OOM: New Orleans with Hannibal and Jim

[mogget_cat]

An optimist might say the day upon the other side of the door is balmy, but only because it's a little too early in the afternoon for it to be called sultry.

And only a little too early. Already halfway down its trek across the sky, the sun's great heat is partially mitigated by the sea-scented breeze off the Gulf and the shade of decorated balconies. Groups of people walk along Bourbon Street in front of the small alleyway in which the door from Milliways appears. The alley entrance is somewhat sheltered from the street by a fire-escape so none notice three dapper gentlemen arriving from nowhere. Faint conversations and laughter and the mingling strains of lively music reach them, and the varied smells of a port city known for its cuisine.

Yrael's green eyes glance up at the roof-edges for a moment as they enter, a half-smile on his face, before he turns to his guests. "Welcome to New Orleans."

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

'It's never just the place that's the problem,' he says in a bored tone, because he would expect these two to understand that, at least on some level. But he's spoken about it with Hannibal before, how the doctor is never bored and why, and Yrael...well, he's been alive so long, and will continue so long, none of these problems are relevant.

But, whatever. None of them came here to discuss how much people sicken him.

'But things will get interesting soon enough.'

For a time, and then he'll be too dead to worry about other worlds, so fine, it's all fine.

[cook_the_rude]

"Patience often pays off that way," Hannibal agrees, heartfelt.

[mogget_cat]

"I do hope your interesting times are to your satisfaction," Yrael remarks quite sincerely. It doesn't sound like the man will get a second shot at making it so.

But that is all he says, for the moment, because the door to the kitchens is opening again, and servers are returning with their main courses: Yrael's pompano, grilled and served with local (but extraneous, for Yrael's purposes) vegetation; Jim's traditional New Orleans jambalaya full of shrimp, crayfish, and anduille sausage, with cajun-spiced rice and freshly-baked, crusty bread; and Hannibal's grilled pancetta-wrapped mullet, served with blood oranges, capers, and local heirloom tomatoes. Each plate is accompanied by a smaller plate, upon which are light salads of roasted beets of deep red, orange, and golden yellow, and roasted heirloom carrots of orange, purple, yellow, and white, on a bed of baby greens. The greens have been drizzled with a lightly-tart muscadine vinaigrette, and each plate is accented with a thin slice of fried green tomato. The cool salad is meant to provide a nice counterpoint to the fragrantly-steaming hot dishes.

[just_cant_lose]

Maybe he was wrong to take an instant dislike to the chef.

...nah. Food still looks good though, even to Jim's uncaring eye. A hell of a lot better than oysters. He thanks the wait staff politely, surveys the feast and gives a nod. Yep. Decent.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal just looks at his food for a moment, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

[mogget_cat]

Yrael thanks the person who provides his plates, smiling politely. The waitstaff unobtrusively refill the diners' wine glasses, make sure they are not left wanting for anything, then quietly remove themselves from the room.

New Orleans is known for the joy its people take in the quality of their food, the pride they take in their hospitality and generosity. Yrael has had a number of years to find the best the city has to offer, and Restaurant August does not disappoint. As host, Yrael lifts his wineglass to Jim and Hannibal, inclining his head slightly. "Enjoy, my friends."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim watches Hannibal with a smile on his face, then lifts his glass and tilts it towards the other two. Friends? Well, maybe.

'Good times.'

Fun times, hopefully.

[cook_the_rude]

"Very good times indeed," Hannibal declares, opening his eyes and lifting his wine glass.