Crawfish Boil

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Crawfish Boil

Crawfish Boil

Things I Learned This Week Living In The South: 

1. How to shotgun a beer. Yes, I am aware of the shock on your face dear friend when you asked me to join and I stated I have never shotgunned a beer. And I am also aware of the look of shock on your face when you assumed I couldn't relax my throat and swallow 12 oz in one gulp. This isn't my first rodeo at relaxing my throat for maximum consumption.  

2. My man bag, which was a self loving gift I gave myself upon my triumphant return to corporate life a few years back AND the subject of a recent replacement debate, has reemerged in my Top Ten Accessories List because I learned it can hold: 

a. 1 Bottle Of Rose

b. 10 Pounds Of Andouille Sausage

c. 2 Loaves Of Banana Bread

d. 2 Cans Of La Croix

e. 1 Bag Of Emergency Hard Candies and Band Aids (because I am 90 years old)

3. It is perfectly acceptable to have a sense of pride when you find you are one of three Northerners left standing with 40 pounds of crawfish on the table after all the Southerns have bailed in gastorial weakness.  Special shout out to the Long Islander to my left who questioned, learned, and then conqeured the crawfish in a matter of minutes.  

Roasted Grapes

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This week I have had reinvention on the mind. 

Selena Gomez cut her hair. 

Some work friends have moved on. 

I've cleaned out my closet while pondering a new look. 

All possible steps to start a reinvention. 

As I stood naked in front of my refrigerator last night cursing myself that I had no frozen cookie dough, no hidden fudge, not a chocolate chip in sight. I then thought I best take the healthy choice and dug my hands into the bag of grapes on my counter. My hand blindly dug around for my nightly emotional quencher and I was rudely brought out of my 3 am slumber by a fuzzy grape. And I thought "that little bastard is only 4 days old and it is already moved on". 

With my near death by moldy grape behind me this morning I got to thinking again about reinvention. If that grape can do it, any of us can. I've changed careers a few times. I have gone, unwillingly from long hair to no hair, bearded to not bearded to bearded, Structure to J Crew, husky to husgay. That landed me in the kitchen making roasted grapes. Taking them from healthy day time snack, to a midnight mouthful, to cuddling in bed with a sticky beard.

At one point this weekend I found myself sitting on a curb hidden behind a sedan waxing career choices with a good friend. Wondering what steps are next I was reminded of the wise words of Rupaul, "When the going gets tough, the tough reinvent."

So what's next? 

Grapefruit Brulee

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I wanted a citrus salad for breakfast today. I got as far as making a grapefruit brulee and then it was back to Netflix. It has been one of those weekends. 

Things That Happened To Me This Weekend In The South:

1. While casually walking home one evening I was mooned. I assume the young men involved were hoping for a reaction. But given my penchant for men and the internet providing access to many derrieres, seeing some skinny white boy's flat ass shoved through the back window of a late 90's Ford Taurus was not so shocking. What was shocking is that he wasn't smart enough to move to the front seat where the window fully goes down. Instead he used the back seat window. The one that only goes down about 2/3 of the way. 

2. For the second time in my life I found myself in a social situation surrounded by others chugging a Smirnoff Ice in hopes to fit in. Later that night while pantless I ate a Jimmy Johns over the kitchen sink. Followed a few hours later, fully naked, eating the last of my Cadbury Creme eggs in front of my fridge. Frozen Creme Eggs are best. 

3. In hindsight I have no recollection how this came about. But at a pool party I first tossed a tennis ball for a lovely golden retriever to catch only to hit a young recently acquainted friend in the head with said ball so hard it sounded like Serena Williams hit a homerun. I think that's how you play tennis. And secondly just moments later with my now head traumatized friend we spent 10 minutes discussing pannus in relation to our own body image issues. Those google images are forever seared in my brain. And still I feel my fupa is out of control.  

 

 

Jujyfruits and Poppers

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This weekend I found myself on some misadventures in Raleigh, NC with two good friends who live down that way. After entering a bar where I was branded with the over enthusiastic "BEST OF LUCK!" I hunkered down for a night of fun. 

Things I Learned This Weekend Traveling In The South: 

1. There is a gay bar with carpet, urinals that literally put you face to face with your future maybe baby daddy, and a gift shop specializing in underwear, leather goods and sells Jujyfruits nexts to the poppers. Giving you the opportunity to chow down while you bear down. 

2. In the span of 7 hours you can experience the roasted chicken at the James Beard Award winning Poole's Diner (here for information), and the fried chicken at Burger King. Both are excellent. 

3. A larger than life drag queen sporting a cheeseburger pill box hat and corresponding cheeseburger printed peplum blouse further validated my theory that no one ever looks bad in a peplum top.  

French Quarter Beignets

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Beignets

New Orleans seems to be very en vogue this season. Within one month's time roughly 8 people I know will be traveling there to partake in a variety of festivities. From bachelorette parties to drunken hairdresser conventions, The Big Easy will be getting a solid taste of North Carolinians this month.  

I blame Sara. 

Sara moved to Winston Salem just over a year ago. We met the usual way. Through our mutual leasing agent. 

When asked, "where did you move from?", her response is always a resounding "I'm from New Orleans baby!"

Split between the Metairie neighborhood and NOLA you will never meet a more die hard fan of a city. At any given point I would bet money that Sara has beads and/or a Mardi Gras mask in her handbag. Just in case.

She is a walking encyclopedia of information about her home town. She is the dad from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Able to linguistically trace all words back to New Orleans. 

She can give you a heartfelt and eye opening first hand account of living with hurricanes that leave nothing behind. She will passionately speak of hometown food as if it were a first born child (that is when I knew we could be friends). And if you are ever so lucky to be next to her at a bar, there is the inevitable moment when just enough wine takes her accent to 11 and you have ask her to repeat herself. 

And with that, for Sara's birthday this year I attempted to make the New Orleans classic, beignets. After a few hours of scouring the dark net for a bootleg copy of the Cafe Du Monde recipe I had to settle on what I felt was the next best thing. Paula Deen. I know, I know. I really didn't want to. But it really was a good recipe.

So with my deep fryer revved up and rolling pin greased I got to making my first ever beignets. Super easy. Super tasty. And though I know many cultures have their own version of this wonderful sweet fried dough. I will only credit New Orleans for giving this to the human race.   

French Quarter Beignets

RECIPE FROM PAULA DEEN/FOOD NETWORK