Although I am not really southern, my mom was born and raised in New Orleans. As a consequence, I use the word "y'all," get twitchy when I hear people pronounce "pecan" like "PEEcan*," and know how to make a roux. Because a part of my New Orleans heritage is the God-given right to make red beans and rice, and grillades and grits (go on--look it up).
I spent a good part of the day yesterday making red beans and rice. It takes about 4 hours, not counting the bean soaking time, so this is a serious undertaking. I should have made it on Monday, which is the day when you'll find it as the daily special on every restaurant menu in the New Orleans area. And that's because Monday was traditionally wash day, so it made sense to make a slow-cooked dish that could sit basically unattended on the stove while the fire burned hot all day to heat the wash water. And that's the end of your Crescent City history lesson for the day.
BUT ANYWAY.
As I was making the roux, I was reflecting on how I never liked the smell of roux when my mom made it. But I like it now because I associate it with my mom. Roux requires constant stirring, so it's easy to get contemplative while you stand there for half an hour, staring at the greasy cobwebs on your ceiling (but not in MY kitchen of course, ahem). And what I was contemplating is how nice it is to have that memory of taste and smell to remind me that while I am now an upstate New Yorker, I am, and always will be, a transplant. That I have my own family history, and my own sort of roots. It's easy to forget that here, surrounded by A.'s family, A.'s house, A.'s life.
In short, red beans and rice provides a needed reminder of my own identity. That's a lot to read into a pot of legumes, but there it is.
Do you have a food that connects you to your family and your past?
* Say it with me now, y'all--puhCAWN
16 comments:
No. My mom boiled things in milk and cooked pork chops until they were "safe." Leatherlike, but safe. Bless her heart. But she did make awesome strawberry jam which is probably why I'm such a freak about canning now. And she did this unholy thing with swordfish that any purist would snub, but oh my heavens it was delicious. It involved cornmeal, melted shortening and a side of mayo. And if we pronounce pecans properly, can we get your red beans and rice recipe?
Come to my mom's house around Passover time. Then you'll know! Also, whenever I go to her house and it smells like she just baked something...mmmmmm. She's a great baker.
My parents learned to make bread together when I was young becauce I had severe food allergies and they could not find any store bought bread that I could eat. I'll always remember my dad bent over a huge bowl of dough kneading it by hand. Then mom making it into loaves and that ohhhhhh so wonderful aroma that would fill the house. Now I'm the bread maker and I use a machine for the mixing and kneading but I never make it that I don't think of my folks and how much they must have loved me. Ok, that's enough warm fuzzies for the day...think I'll go make some bread.
Oh lord, I love red beans and rice. MMMM.
My grandmother was Croatian and made a handful of ethnic dishes every Christmas and Easter, most of which I know by pronunciation alone and could not spell to save my life. One dish involves sauerkraut, and the smell of sauerkraut simmering on the stove always takes me back to my grandmother's house on Christmas Eve.
Being enslaved to the government I absolutely understand the transplant feeling - I'll never belong in California, or I fear anywhere we move. But, dishes like navy beans and ham or a raspberry braid make me think of some wonderful times as a child.
Like, Susan I'm very interested in that recipe...
Bread and Hamburger gravy. Weird, I know.
And Tom and Jerry's. I can't count the number of times we would hang out in the kitchen with a pot of warm milk on the stove... we'd come in and grab a shot of brandy, a cup of milk and that delicious, sweet batter. Why are most of my memories alcohol related? :)
what no recipe?!!! how can you leave me hangin' like this? my favorite food memory is my bio. father (we had a very bad relationship) when once in a while he would cook my favorite dinner of grilled steak and risotto.
Do people really pronounce it PEEcan? I don't think I've ever heard it pronounced that way (except for Billy Crystal in "When Harry Met Sally" and I thought he was just doing it to be funny). Obviously I am hanging around with all the right people.
My Grandma use to make chocolate gravy & biscuits everytime I came to visit. That is my all time favorite. Yummy!!
I occasionally would get nostalgic for my Grandma Mary's Yorkshire Pudding. I think it originates in England. However, my Grandma Mary was polish so dunno how she got started with making it in the first place.
Thank goodness you posted on the correct pronunciation of pecan. I evidently say it peecan. Who knew?
I'd have to say puhcawns. We had two trees in our yard. Now if I want pecans I have to PAY for them and it really ticks me off. My mom made the greatest pecan pie, but I'm too cheap to pay for that many at a time.
"Red beans and rice didn't miss her!"
So, that's a line from Sir Mix Alot's famous "Baby Got Back." Well, guess what J.Lo's favorite dish is? Yes, red beans and rice. Coincidence?
Do you have a big booty? If you answer yes I'm gonna have to start eating this immediately. I wish I had a big booty.
Okay, first off--there is no RIGHT way to pronounce "pecan." It all depends on where you're from. But the pronunciation "PEEcan," which is how A. says it (dammit), sounds harsh and grating to my pseudo-southern ears.
I should have been some kind of food-centric anthropologist. I LOVED reading about your favorite food memories. And doesn't everyone want to know what "chocolate gravy" is now? C'mon, Anonymous--spill.
And X? I do not have J. Lo's ass, I am sorry to say. Maybe I need to eat more red beans and rice.
peecan or pahwcan we have the same debate about how to pronounce almond in our neck of the woods. it's all-mond when it's on the tree and ahh-mond when it's off the tree. it get the ell scared right out of it and it jumps off the tree. that's what the farmers say anyway.
I live on Pecan Street and it drives me batty that 9 out of 10 people north of Kansas don't pronounce it correctly.
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