The main reason I go back to Louisiana so often throughout the year is that I have a 10-year-old son who lives there. Spending Christmas with him is not only fun, it’s educational. For example, this past weekend I learned that this particular video will make him laugh so hard he’ll almost wet himself, fall off the couch and suffocate. Watching him laugh so hard, I almost wet myself.
Author: kenwheaton
Live, from Krotz Springs
Don’t have much to say other than that I saw a bald eagle outside of New Orleans our first day in town (no, that’s not some kind of dirty joke) and today I ate my weight in pork and crawfish. Just felt like chucking up a post because they finally ran DSL out here to the boonies. Hell, my dad and his family now have a DVR. I don’t even have a DVR.
Have a Scary, Scary Christmas
Dirty hippies:
Cheese Log!
At a wee gathering last night, I had the opportunity to sample the cheese log featured here. Good stuff. In general, if you want recipes for real Texas food, I’d say Homesick Texan is the place to start.
Have You No Sense of Shame Mr. Congressman?
I think we all know the answer to that question. While you build toys for your kids out pine cones and paper clips; while two out of the five people you know are now applying for positions as Walmart greeters because they’ve lost their jobs (and with an eye toward the sweet release of death by trampling); while taxpayer dollars are being doled out to Wall Street firms and union-ruined auto companies, Congress gave itself a pay raise. Guess with that average salary of $160,000-plus it’s just hard to make ends meet.
The Secret to a Good Meatball
I’m not going to pretend to be a master of spaghetti and meatballs, but a quick note to the folks who run the Classic Diner on Smith Street in Cobble Hills: meatballs taste better when they contain a secret ingredient I like to call … MEAT.
Wife and I went there last night after having a few drinks at the office of my literary agency. It was cold, rainy and upon exiting the Bergen Street stop, we thought a diner would be a nice, cheap choice. After having our wallets raped by (The New) St. Clair on the corner of Smith and Atlantic, we decided on Classic. Susan had been craving spaghetti and meatballs. Well, the meatballs consisted of two things: 95% bread crumbs and 5% apathy. The sauce made an expired jar of Prego seem like Grandma Scungilli’s ancient gourmet secret.
To quote Forrest Gump: “That’s all i got ta say about that.”
What Our Christmas Tree Looks Like
That right there is our fine looking Christmas tree. It’s a Frazier Fir of about five feet in height (should it go missing and I ask any of you to look for it). Note, too, that there’s a big Snoopy and a snowboarding dog shredding some pine-needle powder.
Ken’s Crawfish Etouffee
In the comments on the gumbo recipe, Caro asked about crawfish. Crawfish is almost always the first thing to come up in a discussion with non-Cajuns about Cajun food — unless it’s Thanksgiving, when the talk turns to Turduckens or Deep-fried turkey.
Let me say first that Crawfish Etouffee has little to do with crawfish boils–in which people stand around in the backyard drinking beer and getting their hands messy cracking those little buggers open and eating all the tail meat. Unless you have an outdoor space, the proper equipment and access to live crawfish, you can just forget about boiled crawfish. It’s only good fresh. And though you can get live crawfish delivered in season (generally February through June), it’s ridiculously expensive. And take it from someone who boiled crawfish in a New York City apartment — just don’t. The horrible ditch-water smell will be with you for weeks and stray cats will come from miles around to investigate. At any rate, if you want the great taste of crawfish, go with etouffee. (Ay — too — fay)
Kanye West Needs His Mama
Many times you’ll see newly rich folk, athletes and celebrities hanging around with the people they came up with. Some times, this crew is a scraggly-ass, disreputable lot who put you in mind of those embarrassing cousins who have three cars up on blocks in the front yard and storm into political discussions after a 12-pack of Natural Light to set everyone straight on foreign policy (“Kill ’em all and let God do the sorting.”) Many times we wonder, “Why?”
Why? Because such people keep your head on straight, remind you of where you come from and, even though they’ll constantly “borrow” money from a well-off relative, they’ll also tell that relative if he’s got a booger on his face or if he looks like a jackass in those skinny jeans.
Kanye West apparently has no such people in his life anymore.
Snow Falls on Louisiana
So at 6:45 this morning, my phone rings. “Someone’s dead,” is my first thought. But it only rang once, meaning it was a text. “Some fool’s sending me a direct message through Twitter,” was my second guess. Then it happened again. “Surely I’m not that popular on Twitter (yet).” So I dragged my ass out of bed — did you know that I don’t have to be at work until 10, so usually don’t wake until 8:45? — and checked my phone. Picture mail from my mom. And from my stepdad. And a text from my brother. “It’s snowing!”
So here you see a wee little picture of my mom’s house all covered in snow. I also received emails from my son, in Prairieville. They’ve got two inches (he says) and it’s still coming down. To which I replied: “What are you doing inside on the computer. Go out and play in the snow.” I also added some snow-ball making tips so that he can put someone’s eye out.
I’d say it snows about once every ten years in South Louisiana. This is the second time in four years. And this looks like the real deal–unlike the quarter inch of sleet and frozen rain that counted as my first snowfall.
Meanwhile, it’s raining here in New York.
KEN WHEATON 