrease an engine, kill roaches) and debating if I could handle another two pounds of crawfish when I realized what time it was. It was time for Krewe de Vieux. I'd never heard of it either until three days ago.

It began in the mid 80's when Krewe of Clones fell apart and their more active subgroups combined with some existing independent carnival krewes to form the Krewe de Vieux Carre. Their specialty is satire, which in New Orleans means lewd satire. They have a deep seated love of ridiculing politics and politicians, especially local politicians. The subject of Louisiana politics is fertile soil enough for the imagination of a group of quirky humorists that live to offend, but this year they decided to go straight to the top and take aim at the behavior of The Fed. This year's carnival theme: "Stimulus Package."

Now, I'm afraid you'll just have to imagine the floats because Travelblog.org has this policy about offensive pictures. Even if they didn't, I'd hesitate to put up a shot of their highly memorable salute to what Fannie Mae is doing to Uncle Sam. Sure, it's probably accurate, but it's too literal in its interpretation and explicit in its details for something my mother is going to read. So I can't show you how they portrayed "the new trickle-down economics" either, or what they made of the phrases "sub prime," "investment spanking," or "inaugural ball."

It's no wonder everyone says Krewe de Vieux continues to stay closest to the Mardi Gras carnival tradition. They also use only live music, so the best marching bands in town are on display and the brass band jam at the after-party shook the windows of the Colton School last night. They've stuck with the smaller mule drawn of hand pulled floats, so they're still allowed to parade through The Quarter itself and you get a view of what Mardi Gras parades looked like before they became huge affairs with giant floats blasting out amplified noise.

Also, since it goes through The Quarter, the parade has a way of growing longer as it goes. In the wake of the tubas, trombones, and ludicrously dressed lunatics throwing beads , is a bouncing and swaying mob wading in ankle deep trash, discarded beads, and the flotsam of the floats. The mob turned to throng as the Krewe meandered down Esplanade, followed Royal all the way to Toulouse, along Decatur, then Frenchman's Street, crossed back over it's own footprints and finally wound down at North Rampart.

This is the beginning of the Mardi Gras parades, and everyone was taking full advantage. The hordes of visitors haven't come to town yet, so this is really for locals to express themselves. If you know anything about the locals, this explains why I have only a few pictures that don't include somebody naked or dressed in a costume that would certainly violate that policy I mentioned.

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Photos

Mardi Gras Preparations
This is a float for one of the major parades being worked on in the warehouse district a block from where I'm staying.

One of the floats I can show you here
Sub-krewe Krewe of Underwears entry

Rubber chickens coming through
One of the sub-krewes on parade

Following in the wake
Everybody can be part of the parade