"Look up~~" Compatriot murmured.
|It's so small and subtle, no wonder I didn't see it.|
|14' ceiling mandatory. Luckily these abound in NoLa.|
|There's just SO much going on with it. I love it.|
We laughed and shook our heads, no, no.
"~~But you're sisters--"
"No, no we get that a lot, but no~"
The waitress shook her head vigorously and roped in nearby diners. "They look like SISTERS! Don't they look like sisters!" The next two tables peered over at us and they nodded their heads, "Oh yeah, yes they do!" Mmmp, mmp, mmp! What did we think we were doing, coming across as so similar, with no blood ties? This ushered in regular false sister sightings (sometimes, girlfriend sightings), with us at the center; where strangers were utterly convinced of their rightness. Collectively speaking, New Orleans is confident we're related. We get this every once in a long while here, but it was definitely in overdrive there. Comp usually chalks it up to superficial similarities in our appearances and to people not really being observant, but I like to think it also reflects us being sympatico, and behaviors associated with that: the negotiating over menu options together, excitement over food, watching other people, etc.
Related or not, we both know how to eat well.
|I suspect the french toast (lost bread) had turmeric to give that nice orange tint.|
|Poor, ignored grits. you were lovely, too. Creamy, salty and buttery.|
Before we left for the afternoon, three waitresses gathered nearby and discussed it once again (one we hadn't met before); my favorite line from the exchange was the mysterious, "Even if they're NOT sisters, they're GONNA be sisters!"
*Little did I know, it was a three biscuit day! At GW Fins that night, a small, slightly sweet biscuit was placed on a wee plate to the side of both of our place settings. I ate one and suddenly a pair of tongs silently darted in from the dining room's gloom with another: Biscuit Fairy! This kind of servant is exceedingly rare. And shy. But appreciated.
|In case you missed it, her pin reads, "Tipping is not a town in China."|
|The famed Preservation Hall. Just a little further down on Saint Peters Street|
|Fully intended to go, but did not make it inside.|