The company is called Lucky Dogs Inc. and it is located at 517 Gravier St. The idea for the rolling hot-dog cart began in 1948. The vendors are employees of the company, and they get to keep a percentage of what they make. On a good night during Carnival and with a good location, a vendor can sell $2,000 worth of Lucky Dogs.

The brothers who created the unique vending carts at first thought they would go into leasing or franchising. Their advertisement went this way: “Cruise the midway. Get around town. You and Lucky Dog follow the crowd. A red hot steam job that will roll up profits everywhere you go. Steam cooks 100 dogs, buns, and chili. Stores everything for 300 more.” They gave up on the franchising idea in 1952, and after 23 years, sold the business.

After some difficulties, owner Doug Talbot’s company eventually became a New Orleans tradition and went on to achieve international fame. Like many of the things we know and love, Lucky Dogs were missing for a good while after Katrina. But the vendors pushed their carts back into the French Quarter in January 2006, just in time for Mardi Gras. One vendor who was displaced to Pensacola, Fla., after Katrina returned to the city on his bicycle; he missed his job selling Lucky Dogs on the corner of Toulouse and Bourbon streets.

It’s called Frenchmen Street and it is, conveniently, only steps away from the French Quarter. Cross Esplanade Avenue at Decatur Street and you are there. Within that two-block stretch of Frenchmen Street you are likely to hear anything from jazz to Latin to blues to reggae . . . and just about everything in between.

No neon lights; only plain wooden signs to designate a dozenmusic clubs in the greatest concentration of live music venues outside the French Quarter. In all likelihood you wouldn’t even know it was there unless someone told you about it. But once you’ve been there you’ll want to hang out and enjoy it even more. Inside the clubs or outside on the street, you’ll hear some of the best live music produced anywhere in the city.

And . . . best of all . . . on Frenchmen Street the drinks are cheap and admission to most of these clubs is free! The only thing you’ll be asked to do is tip the bands generously; or, as they say, make a contribution to Philip (as in “Fill up the tip jar”). In some of these venues, that’s the only money they make, so you’ll be making a worthy contribution toward keeping the music of New Orleans alive.

A number of late-night eateries are open along the street and in the adjacent Faubourg Marigny neighborhood to serve the palates of those who suddenly find themselves inflicted with a case of the “midnight munchies.” For those who can’t remember how they got there or are too partied-out to make the return trip to the French Quarter on foot, getting back is no problem. Frenchmen Street is one of the few areas of New Orleans where taxicabs cruise continuously during peak activity hours and you’re never more than a few minutes from the next one to come along.

Sometimes I like to imagine that when Jean Baptiste Le Moyne, Sieur de Bienville was looking for a place to build a city in 1718, there was an enterprising real estate agent who saw him coming. “Look here,” the agent said. “Have I got a deal for you!” Then he showed Bienville a lovely piece of land with view of the river. Bienville was so enchanted with the spot — it was actually a bit higher than the surrounding area — that he didn’t even seem to notice the swamp that would have to be cleared, the potential for hurricanes and flooding, the heat and humidity, the alligators lurking about, and the mosquitoes so big you could put saddles on them. What the intrepid young man saw was location, location, location. In fact, it was the particular spot on the river that attracted him. He was quite taken with the dramatic bend in the river and its proximity to the nearby lake, which he named Pontchartrain. There was also a bayou that ran from the lake almost to the river. How convenient. And if that weren’t enough, the spot for the city he planned would be ideal for keeping an eye on any traffic that might happen to come down the river. You just can’t blame him for choosing this ideal spot surrounded by waters of river, lake, and swamps — the French referred to it as the “Isle d’Orleans” — for the new city he would call Nouvelle Orleans (New Orleans) in honor of Philippe II, Duc d’Orleans, the regent of France.

King cakes can be traced back to the Middle Ages in Europe. The Three Wise Men were honored during the celebration of Christmas with their own special feast day — Epiphany, the 12th night after the birth of Christ. This day became known as “Twelfth Night” and was celebrated with pageants and special cakes. Children were given gifts to symbolize the gifts given by the kings to the baby Jesus.

When the Europeans arrived in New Orleans, the Creole celebrations included “Bals de Roi” where kith and kin gathered and enjoyed a traditional king cake. In the cake was a hidden bean, “la feve,” and the lucky finder would be named “Roi or Reine de la Feve.” Their reward would be to reign over the next ball.

In January 1870, the Carnival krewe called the Twelfth Night Revelers debuted. And in 1871, they began the tradition of selecting a queen. For this ceremony, a cake with a bean was used. At the ball, the men skewered slices of the cake on spears and attempted to distribute the sweets to the ladies. In one slice of cake was a gold bean, and the fortunate recipient was then supposed to step forward. Well, you can imagine what a messy production it was. So the next year, the king of the krewe, the Lord of Misrule, made sure he knew which slice of cake contained the bean.

In modern king cakes, the bean was replaced around 1930 with a baby doll tucked inside the oval-shaped cinnamon dough brioche covered with icing and sugar in the traditional Mardi Gras colors of purple, green and gold.

Today, more than 750,000 of these wonderful cakes are devoured in metro New Orleans alone, and at least another 75,000 are shipped nationwide to people who aren’t lucky enough to be here during Carnival time.