A Walk on Milan
We follow our usual route for a walk on Milan Street: away from the river and toward the lake, though at this distance Pontchartrain is a mere idea. At the end of Milan, we turn left on Magazine. That’s a street, not a periodical. The asphalt of Milan is gravelly, its edges bleeding into St. Augustine runners. Magazine is a proper street with trustworthy sidewalks and retail shops, one of which is our destination: Undergrowth Coffee, which I always want to be Underground, because I’m a hopeless lover of puns.
The open door of the crepe shop lures with flannelly aromas, but we persevere. Peaches is having a National Record Day Sale (Tom’s been waiting for weeks.) But we don’t join the clumps of folks swinging white shopping bags. We have intent.
Almost there, we cross the green and white tile outside Casamento’s oyster house. A bleary-eyed man stands beside the black garbage cans, probably a castaway from Ms. Mae’s Bar on the corner. Evangeline tries to sniff him, an opportunity for a lesson in boundaries.
We arrive at Undergrowth. Its cafe table and chairs are missing from the sidewalk. We peer through the door. All dark. It is closed. We stand for a minute, discombobulated. Then we turn around.
And take a walk on Milan Street home.
Magazine Street, Magazine Street New Orleans, Milan Street New Orleans
Emma Connolly
Nice to hear footsteps in my old neighborhood and know they are yours and Tom’s. The more things change the more they stay the same. I saw my old house was for sale again. So you will have new neighbors. The revolving door of diversity that is New Orleans.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
It sold a couple of months ago to the folks with the poor, barking dog. I feel so sorry for it. Though it’s not as bad as it was. More than once I heard other neighbors screaming at them to do something about the dog, or they were calling the police. I don’t see a current sign in the yard, but if it’s for sale again, I’m betting it might have something to do with the dog…
Joanne Corey
I hope it was just a temporary closure and not a permanent one…
ELLEN MORRIS PREWITT
Ah, a good question. Yes, just closed on the Friday after Thanksgiving. When we walked in yesterday, she said, “A large drip and medium cafe au last?” We are regulars. 🙂
Marie Bailey
Bummer. I know things change, but it’s hard to lose a local business that you love. Our little corner of a neighborhood in San Francisco was bustling with three bookstores when we lived there. Often we’d go and peruse all three after dinner at a local pizzeria. Of course, they are all gone now (including the pizzeria). The only thing that hasn’t changed is the etched red velvet wallpaper lining the lobby of our old apartment building 😉
ELLEN MORRIS PREWITT
I have left the wrong impression–it was just closed for a LONG Thanksgiving weekend (Thursday through Sunday). So sorry. There has been a coffee shopping that spot for decades. This one is popular. I hope it lives long.
The passing of business establishments holds a special nostalgia for me. I guess they intertwine our lives more than we realize. I mourn the passing of the spots on your corner, but have to celebrate red velvet wallpaper!