Author Archives: Steve Morgan

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About Steve Morgan

Occupational Therapist since 1986, Case Manager since 1990, Author since 1993, Consultancy since 2001. Launched a blog from 2013, a podcast in 2014, and YouTube videos from 2017.

A Gumbo of Experience

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New Orleans has always been a down and dirty in your face kinda place. Debauchery, moral corruption, and a sense of danger have been at the heart of the experience for nigh on 300 years. The food, the music, the people, the culture. It’s a marmite sort of place; you either love it or you don’t, there’s no in-between.

Then, there’s Gumbo… the official Louisiana State cuisine, which essentially refers to a stew. There isn’t just one kind of gumbo… it’s what you make of the experience. Likewise, New Orleans is what you want to make of the experience… but generally, it’s an open celebration of life.

For me, on a 5th visit, it’s looking for more of the new whilst hoping some of the best of the old is still there (post-Covid)! Maybe that’s why this visit can best be summed up as chocolate alligators in search of a good cappuccino. Read on… it still probably won’t make any sense, like New Orleans… who knows? This determined looking guy had more than chocolate on his mind!

Finding a good cappuccino in the US, well… needles and haystacks come to mind. Cafe Beignet is an institution with new locations open across the city. They say certain things really should be tried before you die… then again, trying certain things may hasten on the demise. Believe me, the search for a good cappuccino doesn’t start here! And, as the powdered sugary topping of a deep fried coating of a tasteless gloop… this does take some beating. However, in the Cafe Beignet v Cafe du Monde debate (does such a challenge really trouble the world?), the latter plumbs even greater depths, in my opinion!

Surely, I could rely on my good friends at Who Dat Coffee Cafe…over in the Marigny district of the city, way off the usual tourist radar. They’ve always been my go-to place for a relatively good cappuccino, and the humorous welcome bodes well. Unfortunately for me, now they want to spoil the experience by insisting on plastic cups! What’s that about? The Rueben sandwich certainly demanded a better side.

Perhaps technology will provide the answer. Googling best cappuccino brings up the interesting sounding Streetcar Cafe on St Charles Avenue. The promise did manage to beat the standard fayre so ubiquitous of anywheresville, but that’s a low bar. Then again, the experience did offer an opportunity to sample that strange (to us foreigners) breakfast of Biscuits & Gravy! Meanwhile, the search continues…

My erstwhile native US travel companion kept up her nearly 3-decades attempt to persuade me of the tempting and strangely sweet world of desserts… my resistance to which would be something Juno would be proud of. But, unbeknownst to me, this just maybe the gateway to good coffee… who’d have thought it?

On a planned stroll around the Garden District, she witnessed what looked like a local chocolate emporium, and it just happened to come with a side of coffee making. Piety & Desire source and make their chocolate ingredients locally with loving detail. With such admirable principles, they also get their coffee from neighbouring fellow purveyors who happen to roast their own beans on site. Heaven, if it exists at all, can be found in strange and quiet quarters, and that delightful green piece of chocolate includes duck fat… but no alligator fat, apparently!!!

Fortified with chocolate… I mean a good cappuccino… I’m ready to take on a range of what this unbelievable city has to offer. I tried a few of those dreaded desserts (but the incriminating evidence that I actually enjoyed the experiences shall remain under wraps). In order to possibly satisfy my quirkier side, how about some art… galleried as only they can down in the Bywater district:

Alligators… chocolate or otherwise, on the Swamp Tour had a habit of showing as much interest in the floating can of people as we did of them:

Though, as the second photo suggests, some had already had their fill of cappuccino for the day… any later than 1.00 pm and rumour has it they don’t sleep as well at night!

Then again, peace and harmony along the Lafitte Greenway through Mid-City and Treme helps to burn off some of the inevitable calorie intake more usually associated with visiting almost anywhere in New Orleans:

Until we speak again, there was an obvious solution to any of us influenced enough by levels of alcohol consumption… at the tried and trusted Avenue Pub on the wonderful St Charles Avenue… a Coffee Stout. The problem is that at 9.3 per cent, a few of these cause mobility issues… if you catch my drift. And, yes, please do catch my drift!

P.S. No alligators were hurt or injured in the making of this production! Chocolate, on the other hand, was consumed in a range of weird flavours!

To Juno’s Dismay

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The long deceased inspiration for this 10-year blog could just be spinning in her grave… if such a thing existed. For here I am, back in New Orleans sampling Catfish in some of its diverse yet delicious presentations. And I’m really fussy and limited in the types of fish I generally eat.

I can sense Juno’s paw tapping me on the chin as she informs me that cats are cats, superior in all ways; fish are fish, purely for eating. But mixing the two is strictly, well, unusual to say the least.

First stop was ‘Elizabeths‘ in the Bywater district of the city. This is a venue not visited in previous sojourns to the Big Easy, so this was definitely on the list of new places to try on this occasion.

How do you like your eggs with your Catfish? Not a question I had anticipated tackling until arriving here! Then there is a side of something called Calas, which has the ability to stop you in your tracks and ask you how you’ve lived this long without sampling such a delight. This is a Creole deep fried rice, eggs, and sugar mix complete with honey-infused dip. Not for the calorie-obsessed diner… but then again, hardly anything in New Orleans is!

The next variation was provided by a place frequented as a favourite whenever I mosey on down the Mississippi…the Palace Cafe. We can’t avoid the signature dish of Crabmeat Cheesecake, this time with a side of Turtle Soup. OK, I get your indignation… but these guys exist for a reason, right? But the Catfish Pecan, now, that’s a new taste altogether. The sweetness of the pecans perfectly complimented the savoury flavour of the Catfish.

Look out aquatic culture… I might need to reappraise my relationship to eating fish… which is something I’m sure Juno would have delighted in, except for the suspicious influence of cat-infused fish dishes.

Until we speak again, the Doobie Brothers song comes to mind… Catfish are jumping, that paddle wheel thumping… Black Water for those of you unacquainted. Check out the track, as it captures New Orleans, Louisiana, very succinctly.

Dining fine NOLA-style

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Sometimes… things can just take the wrong direction. Take eating… New Orleans style, for example. As a native of Cardiff, I could think… wow, an eating sensation has just arrived from New Orleans right on my doorstep…

I could try to think that! But, then again, let’s see what happens if you have the good fortune to travel in the opposite direction. August might be more recognisable as a distinct month of the year… but on Tchoupitoulas Street in New Orleans, it just happens to be a place where real New Orleans fine dining takes place all year round.

No Southern Fried Chicken burgers to be seen here. After all, the wine selection alone demands that something a little more, let’s say, refined, should be adorning plates.

When the meal starts with a hollowed egg of chef’s special artfulness of the day, you just know you’re about to experience something that mere cooks couldn’t dream of.

This is where Black Truffles take the measure of Giant Lump Crab, with just a hint of Parmesan, in a dish entitled Gnocchi black & blue… designed to slow down your pace of life and focus your attention, and give thanks for the invention of taste buds!

This is where Escargot come to play delightfully with Wild Mushrooms… hermaphrodite cuisine at its most delicate.

As for the Duck… Huey, Dewey, and Louie, look away now. This is a dish that comes three ways, and is definitely not for the faint-hearted if youre put off by the idea of Foie Gras. But it does come with something called Bayou Cora Grits… ? me neither, but it was a delightful accompaniment all the same.

And the Grouper most definitely comes with a delicate, flaky meatiness that no fish in its rightful mind should dare to claim! Just to compliment this piece of aquatic genius, you might just find a hint of grapefruit backed up by a Persilade of parsley, garlic, and herbs… ? me neither, but I’d come back for more of the same whenever you invite me!

Until we speak again, much of the above required a very delicate German Reisling, but that duck also stood up and demanded a glass of an Oregon Pinot Noir before it gave up its deliciousness.

If your first thought is how small the portions of food are on such wide plates, your quality to quantity ratio is completely out of sync… don’t forget to take your shovel of choice to the nearest food buffet or the newly opened Popeye’s in Cardiff!

The cerebral middle finger

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Who said Cardiff was welcoming to visitors? Arriving at the Central railway station, these days, should you gaze in a particular direction, you might just get the city’s version of the middle finger salute! Though clearly it is coming from the brain, not the heart!

More likely, this is Brains Beers latter day middle finger salute to beer lovers.

It’s a shame really, because there was a time when the local Brains beers deserved the regular accolades and awards they received. Then came the end of the 20th century rush to corporate mediocrity. Whereby quality is sacrificed for quantity (of profits, that is).

The final site of the old brewery is about to become the centre of a new development… yet more of the planners fashion for identikit mixed use residential and commercial extravaganzas (if that’s the plural of an extravaganza?).

This will become the Central Quay, apparently… they’ve overplayed the number of quarters, with probably at least 5 in the central area of Cardiff. Whatever happened to simple mathematics in the corridors of municipal power these days? Anyway, it seems it’s time to move onto ‘quays’ instead… reuniting the city with its waterfront, so the blurb goes.

Until we speak again, feel free to raise a glass to waterfront reuniting, whatever that might entail. But, also to the demise of what was an award winning beer (albeit decades ago).

Honour the cheque

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Once upon a time, Cardiff led the world… as the centre of coal trading in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. To mark such an auspicious position the Exchange Building, otherwise known as the Coal Exchange, was built in 1888 in Mount Stuart Square… down the docks as us locals refer to it.

As in any ‘exchange’, frantic activity would take place with all kinds of guys (as it was always guys at the time) gesticulating and bargaining, as the global price of coal was set right here in the Grand Hall. Then, one day in 1904, the very first £1,000,000 transaction was made. Yes, financial history was made right there on the trading floor of the Coal Exchange in Cardiff!

So, it has been a shared ambition with my local drinking friend, to dine in the grand old building when the long awaited Culley’s restaurant had opened. Not being early adopters, we have let a year or more drift by before achieving said ambition. But, it’s a grand way in which to honour that cheque from back in 1904… assuming that the prices don’t honour the historic event!

Apart from a ubiquitous olives and red wine (Argentinian Malbec) introduction to the place, we were drawn to the Scotch Egg and the Black Pudding Bon Bon starters. Small plates they may be, but the delicate tastes complemented the majestic surroundings.

As for the main course, we both just had to respect the tradition of Welsh supremacy (even if it was just briefly experienced more than 100 years ago). After all, there is a culinary delight that Wales has long been one of the world’s leading providers… Welsh Lamb. With squash and dauphinaise potato adornments, this was a fine way with which to honour that moment back in 1904.

Until we speak again, in the absence of any randomly available £1m cheques drifting my way, I’m more than happy to indulge a Welsh tradition… eating not sh____ing sheep, that is! You may enjoy those visions of spring with lambs gamboling about sunny hillsides. Me… I prefer them decorating my plate any time of the year.

65 not out

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Cricket is such a tedious game… which is why you can read on, as this post (like all the others) has nothing to do with the summer sounds of leather on willow… yawn, yawn. No, this is about achieving a so-called milestone. Though the effects of ageing can make it seem like a millstone on some days!

The first decision on approaching such a milestone is where to achieve it? Somewhere I’ve never been before might be a good idea. Having arrived at 40 in New York, 50 in Key West, 60 in New Orleans, my travelling companion made it very clear that America was off the agenda! OK, Europe it is, and having taken some expert advice, Mallorca it would be.

After all, it needed to be somewhere with well established bathing traditions…

And, a clear view of where your food is being prepared goes a long way to establishing culinary confidence…

With an abundance of interesting places the capital city of Palma provided a welcome introduction…

A wooden train set provides a unique way to get to from Palma to the place of choice for the actual milestone…

Port de Soller provided the perfect backdrop for ending the ‘When I’m 64’ Beatles year-long soundtrack…

An important celebration demands an experience of quality, and so I trusted online reviews of a restaurant 5 minutes walk away around the stunning bay…

And the choice of Agapanto certainly didn’t disappoint…

Until we speak again, Palma & Port de Soller are high on the list for must-do return visits. That milestone has taken 8 months to report! With OAP status fast approaching I must fly, in more ways than one…

Prosecco Cat

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After a hard day sleeping… I’d have a nice cool glass of Prosecco… if I could be bothered!

You see, it’s this travelling thing that just takes it out of me. Take Venice, for example… “Do I really need a few days surrounded by water and crumbling old buildings?” I wondered. Not the right kind of thinking to share aloud with my travel companion, who just happens to think it’s the best place on the planet!

So, what’s so good about visiting Venezia? Whisper it quietly… I wouldn’t want a certain someone to think I’m fully agreeing with their personal recommendation! I guess, to begin with, messing about on the water has many attractions:

Then there are the expected architectural attractions that most people think of when the idea of Venice is raised:

Unassuming cats can’t resist investigating behind any open door… and stunning interiors await the discerning inquisitor:

But, perhaps it’s the bright and colourful side of the surrounding islands or those amazing stain-glassed windows:

Thinking of the culinary side of Italy… pizza has to be the first idea that comes to mind. As good as some pizza’s definitely are, look further, as there are so many more culinary delights on offer! Octopus starters and seafood risotto offered delicious distractions for this unashamed carnivore… tuna, calamari, but exquisite meat-based dishes such as pork cutlets proved just as succulent and irresistible:

With so many wide-eyed big picture attractions at every turn… trust the locals to know that the devil is in the detail:

Then again, perhaps it’s best to leave it to Venice to describe just how fabulous it is… with a sharp intake of breath a one-word description may just accompany that continual feeling of incredulity:

As for me, perhaps in the end, the appeal of Venice starts and finishes with thoughts about liquid:

Until we speak again, the availability of fabulous wine was proving to be somewhat overwhelming… time to curl up and contemplate simply ignoring that earlier bottle of Prosecco?

Boyhood dreams

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Take a picture of this… it’s 1964 and the BBC teleprinter bangs out the football scores. To my amazement there is a team called Stenhousemuir! I must go and see them… my 7 year old self decides, not knowing exactly where it is, and with no means of getting there!

Fast forward 58 years of occasionally checking out their results (usually poor!), and, well…

… it’s what dreams are made of, isnt it! The media are hyping up the Old Firm match in Glasgow between Celtic and Rangers, but I’m off to where dreams come true… it’s Stenhousemuir v Stranraer, and a 58 year wait is about to come to a conclusion.

90 minutes of nail-biting excitement and ‘my team’… The Warriors of Stenhousemuir win 3-1. Key celebrations… pigging out in a very Scottish way.

The night before… with a pig hidden beneath an egg and pineapple combo!
And after the match… another pig… Chinese style, and believe me there are wok fried vegetables hiding out beneath the pork belly desperate to avoid the lime assault!

Was it worth the wait? I could say ask me in another 58 years time, but the pig-consuming activity would have long taken its toll by then… so, yes, they did me proud.

Until we speak again, Stenhousemuir has all bases covered for pig enthusiasts… either you take the healthier route, or they accommodate the other next door?!!!

Upgrading from French

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Once there was a bistro… mediocre at best, but upmarket for the traditional surroundings associated with the infamous Chippy Alley of Caroline Street in the centre of Cardiff. Few tears were shed at Juno HQ as Pierre met his demise during the Covid lockdowns of 2020… but, what would replace it? Summer of 2021 gave rise to a hint of refurbishment, and in recent weeks the curtain can be raised on a new Thai restaurant. Busaba emerges to taunt those who only have time for a bag of chips… the eternal staple of the street food warriors of Caroline Street (myself included on occasions of haste).

It passes the first test… the menus are not overly complicated, and certainly don’t need to be made of wipe-down plastic (a surefire sign of *********** well, fill in the blanks with your own commentary). However, step two created a problem… even though the menu had ‘starters’ and ‘mains’ as categories, the whole lot arrived in one go!

Makes for an exciting looking table, but something’s going to get cold… not least the stare from my discerning culinary companion!

Some things were definitely going to need replacing with freshly cooked dishes (and the restaurant staff duly obliged without any fuss).

Matchstick Chicken provided crispy bites of flavour without the expected fiery burn back. Yam Pak Crispy Duck salad provided a substantial leg, covering a fabulously tasty crunchy assortment of loveliness with a hint of peanut sauce. The Chicken Green Curry provided that wonderful Thai combination of coconut and lemongrass. The Tamarind Duck Breast was accompanied by that slight fiery tang originally expected from the Matchstick starter.

But, pride of place goes to that smallest of bowls (top right of the photograph). Calamari… described on the menu as their signature wok-tossed dish in ginger and green peppercorn sauce. Or, described by me as WTF… that’s the best Calamari I’ve tasted… ever!!

Until we speak again, they describe their restaurant as “Eating in balance… at Busaba you’ll find fresh authentic flavours with an innovative twist.” I say: “Bon Voyage mediocre French joint… I want more of that Calamari… NOW!”