B and W Courtyards Bed and Breakfast
This boutique Bed and Breakfast is located in the heart of New Orleans' historic Faubourg Marigny, adjacent to the French Quarter and four blocks from the French Market, three blocks from the Frenchman Street jazz clubs.
2425 Chartres Street 
New Orleans, LA 70117
(800) 585-5731; (504) 324-3396
An Opinionated Blog About All Things New Orleans
To Bead or Not to Bead; That is the Question
Generally speaking, no, unless it's Mardi Gras season and you're on your way back from a parade.

Nothing says I'm a tourist, take advantage of me quite as much as strands of beads around your neck in September or June.


We checked out a new bar & restaurant last night -  Revel.  After our Zulu Governor’s Krewe meeting we decided to head up to Carrolton Avenue and have a cocktail & a snack.

We’d heard good things about Revel, and we’d enjoyed cocktails by the owner, Chris McMillian, when he was head of the bar program at Kingfish in the French Quarter. MacMillian is one of the star New Orleans mixologists.  Imbibe Magazine named him one of the “25 most influential cocktail personalities of the last century.”  He is a co-founder of the Museum of the American Cocktail.  Just listening to him chat while he mixes drinks is to get an education in the history of cocktails, New Orleans bars and politics.


Tom had a Crawfish Grilled Cheese Sandwich and Dana enjoyed a Smoked Pork Sandwich.  Unfortunately the kitchen was out of Blackened Potato Salad. 

Tom’s new ambition is to work his way through all the classic New Orleans cocktails that Chris has on his menu.  Not in one sitting, however

Some Seventh Ward Glam
Near the intersection of Touro & North Villere Streets

making groceries & terms of endearment -

"I'm sorry lovebug - I'm completely out of stock on that"

Mardi Gras Zone - 1/11/17

Satsumas are in Season!

Did we mention that satsumas are in season?

Until recently, satsumas were only grown in Japan & south Louisiana -

We use them in our cardamom lime citrus salad, and Satsuma Mimosas on special occasions, and they are delicious just eaten out of hand.

Bacchus Ready for the Holidays
Bacchus, who sits above our front gate, gets a seasonal update -  red & green Mardi Gras beads
Nobel Prize Winner Bob Dylan on the City of New Orleans

From Chronicles, Volume One:


“The first thing you notice about New Orleans are the burying grounds – the cemeteries – and they’re a cold proposition, one of the best things there are here. Going by, you try to be as quiet as possible, better to let them sleep. Greek, Roman, sepulchres- palatial mausoleums made to order, phantomesque, signs and symbols of hidden decay – ghosts of women and men who have sinned and who’ve died and are now living in tombs. The past doesn’t pass away so quickly here. You could be dead for a long time.


The ghosts race towards the light, you can almost hear the heavy breathing spirits, all determined to get somewhere. New Orleans, unlike a lot of those places you go back to and that don’t have the magic anymore, still has got it. Night can swallow you up, yet none of it touches you. Around any corner, there’s a promise of something daring and ideal and things are just getting going. There’s something obscenely joyful behind every door, either that or somebody crying with their head in their hands. A lazy rhythm looms in the dreamy air and the atmosphere pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can’t see it, but you know it’s here. Somebody is always sinking. Everyone seems to be from some very old Southern families. Either that or a foreigner. I like the way it is.


There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better. There’s a thousand different angles at any moment. At any time you could run into a ritual honoring some vaguely known queen. Bluebloods, titled persons like crazy drunks, lean weakly against the walls and drag themselves through the gutter. Even they seem to have insights you might want to listen to. No action seems inappropriate here. The city is one very long poem. Gardens full of pansies, pink petunias, opiates. Flower-bedecked shrines, white myrtles, bougainvillea and purple oleander stimulate your senses, make you feel cool and clear inside.


Everything in New Orleans is a good idea. Bijou temple-type cottages and lyric cathedrals side by side. Houses and mansions, structures of wild grace. Italianate, Gothic, Romanesque, Greek Revival standing in a long line in the rain. Roman Catholic art. Sweeping front porches, turrets, cast-iron balconies, colonnades- 30-foot columns, gloriously beautiful- double pitched roofs, all the architecture of the whole wide world and it doesn’t move. All that and a town square where public executions took place. In New Orleans you could almost see other dimensions. There’s only one day at a time here, then it’s tonight and then tomorrow will be today again. Chronic melancholia hanging from the trees. You never get tired of it. After a while you start to feel like a ghost from one of the tombs, like you’re in a wax museum below crimson clouds. Spirit empire. Wealthy empire. One of Napoleon’s generals, Lallemaud, was said to have come here to check it out, looking for a place for his commander to seek refuge after Waterloo. He scouted around and left, said that here the devil is damned, just like everybody else, only worse. The devil comes here and sighs. New Orleans. Exquisite, old-fashioned. A great place to live vicariously. Nothing makes any difference and you never feel hurt, a great place to really hit on things. Somebody puts something in front of you here and you might as well drink it. Great place to be intimate or do nothing. A place to come and hope you’ll get smart – to feed pigeons looking for handouts”