Let the good food roll

It’s three o’clock in the morning as I sit in the Cafe du Monde with my new friends, overwhelmed by everything I’ve seen and trying to find the beignet from the mountain of powdered sugar on my plate. As I comment about it while continuing my sugarological diggings in order to find the beignet, the dry, joyful voice of the waiter breaks in; “That’s overkill, man! I call it the cocaine for children.” The man look’s old as the sky and that he’d been working here since the days of Lafitte when he makes me smile with his comments while cleaning the tables. From my friends I learn that beignets will save my upcoming morning, but I’m too fulfilled with senses, tastes and emotions to pay attention, so I focus on the simple, deep fried beauty of dough on my plate in the warm night of New Orleans.

The very day I arrived in New Orleans I met some great locals who, after learning I loved food, wanted to tour me around to experience the best places for dining. So, it was po’boys here and rabbit jambalaya there for my ever so happy belly for the next couple of days. Though the breakfast - a bowl of steaming gris with crispy bacon and fresh shrimps - alone was enough to prove me that this would be a thrilling voyage of flavors. In the course of that matinee of cajun, creole and everything else, I understood that the food is like the city itself; it’s base sauce roots deep in the history, mixing cultures and tastes in it’s pot without making a fuzz of itself, yet carries itself with easygoing pride.

“Good evening to you”, hollers the waiter as we leave and stumble to the riverfront. Standing there, hearing and scenting the Mississippi, a simple truth jazzes it’s way to my mind. The food of New Orleans is also like the people who make it and eat it; easygoing, not-too-serious and always ready for good time. If life would be red beans, they would consider fun as rice. And in the end that’s what travelling, food and life is all about; letting the good times roll.