Kitchen Witch, New Orleans

The last cookbook I bought was in an IKEA somewhere in central Sweden about a decade ago. Köksskolan. A lovely and straightforward production with gorgeous photography. I have yet to make all the recipes in the book. I'm either lazy or enjoy the process of slowly devouring the book. Or, perhaps, am mysteriously satisfied by just gazing at wonderful food photography.

Either way, it was the first, and the last cookbook I purchased up until recently. Other cookbooks have entered the home- in the past year in a flurry, either as books gifted to me or that I gifted to others. Either way, the recipe shelf grows. Swedish Cakes & Cookies, What the Big Island Likes to Eat, Swedish Kitchen, Fresh Japanese.... The list will grow. And all these cookbooks will end up featured in this blog in someway, as culinary instruction manuals I learn from. The list will grow out of necessity for expanding the range of culinary taste, but of course, the point is also actually learning from these recipe manuals and not, as is my tendency, to gaze at publications with food arranged ever so beautifully and call it a day.

So, the first cookbook purchase made specifically for my own kitchen experiments in over a decade was a cookbook conspicuously devoid of any photography. The lack of photos is not so conspicuous when you learn that it was originally published in 1901, but it certainly was a conspicuous move on my part to be so attracted to a cookbook with absolutely no images.

The Picayune's Creole Cook Book hones in on that delicious and diverse style of cuisine that has emerged as a result of the merging of Spanish, African, native Choctaw and French flavors and techniques of cooking. Creole was, surprisingly, a somewhat foreign and familiar set of flavors to me, as I encountered it on my first visit to New Orleans recently. I swooned at every meal. I was won over. Not just by the offerings on the menu everywhere we went, but by the jovial and intimate atmosphere that seemed to be layered throughout this city that certainly knows how to eat.

I came upon The Picayune's Creole Cook Book at Kitchen Witch (French Quarter). I am what I would call an intuitive shopper. I am not big on browsing or window shopping. Bookstores are another story though. I know when I enter a bookstore that there is usually a treasure for my mind to be found and this was certainly the case at Kitchen Witch. In addition to the store's ambience (and resident dog's) which I was compelled to photograph, I knew that based on my introduction to the local Creole flavors, I could not go home without a cookbook. And this was the store to find it.

I knew I had met my match when I opened this book to read passages such as:

"Mushrooms constitute one of the greatest flavoring vegetables known to the scientific cuisinier...The Creoles, like the French, think it a crime to cook this vegetable in any form that would destroy its own peculiar flavor, or that which it is capable of imparting to the most ordinary dish."

(Introduction to Mushroom Section, pg 225 in The Picayune's Creole Cook Book)

Rose of Kitchen Witch

Another cookbook sold!

Visit the Kitchen Witch website here.

And stay tuned for some Creole cooking.

Jacques-Imo's: Superbe!

As a food blogger, I really have only just begun. My taste buds are not nearly honed enough to be reporting online as an authentic foodie (give me a couple of years). One thing that has already started happening is seeing food, and the experiences that surround it, in a completely new way. I often carry my camera with me, I just never considered documenting the "eating" life.

Continuing on in a series of posts about New Orleans eats, having spent some days last week there. For every place we ate at that I blog about, I could say "This was a true highlight." They all were, in their own way.

Jacques-Imo's in uptown New Orleans.

We were a handful of folks in a cab coming from the French Quarter and the cab tab was under 20$. It's a worthwhile excursion, to check out another aspect of New Orleans space (other than the French Quarter which is understandably an attractive area to hunker down) as well as to have a simply delightful, intimate and delicious time.

I suppose I could throw in "slightly rowdy" there too. Not rowdy in the brawl sense, but the place definitely teems with action. To reach our table we passed through a somewhat crowded bar, then walked through the kitchen (yes, the kitchen is placed dead center in the whole restaurant and getting to your table or the bathroom requires a kitchen passage) to our table.

Our place was in the midst of it all. I can't really describe the experience but in metaphor: like sitting at a festive room of dining tables aboard a small-ish candlelit boat at sea.

Maybe it was the Guinness.

Whatever it was, I arrived sober, had a couple of brews, shared excellent appetizers with the company (fried green tomatoes) and was truly satisfied with my Crawfish Etouffee.

Jacques-Imo's is apparently a real landmark in town. After one single dining experience there, it's clear why.

And one lesson learned for this newbie food blogger is that the importance of food is often just that- the experience that surrounds it. Jacques-Imo's taught me that. I thank the wait staff, kitchen crew, chefs and owner for a wonderful evening. And for all the photo op's!!!

As I was wandering around, Guinness in hand, capturing images of the restaurant and it's livelihood, these folks literally ushered me into the kitchen for the photo moment! I honestly have never met a friendlier restaurant crew. But then again, it's only so often you have the opportunity to actually photograph the kitchen and folks who are whipping up your delicious meal.

Outside of Jacques-Imo's it's gettin' lively.

One of the waitresses noticed my photographic quest and linked me up with the owner for this photo moment. How awesome is that. You. Guys. Rock.

Very happy and satisfied faces of my fellow diners. As we were leaving the owner of Jacques-Imo's was in the kitchen and within moments all of this ensued. Note the owners rockin All Star converse. That's my fellow diners holding him in rock star stance.

Jacques-Imo's: You Rock. Thank you for an excellent and delicious night.

Prelude: Voodoo Cuisine

I'm a big fan of preludes. And afterludes. And retrospects. Visiting or living in a place wraps in a novella of the senses- often before I have even been there. I have had premonitory moments with places before even seeing the place. And of course, after having visited or lived in the place, the memories include, and extend beyond, the texture of the five senses that laced my experience of the place.

My first trip to New Orleans nears. The taste of creole. The visual rush of the local scene. The din I imagine in what is often reported as a ghost heavy city. The bodily sense of being in a place that seems destined to experience many a rebirth. I smell perfumes, fires and a whiff of riverfront air before even arriving there.

On the sensory notes, we shall see. But I am human, so in New Orleans I will eat. The grub down will be blogged.