New Orleans sips and my favorite novel of the (very young) year

I spent a few days in New Orleans last week during Mardi Gras, which means this dispatch may have a too-high ABV. Sure, I droned on last week about how my fitness tracker has me drinking less — but please remember my caveat: I’m still drinking when it’s worth it, and Mardi Gras is the definition of worth it. (For those picturing Bourbon Street and hand grenades, be more creative. Mardi Gras, for me, is an Uptown street full of kids and grandparents and everyone in between. A beer in a koozie. Bed by 11.)

nowhere better to be

… the pork ragu with broken pasta from Smitten Kitchen. This is the ultimate fake-fancy dinner recipe. Make it on a night when you’ve committed to hosting but have no interest in extra effort. You will give off the air of Martha Stewart with the effort of Chef Boyardee.

What this is is a giant hunk of braised pork, shredded and cooked down and gussied up as a pasta sauce. It’s deconstructed lasagne, kind of. It’s somehow not that heavy, and it’s packed with flavor. The last time I made it, I chopped the vegetables more finely and then pureed them, adding them back into the braising liquid for an even more fortified, flavorful sauce. That’s maybe 5 percent extra effort on a recipe you could make in your sleep, so do with that information what you will.

… mezcal with a red wine float. We’ll start my tour of New Orleans here, at the Chloe, which is a massive Uptown house that was recently converted into a small hotel with a great bar and fantastic little food menu. I went there straight from the airport and ordered the “five families,” which consisted of mezcal, something called “Montenegro lemon” and red wine, poured over a hefty, square rock.