I am at Toast, in the Fairgrounds Triangle. I do not go to the one in the French Quarter. I know everyone at the Fairgrounds. They let me sit for hours and read the Wall Street Journal and type. It took me seven minutes to walk here. It is a beautiful day.

I am watching the city shuffle its way into the present tense. 

There is nothing on the menu that is particularly New Orleans except that about half the people in the restaurant order cocktails for breakfast. The menu is more Southern than anything else. In any other city Toast would be more pretentious. Here, you know you cannot be anywhere else but in New Orleans.

It is just people from the neighborhood getting along. When I pulled up a car was parked in my usually spot. It was a Maserati. “The neighborhood’s really coming up,” said the guy who sometimes sits next to me, “We have to start upping our game.”

Hardly, I drive the Vespa.

The neighborhood is thick with AirBnBs, so Toast will soon be busier than it has been this summer. The atmosphere is about to change. There are about to be many more tourists. They flock to this dining room in search of authenticity. Sometimes, it’s like they have never had breakfast before.

I generally sit undisturbed, chitchatting a bit, but, people who know me know that I enjoy my solitude. That is about to end. Tourists cannot help but ask questions. Nobody begrudges someone else having a good time, it is how we make our living in New Orleans, but it gets tiresome after a week.

The staff in the front of the house is exclusively female, with Damien being the exception that proves the rule. Two men are working the kitchen as I write this. It is usually two women. Both move effortlessly, back and forth, preparing the same dishes over and over, every time perfect. All but one of the dishwashers is male. I rarely see the dishwashers.

Damien is the host and the busboy. He also runs food. The rest can all do each others’ jobs. They can, and often do, do Damien’s job, too. The ladies are constantly moving about. In early morning (Toast opens at 7:30AM) the restaurant is quiet and we sit around and cut up, waiting for the first customer to come in. I do not really count as a customer. I am more like a piece of the furniture.

It is Honkytonk Thursday. While I am not the biggest country music fan, it is nice to finally hear some wholesome songs.

No one is really in charge. Everyone knows what needs to be done and they just do it. They work easily together. It is nice to watch.

When you are ready to visit New Orleans, don’t stay in an AirBnB. Stay at a small, boutique hotel in the heart of Esplanade Ridge. Our neighborhood is full of pleasant surprises. When you visit New Orleans, you have two friends on Esplanade Avenue. They are at La Belle Esplanade.