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By the time you're reading this, Zulu's already rolling through New Orleans. Rex is getting ready. The Courir de Mardi Gras is running in Cajun country, and every parade still waiting to roll is lining up for one last shot before midnight shuts it all down.

This is what Louisiana's been building toward since January 6. The final day of Carnival. The last king cake. The last throws. The final moments before Ash Wednesday arrives and Carnival becomes a memory for another year.

Enjoy it while it's here. It only happens once a year.

Here's what's happening across Louisiana this week—February 17 through 23—starting with today.

No major parades today — North Louisiana wrapped up Carnival over the weekend. By tonight, the whole state goes quiet.

What Comes Next

After midnight tonight, Mardi Gras is officially over. Ash Wednesday arrives tomorrow, and Louisiana shifts from celebration to reflection.

But if you're not ready to let go just yet, two dog parades roll later in the month:

Krewe of Mardi Paws — Covington
Date TBD (late February)
Costumed dogs, their owners, and a parade that proves Louisiana celebrates everything—even the pets.

Krewe du Pooch — Mandeville
Date TBD (late February)
Another Northshore dog parade where the furry friends get their turn to strut through town in full Mardi Gras gear.

🎭 (February 18-28, 2006)

Six months after Katrina, Louisiana threw the party that proved we weren't going anywhere

In February 2006, the world told New Orleans not to celebrate Mardi Gras.

Hurricane Katrina had hit six months earlier. 1,400 people were dead. 80% of the city had flooded. Entire neighborhoods were still underwater. The Superdome sat damaged and empty. Thousands of residents hadn't come back. The city was essentially bankrupt.

National media said it was tone-deaf. Critics said it was irresponsible. City officials wanted to cancel it or scale it way back. Some locals thought it was too soon.

New Orleanians said: We're doing it anyway.

Parades rolled the weekend of February 18-19. Krewe du Vieux paraded through the French Quarter. Zulu threatened to cancel unless they could parade through Black neighborhoods—and the city let them. Parade rules were relaxed so krewes could roll with fewer floats and fewer members. Rex established Project Purple to raise money for charter schools. Float themes mocked FEMA, politicians, and the botched recovery effort.

And the crowd didn't hold up signs saying "Throw me something, mister."

They held up signs that said: "Thank you."

Mardi Gras Day was February 28. Attendance was down to 60-70% of normal. But 200,000+ people showed up anyway. The parades rolled. The beads flew. The music played. And for one week, New Orleans wasn't a disaster zone—it was a city that refused to die.

New Orleans Magazine's cover proclaimed it: "The Most Important Mardi Gras Ever."

They were right. It wasn't just a party. It was proof that Louisiana decides when Louisiana celebrates. Sometimes the most defiant thing you can do is throw a parade.

It's not actually an island. But one of its most famous landmarks rises 163 feet straight out of flat coastal marshes — the highest point on the entire Gulf Coast. Underneath, a column of solid rock salt runs deeper than Mount Everest is tall.

One family has been making the same hot sauce on that salt dome since 1868. Same three ingredients. Same process. Same island. Five generations later, they're still running it — and now that sauce sits on dinner tables in over 190 countries.

The place also saved egrets from extinction. In 1895, one of the family members rescued eight young egrets from plume hunters, raised them, and set them free. They came back the next year. And the next. Tens of thousands still return every spring to nest in the gardens there.

If you've ever put hot sauce on your crawfish, your gumbo, or your eggs — you've tasted this parish.

The answer: Iberia Parish.

Antoine's isn't just the oldest restaurant in Louisiana. It's the oldest family-run restaurant in the entire United States.

It opened in 1840. It's been owned by the same family for five generations. It invented Oysters Rockefeller. It has 14 dining rooms, each one with its own history. The Rex Room celebrates Mardi Gras royalty. The Capital Room has wooden panels taken from the old Louisiana State Capitol in Baton Rouge. It can seat 700 people.

Oysters Rockefeller was named for the richness of the sauce—so rich it had to be named after John D. Rockefeller. They also invented Eggs Sardou and pommes de terre soufflées (puffed potatoes). All three dishes are still on the menu.

185 years. Same family. Same address in the French Quarter. Still serving the food that made New Orleans famous.

Some restaurants survive by changing with the times. Antoine's survived by staying exactly who they are.

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