not since the last meal...

This past weekend as I so often do, I found myself driving around town aimlessly. All through uptown, Metairie and the Lakefront, I drove, hoping that something from this adventure would strike me as unique and provide an experience completely in and of itself New Orleanian. Ambivalent to the mission of this post, I came upon what appeared to be a party in the streets around Carrolton Avenue, and I couldn’t pass it up. The opportunity to impose myself in this situation was incredible. I spent the better part of an afternoon at this crawfish boil, talking to people and learning about this uniquely Acadian interpretation of a larger national tradition of barbeque-ing.
Being a person who does not normally do well in situations where I know nobody and where interaction is forced, I had a blast. Unfortunately, as I was not expecting an experience like this I did not have any of the tools to document it accurately, so my experience is through the somewhat romanticized veil of my recollection. This block party was gathering of neighbors celebrating the end of summer. But to them the opportunity to come together, eat, drink and spend an afternoon telling stories about past, the flood, and of course, the last great meal they shared, is invaluable. When it came to eating, unfortunately I couldn’t eat nearly as much as I wanted to, my allergy to shellfish really put a damper on my day. I still found time to sample as much of the crawfish, the gumbo, the jambalaya and the red beans and rice as I could handle. While this was a community gathering, and almost everyone in attendance had contributed something, when I asked that the people point me in the direction of the “chef” so I could thank whoever individuals for the amazing food I had just eaten, over and over again I was pointed in one direction. Agnes, whose last name has since escaped me, was born in the late 1930’s in the same 17th ward neighborhood she still lives. By her own description a creole, Agnes is the oldest of seven children born to a dockworker and a homemaker. When asked about the role she played in the upbringing of her brothers and sisters, one of the first comments she made regarded helping her mother cook for all of them, as she pointed to the pots and pans and grills in this front yard we found ourselves in. To watch the expression on her face as she saw the people eating and enjoying this party was to see the face of any proud mother watching her children succeed. As our conversation continued she brought me through her history, her marriage, her children, all throughout tying her cooking into each stage of her life, without my prompting. She offered her favorite dishes, her childrens’, friends, and family’s favorite dishes and even some of her secrets. It was at this time that I understood, food permeates life, food improves life, food defines life. Days in New Orleans are not measured by the rising and the setting of the sun, rather by the celebration of meals, with events of the past placed in order in relation to occasions involving food.
Unfortunately my conversation with Agnes could not continue as long as I would have liked, she was needed by the others at the party. But the first part of my research into the relevance of food in New Orleans, at personal and neighborhood scale, will hopefully lead me to a deeper understanding in the future when I hope to tie this passion and this history found in people like Agnes into those people who have taken this love for food and translated it into a business.

you are what you eat

what is it about a city with such a high incidence of small buisness ownership and independent restaurant ownership that has me longing for an applebees? my background. Coming from a place where it is more convenient to grab a quick bite at a restaurant where the menu is reliable and familiar has in itself a sense of comfort. The tendency of a culture to identify itself with a type of food is commonplace throughout the globe. Understanding the culture in New Orleans that has produced a need for communities to express themselves through food, and to identify themselves with a food however, holds a place set apart in United States culture. A sense of pride in neighborhood eateries, not just in the food that they provide, but in what they give back to the community, gives these places the identity they provide the community.
Neighborhood to neighborhood, more often than not, you will not have to look far to recieve a unique interpretation on an even more unique style of southern louisiana's cooking. Brown cajun gumbo, red creole gumbo, jambalaya, etouffe are all part of the cuisine that has identified this place as the food capital of the United States. The Contribution of the Acadian culture is felt and expressed best through the phrase "work like hell to make your money, then spend it all having a good time", this quote from a Les Blank film sums up the attitude of New Orleanians with regards to food. Meals are meant to be enjoyed and shared amongst neighbors. Crawfish boils are a regular occurance and meals become events.
Good local recipes give way to neighborhood icons. In this way small business here in New Orleans takes on a special role. With one of the highest rates of small business ownership of anywhere I have ever been. The role of small business on the psyche of the average person here in new orleans and the role of food then are very much intertwined for this reason. This connection between community pride through food and community pride through business ownership, along with the propogation of a a certain type of cooking which has infiltrated the larger United States as a symbol of the region, is what fascinates me, especially considering its humble origins as simply a method of bringing communities together to celebrate life.