SOFT SHELLS FROM HELL

Friday I found the latest edition of New Orleans Magazine in my mail box. The cover was graced with a beautiful soft shell crab. I drooled. Then I immediately picked up the phone and called Stacey's cousin - Matt - executive chef at Valenza. This was Friday about Noon.

By Four, Matt had called back and said he had 36 soft shells coming Saturday afternoon. Sunday about 11 a.m. we met Matt at Valenza. We followed Matt back to the kitchen, where he had 2 of the soft shells laid out. He had already cleaned the other 22. He had those 2 out to show us how to clean them and how to determine the sex. He showed us how to cut the face off, cut the ass out and cut the gills (lady fingers). He packed those 2 away with the others and asked us who was going to help us eat these. I told him I had no plans, but thought I would freeze some. Matt made a funny face and I knew something was up. He said you should not freeze them once you clean them. By the look on his face I could tell he was serious.

So we are heading South on I-85 and I am going through my mental Rolodex. Who would want to eat some soft shells ? Who would want to spend the afternoon cooking them four different ways ? Who has a wife that would also want too? Who lives near by and brews his own beer? Good Beer? So I called Jamey. He said he was in. Bringing the home brew. But right now he was under the house doing plumbing and he would be a couple of hours. His wife Sydnee would join us later.


So, Stacey and I got home and immediately pan fried two soft shells. Stacey boiled about a pound of shrimp we had in the fridge. We sat on the front porch and enjoyed them both with a ginger remoulade sauce.This is a very good sauce for all kinds of seafood.

So, Stacey and I are playing boccie ball in the yard when Jamey showed up - with home brew. So we immediately got some charcoal going and barbecued 5 soft shells. That's right, we cooked 5 soft shells on the BBQ. We slathered them in olive oil, salt and pepper and grilled them on each side for about 4 minutes. Matt told us how to do this.

We devoured those with some of the Ginger Remoulade sauce. After a couple of games of boccie ball, it was time to cook some oysters that we had in the refrigerator. Are you starting to see a theme here? Seafood. Lots of it. Gulf Coast. Get it while you can.

So as I was saying we cooked oysters. We cooked Oysters Rockefeller on the BBQ. We got the dish all ready and laid the oysters on a couple sheets of tin foil and laid that smack dab on the coals. I closed the lid and played a game of boccie. About 15 minutes later the three of us split a dozen oysters. Everything is better cooked on a live fire.


Next up fried soft shells. Jamey's wife Sydnee showed up with a couple beautiful pieces of salmon. We soaked 2 pieces of cedar wood in water while the BBQ was fired up again. We have a portable stove on the front porch and that's where we do our fried foods. Actually we cook a lot on that little burner. Anyway, we heated oil in a deep cast iron pot and cooked 6 soft shells. 3 at a time. I must say we did a good. Jamey put each piece of fish on a piece of cedar and put that on the grill. Thy cooked perfectly using this method. You could really taste the cedar. We enjoyed the crabs and fish with a corn a pea salad. Lot's of home brew and probably something I'm forgetting. Because, as has happened before, soon after eating all this food i slipped into a food coma. I was in this coma until late the next afternoon. I woke up wearing a sear sucker suit and white bucks. So I grabbed Stacey and went for cocktails.

HISTORY OF THE PO' BOY

The po'-boy sandwich, seen here nice and sloppy and, in the parlance, "fully dressed," had its origins with a streetcar strike in New Orleans, according to a society dedicated to the po'-boy's preservation.

In honor of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, we figured we'd pass along news of an interesting article in Salon.com about the history of the po'-boy sandwich.



This 1929 letter in the archives of the Po'Boy Preservation Festival states:

"Dear Friends: We are with you heart and Soul, at any time you are around the French Market, don't forget to drop in at Martin's Coffee Stand and Restaurant, Cor(ner) Ursuline & North Peters Sts. Our meal is free to any members of Division I94. We have thirty nine employees, all riding Jitneys to help win the strike. We are with you until h--l freezes, and when it does, we will furnish blankets to keep you warm. With best wishes to your cause, we are, Your friends and former members of Division I94, Clovis J. & Bennie Martin."

Turns out, the sandwich iconic in New Orleans but eaten around the South (and known around the country by different names, including sub, hero, hoagie, etc.) has some leftist roots.

While there are differences of opinion about just about any piece of history, people seem to agree that the po' boy was invented by the Martin brothers, Clovis and Bennie, who owned a restaurant and coffee stand in the French Quarter in the 1920s, the Salon.com report states.

The article further states:

When the city's streetcar conductors organized a strike in 1929, the Martins, former conductors themselves, offered to feed any hungry strikers who came their way for free. To do so, they contracted with a baker, John Gendusa, to make exceptionally large, rectangular-shaped loaves of bread that they could fill quickly and cut into sandwiches big enough to feed the strikers and their families.

The strike turned violent and lasted for months, and as more and more streetcar workers came to the Martins' shop, they would call out to each other, "Here comes another poor boy." In hilarious New Orleans fashion, the phrase stuck to the sandwiches.

The po'-boy is iconic enough in New Orleans that for three years now the city has held an annual Po-Boy Preservation Festival. Created to help drive business to merchants on Oak Street, has been an undeniable hit, attracting thousands of foodies who cram the narrow corridor for a fried oyster loaf or debris on French, The Times-Picayune of New Orleans reports.

Ma and Pa

A DAY IN THE LIFE

VOGEL

Get em while ya can

I'm worried. It's a fear in my gut I have never felt before. It's a fear that I won't be able to fill my gut with Gulf Coast seafood in the near future.
I have just returned from my local seafood shack. Usually I am getting fried shrimp po boys. I have mentioned these $4.29 works of edible art on this blog more then once. Today I spent about $200 on fresh oysters and shrimp. The folks that run my local seafood shack are from Bayou La Batre , Alabama. They get their seafood as fresh as can be in landlocked Atlanta. The oysters are from East Point, Fl. The shrimp are Alabama wild shrimp.

Watching the talking heads you get no idea the extent of damage to expect from the oil rig that exploded in the Gulf of Mexico the other day. I expect the worst. I expect the gulf coast fresh seafood industry to disappear for 2 to three years.

The seafood I've been getting at my local seafood shack lately has been beautiful. The oysters, the shrimp and the blue crabs, all beautiful.

So I've been working on my Oysters Rockefeller recipe. I don't eat the raw oysters in Atlanta. If I buy them in the shell or at a oyster bar down on the coast I will eat dozens raw. Here in Atlanta I usually fry them. It's easy and most times I have put the fried oysters on a salad with a heavy duty dressing that goes well with both the oysters and the salad. Lately that's been Sriracha, a.k.a Rooster sauce and mayo. Just about equal amounts of each. Maybe a tad more mayo than Sriracha. It's good stuff.

Soooooo, I spotted the oysters when picking up a po boy. They were really fresh so I bought a pint and right away decided to do Rockefeller. Everybody like Oysters Rockefeller. I got a recipe off the Food network website. It's a good recipe because you don't have to be exact. I use vodka in the place of Pernod. I use a lot more cheese than called for. And different cheeses, not just the cheese this recipe calls for. Above is a photo Stacey took of some oysters we cooked. Her's a recipe on how ya do it. Really it's easy. Ya don't have to be exact and you can leave out or change the ingredients.
CHOW BABY!!

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 1/3 cup bread crumbs, Panko preferred
• 2 shallots, chopped
• 2 cups chopped fresh spinach
• 1/4 cup Pernod
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Dash red pepper sauce
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan
• 1 tablespoon chopped chervil or parsley
• 2 dozen oysters, on the half shell
• Rock salt
• Lemon wedges, for garnish

Directions

Melt butter in a skillet. Saute the garlic for 2 minutes to infuse the butter. Place the bread crumbs in a mixing bowl and add half the garlic butter, set aside. To the remaining garlic butter in the skillet, add shallots and spinach, cook for 3 minutes until the spinach wilts. Deglaze the pan with Pernod. Season with salt and pepper, add a dash of red pepper sauce. Allow the mixture to cook down for a few minutes. Finish off the bread crumbs by mixing in olive oil, Parmesan and chervil, season with salt and pepper. Spoon 1 heaping teaspoon of the spinach mixture on each oyster followed by a spoonful of the bread crumb mixture. Sprinkle a baking pan amply with rock salt. Arrange the oysters in the salt to steady them. Bake in a preheated 450 degree F oven for 10 to 15 minutes until golden. Serve with lemon wedges

FRENCH QUARTER FESTIVAL SUNDAY APRIL 11TH

We force ourselves out of the king sized bed in the cool, dark hotel room made for sleeping. Stacey shuts off the noise machine and I make bad coffee, one cup at a time, in the bathroom.

We head straight to Canal Street, look right, look left, look right again and then turn left towards Duffys. We don't know this restaurant, but the sign tells us we can have breakfast and that's what we need. We have eggs and potatoes, coffee, juice and toast. We consume this meal quickly ready to get to Preservation Hall which is only about five blocks away.

We decided the day before to start our day at Preservation Hall. It was one of the "stages" for the FQF and like all the other shows it was free. When we arrived we took a quick look around and then looked for a seat. Ended up standing in the back which gave us a good view of the room. That's what it was, a room. A room, in a house, in the French Quarter. It was a house that could only look the way it did because of time. There is no way you could replicate this place. It was old and dusty. It was faded and worn. It was dark and cool. And it seemed kind of religious. It was my kind of religion.

We Stood back and watched while five guys made beautiful music. These guys were old and young. They were fat, they were skinny, they were black and they were white. These men were into their job. They smiled, they sang, they blew their horns and tapped their drums and told us stories. They talked about the musicians that worked this room before them and pointed some of them out in the large, old oil paintings handing on the walls. It was a treat to be in Preservation Hall for the first time.

The night before we had talked with Harry about seeing a gospel show this morning. Right on time as we are leaving Preservation Hall the cell rings and Harry tells us to meet him at the Royal Sonesta Hotel for said gospel show. We get to the hotel which is a short walk and are directed to the one of the many bars in this old hotel. There are so many people trying to see this show they are spilling out the door into the hotels hallway. On my tippy toes I can see across the room and notice a back door right next to the band stand. I don't see Harry. No worries, Harry is the kinda guy you like doing things like musical festivals with. Harry can take of himself and I know he will be there any minute. So we walk around the side through a restaurant, through a court yard and find the back door to the bar. Damn it's lock. But just then it opens, the band walks out and Stacey and I walk in. The band is just taking a break and the room is packed fairly tight. We grab a spot on the wall next to the bar. As soon as I get the bar chefs attention I order 3 bloodies, knowing Harry will want one. The band returns to the room, but they head straight to the bar. One of the guys in the band, turns out to be the head man, orders a drink, turns my way, smiles, shakes my hand and says thanks for coming. He proceeds to do this to anyone within reach. Harry walks up and the guys shakes Harry's hand, tells him thanks and heads for the stage. Harry tells us that he is Glen David Andrews and it's his gospel show. He said there is also a drummer, a tuba player and a piano.

What?

This is the gospel show?

Where is the choir?

Harry assures me these guys can handle it.

So this small skinny guy plays the tuba. He sports a Kangol and sunglasses the whole time. He smiles a lot, did a good job and twice turned his back to the room and shot down the contents of a brandy snifter.

The drummer was wearing a nice suit and drinking Bud Lite. I was standing just about 2 feet away from him. He was introduced as also being a member of the Lil Rascals.

The piano player was an older white guy in a tux. Everyone knew him and he got a big cheer when introduced.

Glen David Andrews wore a dark suit, sunglasses, played the trombone and was drinking champagne. It was clear most in the room knew of him and his act. And boy did he have an act. He sang, he preached, he wept, he drank, he blew his horn. At one point in a song he went out the backdoor with his trombone only to reappear in the front hall way where he entertained the overflowing crowd of fans. He made his way back through the crowd to the stage having fun with the crowd as he went. He had them singing. He had them dancing. He had them clapping. The whole room would have walked right out of the Royal Sonesta, into the street and followed Glen David Andrews wherever he went. He was quite a Showman. This was one of the best shows of the weekend.

Next we met up with Amy at Harry's Bar. Had a drink and headed to the huge stage on the Riverfront Park. We were going to see Trombone Shorty. We were way early and that was very lucky for us. We walked up right as the Treme Brass Band was just getting started. The Treme Brass Band is as New Orleans as anything in this world is.
I think you need to know a little history to really appreciate these guys. You need to know a little about Treme, the neighborhood in New Orleans this band reps.

The Treme Brass Band is a marching brass band from New Orleans. They are led by snare drummer Benny Jones, Sr. Kermit Ruffins played trumpet with them a few years back. Treme has a reputatuion as a dangerous place. It should be known as well for the music. It comes blasting out of every front door. It is the life blood of this community. The Treme Brass Band plays for parties, parades, funerals, or any occasion that called for music to accompany the Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs. The street parades, which often go on for hours and miles, developed their own unique style that is carried on by the Tereme Brass Band today. Click here to listen to the Treme Brass Band. They were really fun to see. Horns, horns, horns.

After the Treme Brass Band played we walked back to the Chart Room for drinks and a bathroom. The Chart Room is a cool bar in the Quarter with cheap drinks and funny bartenders. That was a really good thing about this festival. A bar or some place to use the bathroom and get a drink was never to far away. As you can see, we just walked around the Quarter having cocktails and listening to great music.

After the Chart Room we walked back to Riverfront Park, only 3 or 4 blocks, to hear Trombone Shorty and his band, Orleans Avenue. We have been hearing about Mr. Shorty and his music for a few years now. This was a rock and roll band. Some songs were great, but most of Trombone Shortys act was too much noise for me. There was a guy playing a Gold Top Les Paul, kinda Hendrix like. There was a heavy duty bass player and there were back up singers. Like I said a little too rock and roll for me.

It was about 5 p.m. and we were tired. We had been in the sun for two days now, drinking most of the time. We bid Harry farwell and headed to the Barone Plaza Hotel. We pull the curtians shut, turned up the white noise machine, we showered and slept.

When we woke around midnight we wanted food. We dressed and walked to the Lowes Hotel and ate in the bar at Cafe Adaliade. We ate there last year and loved it. This year was good, but just a bit less then last year.

MIDNIGHT COWBOY

One of my favorite movies of all time. Take 3 minutes and check out this clip.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGORPUzLxtU&a=1evxKHa4VZw&playnext_from=ML