appetites

I am late alerting you to the recently released Haute Plates blog, because I have been busy. I humbly* apologize, and beg your forgiveness.**
This week I discuss the most recent Horrible Fucking Thing to happen to the Gulf Coast. I have no additional picture to share with you on this occasion. I don’t imagine you will feel the loss too acutely?
I was a little reluctant to add (what I hope was) a bit of humor to the piece, but I tend to find comfort in humor, and I hope that’s the way it’s taken. I certainly don’t find a lot to be amused about in the situation, but I am hopeful that we will come through as we have in the past. It’s been damn near impossible for me to actually pay attention to the thing, because I just don’t know that I have the emotional energy to deal with the potentially devastating impact that the oil could have on so many aspects of our lives down here. I have, therefore, chosen to be mostly optimistic.
As always, leave a comment there, or send me an email if you want to share a thought.

*arrogantly
**piss off

I haven’t written about it, because it’s almost too much to contemplate, but the oil spill that has resulted from the explosion of the Horizon rig is a tremendous threat to our coastline and to our fisheries. It is only now being reported widely, and that’s a goddamn travesty.
Chef John Besh has a piece in the Atlantic right now that I think is worth reading if you give two shits about Louisiana and the Gulf Coast generally.
I recommend you read the whole thing, but here’s a representative paragraph:

These are federal waters. It’s not a natural disaster, whatever I hear people say on television. It’s so frustrating. The Federal government has known about this for 10 days. It should have said, “We’re going to act now,” and not wait[ed] for BP to take action. This is unprecedented—not a little spill from a ship. We do want to hold these companies responsible. But first and foremost, we need to protect citizens. This is much more than about birds. It’s about a culture, an economy, the livelihood of thousands and thousands of people—and wetlands that have been the most concentrated source of seafood production for our entire country.

I will thank you very much if you do not fucking email me to tell me how this is something we just need to deal with down here. I trust that most of you don’t feel that way, but I got more than a few moronic emails after Katrina, and I just don’t feel like dealing with that particular brand of asshole at the moment.
Wish us luck.

I should know by now that I am incapable of doing anything more complicated than adding the appropriate html code for italics or hyperlinks. When I attempted to switch the hosting for appetites a few days ago, I made a boo-boo, and the site went down. I think I managed to fix it by returning the site to its original host, but it’s also possible that someone else did something behind the scenes to clean up the mess I’d made. If that is the case: many thanks.
At any rate, I will allow the professionals to do their work henceforth, and limit my involvement to adding content and cursing.
In that regard, the current radio commercial for the Red Maple Restaurant is a faux-Cajun atrocity that makes my ears bleed. Whenever I hear it, I switch the channel immediately, and I bet I’m not alone. I have never been to the Red Maple, and so cannot comment on the food, but God DAMN I hate that commercial.
That is all.

Hey kids, I don’t do this often; in fact, this is the first time, but a friend of mine has a request that I thought I’d pass along. My friend Eddie is one of the kindest, best guys I’ve ever met. His cousin Jeremy was in an accident recently, and is at University Hospital. He needs blood, and soon. If you can donate, you’ll need this information:
Jeremy Pons – 2/20/79
900 O’Dwyer St
Jefferson, LA 70121
University Hospital
New Orleans
Thanks.

Today is Mardi Gras, and the majority of New Orleans will be celebrating. Mardi Gras, or “Fat Tuesday,” is the last day before the penitential 40 days of Lent. Starting tomorrow, many Catholic New Orleanians will give up meat and/or other pleasures of the flesh until Easter. Today, then, is a blow-out that winds up the celebration we started about two weeks ago.
Of course, this year the Saints won the Superbowl. The victory over the Colts has some folks calling this year’s Carnival, “Lombardigras.” Not me, because while the Saints’ victory was incredible, it’s no reason to change the name of a celebration we’ve held here for hundreds of years. “Lombardigras” was last Tuesday, when the City hosted what was likely the biggest parade we’ve ever held to Celebrate the victory.
But the Saints success has put an even bigger jolt into the community. Some of us have been in full celebration mode since the ‘Bowl, and are now looking forward to a little rest. I’m not happy that I’m sick with some sort of stomach bug, but I suppose it could have come at a worse time. At least I’m not missing work today.
I am a member of Le Krewe d’Etat, which parades on the Friday before Mardi Gras. This year, as I have for the last several, I danced as a member of the Dictator’s Dancin’ Dawlins. I leave you with an image taken by my friend Norris Gagnet, early on the route. That’s me, waving:

Dictator’s Dancin’ Dawlins
Happy Mardi Gras, y’all.

Holy Shit.
What a game. What a night. What an incredible thing to experience after 35 years as a fan of the Saints. I really didn’t know how the city would react if we lost. I think we’d have been despondent this morning. I think it would have put something of a damper on Carnival. Happily, I’ll never know, because the Saints won the game, and won it handily.
Not to get all football nerd, but on Sunday morning, I watched a show on ESPN called “The Sports Reporters,” and one of the “reporters” observed that Gregg Williams was overrated as a defensive coach, because the Saints went from 26th in defense in the NFL in 2008 to 20th in 2009. It was a shallow observation, because most of the yardage we gave up during the year was due to the fact that we had a lead in games, and played “prevent” defense. Also, when our starting cornerbacks were injured during the latter part of the season, our defense suffered. We had our cornerbacks back for the Superbowl, and it showed.
One of my partners, five years my junior, has a framed “Aints” paper bag in his office. It’s a beautiful souvenir of a time when the Saints were a terrible team. Even then, we loved them, and even then, we always had hope. “Next year” was the refrain. I think this says it a hell of a lot better than I ever could, and if you haven’t read it. Do so now.
I really haven’t completely processed the game, and what it means to New Orleans. I have a feeling I’m going to break down at some point and cry like a child. I’m neither proud nor ashamed of it. It’s just how things are.
I didn’t make it to the Quarter last night. I met some friends at Clever, then another friend at Robert’s bar, but everywhere I went last night, people were ecstatic. When I woke up this morning, I asked my son to bring me either horse tranquilizers, or adrenaline, but he didn’t come through. Turns out I didn’t need either. While I haven’t processed it yet, I’m just unbelievably happy.
Tomorrow’s parade downtown is going to be insane. I don’t expect to be able to leave downtown for quite a while once things get started. And that’s ok. It’s going to be a catharsis, I think, and we won’t be done until Ash Wednesday.
That’s ok too. It’s New Orleans. And if you understand, then you do. If you don’t, I’m terribly sorry for you.
Whodat.
Update: this is New Orleans

You may be aware that the New Orleans Saints are playing in the Superbowl this evening. You may also be aware that I am from New Orleans. You might surmise from these two facts that I am a fan of the New Orleans Saints, and thus interested in the game. You would be correct, and should pat yourself on the back. Actually, feel free to pat yourself wherever you’d prefer.
It’s been a long season; longer than any in which the Saints have ever participated. The City is in a fever pitch at the moment, both because of the Saints, and because Carnival is here. As some indication, we had a hotly contested mayoral election here yesterday, and the local media report that only 89,000 citizens cast votes. That’s down from 108,000 in the last such election, which was held when the City was still recovering population from Katrina evacuees.
It doesn’t make sense for adults to become so emotionally invested in a team of professional athletes, but that is what has happened. Very few people I know locally are not fans of the Saints, and I have heard more grown men admit to tearing up during Jim Henderson’s call of the kick that sent the Saints to Miami than deny it.
If the Saints win tonight, the City is going to explode in celebration. No cars will be overturned, and no shops will be set on fire, but the party will otherwise be out of control. It will also last for more than a week, as Fat Tuesday is not until February 16th.
If the Saints lose, I’m not really sure what the City will be like. Subdued, likely, at least until this coming Tuesday, when there will be a parade to honor the team in downtown New Orleans. Win or lose, that’s going to be an event to remember.
Whodat.

A couple of items to share this morning. First up, this article in the NYT dining section regarding cooking sous vide at home. The impetus for the story appears to be the release of the SousVide Supreme, which is specifically designed for the home kitchen. At $499, it’s pretty expensive, but lots of people have expensive gadgets in their kitchens, and it will probably sell well.
I also received a press release from Custom Choice Cereal, an outfit in North Carolina that will make gluten-free cereal to your specification, with a few different options. You start with three choices for the cereal base, a bunch of different dried fruits, then nuts or shredded coconut. When you add ingredients, the price per bag updates, as does the nutritional information depicted in a bar to the right of the screen. Pretty neat concept, actually. The corn flakes with apricots and almonds I created cost around $5.77 per bag containing around 11 cups of cereal. It may be worth checking out if you’re intolerant of gluten.*

*Fucking gluten, can’t trust it.

Men, Women, and Mannish Boys take note: the 3rd annual Po Boy Preservation Festival will take place this Sunday, November 22nd, on Oak Street between Carrollton and Eagle Streets.
The festival has been incredibly popular in its first two years, and this year is likely to be similar. The popularity led to some pretty serious crowds, but this year the area that the festival will encompass has been expanded, and a few of the attractions have been moved to the periphery of the show. More importantly from my perspective, there will be a screen set up for the Saints game.
I’ll be one of a host of judges this year, and I’m looking forward (foreword) to it. With 40 or so selections, there should be food enough for everybody’s taste.
Anyway, it’s going to be a good time, and I’m pretty pleased to be taking part. Say “hello” if you see me out there.
Or don’t, and feel the steely wrath of my gaze upon your nape. Muah.

Hello semi-imaginary friends! I have written an article that was published as the cover story in Gambit. It came out this morning, and if you are not in New Orleans, you may find it here. Please enjoy.
If you do not enjoy, please accept my apologies. I have been dealing with some troublesome woodland creatures. I think I have things sorted out, but if my body is found scratched and stuffed with acorns, do not believe that it was an accident.
That is all.