I Bought Crack in the French Quarter

You already know I have a problem... a bit of a habit...but what am I supposed to do when the pickle pushers just FIND ME?

I'm learning fast that in THIS town, temptation is every.where.you.look....and even where you don't look. I knowingly ventured to the 25th Annual Creole Tomato Festival in the French Market a few Sundays ago with the agenda to buy a few pickled things, pickled Mirlitons being high on the list. A bus ride downtown, a fresh lime daiquiri and $10 bucks later, Mission Accomplished: pickles in hand.



But these were just gateway pickles. The hard stuff would find me a few bars later. My friends and I ventured from bar to bar-Pravda (no AC!), The Abbey, and then Johnny White's....a den of crack. All I did was sit there and from the farthest corner of the small, narrow bar I saw a vision of a woman standing outside in the light holding what I wanted. A flat box- a case of Ball mason jars-I would recognize those colors and that font anywhere-full of jars and....a go cup with a Hurricane from Lafitte's Blacksmith Bar. Could it be? Is she really selling pickles? Right outside the very bar I'm in when there are HUNDREDS of bars to choose from? How did she know?

I marched towards the door (possibly staggered) and barraged her with questions, "Are you selling pickles? What is your name? I have to have a jar! How much are these? OhmygodIwriteablogaboutpicklesandIcan'tbelievethis?"

HOW MUCH for a JAR?



I gave her $5 dollars and pawed a jar and she gently took my hand and said "No, take these. You have to try the CRACK PICKLES." Oh I took the crack pickles alright and I ate them almost immediately. They were spears with a clear, simple taste of brine and mustard seed. They tasted like warm sunshine on a blanket. I managed to share a few but I clearly hogged the majority of the jar and then at my final bar of the night, I polished off the remaining pickle juice.




All I've got now is an empty jar with a handwritten label and a strong urge to eat more crack pickles! I didn't catch this seemingly mirage of a woman's name but she did tell me her farm, Lone Cypress Farm has a facebook page and from there I learned that their main mission is rescuing stray animals-they use to farm to grow produce and use the sale of their harvest to support their rescue. Crack with a Cause!!

She assured me I could find her again another Sunday night, same place-ish, same time-ish (this IS New Orleans after all) and I sure hope I do. You can order your own crack online and I urge you to do so. Don't make me do crack all alone.