Saturday, March 2, 2013.
Up And Down The River, Part 1: Aboard The Queen Of The Mississippi.
As exhausting a day as Mary Ann and I endured yesterday, we were back home in time for a normal bedtime. Nor did we have to awaken ridiculously early to get ready for a week-long trip up the Mississippi River. I love starting a vacation with a minimum of stress.
Just how little we wouldn't discover until we pulled up to the dock behind the Convention Center where was tied the Queen of the Mississippi, waiting to take its first trip up the river from New Orleans. We had no travel documents, having been assured by the American Cruise Lines' people that the boat's crew would know who we were and why we were there.
Still, it struck us as too easy. In contrast to the gauntlets one must endure in boarding cruise ships, we drove right up. As in twenty feet from the boat. The crew unloaded six boxes of my books and our luggage. They told us where to park our car, where our cabin was, and welcomed us aboard. There must be something else we need to do, I told them. But there wasn't.
I was here at the invitation of the American Cruise Lines. They proposed that I give a lecture on New Orleans food on board, since the cruise leaving today had a culinary theme. I wrote back and suggested that I could not only give a talk, but conduct a wine tasting, perform a cooking demo, and hold a mixology class, among other things. They liked the idea, and not only booked us, but bought all those boxes of my cookbooks for distribution to the other passengers.
American Cruise Lines runs small, luxurious boats in various parts of the country--notably the Northwest, in Ohio, and out of St. Louis. This is their first foray into the New Orleans market, and to that end they built this brand-new vessel. The Queen of the Mississippi carries about 150 passengers. That's about a third of the capacity of the competing American Queen, which recently returned to New Orleans after a long absence following Katrina. We traveled on the American Queen twice and liked everything about it except the food. I don't know how it is now--a new company operates it.
Despite the smaller size of the Queen of the Mississippi, however, its cabins are spacious--bigger, it seems to me, that the ones we've had on the big cruise ships.
The boat untied and headed down the river at one-thirty. That was also time for lunch in the comfortable, handsome dining room. The time of meals is defined within a half-hour window, but nothing else is. You sit wherever you want, with whomever you want. The four people at our table today were the first in what would be a series of convivial, friendly, if noticeably older folks. (Riverboats tend to attract an older clientele, although for what reason other than the presence of many other mature travelers I don't know.)
We had a cup of excellent red pepper soup and a wedge salad, followed by two hybrids of salad with sandwich--one with shrimp, one with turkey. Nicely done, tasty enough.
A woman with the memorable name Toots Maloy gave a talk about the river and its lore--the first of many. She's been at this since the 1980s, and it was tough for me to think of something to tell her that she didn't know. (I had a really obscure fact: that the Huey P. Long Bridge, under which we passed as Toots talked, was for most of its history the longest railroad bridge in the world. It was sent down to number two a decade ago by a bridge in Russia that's only a few feet longer.)
The afternoon program included a praline-making class conducted by Michael DeVidts, a teacher from the New Orleans School of Cooking. He was on just for today, and got off the boat later that evening. That was the pattern for most of the entertainment people, who did one presentation and then jumped ship. But they do that on cruise ships, too.
Dinner convinced me that the boat is serious about food. Tonight's dinner began with a seared sea scallop with corn risotto, bacon cracklings, and roasted tomato oil. Mary Ann had a feta cheese salad with walnuts and red onions. Entrees were a chicken breast bordelaise for me, and a slab of overcooked (because that's the way MA likes it) prime rib. Bourbon pecan pie for dessert.
As the day ended, I was a little disturbed that I had no idea what my contribution to this floating party would be. The boat's staff--for whom this itinerary was as new as it was to me--more or less told me to chill out, they'd let me know when it was my turn to perform. By this time they had proven themselves to be hospitable, friendly, and thoroughly helpful, so I didn't worry about it. As it turned out, there was no need.
The Queen of the Mississippi tied up across the levee from Houmas House Plantation at eight-thirty. Too late to go to the plantation. We called our friend Kevin Kelly anyway. He's the owner of Houmas House, and as might be imagined he likes the idea of riverboats calling at his magnificent spread.
"But that late it's a security issue," he said. Being one who often has walked across River Road and down the levee well after ten at night at Manresa, a few miles downstream, it didn't seem that big a deal. But if something happened. . . well, I guess the policy makes sense.
We would see Kevin tomorrow, anyway.
I neglected to bring along the cable for unloading photos to my computer, and as I write this I'm still on the boat. I will add them to the online Dining Diary archives when I get back in town. Sorry!
To browse through all of the Dining Diaries since 2008, go here.
