HALLOWEEN (COMES EARLY)

All apologies for my prolonged absence. My life has been a bit tumultuous the past couple of weeks and I wasn’t able to find the time or sanity to post. The situation in the French Quarter finally imploded and I was forced to flee like Jamie Lee Curtis on the last day of October.

The sad thing is that I had finally settled in and began enjoying French Quarter living after Jake moved out in early July; alas, nothing good lasts forever, especially in this city of extremes and mercurial temperament. Debra had mostly stayed away. Our communication was terse and to the point, but the fragile truce held. I’d been told that the block on Decatur Street I was living on was ‘ground zero’ for the Halloween parade and other activities so I was trying to keep things between the lines at least until then. Little did I know Halloween would come early this year, for, as I returned in late August from a week with my family in Myrtle Beach, I arrived to find the apartment door ajar. Inside was pitch black.

My mind instantly raced with possibilities. A break in? An error by Debra? She had moved back in? I stepped inside only to be startled by a familiar voice. Jake was lying in wait on the lounger just inside the door.

“What the @#$#?!”

He immediately began to explain and try to calm me down. Debra had sent a cryptic text mid-week inquiring when exactly I was returning. Now I knew why. He’s baaaaaaaaaaaaack! [Read more…]

LONELY BEANS & A MONTH OF MONDAYS

Near Empty Bottle of Tequila:
Tonight Was a Good Night

Having spent the better part of two decades flirting with Cajun and Creole cooking, I had made giant pots red beans and rice before and even shared with friends, but I never gave the dish its due as a headliner or perceived its deep cultural significance until I moved to New Orleans. The battle for title of best red beans & rice (Joey K’s? Coop’s Place? Kermit Ruffins Treme Speakeasy?) is every bit as fierce as the gumbo wars, and in Gumbo Tales, Sarah Roahen documents the dishes power to bring friends together on Mondays, as much a vehicle for community building as physical nourishment.

Upon reading about this Monday ritual, I’d begun cooking batches in my kitchenless place Uptown with a dull knife and a tabletop hot plate, but it was a lonely endeavor. My roommate would occasionally try a small bowl, I offered some to the old black lady living next door who looked at me suspiciously and said she ‘had the diabetes’ and had to watch her diet, and I brought a container to the neighbor across the street who’d helped jumpstart my truck who never acknowledged the unsolicited gift in subsequent passings—no ‘thanks again’s or ‘those were good’—leaving me wondering if they went straight in the trash. Thus, with few people to share with I was able to make one pot last a month of Mondays.

THREE’S COMPANY, BACHELOR EDITION

Seasoning Simmering For My Very First Monday Batch

Once I hit my stride in July I decided to give it another try, hoping to call on some of the tenuous friendships I’d established. I still had a bag of beans I’d bought upon first moving in (anything requiring cooking had survived Jake’s munchies) and enough ingredients to season a batch without ‘making groceries’ (although later that day I caved in and stop by Rouses to buy greens—scallions and parsley—for garnish) and sent up the Bat Signal. Bart, the recent college graduate from book club, was the only RSVP but as I fled [Read more…]