“Remembering NOLA”

Eating Well Is The Best Revenge

by Diana Farr Louis

ATHENS, Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—5/17/10—These days, I’m filled with unease and worry. The images that burst out of Athens were bad enough. But I’m also afraid for another place I love—the cruelly battered, tattered Gulf and the city it feeds. New Orleans, Louisiana (NOLA) and Greece have so much in common: hospitable, generous people; a reputation for corrupt politicians; an affinity for disaster—natural or manmade; and, most of all, a talent for relishing the simple pleasures life offers.

It’s true I haven’t been to NOLA since Katrina almost drowned it. But I have close ties. My brother lived there with his wife and kids for decades. Our mother moved there in the early 90’s. We had family reunions, weddings, yearly visits. Around 2002, Boudreau and Miz Lisbet sold the house near the Garden District and moved to  . . . the Mississippi coast.

Their new home vanished with Katrina, all except for a stack of dinner plates lodged in the roots of a fallen tree. Against advice and common sense, they rebuilt. But, after patrolling the beach every morning and fearing the worst, they say, “This could be more devastating than Katrina. You can always rebuild a house, but the oil mess may be more catastrophic to wildlife and the economy than any hurricane.”

We see videos of beached fishermen, wondering if the shrimp population will ever be the same. We see videos of seafood-loving citizens stockpiling crabs, shrimp and oysters for their freezers. As if they’d go into anaphylactic shock without them. Treats for us, they are staples in the Delta region.

I had to smile as I watched them. If I were there, I’d be doing the same. In fact, I wonder whether, in all my trips to NOLA, meat ever touched my lips.

Among the miscellany of reference material crammed onto the windowsill near my desk, a folded green page sticks up. A souvenir of carefree days, it’s a cherished menu from Uglesich’s. Possibly my very favorite restaurant in the world.

Uggie’s was a legend long before it closed in May 2005. It stood on a seedy block in a kind of nomansland between the Lower Garden District and downtown. It looked like the pre-war working class eatery it was and did not accept reservations, yet businessmen, celebrities, tourists and locals of every stripe would start lining up for one of its ten tables well before noon.

It was democratically economical. Most specials—such as Muddy Water Trout, Voodoo Shrimp and Softshell Crabs—cost no more than $11.75, while appetizers hovered in the lower single figures. Of the 66 dishes listed, only one has meat—a Po-Boy sandwich with roast beef.

I used to go there with my sister-in-law, a NOLA native who’s passionate about food, politics, gardening, art, friends and family, not always in that order. Round-faced Anthony, son of the Yugoslav immigrant who opened the place in 1924, would greet her with a sweet grin and tell her not to worry, the oysters were plumper than ever. Then we’d sit at the bare table and pore over the menu, sipping a fiery Bloody Mary mixed by Anthony’s wife, Gail.

I yearned to experiment but could not help ordering the same things every time—that muddy water trout, shrimp remoulade slathered on fried green tomatoes and Miz Lizbet’s beloved Oyster Shooters. The menu describes them as “sauteed in olive oil, Balsamic vinegar, and cane syrup, with sundried tomatoes and seasonings.” But that doesn’t begin to convey the elusive magic left lingering on your palate. As for the trout, it was sauced with chicken broth, garlic, anchovies and gutted jalapenos, then sprinkled with Parmesan. What does that tell you? The plate returned to the kitchen as clean as if I’d licked it.

Other times Miz Lizbet would cook for us—elegant crawfish etouffee or spicy shrimp creole, made with beasties we’d bought from the back of a pick-up while they were still snapping or flopping.

One unforgettable visit coincided with my birthday. We celebrated it twice. The first night, Miz Lizbet’s formidable Aunt Peggy feted the whole family at Commander’s Palace, where we dined in splendor with liveried waiters who kept emptying untold bottles of French wine into our crystal glasses. The next evening, we slummed it at an unnamed joint on a scruffy pier.

There we had no plates, no cutlery, and plastic cups for our beer. We just grabbed from a mountain of crabs piled on newspaper in the middle of the table. After my brother gave me quick lesson in unlocking their “key,” we sucked away till we were up to our dripping elbows in empty claws and shells.

It didn’t seem to matter where we ate, the pleasure we gained from these superb meals infused our conversation with appreciation for our surroundings and each other. Or was it vice versa?

Perhaps the last time I went to NOLA, my niece got married. You would not have believed the buffet. Hot and cold, every kind of seafood in copious amounts, prepared in myriad delicious ways. (Plus, it must be admitted, a whole side of beef.) Naturally, there was a lot left over. So much that not all the platters and tuppers could be squeezed into one car, or one fridge.

But the next day, after culling some goodies for the family, Boudreau delivered them to one of the homeless societies. The saying goes that the poor of New Orleans are (or were) extremely picky. So used to having hand-outs from Antoine’s, Galatoire’s and Brennan’s, they spurn fodder from an ordinary caterer.

No doubt, things have changed. But I pray for a miracle to keep the oil spill from touching the delicate shore, from wreaking havoc with the habitats of birds, sea turtles, and all the creatures on Uglesich’s menu.

For as Anthony and Gail wrote in my copy of their cookbook, “Good food makes good friends.”

Miz Lizbet’s Shrimp Creole

2 ½ lb. raw shrimp, unpeeled

1 ½  tbsp bacon fat

1 ½  tbsp flour

1/2 cup finely chopped onion

1/3 cup finely chopped green pepper

1/4 cup finely chopped celery

1 8 oz can tomato sauce

1 16 oz can Italian plum tomatoes with basil, liquid reserved

1 clove garlic, minced

3 dashes of Tabasco

2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley

3/4 cup chopped green onions

2 cups steamed rice

Peel shrimp. In a large, heavy pot, heat bacon fat and add flour, stirring constantly until roux is golden brown. Add onion, green pepper and celery. Cook until tender. Pour in tomato sauce, tomatoes and liquid. Mix well. Add garlic, Tabasco, Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper (a dash of sugar may be added, if desired). Simmer 30 min, stirring constantly. Add shrimp. parsley, and green onions. Cook 30 min. Serve over flaky steamed rice.  Serves 4