Vernon H.
Yelp
(This is the first review I've written about a place of accommodation)
When I met my wife, Panagiota, she'd spoken quite often about her long-harboured desire to visit New Orleans, Louisiana. She was enamored by the sights of the beautiful French-inspired architecture, the sounds of jazz music carried on the warm, humid winds trailing the route of the Mississippi River, and the aroma of a veritable cornucopia of cuisine seasoned so well, that you get stomach pangs from even a magazine photo. Then, she discovered that I'm from Baton Rouge and that New Orleans was basically a hop, two skips and one really long jump from my old stomping grounds. That was all the excuse she needed - she knew she'd have to go...especially since her husband (that being me) would have the opportunity to show her his home state, and best of all, the French Quarter.
Needing a place to stay, we went online, scouring through pages and pages of options. Do we want a hotel? Or a B&B? Or will we stay with family? Well, strange enough, for each leg of our journey, they all would end up being options. But for New Orleans, my wife said she wanted a B&B...something with history and character...and good food. And lo and behold, we happened upon Terrell House, the second-happiest mouse-click I've ever had (only because the first-happiest was 7 years ago, when I accepted a random Facebook friend request from some really pretty Australian woman who would end up becoming the love of my life.)
First, the accommodations. There is a main house, then there's another two houses across the street, one of which contained the suite that Panagiota and I had (aptly named, the 'Corner Store'). Located on the corner of Magazine and Euterpe Street in the Garden District, this B&B is the prime setting for what I can only interpret as a steamy Southern romance novel starring me, my wife and an order of beignets. It is renovated using a beautifully homogeneous blend of Old World charm and New Minimalist design, with colours and materials coordinating so well, I wanted to take every aspect of the place and build my own home with it, right down to the chandeliers and the tall, ominous cypress doors. The kitchen/lounge room was nicely appointed with beautiful stone countertops, shiny, almost fingerprint-proof stainless appliances and a sofa so comfortable, I'd cocoon myself on it while binge watching Law & Order: SVU (which is the best of the series by far).
The bathroom was downright gorgeous, with every accouterment available, including dual shower heads that gave it the most spa-like feel I've ever had, which was amplified by the provided cotton robes whose fabric softness implied it must have been woven only three days prior to our arrival. The bedroom, with it's wrought chandelier and soft dimmable lighting, set an atmosphere so romantic that my wife and I spent every spare moment (CENSORED CONTENT!)
We ventured into the main house for breakfast, where we met some of the most delightful people who were guests of the other rooms and suites. The food was pure Southern charm. Warm, flaky biscuits, fluffy eggs, crisp yet tender bacon, and a breakfast quiche that I would actually have risked death for by slapping one of my progenitors...in the face...hard. From there, we enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere that Terrell House provided, from it's historic qualities to it's beautiful courtyard, to meeting the staff who after this visit, I would be proud to call family rather than just employees. Considering their professionalism, jovial demeanor and the fact that they were just so damned polite, returning to Baltimore (where I currently live) seemed like I was cosplaying Dante in preparation of my descent into the 6th circle of hell, by comparison.
I used to look at romance novels as a sort of overly fantastic blah-blah-blah that could never be based on fact, simply because the players were too dramatically animated and the setting was too perfect to ever prove viable in my plane of existence. I am happy to say that I have never been so elated at being wrong, as Linda and her staff have proven to me that not only are romance novels viable, but for one beautifully rainy weekend, my wife and I actually lived one...