Happy Jazz Fest, y’all!

This New Orleans Jazz Fest recap covers our first-ever weekend at the festival—and not shocking, it was amazing. Between biking to the fairgrounds, unforgettable food, and once-in-a-lifetime performances, it quickly became one of our favorite Louisiana detours yet.

New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival Presented By Shell – New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival

Friday: Food, Bikes & a Perfect First Taste of New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival

We kicked things off Friday morning with brunch at Willa Jean—a place I’d been wanting to take Marc forever. Several espresso shots later, we headed back to our downtown hotel to grab our preferred mode of transportation: road bikes.

After spending way too much time prepping fest bags, bike gear, and packing lists, Friday was our trial run. Turns out—we did a pretty good job.

The ride ended up being one of the best parts of the entire weekend. Most of it runs along the Lafitte Greenway, making it one of the easiest and most chill ways to get to the fairgrounds. Add in the bike corral (guarded by the legendary “Janie the Great”—if you know, you know), and we were ready to fest!

Once inside, we immediately dove into the full Jazz Fest food experience. Top eats of the day included:

Not pictured: Tempero’s Market: Baja-style gulf fish & shrimp taco

If you’re searching for the best food at New Orleans Jazz Fest, this was a strong start.

Friday was our today to explore so we chose to bounce between stages and tents, catching some amazing artists.

That’s the thing about Jazz Fest—you don’t really “plan” it. You just follow what sounds good.

After the fairgrounds, we made a quick turnaround at the hotel before heading to Saenger Theatre for Charley Crockett. His opener, Lee Fields, had the crowd fully locked in before he even came on.

Saturday: Rain, Music & a Little Bit of Magic

Saturday morning, we prepped for the expected rain—muck boots, technical fabrics, the whole strategy (a decision we would later be very grateful for).

We met up with Marc’s parents and brother, who came in for the weekend, and headed back to the fairgrounds. Somehow, despite all the incredible options, we didn’t eat nearly enough—splitting a combo plate from Sweet Soulfood and grabbing a few Lucky Dogs along the way—but the day quickly became less about food and more about the music.

The music on Saturday was, without question, the highlight of the weekend.

We dipped over to Gentilly after staking out a spot at the main stage for later, catching part of Jason Isbell’s set—one of Marc’s longtime favorites who has very quickly become one of mine. One thing we’ve learned: festival sets are a completely different experience than solo concerts. More hits, more energy, more moments where you look around and realize everyone knows every word. It felt like fan service in the best way, and we loved every second of it.

Eventually, we wandered back and settled in—rain starting to roll in, energy building—for the main event: Stevie Nicks.

And she was everything you hoped she would be.

The twirling. The tambourine. The shawls—so many shawls, some from the original recordings. The way she played with everything on stage like it was part of the story. Her voice sounded incredible, and while she gave us some of her solo hits, she leaned into Fleetwood Mac songs more than she has in recent sets (yes, I did the research).

But what stood out most—she was a storyteller.

She talked about where the songs came from, how they became what they are, and how much she loves New Orleans. How grateful she was to be there, in that moment, with that crowd.

And then—Landslide.

Right on cue, the rain started pouring.

No poncho, no umbrella—I just stood there and danced in it. Twirling with Stevie, fully in the moment. It felt like something deeper than just a concert. Mom would have loved it. I loved it. The rain, the music—it all just perfect.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, a rainbow.

Because of course there was.

In true Stevie fashion, she came back out for an encore. She opened with New Orleans, a full love letter to the city, and closed with Don’t Stop—a song she doesn’t always play anymore, but chose to that night for a world that needed it.

Dancing in a crowd of strangers who somehow didn’t feel like strangers, next to the love of my life, in that moment—it did something to my soul.

Core memory, fully solidified.

Sunday: A Slower Start and Full Hearts

We started the morning with a quiet bike ride over to City Park, wandering through native plant trails like we always seem to do when given the chance.

Back at the fest, we leaned into the classics.

We danced to Rockin’ Dopsie Jr., sang along with Irma Thomas, and made up for Saturday by fully committing to the food again…Ajun Cajun (again, obviously—no regrets), mango freezes, United Houma Nation frybread tacos, Gambian Foods spicy tofu, and more rosemint teas obviously.

Marc made his way over to see Leftover Salmon, and honestly, watching how excited they were to be there was half the fun. There’s something really cool about seeing artists who want to be at Jazz Fest as much as the crowd does.

And then came the final set of the weekend for me: Rod Stewart.

I was already emotional going into it.

Mom loved him. She raised me on his music, and even toward the end, she still talked about him all the time. So standing there, waiting for him to come on, I already knew this one was going to hit differently.

He was exactly what you’d hope for—slightly cantankerous, endlessly charismatic, and somehow moving like someone half his age. At 81, he ran that stage. And the songs—so many of them—felt like stepping back into memories I didn’t even realize I still carried.

And then Maggie May.

That was it.

Full circle in a way I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully explain. Just one of those moments where everything—past, present, music, memory—collides in the best possible way.

I got to see him, Mom.

And it was perfect.