It's Fat Tuesday in the Big Easy and beyond.

My family, the Irish Burke's, arrived in New Orleans around 1848. In our family we don't say Nola or Nawlins, we pronounce it as it should be. My grandparents met on a riverboat on lake Pontchartrain. That was back in the days when people still swam in the brackish estuary.

My grandmother's beans and rice can only be made with Camellia beans and her cabbage tamales are not of the alley cat variety, though we've heard stories about New Orleans tamales vendors who used the neighborhood felines for their culinary concoctions.

Our family reunions were held on the banks of the Mississippi at my Great Uncle Mickey's home in Arabi, God rest his soul.

Fat Tuesday is synonymous with drunken reverie of tourists on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. It is the last day to get your kicks the day before Ash Wednesday when the penitential season of Lent is upon us.

The French Quarter is centered around the St. Louis Cathedral. It is home of the Cafe Du Monde where you, along with 800 other tourists can buy the sumptuous beignets which are like mini funnel cakes. After filling up on these tasty treats you can walk over to the famousJackson Square.

General Andrew Jackson, erected in 1856 by Clark Mills.

To the left of St. Louis Cathedral is the Cabildo or City Hall where the Louisianna Purchase was signed, according to Wikipedia.