First Time in NOLA

A friend suggested that I write about New Orleans.  No one that knows me would be shocked at this suggestion.  I love New Orleans, and I go there as often as I can.  Having been there many times over the course of the last twelve years or so, though, it’s a little tough to figure out where to begin.  I could talk about Mardi Gras, Bourbon St, Uptown.  Gumbo, beignets, hurricanes.  Music, 24-hour bars, and random weird shit that happens at 3am in those bars.  Or I could tell you about the friends I’ve made there.  I think maybe I’ll try to get to all of the above, a little at a time.  And maybe I’ll just begin at the beginning and see if I can sort out something that makes sense to anybody but me.

The first time I went to New Orleans, I was 22 years old, and it was 1991.  I was still in college, and I was pregnant, and I was on my way home from an internship that hadn’t quite worked out for me in Kinston, North Carolina.  It hadn’t worked out mainly because I was pregnant and a little crazy at that point.  Selling books door to door 80 hours a week is not a great idea when you’re pregnant and crazy.  Not to say that pregnant women can’t handle these things, mind you, it was mainly the crazy that was getting in my way.  I left Kinston driving my old ’81 Chevy Citation, which my grandparents had given to me.  I don’t recall the exact route I took, but I believe I drove more or less south along some big highway (I-95?) til I hit Florida.  In Florida, I picked up I-10 and headed west. 

I think my original intent was to drive more or less straight through from North Carolina to Arizona and sleep in the car when I needed to.  I had almost zero money and a friend’s borrowed gas card and visa card to get me home.  As I recall, the gas card was a Texaco card.  Those nice folks at Texaco will let you buy stuff from their convenience stores with a Texaco card, by the by.  So I was making my way down the highway, fueled by Smart Corn, Texaco coffee, and Wendy’s baked potatoes, listening to a stereo with one speaker.  I think I picked up a shot glass in every state I went through.  Anyway, at some point late in the afternoon, I was on I-10 pretty close to New Orleans.

If you approach New Orleans from the east on I-10, you’ll cross a bit of Lake Pontchartrain.  For the uninitiated – Lake Pontchartrain is huge.  I had never seen it before, didn’t even know it was there.  So there I was, over the lake on I-10.  The water must have been really high, or something, because I remember that the highway was partly flooded.  People were driving pretty much where ever they felt like driving, lane markings or no.  I thought something along the lines of, hmm, they must do things differently here in Louisiana.

Now, this was my first time to New Orleans, but I’d always wanted to go.  I had pictures of pretty buildings and the sound of Dixieland jazz in my head, and I knew I wanted to try some red beans and rice.  But that was about it.  I hadn’t planned on being there at that point, and I had no idea at all where anything was, but I’d thought that the French Quarter might be cool.  I told myself I’d allow myself three hours to walk around and see things, and then I’d hit the road again.  I stayed on I-10 til I saw a sign that said “French Quarter,” and then I got off the highway. 

I managed to find free parking on the street down near the French Market.  I got out of the car and headed out to wander.   It was nighttime by then.  I don’t know what streets I was on.  It was quiet, and it was dark.  I’m not sure I really knew what to expect, but the beauty of the buildings just took my breath away.  I saw residents standing on their balconies.  Got glimpses into second-storey windows with light, sheer curtains blowing in the breeze.  I just walked and walked and looked at things.  It was so quiet that I remember thinking I’d found this great, beautiful, secret place.

At some point I ran across a small restaurant.  I wish I could tell you which one it was or even where it was, but I just cannot remember.  I have a vague idea that it may have been somewhere on Decatur.  The place had about two rows of tables, one on each side of the room.  The walls were red brick, and there was a brick archway in the back.  It seems to me that it had a pirate theme, but it may be just that I was thinking of pirates.  I got a table and ordered red beans and rice.  They were about $6.  The food turned out to be a huge disappointment to me, though.  I’d probably love the very same red beans and rice today, but at that point, I didn’t eat spicy food at all.  Yes, I grew up in Arizona.  I just didn’t really care for it.  And throughout my first pregnancy, even the slightest bit of pepper (think fettuccini alfredo) gave me terrible heartburn.  So I tasted them, had a few bites, and thought, “these would be good if they hadn’t made them so HOT.”  Ha.  I put cayenne in almost everything now.  I suppose “hot” is an acquired taste for some people.

So after my quick dinner, I resumed my walk through the Quarter.  And at length, I found myself on Bourbon St.  I remember seeing a street sign and thinking, Ooh, this street is famous.  I managed after a bit to get to a busier area of Bourbon.  There were music clubs, strip clubs, people walking down the middle of the street with drinks in their hands.  Wait, what?  Drinks in their hands?  Down the middle of the street?  It was like a huge party, and it was a damn shame I couldn’t drink.

I couldn’t believe all the music.  I remember hearing lots of R&B type stuff – real R&B, from the 70s or so.  It was like a giant musical smorgasbord walking up the street.  The music just drifted out from bar after bar.  I had it in my head somehow that I might see Aaron Neville in one of those bars, an idea that is quite amusing now.  Aaron Neville singing on Bourbon St, ridiculous! 

I was shocked by the number of strip clubs.  Some of them had signs out front advertising no cover for unescorted ladies.  Oh my!  I was ambling along slowly down the middle of the street, trying to take it all in, when I was approached by two inebriated young men with drinks in their hands.  Not bad looking, as I recall.  One of them inquired as to whether I’d ever “had two guys at once.”  I said “no thanks” and kept moving.  Slightly offensive, but oddly flattering, and certainly amusing.  All in all, it seemed that Bourbon St was a place where anything could happen.

When it came close to the 3 hours I’d allotted myself being up, I headed back to the car and got back on I-10.  A couple of exits later, I got back off the highway to get some gas.  I filled up and started to pull out of the Shell station, and suddenly there were copious amounts of smoke coming out from under my hood.  Oh, no.  This can’t be good.  The guy at the gas station did something or other to patch me up (water in the radiator after waiting for a bit?), and I got a hotel for the night.  I wound up at a La Quinta in Metairie.  It was awfully frustrating to be so close to the Quarter and not be able to get there, but being poor, I really had no choice but to stay put.

In the morning, I took the car to a garage and had the guys look at it.  Turns out that whatever was wrong with the thing was going to cost $700 to fix, but they could finish it that day.  I got on the pay phone.  I had a friend in Alabama who was willing to wire the $700 to the garage so I could be on my way.  I spent the day sitting at the gas station, waiting for the car, and finally was on my way.  Twenty-seven hours later, after a three-hour nap by the side of the road, I was home.

It was far from what I would have hoped my first trip to New Orleans to be.  I didn’t get much time to see the sights.  Not enough to enjoy them properly.  Little did I know that there’s never enough time to see the sights in New Orleans.  Twenty-one years later, after more trips there than I can count, I think they only way to maybe get enough would be to once and for all just move there.  Stay tuned.  I'll try to explain why.

Walking in the Park

We moved into this house almost 16 years ago.  At the time, I was overjoyed, partly because we live close to a nice park with a lake.  It’s got multiple playgrounds, paddleboats, volleyball courts, baseball fields, batting cages, soccer fields, and an indoor wave pool.

The kids were pretty young when we moved in.  For me, it was moving “back,” because I lived in this house when I was a kid, from ages 4 to 11 or so.  When the kids were little, we went to the park to play and to walk around the lake.  I’ve gone to the park many times over the years, but not nearly as much as I thought I would.  Life gets in the way, you know.  I tend to oversleep in the mornings, so an early-morning walk or workout is pretty much out.  When I get home, I’m tired, and there’s stuff to do.  So, I hadn’t been to the park for awhile.

This evening, I arrived home from work, started a pot of beans cooking (baby limas in ham stock with rosemary), read a little, and then set out for a walk.  It’s a little warm out:  95 degrees at 9:30pm.  Ninety-five isn’t the end of the world – we’ve seen 120 here, after all.  It’s a little warm, though, and it makes for a sweaty walk.  Not that I’m complaining.  Just sayin’.

Not having walked a whole lot lately, I felt all of my 43 years dragging behind me.  I’ve got to do this more often.  Like, every day.  Twice.  Being a little older has its benefits, though.   I now have decent shoes and a phone that will keep track of my mileage for me (thanks, Runkeeper).  Runkeeper tells me that I walked 1.78 miles tonight, and conveniently posted this to Facebook for me.  Amazing.

The park is mostly the same as it ever was.  They keep the grass around the lake pretty nice, and the trees are taller and fuller than they were.  There are also more of them.  A few years ago, they redid some of the ramadas around the lake.  There were families walking the path around the lake, guys fishing, people sitting by the water talking, families cooking what smelled like steak on the barbecue grills.  All in all, it’s a nice, peaceful walk.  It’s pretty quiet, and I love being by the water.  What is it about a body of water, even a little one, that feels peaceful?

I’m still glad that the park, and the lake, are so close to home that I can go walk around and enjoy them.  I resolve now to do so more often.  I’d like to ask a couple of things of the City, though.  First, could you please make sure that the lights in the park are all functional?  Seems like having a couple of lights out around the lake in the park could pose a safety issue on several levels.  Second, the south end of the lake looks a little iffy.  There’s some sort of debris that I couldn’t quite make out in the dark floating in there, and that’s probably for the best.  Please don’t make me call to remind you about these issues, because it won’t be a pleasant experience for anyone.

Stay tuned tomorrow.  Hopefully, Runkeeper will joyfully announce on Facebook again that I’ve taken a  walk around the lake.  If it does, I will patiently put up will all of your teasing about how I didn’t go far, and I’m not running.  I know that every little bit helps.  If there is no Runkeeper announcement tomorrow, you have my permission to give me a hard time about it. 

Soup

Let me start by saying that I am not a chef.  My last culinary training was eighth-grade home ec, and   I'm pretty sure that my home ec teacher hated me.  I couldn't make biscuits or poach an egg, and forget about cleaning the sink.  Over the years, though, as I find new foods that I enjoy, I try and learn to make them.  Mashed potatoes, feijoada, red beans and rice, gumbo, pot roast, etouffee, tamales...you get the idea.  I look up recipes and cooking techniques and start trying things.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm a good cook, and I certainly don't do anything fancy, but no one in my house is going to starve.  I've finally gotten to where I can throw together random foods that I have around and make something edible.  And I've learned that I enjoy cooking.  Something about the magic of starting out with a whole bunch of individual, separate ingredients and winding up with a result that is somehow more than the sum of its parts appeals to me.  And there's a visceral satisfaction in feeding people.

I was asked not too long ago if I had a blog.  No, I didn't have one.  I didn't know what I could possibly write about.  And then a friend of mine asked today about beginner's soup and stew cookbooks.  I've been kind of getting into soup lately, so I feel like I have a couple of things to share on the subject.  And voila, now I have a blog.  Let me say again, I don't purport to be an expert.  If you have a better way of doing things, by all means, let me know.  But I can tell you a little bit.

So, here's what I know about Soup...

First, you'll need some stock.  The type of stock you're going to want will depend on what you're going to put in the soup.  Veggie stock if you're a vegetarian, chicken or turkey if you're making soup with poultry, ham for ham, potatoes, or beans.  Do not use canned broth or boullion.  It's much more salty than it needs to be, and it's kind of expensive.

For chicken or turkey stock, first cook the bird.  Roast it using whatever seasonings you like.  You can't go wrong with thyme, sage, and rosemary, in my humble opinion.  Fresh herbs taste better than dried, but either will certainly work.  I like to coat the outside of it with softened butter.  Once you've cooked it, let it cool, then remove the meat from the bones.  Put it in a ziploc, or other airtight container, and refrigerate it.  Preheat the oven to 400.  Once it's heated up, put the carcass in a roasting pan and roast it for about 35 minutes.  Four hundred degrees is really hot, but this does work, and it greatly improves the flavor of the stock.  Just pull the carcass out of the oven when it smells like it might be about to burn.

Get a really big stock pot.  The biggest one you can find.  You're going to want to make as much of this stuff as possible, more than you're going to use for one pot of soup.  That way, you can freeze the extra and use it later.  Put the carcass in the stock pot.  Cover with water.  Quarter an onion or two and throw them in.  Cut three or so carrots into thirds, remove the tops, and add them.  Same thing with three or so stalks of celery.  Throw in the celery leaves, too, if you have them.  If you like garlic, add three or four cloves, peeled and crushed.  Salt and whole peppercorns, too, and 2 or 3 bay leaves.  I use not too much salt and a bunch of pepper.  I don't measure.  Once you've got all the veggies and seasonings in, fill up the pot with water.

Now, if you use just the items listed above, you'll have a perfectly acceptable stock.  But you can add more to your stock pot and get a more complex flavor.  A friend of mine was kind enough to share The Gumbo Pages with me - Thanks LBD!  They've got a great stock recipe that I love at http://www.gumbopages.com/food/stocks/turk-stock.html.

Whatever you're adding to the stock pot, once it's in there, get it started cooking.  Bring it to a simmer, and let it keep simmering as long as you can.  The recipe above says 2 hours.  I usually cook mine for about 5 or so before I have to run off and do something else.  I think some folks will let theirs simmer all day.  I believe that you get more flavor the longer you simmer the stock.

Once you're done cooking the stock, you're going to need to strain it.  I use tongs to get the carcass out and a slotted spoon for the veggies.  Toss out the carcass at this point.  If you're inclined to save the veggies, you can use them for other things.  If you put them in a blender or food processor, for example, you can get them mashed up real good til they're about the consistency of hummus.  This makes an interesting dip.

Let the stock cool off some before you go to strain it.  To strain your broth, you're going to want a big colander or strainer and some cheesecloth.  Line the colander with a couple of layers of cheesecloth.  I put the lined colander in a second big pot.  You're going to need to put it on top of something in the pot so that the stock can flow through it.  Just make sure it's stable.  I use a big tamalera.  A tamalera has a "shelf" in it.  You put water under it and stack the tamales on top to steam them.  So it works well for me for the stock straining, too.  Once you've got the whole pot of stock strained, strain it again for a good measure.  Rinse out the cheese cloth before you start straining it for a second time.

If you're making ham stock, it's a similar process.  Get a ham bone (or you could use ham hocks).  Do not roast the bone, just put it in the stock pot with your veggies (same as above) and whatever seasonings you choose and simmer for a few hours.  I don't have a recipe to refer to for this, but the only seasonings I add to mine are salt and pepper.  Strain it when you're done simmering.

A quick note regarding cheese cloth - I think most grocery stores have this in small packages with the cooking utensils.  I've heard that it's cheaper to get it at Home Depot, where I believe it would be with the paint supplies.  Either way, cheese cloth is the way to go.  I've tried using coffee filters for this, but it didn't work out too well.  Ahem.

So, now that you've got the stock, figure out what all you're going to put in the soup.  If you just cooked a chicken or a turkey, you can certainly use some or all of that meat.  Just keep in mind that it's already cooked, so you won't want to put it in the pot til the soup is almost done.

Now, if you're looking for good combinations of veggies to put in a soup, I'd recommend searching the internet.  You can take a look at what you have on hand and then do a search for recipes that call for those items.  Something like, "onion, chicken, squash soup recipe" will yield tons of results which you can then read through to get ideas.  Soup doesn't have to be complicated or fancy or follow any particular recipe, though.  If you've got a good stock, you can throw in all kinds of stuff and it will be wonderful. 

Whatever you decide, I generally start with onions and garlic.  I chop the onion and cook it on medium heat in the same pot I'm going to use to cook the soup.  I use butter, because I like it.  Yeah, maybe it's not healthy, but two tablespoons of butter in an entire pot of soup isn't likely to kill you.  I cook the onions til they're soft.  Keep them moving, not constantly, but every few seconds or so, just enough so that they don't burn.  While they're cooking, peel and mince your garlic, if you're going to use it.  Once the onion has gotten soft, add the garlic to the pan and cook for a few more minutes, still keeping it moving.

Once the onions and garlic are ready to go, I add some stock to the pot.  Fill it up about halfway, and leave the heat at about medium or so.

If you're going to make a chicken or turkey soup, you can always use the standard chopped carrots and celery.  I'd chop them fairly finely.  Add them to the soup pot.  If you're inclined to add other veggies in, go for it.  I've tried okra, tomatoes, mushrooms, yellow squash, zucchini...just whatever you feel like having.  Your veggies will be soft after about 30 minutes of simmering.  You can also add cooked noodles or rice to give it a little more substance.  Once you've gotten all the solids in the pot that are going in, excluding the already-cooked meat, fill the pot til it's close to the top with more stock.  Add any basic seasonings you're going to use at this point.

I'm not good with any but the most basic seasonings, so I usually turn to the internet for ideas here.  Once I've figured out what meat and vegetables are going into the soup, I do another search like the one outlined above and then browse the recipes that come up for seasoning ideas.  So, season your soup, and taste it.  If it needs more of one thing or another, add it, a little bit at a time.

Simmer for about 30 minutes.  While this is happening, you can chop up the chicken or turkey that you cooked so that it's in bite-sized pieces.  If you're using uncooked sausage instead of the cooked poultry, throw it into the soup pot whole and let it simmer for the 30 minutes with the veggies.

You can also package up the rest of your stock and put it in the freezer while the soup is simmering.  I put mine in rectangular plastic containers and label them with the contents and date.

After the 30 minutes, add your poultry.  If you used sausage, pull it out of the soup, slice it into bite-sized pieces, and throw it back in.  Taste the soup and see if you think it needs more seasoning of one sort or another.  From this point, just cook it long enough to heat up the cold poultry that you just threw in.

Remember, there are tons of resources out there to help you determine what goes well with what.  Use the internet, cookbooks, talk with your friends. 

Enjoy.