“To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair.”

— Walker Percy, The Moviegoer

After jamming out to the sweet tunes of jazz, our group transitioned into the grand search for life’s meaning and purpose. This thematic search is brought to you by a Big Easy literary classic, The Moviegoer. Written by Walker Percy, the novel revolves around an ordinary New Orleans citizen named Binx Bolling. After turning thirty, Binx sets out to pursue a more fulfilling life, one in which he can escape the mundane tasks of his stock brokering occupation. Using the spirit of Mardi Gras as a backdrop, Binx pursues an authentic experience that goes beyond his passion for the cinema world. In the next paragraph, I became aware of a cuisine that I did not even know I was searching for.

Until that fateful Tuesday evening, I only knew of Southern food as a fusion-less commodity. I have witnessed impoverished Cajun and fine-dining Creole, both here and in the vibrant downtown Los Angeles. And from those experiences, no chef dared to victimize my beloved crawfish and tender alligator to fit the needs of a modern, progressing society. And then there was Tsunami. We went to this restaurant for your basic sushi essentials and more: Miso soup, California rolls, dynamite rolls, and seaweed salad. To spice things up, we ordered a few appetizers like gyoza pork dumplings and Ika fries (basically strips of fried calamari tenderloin paired with a spicy mayo sauce).

My request to the kitchen went as follows: dynamite roll, ragin Cajun roll, eel nigiri, and a lush side of collard greens. That’s right, collard greens, but not just the kind you would find all across the French Quarter; these ones in particular contained kimchi spices and a spicy chili posture. I was unfortunately unable to order the big easy roll due to a lack in stomach capacity. However, thanks to the brave soul of one of my eaters in arms, Emery, we were able to accommodate some space on the table for this guest. While on this subject, let’s unpack what the big easy roll had to offer: snow crab, tempura shrimp, and – dare I say it – crawfish. After a couple bites, my agitated state of mind over this fusion passed over and I now craved something far more than the basic dishes offered at a sushi restaurant. Next up was the ragin Cajun, a generic avocado roll with a vital Southern component: panko-crusted alligator. These fusion-style dishes were what made me consider the importance of escaping the norms of society. Rather than play it safe and order the locals’ common staples, I should prioritize on getting out of my comfort food zone…yes, I am looking at you Ashley (the other seasoned foodie of this Maymester expedition). With the sake and lemon drops coursing through my veins, the night’s conversations felt fruitful and endless.

The evening came to a restful conclusion with the mango Hawaiian bread pudding, a sweet ending to a tasteful Tuesday!

“Losing hope is not so bad. There’s something worse: losing hope and hiding it from yourself.”

— Walker Percy, The Moviegoer

After a couple days with somewhat severe flashflood weather, me and the gang decided to hibernate in one of our hotel rooms and watch the movie A Streetcar Named Desire. The movie, which takes place in New Orleans, was adapted from a play written by an American screenwriter named Tennessee Williams. In the story, Stella finds herself in a toxic relationship with her husband Stanley who comes from a lower class. This battle between masculinity and femininity is best exemplified in the poker night scene where Stanley and Blanche, Stella’s older sister, are jostling for power over the radio. In the end, Stanley throws out the radio and slaps Stella. Despite Stanley’s violent tendencies, Stella denies her true circumstances in an attempt to hold onto control. She is a strong woman for not losing hope in the marriage itself, but at the same time she is denying herself the chance to walk away and escape from the harsh, working-class neighborhood that she remains bound to.

On Thursday, the gang and I drove deeper into the heart of New Orleans history with the visiting of the Louisiana State Museum. Located in the French Quarter, this museum hosted not only a rich background in Mardi Gras lore, but also featured powerful messages from the 2005 Hurricane Katrina. Within the Mardi Gras section, I found myself transported to another dimension, one in which capuchons were the fashion statement and medieval chivalry reigned supreme. It was really fascinating to see the connection between The Moviegoer’s mentioning of krewe’s – social organizations similar to a Second Line band – and to see them showcased in the exhibits. I learned more about what it meant to be a part of Mardi Gras spirit; this event is not just seen as a time to celebrate and let go of social restraints before Ash Wednesday and Lent. Rather, this special occasion was a time to masquerade into the upper class, to put on the costume, to become closer with society while at the same time maintaining class appropriateness. One of the exhibit sections that resonated with me were these 1870s costume designs for the Rex krewe. Coming from an Iranian household, it was spectacular to see both the mixing of my Persian and Creole heritage.

Before the museum visit, I had a personal score to settle. The great debate commenced for the best beignet in the entire city of New Orleans. The two contestants: Café Beignet and Café du Monde. Our group’s preferences resulted in a tie, and I had set out to break it. The first of the beignets that I devoured came from Café Beignet. The pastries here were more on the larger, softer, puffier side, almost resembling that exterior of a doughnut. Powdered sugar caked the entire patio that we were sitting on. At one point, I think I became a delicious beignet myself. The beignet at this establishment was satisfying, but I had to make sure that we were indulging in the finest confection known to the Big Easy.

A lonesome beignet awaits its afternoon café au lait bath.

Afterwards, me and the gang went over to Café du Monde. Looking from the incredibly long lines, I could tell that we were in for a treat…or rather, we were just suckers in the endless cycle of tourism (luckily, it proved to be the former). While in line, our ears were greeted by Maurice the street musician. A native of South Carolina, Maurice introduced us to some country classics while also wielding a trombone. This additional instrument was unexpected yet typical of the New Orleans atmosphere; the musician had successfully fled the country melody norms and embraced the free spirit of NOLA. After the long wait, my teeth were finally given another taste of the beignet. Here at Café du Monde, the pastries are smaller and a lot more denser, but this serves a purpose. Holding a café au lait, dip the beignet into the cup and you’ve just become a pure native of the city. As stated by some of the group members, the coffee will be extremely bitter, but that’s okay. It is the powdered sugar – which litters the patio floors like a battleground – that will balance out the flavor to perfection. Once the last of the beignets entered my stomach, the verdict was clear: Café du Monde won my heart and taste buds.

To celebrate the class of 2022 graduates of this Maymester, our tiny group headed over to the French Quarter in search of the Carousel bar. The party consisted of me, Key, and Chelsea. Located in the Hotel Monteleone, the bar featured a carousel-themed area which slowly spun in a counter-clockwise manner. This place held a special place in my heart; it was a way in which us grads could retreat to our childish days and escape the mundane functions of the job world. To kick off the celebration, I ordered a Sazerac: a New Orleans classic containing rye whiskey, botanical bitters, simple syrup, and a lemon peel. Fun fact: it is believed that this drink is the first mixed cocktail in the world. The first sips were a bit on the strong side, with a wood-like aroma. To mellow out things, I switched gears and ordered a Fleur Des Lis. My mouth was now experiencing a complete contrast in flavor notes: sweet, refreshing, acidic. Normally I do not reach for the gin cocktails, but I had to make an exception as it was recommended by our bartender of the night, Parker D. Revolving around their workplace for nearly fifteen years, Parker and his sidekick knew how to run a bar and keep the lively spirits from dissipating. The live jazz playing in the background awakened my senses and gave me the courage to order off the menu. Parker took in my preferences – blackberry, lemonade, and rum – and concocted a satisfying beverage.

In the course of my sipping and clinking of the glasses with the mates, I stroke up the nerves to conduct an interview with who appeared to be a local of the city. The old man was named Trey and he had a light, airy, Southern accent. His full-time work was water treatment in Mississippi; while not a glamorous occupation, this man had every intention of continuing his education in hopes of changing his financial circumstances. Later in our brief chat, I asked him about his thoughts on geological disasters like Hurricane Katrina and, most recently, Hurricane Ida. Without a moment of hesitation, Trey stated that all we could do was rebuild from scratch. My last inquiry regarded his views on Cancer Alley, a wide stretch of the Mississippi River dedicated to over a hundred oil refineries that specialize in petroleum production. This notorious name originated out of countless residents being diagnosed with cancers that specifically target the stomach, lungs, and even kidneys. In response, Trey denied the dire situation with Cancer Alley, stating that sources have found no cancerous substances in either the water samples or lab rats. My interviewee was a humble, yet resilient character. While we may have had our disagreements on the latter topic, we still shook hands and parted ways in the most courteous and honorable way possible.

Me and the grads took our final swigs of our respective elixirs and made our way off the carousel. The night was a last hurrah before submitting to the cold, bitter, heartless world…I’m just kidding! But seriously, these are the heartwarming moments that I will turn to in my first weeks at the office, reflecting on what has been rather than what could have been. New Orleans is the harbor for which we may deviate from the norms and openly express our inner identity.