New Orleans and it’s Cuisine – An Outsider’s Perspective
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Beignets and iced coffee from Cafe' Du Monde. Not too shabby.
We have been in The Big Easy for a little over two months now. Aside from the regular, run-of-the-mill duties of unpacking, purging two-thirds of our stuff, and getting a large military family prepared for another year of homeschooling, I’ve been doing a little information gathering. Although, “information gathering” is hardly true. New Orleans is way too complex for one or two weeks of eating out and trying some new recipes. One must literally live it to understand it. Everywhere I look there is something new. I’ve seen so many foods, recipes and techniques that I observed and learned in Europe, only without the stringent culinary policies that often come with European cookery. Things that would NEVER be tolerated in a French restaurant or French home kitchen are celebrated here.
I was expecting a strong French influence, yes. But there is so much more here. It’s like someone pulled all of the world and all of it’s humanity into a cloth sack, threw in some extra spices, shook it up real good, then dumped the whole thing out along near the Gulf Of Mexico. And amidst the chaos of streets that smell like pee, people who smile all day, music that rings for blocks, and weather that is hot as hell – there is the sweet wafting scent of spicy barbeque, a history unique among the world, and an eb and flow of personalities, and great deal of shared hardship.
It is America – and Africa – and Europe – and Asia. It is happiness and sadness. There are vile, filthy places and Hallowed, beautiful ones. There is great hurt, there is great heart, and there is hope.
But still there is an art to it all, and a science, and some kind of confounded balance that I have yet to figure out. I am firmly convinced thus far, that one cannot learn New Orleans cuisine from any book or any institution. Like true Jazz, it must be inhaled day after day, understood from every perspective, seen as though through a spinning prism, and finally, after enough courage is worked up, tried,
turned into “yours”, then finally owned.
I aim to do just that, even if the heat and all this butter nearly kill me.
After tasting some of the food, and listening to locals, and learning just a bit about this place, I finally made my first Gumbo today. I couldn’t follow someone else’s recipe, because what I know (for sure!) so far, is that everyone has their own Gumbo. Their own way of making it, their own style of throwing in a bit of this and a bit of that. So far, so good. It smells amazing. My big kids are working on math and geography, the babies are building block towers and making colossal messes, and The Gumbo (my gumbo!!) is simmering away… Waiting for the last touch – a bit of steamed rice.
It’s been quite a journey, and we are just getting started!
I doubt “my gumbo” recipe will be worthy of the publish button today, but soon, hopefully I’ll have a good recipe for a non-local to follow. I’ll try and explain it in a way that anyone will be able to understand, and include some pictures on how to make a ‘roux’ (really, it’s easy!). Other than that, I have so much other news to share with you; my terrifying gas oven that I’m sure will blow up the house, my little raised herb garden that The Marine built for me while he was on leave, my three different kinds of basil and what I’m planning to do with them, my oh-so-exciting heirloom tomatoes, the giant pumpkin plant that my kids pray for every day (good story, hehehe), a New Orleans cake I’ve discovered called “Black Velvet Cake”, and lots, lots, more.
It’s good to be settled, it’s good to be back, and I hope you all are well.
God Bless, and take care,
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