THE LITTLE-VISITED US COAST THAT COMBINES SUGAR-WHITE BEACHES AND SOUTHERN CHARM
The old soda shop in Slidell looks like it hasn’t changed since Elvis was top of the charts. There are banana splits, jaunty jerk hats, and a mini jukebox in every booth. But even this linoleum time-warp, an hour outside New Orleans, isn’t the throwback it seems. Like the rest of Louisiana’s Northshore region, it had to be rebuilt after Hurricane Katrina.
It wasn’t just New Orleans that was devastated by the 2005 storm. Towns across America’s Gulf Coast were almost wiped off the map. It’s why, 20 years on, Katrina is still a major topic of conversation here.
“My house was completely destroyed by the tidal surge,” sighed the waitress at the nearby Palmettos on the Bayou. “But I’m glad I stayed,” she chirped, while dishing out plates of gumbo and fried green tomatoes.
Slidell, it transpired, was one of the few places near New Orleans that didn’t lose its railway connection. A lot of chefs also moved to the Northshore after being flooded out of the Big Easy, bringing haute cuisine and farmers’ markets to an area otherwise known for sailing, tours of alligator-filled swamps and leisurely bike rides.
It transformed the Northshore. But not everywhere was so fortunate. Even today, some communities in Mississippi and Alabama still cannot be reached by train.
That’s about to change, however. The old Amtrak route that once connected the region is expected to re-open this year.
To be known as The Mardi Gras Express, in recognition of the pre-Lent festivities celebrated right across this once French controlled stretch of coast, the twice-daily service will conga its way from New Orleans to Mobile, Alabama, stopping at the fishing villages and Mississippi beach towns where Elvis used to go to escape.
Ahead of the resumption of rail services, I tackled the full 150-mile route by car. My American friends told me it was one of the country’s loveliest, but least-explored stretches of coast. They had called this sliver, squashed between Texas and Florida, the “Redneck Riviera”, saying it combined the coconut sands you’d find in the latter, with the charm, history and soul food unique to the Deep South.
Like the train, I started my four-wheeled adventure in New Orleans, where my first stop was a seductively-lit jazz bar. There, a five-piece band poured out bass-rich melodies, setting the perfect tone for the journey ahead.
With the countdown to March 4th’s Mardi Gras already in full swing, I was keen to head straight into the French Quarter. Dropping my bags at the recently opened Copper Vine Wine Pub and Inn (doubles from £235 B&B), I wolfed down some pan-fried sprouts at its trendy restaurant, and headed out to find the party.
Joie de vivre is baked into the city’s cobbles. During a walking tour of the French Quarter, I came across a star of the local philharmonic belting out treacly numbers between two parked cars. Later, my guide, historian David Higgins, played the blues on a shop’s piano as the cashier sang along.
The son of one of Fats Domino’s bandmates, Higgins is as Orleanian as iron verandas. He danced and finger-clicked down the street, while transporting us back to times of pirates and paddle-steamers.
Such flair isn’t confined to Louisiana. Across the border in Mississippi the locals are pretty eccentric, too. Take Bay St Louis, on the soon-to-open railroad line. It had thrown a Dolly Parton-lookalike parade the day I arrived. Did the singer have connections to the town, I wondered. “She’s never been here,” confirmed Alicein Schwarbecher, who runs the town’s Mockingbird Café. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
I’d got chatting to Alicein at breakfast, during which she volunteered the townsfolks’ kayaks for me to go gator-spotting in. “There are rental companies,” she shrugged. “But you can just ask a local to borrow one of theirs.” I never did test out her theory.
Laid-back Bay St Louis was practically power-washed from its foundations by Katrina. Not that you’d know today. There’s a chic, Californian feel to the place, with smart shops carved into clapboard homes, and live music at its quayside bars.
I stayed opposite the harbour at the Pearl (doubles from £112), which, in 2020, became the first new hotel to open since the hurricane hit. The 59-room boutique leans heavily into the region’s maritime heritage, with pictures of trawlers, oysters and crabs on its walls.
Fishing charters and shrimp-boat cruises are a big draw in coastal Mississippi. Restaurants like Shaggy’s even offer bring-your-own “catch and cook” for kitchen-less tourists.
I had lunch beside the palms at Shaggy’s Biloxi outpost. This future railroad town, halfway between New Orleans and Mobile, was a favourite of both Elvis and Al Capone (who no doubt had eyes on its casinos).
It’s a microcosm for the region, with its white sands on the one hand, and Mardi Gras Museum on the other.
Fat Tuesday may be synonymous with New Orleans, but it actually started in colonial Mobile, and places like Biloxi and Mobile are even more obsessed with Mardi Gras. 60 per cent of Mobilians are members of official parading “krewes”, and citizens spend tens of millions of dollars each year on all their elaborate floats, crowns and coronation robes.
The whole town was draped in purple and gold – the colours of its carnival. Even my room at the new Admiral Hotel (doubles from £130) had stuck to the palette, although the lobby had gone full Versailles with marble, gilt, and life-sized oils of French kings.
Mobile is as Southern as it gets, all iron lacework and magnolia. Its suburbs have thousands of historic antebellum mansions, and for lessons on its slaving past there’s the Africatown Heritage House.
Despite being full of great museums, this former French colonial capital has never been a major tourist hub. Even before Katrina, much of its Downtown was boarded up.
Today, though, it has an almost Brooklyn vibe – as I discovered on a walking tour of its now booming centre. Once again, chefs seem to have led the revival – every restaurant seems to boast of a past appearance on the Food Network TV channel. I feasted on biscuits (savoury scones), grits (corn semolina) and beignets (choux buns).
The term “Redneck Riviera” woefully undersells this region. I’d enjoyed New Orleans jazz brunches and bananas foster flambéed beside my table. I’d eaten at casual farm-to-fork hangouts in Mobile.
There’d been Mississippi beach bars, and grand, white-tablecloth affairs, like NoJa, serving French bisques in the heart of Alabama.
It’d been a carnival of music and food – only without the crowds. For now.
How to do it
Purely America has a nine-night trip split between the three hotels mentioned, from £1,599pp, including return flights from Heathrow and car hire.
For more inspiration, see Visit New Orleans, Visit The Northshore, Play Coastal Mississippi, Alabama Travel and Visit Mobile.
2025-02-08T09:03:37Z