The Bywater When the Brass Band Finds You

Where the Marigny ends and the Mississippi bends. Shotgun houses on St. Claude Avenue painted in colors no hardware store would name — burnt coral, swimming-pool green, a purple that suggests convictions. A tuba warming up behind a screen door.

Bacchanal Fine Wine on Poland Avenue: buy a bottle inside, grab cheese and charcuterie, carry it to the courtyard where a live band plays under string lights and an oak tree old enough to have opinions about jazz. The courtyard smells like jasmine and grilled shrimp. Walk toward the river on Chartres for Crescent Park, a strip of green along the levee with Mississippi views.

The Joint on Mazant smokes brisket in a cinder-block building with plastic chairs and a Saturday line around the block. The meat is so tender it gives up without a fight. The sauce is a dare wrapped in a compliment.

Sunday afternoon is the time — second lines rolling through, brass bands leading a parade down the street, no permits, no barricades. Follow the tuba. It always knows where it's going.