Appealing enough for Jackson to finish "every bite" even after a few days of amazing food in New Orleans.

January 26, 2010

Jackson’s Lunch:

• Green Salad with Chicken, Rice, Roasted Peppers and Tahini Dressing
• Carrots, Celery, and Apple Wedges
• Cheese Round with Crackers
• Granola Bar Bites

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything and for good (and oh-so-tasty) reason—we’ve just returned from a delicious few days in New Orleans. 

New Orleans is a city drenched in decadence with delectable food at the forefront.  We had the pleasure of living there for three years, and we just barely began to learn the culture of food for which the city is so well-known.  When one thinks of New Orleans, gumbo, étouffée, red beans and rice, and jambalaya perhaps come to mind.  But there’s so much more to experience in the Big Easy, culinarily speaking and otherwise.

Blackened Gulf shrimp was my very first meal in New Orleans when I arrived in my new home town a few months after Hurricane Katrina.  I’ve always loved shrimp, but I had never really tasted shrimp in all its glory until I bit into that first charred morsel.  It was sweet and tender with the perfect amount of brininess and fresher than you can ever imagine.  I actually talked about it for days, and once we were settled into our NOLA home, shrimp became a dinner-time staple.

I learned to appreciate okra while living in Louisiana.  My mom prepared fried okra when I was a kid, and I was less than thrilled to eat it then.  But when both the temperature and humidity hover right below 100 and it only cools down to the mid-eighties at night, okra and weeds are about all that grow. 

So, I grew to appreciate okra for its hardiness before I learned about its ability to thicken a pot of gumbo.  The first time I made gumbo, the recipe said to cook the okra until all the “ropiness” disappeared.  Ropiness?  As I began cooking it, I realized “ropiness” was a less-disgusting term for stringy sliminess.  But the thickening power of okra is undeniable, and I soon began to love the vegetable not only for its hardiness, but also for its thickening power and the way the seeds give a gumbo another layer of texture when they pop between your teeth—yum!

I have to say, though, that my most favorite thing to eat in New Orleans is the oysters.  This is pretty remarkable since I wouldn’t touch them until about a year and a half ago.  In fact, I despised their slimy bitterness with every fiber of my being.  I can’t even tell you why I decided to eat one 18 months ago, but I’m so happy I did!  

I first tried them charbroiled and to say they’re divine charbroiled is an understatement.  It takes every ounce of willpower I have to not pick up the shells and lick them once the meat is gone.  Once I discovered the ecstasy of charbroiled oysters, there was nothing that could stop me.  I tried them breaded and fried, in oyster and artichoke soup, in stuffing, in a delectable seafood gumbo, on po’boys, and on salad, and I loved them every way I had them.  My only regret is that I waited until a year before moving from New Orleans to try them.  Now, we’re in Virginia, and believe me, the oysters here can’t hold a candle to sweet, creamy Gulf oysters.

So, what does all of this have to do with Jackson’s lunch?  Well, while in New Orleans the last few days, we ate our way through the city and enjoyed every heavenly morsel.  I believe I owe a great deal to New Orleans’ cuisine when it comes to all the foods Jackson eats and enjoys.  Now we’re home, and I’m trying to convince Jackson that the food we eat at home is just as good as what we ate while in New Orleans (what I make is generally tasty, but it’s nowhere near New Orleans good—although I’m fairly certain our prepared-at-home meals are far healthier which is just as virtuous).  I was pleased when I picked him up and today and he answered, “I ate every bite, and I LOVED that salad!” when I asked if he’d eaten his lunch.