She is of the age now that I feel I can leave for a few hours at a time and get to experience my favorite pastime, albeit a tamer version since I must go home and be responsible for keeping another human alive. A while back, the first place I decided to go, alone, and released back into the world postpartum was Café Degas. That said, the first hour that I stole away from my child, at perhaps 8 weeks old, was a test for us all. I could not stay away any longer than that one hour and it was the first time my husband was alone with an infant. An hour was enough. Now, more than a year later, I came back to Café Degas. This time more than okay to leave for a couple hours or more and so excited to dine alone. Specifically, French dining, outside overlooking esplanade avenue.
I tend to dine early whether for lunch or dinner. I will arrive probably an hour earlier than typical diners. This has treated me well during the pandemic. I am mostly alone, and it reads like a private dining experience that I could never truly afford. At Café Degas, specifically, when you arrive for say an 11:00 am lunch, you can say may I please have a table on the small, charming deck outside the bar. This is the best seat in the house, in my opinion. You are under the inexplicably French café canopy, with quaint, round, floral clothed café tables, the view of a neighborhood park across the road, with a palm tree and the slight view of Canseco’s to take you out of your French fantasy and snap you right back to New Orleans.
A lunch at Café Degas, pour Moi, is exactly how I’d imagine an afternoon in Paris would turn out. An 11:00 am arrival with an espresso and perusal of the wine menu. Deciding on the Sancerre, I wait for the first pour and placement of the perfectly baked French bread before ordering mussels and pomme frites.
Sounds delectable, Brandon!! Blessed solitude.