Dear Louisville,
As I was having my liver serviced recently, I overheard two gentlemen engaged in a conversation I thought would be of interest, and perhaps amusement, to you.
At least, I must assume they were gentlemen. They were wearing Steve Gleason jerseys, which is evidence enough for me.
Their slightly slurred exchange centered on horse tracks, and, specifically, on the following thought experiment:
If, for the rest of your life, you could visit only one horse track on the first weekend of May, which would it be: Louisville’s Churchill Downs or New Orleans’ Fairgrounds?
Or, to cut to the chase: Kentucky Derby or New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival?
That thought struck me as a one-question New Orleans personality test at least as revealing as “Dooky’s or Willie Mae’s?,” “LSU or Tulane?” and “Sidewalk side or neutral ground side?”
Such matters, I should explain, are of vital importance in New Orleans. Every true local has a strong opinion on each – and an equally strong opinion about the reasoning behind everyone else’s opinion.
And make no mistake: Although such questions are ostensibly matters of opinion, there are most assuredly correct and incorrect answers.
If you are inclined to test that assertion, try declaring to those lined up outside Napoleon House at lunchtime on any given Saturday that muffulettas should never be served warm. They will help you understand.
More importantly, the cultural calculus involved in arriving at one’s opinion on matters of such import reveals much about how the New Orleans mind works.
No less is true of our horse track hypothetical.
So, while the correct answer is obvious – it is Jazz Fest, of course – the more telling question boils down to a single word: Why?
To be sure, there is nothing inherently wrong with the Kentucky Derby, that iconic display of pageantry and privilege culminating every year with what is described as “the fastest two minutes in sports.”
There is something regal about it, in a “Falcon Crest” sort of way. There is style. There are thrills. There are mint julips.
That last point in particular makes it worth pausing to ask: Why doesn’t Jazz Fest have a signature cocktail?
Your average festgoer can buy beer and wine. If one wants anything with a kick, however, they must get creative. I know a fellow who annually smuggles in something he calls “sock vodka” – which is a whole other story.
The point is, why in the name of Pat O’Brien has no one come up with an official Jazz Fest companion quaff?
But I digress.
In every other aspect, Jazz Fest is undeniably superior.
On the subject of food, for example, it is nothing short of a grooveable feast: cochon du lait po-boys, crawfish Monica, gumbo, Vaucresson’s hot sausage po-boys, trout Baquet, beignets …
The Derby’s signature dish, on the other hand, is burgoo, a regional stew traditionally made with squirrel brains or roadkill (although beef or pork is the protein of choice on Derby day).
Advantage: New Orleans. By a mile.
Style wise, Derby-goers acquit themselves well, modeling all manner of haute headwear, including highly adorned bonnets and fancy fascinators.
Many Jazzfest-goers, too, are habitual hat-wearers. Others prefer those festival-branded camp shirts favored by dads. The high-fashion galoshes on display when it rains are truly something to behold.
Advantage: Tie.
Ultimately, the deciding factor is that whole “fastest two minutes” thing.
That, you see, is because New Orleans is incapable of doing anything with such speed. It is simply not in our cultural DNA.
Maybe it has something to do with the heat. Maybe it’s the sock vodka. Whatever the reason, enjoyability here is something to be savored, preferably with good company.
That is true of meals. It is true of music. It is true of April weather, new hats, streetcar rides, conversations with old friends, conversations with total strangers, trips to the hardware store, wedding cake snowballs, strolls down Royal Street, watching a sunrise from Algiers Point …
Here, if something is worth doing, it is worth doing slowly.
With that in mind, it does not take a squirrel brain to pick the winner of our Derby debate.
See you at the Fairgrounds in May.
We will save you some sock vodka.
Sincerely,
New Orleans
