Some Kind of Sublime: Late August in New Orleans [by Kathleen Heil]

Some Kind of Sublime: a Madri Gras Indian Summer
-- a domestic dispatch from our Madrid correspondent Kathleen Heil

It's noon on a Thursday, two days before the fourth anniversary of the day the levees broke here in New Orleans, and the weather is all kinds of lovely -- only 84 degrees and 50 percent humidity, springtime of a certain kind for August in Louisiana. It means I can sit outside as I type, enjoy the breeze, tolerate the mosquitoes, and wish I had a sno-ball in my hands. [Photo credit: Corinne Keller].

Last night Leah Chase handed me the best bowl of gumbo z'herbs I'd ever tasted, best because it was dirty with spices, when so many gumbo z'herbs (like certain men?) are pretty but bland.  The bowl is part of a six-pot gumbo-for-all and book signing to kickoff the One Book, One New Orleans 2009 selection: Gumbo Tales by Sara Roahen. I wait in a long line for her to sign my book, then realize I am standing in the wrong line, these people are waiting to buy alcohol. Iin New Orleans the first order of business is always booze, even in Latter Library, but I already have my drink, so I go for the gumbo, which runs out quickly, and then the book signing; books being books, they never run out).  I get in the shorter line, which is still long enough that it snakes around the room.  As I wait I drink wine and eat cake and chat with New Orleans ladies who talk that lovely way New Orleans ladies do, loud and loose, like they got lost somewhere between Long Island and Boston had a drink and came home.  I ask the author annoying questions. Is being selected for One Book better than being singled out by Oprah? Does she have a favorite NOLA food? (Answers: a laugh and gumbo.)  I explain that although I am from here I can't seem to find my way home. I have to go back to Madrid. She smiles and signs my book lucky gal.

Later that night I walk by a Lucky Dog cart and into the Royal Sonesta Hotel for a benefit organized by Irvin Mayfield featuring the Afro-Cuban rhythms of Los Hombres Calientes. (Though some of Mayfield's session musicians are here, the other Hot Boy, Bill Summers, is not). Irvin sings and plays the trumpet and shekere with his whole body; he is joined by Ron Markham on the piano, Leon "Kid Chocolate" Brown on trumpet, tambourine, clave, and shekere, David Kalfus on bass, Michael Watson on slide trombone, Jamal Batiste on drums, and Luis Quintero playing the congas and cowbell with devotion-inspiring fierceness. Perhaps that's why there is a priest sitting in the VIP section -- the very priest that kicks my mother and me out of the VIP section, which doesn't seem very Christian of him.

These hombres start out playing some traditional Cuban rhythms, slide into a cool riff of Summertime and then back into the Latin jazz, closing the set with some traditional Mardi Gras Indian music. New Orleans is a city built upon so many contradictions they sometimes contain, koan like, their own (kind of) solution. I am transported by these rhythms but also saddened by the sublimity of the music, because I know I cannot suspend the moment any longer than the moment allows: this jazz set, like all jazz sets, must end.

So I raised my mojito high, I sang along when Irvin asked us to, I danced the funky butt to Iko Iko and flew my napkin flag, I prayed for my city the only way I knew how.

(Note: Irvin Mayfield's Love Sessions run through Sunday, August 29 and each night all ticket proceeds benefit a different charity.  Click here for more information and and a downloadable podcast of the August 26 set; here for information on One Book, One New Orleans and here for more about Gumbo Tales author Sara Roahen.)

Comments

[DL]

"So many gumbo z'herbs (like certain men?) are pretty but bland." Can you elaborate on this inspired but unexpected analogy? And how about a recipe? Thanks, Kathleen.

[Kathleen Heil]

Hmm, to elaborate on the men/gumbo analogy, I'd have to "go for the branches," as the Spanish say. But I do have an easy (if not quick) gumbo recipe for y'all. See below

--Kathleen
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This is a recipe designed for people who don't live in New Orleans and can't make groceries with that same ease as a local, e.g., your local supermarket doesn't sell okra, filé powder, creole seasoning, fresh seafood or andouille sausage. Gumbo intimidates people but if you don't fuss over the ingredients, it's actually pretty simple. Just take your time (you'll need at least an hour) and make sure you get your roux right. Do try to find a nice hot sauce to finish the gumbo if you can. Avoid Tabasco, which is weak and vinegary and use Crystal or your local stuff instead. Making groceries, by the way, is old NOLA speak for going grocery shopping, a Franglish translation of the even older faire son marché.

Chicken and Sausage Gumbo For People Who Can't Make Groceries

3/4 cups flour
3/4 cups oil (vegetable or olive oil is fine)
1 onion, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
2-3 stalks of celery, chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced (more or less to taste)
generous pinches of the following: salt, oregano, thyme black pepper, cayenne pepper
2 quarts chicken stock
1 lb. sausage, browned and chopped into bite-sized pieces (whatever is fresh and flavorful in your part of the world, living in Spain I use chorizo)
1 lb. chicken, deboned and chopped into bite-sized pieces (whatever parts of the bird you like, ambitious cooks should buy one whole, make a stock with the carcass use the meat for the gumbo, which is less involved than it sounds)
1 bottle good hot sauce, for serving (look for a product without preservatives which doesn't list vinegar as the first ingredient)
2 cups long grain white or basmati rice
1 baguette or other freshly baked bread

serves about 6 as an entrée.

First you make the roux. Heat a large stock pot to medium heat and add the flour and oil and stir constantly. You will have to stay with this, risotto style, for at least the next twenty minutes, so grab your friends and gumbo ya-ya (chit-chat) while you make your gumbo. Stir the mixture with a wire whisk and watch the color darken. It should have a nutty smell and turn the color of peanut butter after ten minutes or fifteen minutes, gradually darkening to a milk chocolate color after thirty. As the color develops turn the heat down and keep stirring, which is the only trick, really, to roux-making. If you have your heat too high or you don't stir every few seconds the roux will splatter and burn, which is bad for the roux and the skin on your hands, so take it easy. I like a dark roux so I usually let it cook for 30-40 minutes but if you want a milder flavor you can stop around minute 20.

To stop the roux from developing, add your trinity (onion, celery, and bell pepper, the mirepoix of Creole cooking) keeping the heat on medium-low. Add the garlic and spices and let cook until the trinity softens and takes on the flavor of the roux, about 8 minutes. Add the stock, chicken, and sausage and let simmer, skimming fat occasionally and adjusting seasoning as needed. Most people simmer their gumbo for an hour but I've found you can cook it for 30-40 minutes to the same effect. While the gumbo is simmering, steam the rice according to package instructions.

To serve, place a generous scoop of rice into a large, wide bowl and serve the gumbo on top.
Have a good hot sauce handy for those who want it and serve with fresh bread.

[Shulamith]

Thanks for the recipe. Can't wait to try it out.