Treme

- Robert! - I gotta practice, Ma.

Take it down the street for a while. You're working my last nerve.

- I'm not asking you again. - All right.

- Lemon ice tastes the same. Better. - Glad.

Saw the picture in the paper.

Yes, the line goin' back was around the block.

- Everybody missed you. - We're glad to be back.

This was a good idea, Sof.

I wish Daddy were here.

Poseurs!

Picking up! Tasting menu for three.

- OK, we're firing. Two scallop. - Two scallop.

- One ravioli. - Ravi.

- One pigeon and a duck. - One pigeon, one duck.

- Next coming in - three market salads. - Three salads.

- Two tuna tartares. - Two tunas.

- Two cod, one snapper. - Two cod, one snapper.

All right, watch yourself...

Young man.

- Young man! - Sir?

Yes, you.

Lobsters. Get me some lobsters.

Fuck me, no way. He's not serious.

Yes, he is. And the best part is...

we got no fucking lobster.

He's gotta send that kid to fucking Chinatown to get some.

Twelve one-and-a-half pounders.

- Get me a receipt, and hurry the fuck up. - Right away, Chef.

No sleepers. Make sure they're happy. I want peppy lobsters.

- Yes, Chef. - Peppy.

Menu change.

We're doing butter-poached lobster with roasted corn coulis...

and something to be determined later.

Right now, Entremetier!

- Roast me some fucking corn! - Yes, Chef.

Oh my God, he gives that to us, I'm gonna go in the walk-in and cry. Fuck.

Degustation's got what? We have...

..the razor clams, the salmon, the cod. Now he's gonna squeeze in fucking lobster?

Why not just shove a goddamn pineapple up my ass?

He's giving it to the saucier.

The chef's been looking at her funny all night. You know the look?

Yeah, I've seen it. In my fucking nightmares I've seen it.

That's why I try not to look at the guy.

Never directly, right? 'Cause the eyes is like his way in.

That's how he gets you. That's how he gets inside - he looks at you.

Then he crawls up in your brain...

takes a big dump on it...

and then he's got you.

- "Avoid the eyes" is what you're saying. - Yeah, avoid the fucking eyes.

- Madame le saucier! - It's looking good, it's looking great.

- Yes, Chef. - Ah.

You'll be doing the lobster course. Get your station ready.

Absolutely, Chef.

Coming down the line! Behind.

- Can you take that off the heat for me? - Right away, Chef.

There you go! Annie Tee on the fiddle! Annie Tee on the fiddle.

Love you, Annie!

- Yes, indeed. - All right!

Back home it was All Saints' Day. Y'all might not know that.

- They do All Saints' Day here in Connecticut? - Whoo!

How about All Souls' Day?

Don't know it, huh?

Well, in New Orleans it's a pretty big deal,

so we're gonna do this song right here for you, all right?

Yeah, baby.

Sofia B. Real here from New Orleans.

Y'all may have forgotten about us, but we're still here.

Can we talk about the so-called recovery?

It sucks...the big one.

Fourteen months, and it ought to be getting better here.

Fourteen months, and it ought to be getting easier.

It ought to be getting fixed. You feel me?

Well, it isn't.

It gets harder every day.

There's still 100,000 empty houses in New Orleans, at least.

100,000 families that can't get home.

Everyone in this frickin' city is on painkillers or booze.

No kidding, 85% of the city is doped just to cope.

And you need an AK-47 to go out at night.

And the frickin' National Guard is patrolling our streets like...

we're Fallujah or something.

So you know what?

Drop and give me 50, you fucking fucks.

That was 10th Ward Buck with his timeless standard, the evergreen Drop & Gimme 50.

Oh, must be time for the OZ Live Music Calendar.

I'll be right back.

- Davis. - Darnell.

- I thought you left hours ago. - I heard the show and came back.

- Mix it up a little, will you? - Absolutely.

- I'm serious. - So am I. Look at my face.

I got Gin In My System.

I thought that was a Coke! And don't spill it in the control board.

- You will pay for this one. - Empty threat.

Then you'd have me around for the next 20 years, working it off.

I got Gin In My System on deck.

Big Freedia. A little tranny bounce as a change of pace.

That's not what I mean by mixing it up.

Brass band, funk, trad jazz, rock 'n' roll...

- I don't care. - Oh! I feel you.

How about a little acoustic Piedmont blues from Bumble Bee Slim?

A little lullaby to put our audience to sleep?

You know what? I don't even mind you playing a little...bounce.

Once in a while. Just not nonstop.

Mix it up, Davis.

So go out and see some live local music.

Oh, and bring your gun.

Uh, this one goes out to someone who, at the moment,

is very much on my mind.

Yeah!

- It's more of a white thing. - You think?

Dressing up and shit? Oh, yeah.

- They got Halloween in Holland, right? - No.

They don't? Shit.

They got Mardi Gras though?

- 7 and 7? - Yeah, man.

- That's a Catholic thing. - So what, y'all ain't Catholic?

Not so much. We got Queen's Day.

Everybody wears orange.

Sounds like Hallo-fucking-ween to me.

Five. We expect the four wounded to recover.

Sorry to disappoint you - I know "five dead" would make a better story.

This is all off-the-record, right?

You want an official statement, you need to call the PIO.

Leads?

No, no leads.

One or two. We're still sorting that out.

No, things were worse last spring and this summer.

I'm sure it is having an impact on tourism.

That piece of mayhem didn't have anything to do with Katrina. He was a vet. Iraq.

Listen... Listen, I read the note.

I went to the scene.

Stuff like that can happen anywhere.

The stove and the refrigerator.

Yeah, but he didn't eat her. Not like that guy in the East Village years ago.

Uh-huh, look it up.

You'll mention that in your article?

You're welcome.

Jesus. New York Times. I think they live for the latest grotesquerie from New Orleans.

They just love them some Zack and Addie. What've you got?

Couple of knuckleheads walk in a club, see another couple of knuckleheads,

- go to the car, get their guns. - Bring their neighborhood shit down here.

My phone's ringing off the fucking hook.

Shooting in the Quarter gets everybody's attention.

Got mine.

Good to go.

- How's business? - Booming.

- Really? - More work than we can handle.

Impressive.

Yeah, so...

So I guess I'll...

I'll see you around?

Who knows?

- Have a good one, OK? - OK.

- Bye. - Bye.

Go ahead. You can say it.

Hey, no comment implied or intended. Far from it for I to be judgmental and shit.

- Oh, really? So what? - I don't know.

You know. First rule, right?

- Don't fuck the floor. - Hey, he's not my floor.

That's not my restaurant.

I got takeout on the way home.

Is that OK?

My apologies for ever doubting you.

- Wake and bake? - I gotta go to work.

I guess you kinda need your brain where you work.

- "Stay alert, stay alive" kind of a thing. - You guys work stoned where you are?

No, not really. It's just we don't have to be in till two.

Oh, man! I would not want to be fucked-up at all around Brulard.

Yeah, that dude senses fear - or at least that's what I hear.

And then he fucks with you just to prove that he can fuck with you,

because he likes it.

Because he loves it.

- Good cook though, right? - Oh, he's a great cook.

- Mm. - Right?

I'm on Carroll Street now.

Yeah. All right.

Do the count.

Hey.

- Hey. - Hey.

So are we good?

Yeah, we're good.

- Come again. - Thanks, man.

Tell your friends, will you?

What the fuck was that?