Glory is one of the most expensive restaurants in the French Quarter. No longer in my financial pomp, I was taken there by new friends, a wonderful and generous couple who give the lie to the generality that the mega rich are usually ‘filthy’ rich.
The restaurant may seat forty people. It was more or less full. There was one black couple. Apart from one table of more or less drunk corporate types, our table was the only one giving off any real energy, probably because we were fresh friends eagerly finding out about each other and sharing our delight in New Orleans. Most everyone else appeared quite glum. Certainly, if one had a device that measured Enjoyment Factor, on the face of it at least, Rockets would be right up at the top of the scale and Glory somewhere down around the dentist’s office. But then Rockets is a music club and Glory a restaurant where a chateaubriand costs about the same as a small cow and the wine list runs up to three grand a bottle. Bearing in mind that the median black income here is around $25,000 and the median white $65,000, Glory’s racial mix is no surprise.
Personally, much as I enjoyed the meal and the company, I’d take 80 visits to Rockets for every one to Glory, because Rockets is alive with a contagious energy where Glory is pretty much po-faced and dead. Rockets is hanging out on the stoop, watching or being part of the street life. Glory is staying home and watching TV.
Of course, if New Orleans becomes Disneyland, which many locals fear, all this will fade into the past.
Up next – Part Three – Little Jimmie