Musings on food, cooking, and dining by a New Orleans Foodie

Tuesday, August 30, 2005 and Beyond

Well, here I am writing about New Orleans food, but now I live in Tampa and it is one year later. A lot has changed in my life in the past year, as it has for many who have been exiled from New Orleans. I moved here with only one generous friend in the area who helped me get back on my feet in Florida. Because of Hurricane Katrina, I ended one relationship and began another one. Who would have thought that a natural disaster could have brought me someone so special? I started a new job in an unfamiliar field. I moved to a new neighborhood with a roommate that I met here in Tampa. I kept writing about New Orleans and its food and I began writing about Tampa food.

I remember the first time I got on the internet after the storm was at a coffee shop in the suburbs of Chicago. I was still in shock from the news coverage and my first instinct was to formulate a contingency plan. Would I live in Chicago? Move to Texas? I had no idea what to do, but I wanted to do something fast. With no source of income and the possibility that everything I owned could be packed into my car, I went into survival mode. Fortunately I had options as a single guy. During the next six weeks, I spent time in Chicago, Hammond and Tampa, where I would ultimately decide to live.

The biggest thing that I learned from this storm was not to take things for granted. I guess I am writing this today for others, but ultimately to help me remember this point. You never know when your life can change at a moment's notice, so don't ever put anything off "because I can do that anytime." I now have a new life here in Tampa; new friends, a new job, new hobbies (beach volleyball) and a wonderful new girlfriend. I am happy and I love it here.

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans? I do. At this point I have no desire to live in the city, but I miss it every day. I miss jogging on St. Charles Avenue. I miss drinking coffee on my porch at 1300 Milan. I miss being able to jump on the streetcar and head to the French Quarter. I miss getting a roast beef po'boy at Parasol's. I miss getting a bloody mary at 9am on a Sunday morning. I miss being able to see familiar faces wherever I went. I miss eating boiled crawfish and crabs on newspaper covered tables with friends and family. I miss New Orleans.

Monday, August 29, 2005

It's been an entire year and I remember it like it was yesterday. After a long day in the car on Sunday, I figured my best bet was to get out of Jackson, Mississippi as quickly as possible. I woke up extra early, took a quick shower and jumped in my car. After filling up my gas tank and grabbing a cup of coffee, I got on the interstate and headed North.

Based on the sheer numbers of evacuees headed from the Gulf Coast, I knew it would have been hard to find a hotel room, and that is just an understatement. I was one of the fortunate travellers to have found room and board, but I didn't realize it until I stopped at several rest areas, with parking lots full of people sleeping in cars. At one rest stop, I gave a gallon of water to a family that had been sleeping there since the previous evening. I knew I was on my way to a safer place and didn't need everything I had packed, but I wish I could have done more.

Later that day after many hours in the car, stopping at the Illinois welcome station was when it hit me. I struck up a conversation with the woman at the counter and she told me that the hotel rooms as far as St. Louis were all booked. That's when I realized how lucky I had been. I got back in the car and continued my journey.

I listened to the radio throughout the day, mostly NPR, and heard report after report about the damage done by Katrina. However, I was still not prepared for what I would later learn. Right outside of Chicago and after a full day in the car, I called my friend Tom and he directed me into the suburb of Berwyn, IL to his parents' house. I still remember walking into the living room and his Dad telling me that New Orleans was flooded. Even though I saw it on national TV with my own eyes, I didn't believe it. I was exhaused from spending over 22 hours in the car in a two day period. I was exhausted from the traffic, the gridlock, the lack of sleep and listening to the NPR reports on the radio.

The first thing we did was go get a margarita. It sounds funny from the outside, but I needed something familiar and I believe a drink was in order. After several drinks and a plate of enchiladas suizas, we went back home where I watched TV until I went to sleep. It was still too much to comprehend.

I think back often the different options I had and why I chose them. My original plan was to stay at The Columns and ride out the storm and I realize now that I would have been fine. The aftermath is what devastated the city. Some close friends, Scooter and Stacy rode out the storm at the Hilton Riverfront along with Ringeaux the puppy and the entire Channel 6 news crew. Scooter had already gone home to find a nearly undamaged home and even began the cleanup process. It wasn't until he saw a wall of water sweep down his street that he became alarmed. After only 20 minutes or so, there were several feet of water in the street and he made the decision to evacuate. The house was elevated about 3 feet from the ground, yet it still took several feet of water and had to be gutted; he had just bought the house a couple months prior and just finished renovating. My friend Scott stayed at the Ritz Carlton and spent the next week there taking care of people, without electricity. I heard things from him that no human being should have to experience, but he did, and I didn't.

Today is the day being celebrated and remembered as "The Day The Levee's Broke," but my celebration was last night. In true New Orleans fashion, I made Red Beans and Rice, Jambalaya and Bread Pudding and had about 10 of my closest friends there to share a special night. It felt great having the people surround me that make up my "new life." Yesterday was the one year anniversary of the day I left New Orleans, never to return. Perhaps one day I will again live in New Orleans, but regardless of where I reside, New Orleans will always live in me.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

When I got in my car on Sunday morning a year ago, I had no idea it would be my last day as a New Orleans resident. Hurricane Katrina was bearing down on the city, but like many other gulf coast residents, I failed to believe that this would be "the one." What you may not realize is that hurricane season comes every year and for more than fifty years, the gulf coast had been threatened by storms, but never had a direct hit. When people hear year after year that the big one will hit, they eventually become numb to the warnings and ignore the real threats. I hadn't planned on evacuating, but instead was going to ride out the storm at The Columns. However, I always have a backup plan for every plan, so I packed clothes to last me a couple days, along with a small ice chest of non-perishable foods and several gallons of water; just in case.

I was about to leave for work on Sunday morning when I got a call telling me that Mayor Nagin had called for a mandatory evacuation and we were closing The Columns. The first call was to my parents, who couldn't have been happier that I was getting out of the city. My first plan was to evacuate to Hammond, which required me to travel West, then North. Based on the television news reports, I decided instead to avoid the clogged I-10 and travel East, then North and double back to beat some of the traffic. I packed up a few more things in the car and secured some of my files and valuables inside my house, wrapping in plastic anything important that I may need at a later date. After all, I had no idea what I would come back to.

By the time I left my home, New Orleans was a ghost town; I felt like I was the last person in town. Everything was smooth sailing on I-10 until I hit New Orleans East, where the interstate became a parking lot. However, I was optimistic and began to make plans on turning this into a mini-vacation; a visit to Tampa or Chicago was not out of the question. I figured that I wouldn't have to be back at work until Friday at 2pm, so I could squeeze in a couple days in anther city before driving back to New Orleans for work. I called my friend Tom in Chicago and told him that I would be there that evening and we would be having margaritas by nine o'clock.

As I sat in gridlock for hours, I continually called friends and family to find out their locations. It was at that time that I realized that I wouldn't be in Chicago any time soon. With the realization that I wasn't moving very fast, I figured I would hold up somewhere for the evening and called my friend Stephen, who had evacuated to Jackson, MS. I had him try to find me a hotel room for the night, but unsuccsessful, he invited me over to stay with him and his girlfriend at her house. Pretty soon, my phone calls stopped, along with most of the cellular service in the area. Fortunately, text messages were operational and I learned real fast how to bang out correspondence on a small cell phone keypad.

After over 11 hours in the car, I showed up in Jackson, Mississippi just in time to watch Shep on Fox news. It was Stephen's birthday, so we celebrated with Champagne and I snacked on bread and gourmet cheese. I am still grateful that I had a place to stay that night, for my options were limited. I even called Stephen today for his birthday, and he was shocked that I remembered. I jogged his memory for the reason, and told him that for the rest of my life, I would probably always remember sitting in the living room at his girlfriend's house watching a giant storm approaching the gulf coast. I knew what was coming and planning to get out of Jackson the first chance I got. I set my alarm for 6am and went to sleep peacefully.

Exactly one year ago to this day, I was a resident of New Orleans. I lived in an apartment on Amelia Street, only two blocks from St. Charles Ave, and managed one of the coolest bars in Uptown New Orleans. The Columns.

I worked a double on that Saturday in August. During a break, I went across the street to Superior Grill and sat at the bar and ate dinner. Obviouisly the topic of conversation was the hurricane and plans to evacuate. I sat there and told people that we would be open, since we weren't leaving. I was scared, but no more than I had been during any other hurricane. Obviously the White House was scared too, since they even issued a warning about the hurricane.

Saturday night at The Columns was dead. Big Mike, Brian and I worked, and Mike ended up leaving early to figure out where to evacuate. Brian fought with his girlfriend over whether to evacuate and eventually gave in and drove to Texas. Of course, I believed that I would be spending the next few days at The Columns. We had a few regulars that night, but it was quiet; we ended up closing early, probably around 11pm.

When I returned to the bar six weeks later, everything was as I had left it on that Saturday night before evacuation. The napkins were still sitting there, waiting to be set back on the bar. The liquor bottles were still covered with little plastic cups. It was the creepiest feeling I had ever had, knowing that six weeks had passed, but in my world, time had stood still.

I went home early that night with the intention of catching up on sleep, and I am glad I did. I had no idea that it would be my last night of normalcy for a long, long time....

-Kevin

As you can see, I'm all stocked up on New Orleans food products. I brought home the sausage from my recent trip, the Abita Turbodog is readily available in Tampa and is a staple in my house and of course the spicy green beans for the occasional New Orleans style Bloody Mary. I opened up the fridge last night and the sight was just too pretty to pass up.

However, I don't limit my fridge contents solely to Creole or Cajun clichés. I've also got a wide variety of olives for martinis: garlic-stuffed, onion-stuffed, blue cheese-stuffed and plain pimento-stuffed queen olives that are dandy in a cocktail glass full of ice cold gin and vermouth. Cheese? I've got plenty of it, especially some high quality blue cheese for my wedge salads (not to mention the jar of blue cheese dressing).

Fruit is healthy, so I like to keep a lot of citrus on hand for the perfect margarita; right now I've got plenty of lemons and limes in the bottom right hand drawer. I had some white wine in there, but I drank it and haven't taken the time to replenish, though I do have a six pack of Japanese beers left over from my recent sushi party and a couple random domestic cans. Yes, there is more, but I wouldn't think you were interested in the mayo or Creole mustard, so you are just getting the highlights.

What's in your fridge?

I guess it was Thursday night while watching Emeril on Food TV that I decided it was time to make some gumbo. If you are from New Orleans, you are probably wondering what the hell possessed me to make gumbo on a summer day with temperatures approaching 100 degrees. Fortunately, none of my friends are from New Orleans, so they don't realize that gumbo in the summer is unheard of; so for now we'll just keep that between us <wink>. Besides, I will be taking a quick trip to NOLA this coming weekend and needed to introduce my girlfriend to the basics of New Orleans cooking.

I was pretty excited to make a great duck and andouille gumbo with a beautiful dark chocolate roux, but the procurement of ingredients was a bit of a challenge. Apparently duck, as I wanted, is a little harder to come by than I originally anticipated. On Saturday I ventured over to an Asian market here in Tampa, but was only able to find whole frozen duck with the feet and head attached, as well as duck feet and duck legs. I'm not really sure what the Orientals do with duck feet, but I couldn't picture a gumbo with little feet sticking out of the side of the bowl. And the head? I couldn't help but to think of the Chinese restaurant scene in A Christmas Story. My last option was to get a whole roasted duck, but I really needed it raw to cook with the gumbo for flavor. After checking a couple other supermarkets and meat markets, I seemed to be out of luck. So what did I end up with? Chicken. Riveting, I know; chicken and andouille gumbo. Fortunately, there is a little market near my house that carries an acceptable version of andouille.

The red beans were a little easier. I picked up some surprisingly good smoked sausage at Publix and I was on my way. You may want to stop the story right here and wonder why I hadn't begun the process on Saturday, buying the kidney beans, soaking them overnight, getting up early in the morning and putting the beans on to simmer, but I'll tell you my secret. When I'm in a hurry, I use Blue Runner canned beans. Sorry, but I have a lot going on; I don't have time to sit around doing laundry and cooking the beans ALL day. Besides, hardly anyone can tell the difference; they came out fantastic. Last night, using the leftovers I was able to have my favorite Monday evening dinner of Red Beans and Rice and a cold Abita Amber. It kind of reminds me of childhood, sans the Abita Amber, of course (what kind of childhood did you think I had??).

To round out my day of cooking, I made a stunning display of bread pudding. I really wowed the crowd with this one, despite a really easy recipe that was given to me verbally by my Dad, from a recipe he adapted from a Frank Davis cookbook. I topped it with a bourbon sauce made with lots of butter, pecans (pronounced pa-'kawns, not pee-cans) and Maker's Mark bourbon. I considered making it special by using Sazerac Rye Whiskey, but I only have on bottle and I decided to drink it instead in a Sazerac. No one would have appreciated it anyway; more for my cocktails.

At this point, you are probably wondering where you can find my recipes for these dishes or where I've posted the pictures. I'm not a very patient man, so there are no pictures; I was busy eating and entertaining and didn't make the time to photograph the food before it was consumed. The recipes are firmly planted inside my head, just as they are for most New Orleanians (my parents and grandparents included). I'm working on putting them into writing, but it's tough to explain things that you learned by growing up immersed in the culture. If you'd like recipes in the meantime, you can find some good ones at New Orleans.com, NolaCuisine, or the Gumbo Pages. You won't find the exact one twice, but that's because they will be different every time; that's the way gumbo and red beans work. As for me, I will probably get around to it soon, but I've been a little busy eating. You don't want me to starve, do you?