Hurricanes are a part of growing up in New Orleans. We were fortunate that our memories of them were sort of exciting and forbidding rather than anything tragic. Hurricane Betsy came in at night and we huddled together with flashlights and transistor radios listening to the coordinates as the eye made its way across our world.
Tom was always an evacuator, and I liked the excitement of staying home for the storm. Tom talked me into evacuating for Georges in 1998, where we drove 70 mph surrounded by cars that seemed to be within inches of ours, all driving the same speed. Our hotel room at The Peabody in Memphis was the last available, and it was the size of a broom closet. I swore never again until 6 am the day before Katrina, when I finally looked at the television monitor and saw no Gulf of Mexico The entire thing was storm. Nothing bad happened to me until that one when Katrina shattered our family.
We stayed for Ida because I didn't think I could evacuate with Tom. When the power was out so long we had to get him to the hospital. I knew I didn’t ever want to be faced with these decisions again. Since Francine would be mild by comparison, I decided to stay with the plan to leave after the storm if the power went out. I wouldn’t evacuate Tom unless it was critical.
All such questions were suddenly moot the morning before the storm when I had to bring Tom to the ER anyway. We wound up in the hospital for the storm. This was a blessing. We were already in a room when the rain began. My daughter wanted to have lunch before everything ground to a halt.
It was amusing to think that any place would be open for lunch when a hurricane was on its way in. We figured if anything would be open it would be Chimes, which plays by its own wonderful rules. She called around and was shocked to learn that even Chimes would be closed. She called me back to say Habneros would be open, and that was all she could find.
I felt a little silly as we pulled up in front. They were opening the door. I wondered if they were there to greet us to tell us they had decided to close. They assured us they were open. We were the first customers but hardly the last. A steady stream of diehards like us filed through with their jackets dripping from their hoods as they entered. Soon the dining room was filled.
We hadn’t been there for a long time. Habaneros is a spin-off of La Caretta. Two nephews of Saul Rubio opened their own tiny little place in a strip mall with dreams of bringing more “authentic” Mexican food than the American hybrid offered by their uncle at his many locations of La Caretta.
The food at Habeneros is indeed more adventurous, and I was very wrong to think it was too adventurous for the Northshore palate. There are now six locations of Habaneros, including one at Lakeside. Recently brothers Omar and Magdil split up, and Magdil changed one Habaneros to Kantunil after much renovation. We love Kantunil.
The hurricane visit was the first for us at any Habaneros in a while. We don’t remember the food being so uninteresting. This often happens when a group becomes too large. We don’t know what explains our lack of interest in the food that day, but it was not as we remembered it.
We started with the guacamole, which was fine but nothing more. The chips were boring. The bean dip that I used to love was too spicy, and the Queso Fundido was the worst version of this I have had recently. Melted cheese accompanied by crumbled chorizo can never be bad, but this was the least good version of it. It came with a tiny pico de gallo that reminded me more of bruschetta in appearance but not taste.
Mary Leigh’s taquitos didn't interest her either. We felt the need to eat and run, which was what we did, getting back out into the weather. The place was full when we left. I had no idea why all these people were out in the weather, but so were we. I went back to the hospital to watch Francince from the third-floor window, marveling that after all the vexing about what to do with Tom, God had removed us to safety. I was grateful.
