Party Like It’s Mardi Gras at NOLA in Palo Alto

As anyone who knows me can attest, I have never been much of a partier; birthdays were always cozy intimate gatherings, my bachelorette party was a modest spa affair, and being firmly in the trenches of suburban mommyhood means that I can’t remember the last time I ventured out to a club. Yet there’s nothing like a major milestone to make a girl desperately cling to those last glory days of youth. So with a big and slightly terrifying birthday looming, I decided it was time to do just that: grab some female company, dust off the stilettos, doll up, and hit up a sizzling spot for a girly night on the town.

I may have felt that my big date warranted an establishment with an equally sizeable glamour factor – perhaps the Supperclub. Sadly though, seeing how none of us particularly wanted to face an hour’s drive to the city with its traffic and parking woes, I settled on a nice dinner in our neck of the Silicon Valley woods. My venue of choice for the last hurrah was NOLA in downtown Palo Alto – a hip New Orleans-themed watering hole for the area’s young-and-happening crowd (I can still pretend I’m one of those, can’t I?).

With a quaint stone archway on a side street just off University Avenue, NOLA’s entrance is marked with colorful Mardi Gras beads draping the trees and signage. A plaque on one of the walls warns patrons to ‘Beware of pickpockets and loose women’ – guess they know what to expect from a great girls’ night out. Inside, two levels of wrought-iron balconies surround the central open-air courtyard, recreating the funky look and ambiance of the N’awlins French Quarter. Bright reds and pinks, funky décor, original Creole art adorning the walls, and more beads everywhere punched up the perpetually celebratory, street festival feel. The food, as expected, is just pure fun: equal parts sophisticated and tongue-in-cheek, the ‘‘contemporary southern fusion’’ menu is full of dressed up Cajun favorites: gator dumplings, jambalaya, chicken and waffles, and po’ boy sandwiches. The carb-oholic in me especially adored the selection of “side bite” comfort foods: Mama’s mac and cheese? Fried green tomatoes? Jalapeno cheddar cornbread? Yes, please! The libations menu was just as appetizing; it was a challenge to choose between the aptly-named “moron bowl” of their famous fruity four rum “hurricane,” Southern concoctions like white peach and drunken cherry “Bourbon Street,” and spins on classics such as the strawberry ginger mojito. In the end, we settled for a crowd-pleasing pitcher of house sangria infused with limes, pineapple, and agave, alongside a crabamole dip for starters (as the name suggests, it’s vibrant guac loaded with fresh crabmeat). Our entrees ranged from a rich crawfish and shrimp etouffee to fiery Cajun pasta to spiced Mahi Mahi tacos. I went with Bubba’s fry boy, a soft French roll stuffed with fried crispy shrimp and Worcestershire aioli, with a side of satisfyingly thick and creamy grits.

I always have a special spot in my heart (and stomach) for dessert, but in this case, the dessert really deserves a special mention. Breaking with tradition, I forwent the birthday cake, partly because I didn’t want to face the number of candles, but mainly because I’ve spotted beignets on the dessert menu, and who can resist birthday beignets? However, after the order was in, a non-plussed waitress delivered a dessert to our table that wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Preceding the beignets was NOLA’s special “birthday dessert,” one they apparently bring out to every birthday celebration: a banana-split style ice cream sundae, presented in a very, um, adult-themed form and bearing a candle. I don’t think it’s necessary to elaborate further. Suffice it to say, it made for some memorable and somewhat embarrassing pictures, and the ice cream, brownie, and vanilla sauce (yes, there was sauce) combination was in fact scrumptious, as were the beignets that followed, dusted with powdered sugar and ready to be dipped in a trio of sauces.

We ate and laughed and complained and toasted to my burgeoning years. I left NOLA’s bustling scene another year older, stuffed, and satisfied. Somehow, facing a brand new decade is slightly less daunting after some good food, sangria, and great company.

Kate Missine is a domestic diva, shopping addict, and worshiper of all things delicious. When she’s not chasing  after her toddler son, Kate can be found stirring things up in the kitchen, scouring grocery aisles for strange ingredients, or indulging in much-needed retail therapy. She holds a B.A. in Communications and Publishing and accepts pastries and shoes as currency. 

By Kate Missine