Dodging the Covid Bullet, Timing is Everything, and That's NOT Fucking Gumbo

Rather than post three different entries, I'll encapsulate last week into one.  

First it was my first week with my new company and it was spent exploring a massive trade show in NOLA.  My company had a big booth, but my purpose was to wander around absorbing competitors, products, and all that happy marketing type shit.  My manager was with me for 95% of it, including dinner both nights we were there.  On a side note, I walked 5.3 miles one of the two days in non comfort rated but very nice Italian loafers and my feet / legs bitched the whole next day.  

Today was the first we'd spoken after the show and the first words out of his mouth were "how are you feeling?"  Turns out he'd gotten Covid at the show and was sick for a few days and was concerned I'd fallen victim to the virus as well.  He'd been vaxed and boosted, same as me, but for whatever reason, I escaped without becoming ill.

I was excited about being in NOLA again, because I could just eat my way through that city.  Emeril's flagship restaurant was right around the corner from our hotel, so that's where we headed for dinner the first night.  I'd eaten there before and it was excellent.  We were a bit concerned about getting in, but fate stepped in to assist.  We walked in to find two rotund gentlemen having a slightly heated conversation with the maître d, followed by them exiting the restaurant.  I stepped forward and said I'd like a table for two; no, we don't have a reservation.  The maître d responded "would you like theirs?  We wouldn't seat them because they're wearing shorts."  Sometimes, timing is everything.

We sat down and I was looking forward to having some gumbo.  Last I was there, Emeril's served a solid, traditional gumbo and I enjoyed it (because I fucking love gumbo).  My manager had never eaten gumbo, so I told him he had to try it, particularly here.  

If you've never had gumbo, it's built on a super dark roux and contains the holy trinity (onions, celery, and peppers), chicken, andouille sausage, and shrimp.  It should look something like this, which is damned close to what I'd been served last time at Emeril's:

What we were served was this:

That is NOT gumbo.  The sauce was tomato based and had nothing in it.  Instead, you can see the perfectly formed little island of rice in the center topped with a whopping two cold shrimp and some fucking green garnish.  I had a difficult time not asking the wait staff "what the fuck????" and probably would have if I'd been with a friend.  

If I were to guess, I'd say gumbo, which has very humble roots, didn't fit with their step up in fine dining that seems to have taken place since I was last there.  To which I say, take it off the menu instead of serving that abomination.  Praise where it deserves, the rest of the meal was excellent; my lamb was literally worth writing home about.  

To wrap up the update, it looks like I won't actually move until end of June; apparently movers are beyond slammed and that's the soonest they could work me in.  Could be worse; I could be staying in Kansas!