derbigny gumbo
After work today, I stopped to buy food for Madeleine, my eighteen-and-a-half year old Manx cat and to pick up a mechanical pencil. And cookies. While paying for my items, the clerk commented that she had gotten me hooked on her cookie recommendation. We laughed and the chat segued onto the weather and the woman in line behind me joined in. A forty-five degree change from yesterday with a cold wind and snow showers. I commented that I left Louisiana to come back to this. I don’t know why that popped out. I’ve been back in Chicago for just over two years. The woman who was waiting on me asked why I’d come back. I told her I could never figure out how to keep cool (and dry) but I knew very well how to stay warm. She nodded and said she was from the south originally, if not Louisiana. She asked what I missed about New Orleans. I told her, and in this order: crawfish, gumbo, my friends, music all day long, friendly people, being called Miss Trish, and sweet tea. She understood each of these completely.
But I miss a lot more. I miss red beans and rice on Mondays. I miss walking through the quarter in the mornings, capturing the pure light and colours with one of my cameras. I miss the colourful and oh-so-different-from-Chicago architecture. I miss the southern magnolias with their almost obscene blooms. The falling down, fascinating, crumbling cities of the dead. The maddeningly slow streetcars. Oysters as big as the palm of my hand. City Park. The Bywater. The Garden District. Biking to work. Hearing the Creole Queen riverboat sound her horn in the evenings all the way to my home in Tremé. The small, but exquisite, Saint Louis Cathedral. It’s where I found my god again. I miss Sylvain, Petite Amelie, Le Croissant d'Or, Cafe Degas, Lil' Dizzy's Cafe, Frady's One Stop Food Store. Community Coffee in the quarter and on Esplanade. Second lines.
But I miss a lot more. I miss red beans and rice on Mondays. I miss walking through the quarter in the mornings, capturing the pure light and colours with one of my cameras. I miss the colourful and oh-so-different-from-Chicago architecture. I miss the southern magnolias with their almost obscene blooms. The falling down, fascinating, crumbling cities of the dead. The maddeningly slow streetcars. Oysters as big as the palm of my hand. City Park. The Bywater. The Garden District. Biking to work. Hearing the Creole Queen riverboat sound her horn in the evenings all the way to my home in Tremé. The small, but exquisite, Saint Louis Cathedral. It’s where I found my god again. I miss Sylvain, Petite Amelie, Le Croissant d'Or, Cafe Degas, Lil' Dizzy's Cafe, Frady's One Stop Food Store. Community Coffee in the quarter and on Esplanade. Second lines.
I do not miss the cockroaches that fly into your head. I don’t miss living in the dark every May when the swarming termites arrive, looking for love. But I do miss those small lizards that are quick quick quick! And the snails that are faster than I imagined and bigger, too.
I loved the flowers blooming year ‘round, especially the camellias in mid-winter and the jasmine in spring, but I did miss my lilacs and peonies. I missed the changing of the seasons with every shade of red and orange and gold and brown. And that crispness in the air.
I miss the art and creativity and how the houses are decorated for every holiday. Christmas into Mardi Gras into Easter into Independence Day into Halloween. I really, really miss Halloween in New Orleans.
But while I miss so much, I look on my time in New Orleans as something I had to do. Maybe I was meant to do it. I’d planned it for two years, after many visits. I just didn’t plan on not being able to find a job in my field. But that’s beside the point. I did it. It’s over and done, but I still can miss it if I want. And once my situation improves, I will go back for a visit. I hope very soon. New Orleans is so beautiful in the spring.
I loved the flowers blooming year ‘round, especially the camellias in mid-winter and the jasmine in spring, but I did miss my lilacs and peonies. I missed the changing of the seasons with every shade of red and orange and gold and brown. And that crispness in the air.
I miss the art and creativity and how the houses are decorated for every holiday. Christmas into Mardi Gras into Easter into Independence Day into Halloween. I really, really miss Halloween in New Orleans.
But while I miss so much, I look on my time in New Orleans as something I had to do. Maybe I was meant to do it. I’d planned it for two years, after many visits. I just didn’t plan on not being able to find a job in my field. But that’s beside the point. I did it. It’s over and done, but I still can miss it if I want. And once my situation improves, I will go back for a visit. I hope very soon. New Orleans is so beautiful in the spring.
Some recommendations, should you visit.
The shop I used to patronise when a tourist... and then I worked here!
For your linen fetish...because it's a necessity!
For your linen fetish...because it's a necessity!
And I do know what it means to miss New Orleans. Mr. Armstrong knew what he was singing about.
(I couldn't get a link to the song to work, but please look this up on YouTube if you aren't familiar with it.)
(I couldn't get a link to the song to work, but please look this up on YouTube if you aren't familiar with it.)
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| derbigny gumbo my kitchen in new orleans ©Trish Korous |
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| le bain de Madeleine ©Trish Korous |
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| front to back our shotgun ©Trish Korous |
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