Eggs Sardou
I know where to get the best daquiri, à lá Hemingway, in New Orleans, and the best eggs Sardou, too, though at this place, they call them oeufes Sardo. I am not talking about Crêpe Nanou. Crêpe Nanou is Uptown, where Robert Street where Prytania Street. Robert Street is not pronounced like Robért Supermarkets.
Uptown is the American part of New Orleans.
I wonder why Russell’s Marina Grill does not serve eggs Sardou. The only place I associate eggs Sardou with in New Orleans are Brennan’s and Antoine’s. I am sure they serve that at Commander’s Palace. It is that kind of a dish. A plate of eggs Sardou is fancy-shmansy.
I know this is totally uninteresting if you do not know what I am talking about. I am talking about poached eggs over andouille creamed collard greens, sautéed artichoke hearts, asparagus, and cherry tomatoes, topped with hollandaise and bacon. That is the version I had today with Mrs. King. We went on a tour of shotgun houses in Bayou St. John, or, as the real estate agents like to call it, Faubourg St. John.
The neighborhood used to be known as Faubourg Whole Foods, because the first Whole Foods Market in New Orleans was located where Canseco’s is now. Now you know.
I am pretending to myself that you are interested in this fact of immense historical significance. It is important in my part of Mid-City. I talk about it all the time, and not just because it interests me. Other people bring it up.
I wonder why they do not call St. Leo, Faubourg St. Leo. I do not really wonder this. No faubourg in New Orleans is dominated by a Popeye’s Chicken sign, illuminated all night, fifty feet in the air.
It is never dark in Faubourg St. Leo.
Now I am going to tell you about my lunch with Mrs. King behind the paywall. I am waxing philosophical today. Lucky paid subscribers. I envy them.