TERENCE BLANCHARD HAS just finished telling me about the fried oyster that made him cry when we turn onto Frenchmen Street in The Marigny, right next to the French Quarter. The street is a two-block strip of bars, live jazz clubs, top-notch restaurants and local chains, many specializing in alcohol-sponging midnight fare. Blanchard, a native son and now a world-renowned jazz trumpeter and film composer, loves it here. It’s a place where he still comes to play—in the clubs, and, every now and then, on the street itself.
By Jamil Smith