Painting the Town Purple

Today was MeeMaw's birthday.  Every time someone new came into the bakery, she would announce that it was her birthday, and every time she would be a different age. At one point she decided she was turning 21, and asked to come with Courtney and I to New Orleans tomorrow to party. Obviously, it would be just about the greatest thing in the world to watch MeeMaw do her runway walk down Bourbon Street, and we begged her to come with us, but in the end she revealed, with great fanfare and gusto, that she was not, in fact, turning 21.


The illusion has been shattered.


"Aww MeeMaw, you OLD!"  I'm pretty sure if anyone but Beyonce had said this, the back of their head would have had a nice little meeting with the wooden spoon MeeMaw was brandishing. 


"Yeahhhh but woooo-ee! When I was a chil, boyyyy I cou cut a rug! I can't cut no rugs no mo. LAWD, I can't even get in da caw!"


Soooo I'm guessing that means she won't be driving the two hours to meet us in New Orleans...


We were still trying adamantly to get MeeMaw to come to New Orleans, but she refused. She did demand of us, however, to make sure we told everyone we met there that it was her birthday...


"Now don't you go paintin tha town red, ya hurrr? Pain' it purple. Much better'n red."


Yes, MeeMaw.

The Boob-Tote

In a few days, my friend Courtney and I are going to New Orleans. Though she has been there before, we have both been warned to make sure to not go into any bad parts of town. We have also been told that we are not supposed to carry handbags.


"Just shove everything in your bra!" Beyonce patted her huge boobs and exclaimed, "Errythang fits in here!"


Courtney nodded thoughtfully, evidentially it was a good plan. 


"uhhhh..."  Clearly they're not getting the picture...


"SHE HASN'T GOT ANY TITS!"  Thanks MeeMaw.  Beyonce and Courtney finally noticed the issue with the boob-tote plan, and proceeded to announce it to the entire bakery. Which isn't really that big of a deal, because I mean really, who am I kidding? At least I have bigger boobs than Preston...


"Aww hell girl, I can fit the eiffel tower in my boobs." Apparently Beyonce is a worldly woman. 


"Now don you just feel bad babygurrr, you may not have the tatas us gurrls do, but you can wear a bikini! I can't wear no bikini, I gotta wear a TRIkini!" Apparently MeeMaw has to wear 3 bikinis...


Beyonce and MeeMaw then got in an overly excited discussion about what MeeMaw would need to wear in order to cover herself appropriately. They finally decided upon a king size bedsheet and window coverings. 

Prestonia

I found out today that Preston occasionally dresses in drag.  Thinking back, I'm not as surprised as I probably should be... He does have an excessive knowledge in hair styling and how to find a dress for ANY body.  I am slightly disappointed I missed Mardi Gras, where Prestonia made an appearance in her red halter dress and heels. I'm pretty sure it would have been the stuff of nightmares.


As a side note, I suddenly have another new nickname.  Smurfette.  It was created by Beyonce, but used by everyone in the bakery within hours. I asked about the origin of it, but apparently there isn't one...

Houston Shootout

Over my two days off this week, I took a lil jaunt over to Texas with native Houston-ite Andre.  People often say they didn't know what they were expecting about new situations, but I definitely knew what I was looking to see in Houston... and the real thing and my visual were not even close. I was expecting a lot of brown and dirt, occasionally a cactus, some tumbleweeds rolling in the breeze, maybe MeeMaw doing her runway walk... What I was not prepared for  was the dizzying amount of neon billboards, inordinate amount of mexican restaurants, and  the insane tangle of highways that caused exit maps to look like pictures of Medusa.


While in Houston, Andre and I did all of the typical big city touristy things that seem completely out of place in my Houston mental picture.  We visited the Galleria, got nummy Mexican food, toured downtown, etc. Only once did I feel like I stepped right into the Houston of my imagination... When we went shooting. 


I've never been to a gun range, especially in Houston, but it was pretty much how I'd pictured it...minus the old western showdown.  There were guys in spurs, lots of flannel and camo, lotsa dirt, and big guns. I felt slightly out of place in my sun dress and sandals, but I was more confused why a girl was such an oddity as opposed to the 6 year old boy shooting a rifle 100 yards at a duck decoy.  In the north, kids watch cartoons about daffy duck. In the south, they shoot him.  Maybe that's why everyone in Houston has a gun... They're waiting for the fowl to retaliate.

My New Boyfriend(s)

Chef Cesar asked me to make tuxedo strawberries today.  They were going to be plated at a banquet tonight, along with a few other desserts. Chef described how to make them, and said he wanted white tuxedos because there was already chocolate brown happening on the other desserts. 


I promptly said no. 


There is no chance I am making bad 70's prom tuxedos. Not gonna happen. I told Chef there would be classy gentlemen or none at all. He decided to retaliate by saying white tuxedos are classy, as that is what gentlemen wear at casinos in Europe. 


"What country are we in Chef? America? Thought so. Don't worry, they'll be all ready for the banquet in their nice BLACK tuxedos."


Chef looked at me, stuttered a few times, and walked away.  


And so I made my classy gentlemen.

Meet Bond. Berry, Bond.


Chef grudgingly approved, which was nice, though Beyonce's assessment was far greater.


"Who needs a boyfriend when you've got a tray of fine gentlemen right there?!"

I Feel Black Today

MeeMaw today decided that she was not, in fact, black. 


Apparently assembling pecan pies occasionally prompts the sudden outburst of "I feel puerto rican today."  MeeMaw and Beyonce then began an argument about MeeMaw's blackness. Between the flying pecans and splattering cake batter, I was somehow brought into the conversation. 


"I wanna be as black as Minnie!" (They've all started calling me Minnie, as in Minnesota. This started about a week ago. I found out about it yesterday. Apparently you don't need to be informed about your own name change in Louisiana.)


"I wanna be as black as Minnie!" And that's when Beyonce and MeeMaw finally agreed. I'm black as night. And I obviously agreed. I decided to break my cover, and inform everyone that I am truly a black voodoo queen that lives in a boat in a tree in the bayou. 


Anyone looking for a clairvoyant reading from the world's blackest psychic, please call 1-800-MINNIE1

Chef Randy

There is a new L'Auberge Casino opening in Baton Rouge in late August, and the Executive Pastry Chef, Chef Randy, has been in our bakeshop obsessing over every little culinary detail every day for the past week. He finally plated the final draft of his $20 per-plate desserts today.  I could only get pictures of 3 of his 7 desserts, but they're gorgeous.  Needless to say, I asked for an application to work for him 3 years from now...

Creme Brulee

Peach Melba Cheesecake

Chocolate 18 Ways

Mama Wayne

Project Runway has hit the bakeshop. 


Im not sure what started it, but I looked up from filling eclairs today to find a walk-off happening across the kitchen. As per usual, it was Beyonce vs MeeMaw.  Beyonce started with a sashay, twist, and pose. Pretty normal Heidi Klum stuff. Then it got interesting... MeeMaw adjusted her apron, slicked back her hair (despite it being covered by a hat), licked her gold tooth, and STRUTTED.  The woman walked like John Wayne's ghetto alter-ego.  When MeeMaw reached me at the end of the runway, she took in my gawking at her, and very seriously said,


"That's Jive Baby."

Crack is Wack

"Good morning, Preston brought ho's. Want one?"


It's always mildly concerning when you walk into work and the very first thing you hear is an offer to deal in illegal affairs. I didn't realize today was show and tell and I was supposed to bring something to present to everyone. Though, had I known, I think I probably would have picked something more appropriate for the work environment, like perhaps a potato peeler. I was kind of wishing that thought had occurred to Preston as well.


"Excuse me?"


"Preston brought ho's! They're over in that box."


Wait, what? They're contortionists now too?? I was starting to become mildly impressed with Preston's talent scouting abilities, until I noticed the box of donut holes sitting on the counter.  I have GOT to start understanding this accent...


After explaining my puzzled and mildly horrified expression to the bakeshop, a conversation was started about various forms of entertainment, both legal and not.  This promoted an extremely enthusiastic announcement from Beyonce...


CRACK IS WACK!!!


She then went into a very articulate monologue about what exactly crack has done to the music industry, and especially to the rap genre in general. She declared that she thinks she should become a rapper, just so she can try to save rappers' tarnished reputations. She then started rapping(?) some song she just made up about peanut butter parfaits, which didn't actually fit into any Grammy acknowledged genre. I've decided to call it "Bayou Ghetto".


And the award goes to...

Stalker and a Murderer

So when I was refused a library card yesterday because my ID says I'm from Minnesota, I was fairly annoyed. Surprisingly enough, I did not come all the way down to Louisiana just to steal the Calcasieu Parish Public Library's entire book collection. Clearly, I do actually live here. I didn't really think I was much of a threat to the people of Louisiana or their books. That is, until today....


I have become both a stalker and a murderer, and my key target is apparently MeeMaw.  


Multiple people have asked me for a picture of MeeMaw, and I have gladly obliged. I feel like a pretty good stalker, I don't think anybody noticed my super sneaky picture taking skills.... Except for maybe MeeMaw, who was looking straight at the camera.  But what does that matter?  That's where the murder part comes in. 


The Target: Mama Odie

I didn't mean to almost kill her. It's just nobody told me MeeMaw is diabetic and that she would probably ask for sugary things that could potentially kill her... You have to warn me when I'm babysitting! Of course I gave her some white chocolate mousse torte, because I am a GIVING PERSON! And a murderer, but that's besides the point. Clearly I'm not a very accomplished murderer however, because absolutely nothing happened to MeeMaw other than a tastebud blast. I don't think I'm cut out for the stalker/murderer business. I should probably just stick to stealing library books.

Brain Freeze

Now, I was told many times before I moved down to Louisiana that the people here are slow. I never realized how many ways this covered... They are not a quick people. I've never before been to a place where people needed to be told how to open a door... Don't worry. You are NOT locked in! Just turn the doorknob dear... Granted, I took the following picture in the freezer. Louisiana is a very warm climate, maybe the drastic and uncharacteristic change in temperature effects their cognitive abilities? The world will never know. 

Pocking

People in Louisiana are weird. They're just strange creatures. They've decided that every Easter they must Pock??  I learned at work today that Pocking is a big tradition in Louisiana, and has absolutely no purpose. It's a contest to see who has the strongest eggs?  After dying their hard boiled eggs, Louisianian Weirdos each pick one egg that apparently looks the strongest to them.  Each person holds their egg with the bottom, air bubble side out. They then find someone with an equally competitive nature and these two people hit their eggs together to see whose breaks. The broken egg'd loser for who Easter is now ruined then sulks in a corner while the winners all play again within themselves until there is only one unbroken egg left. This person is the winner. I've been told the winner traditionally doesn't actually win anything except the pride of winning. Soooo basically they're all just really excited to see who bought the thickest eggs at the store. Congratulations. Maybe for Christmas we can hit our presents together to see who bought the best box.


Happy Pocking Easter!

Beyonce vs. Whitney

Today Miss Sylvia decided she was going to be Beyonce. Plugged into her ipod, she started doing the "Single Ladies" dance holding a spatula in her hand. Apparently we don't need to put a ring on it, just stir the batter. 

It turns out MeeMaw doesn't appreciate Beyonce, and decided to retaliate against "Single Ladies" by belting Whitney Houston. "And iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeiiiiiiiiiiiiii will always love youuuuuuuuuu!"  So Miss Sylvia is Beyonce-bopping around MeeMaw, who is singing into a ladle as loud as possible in order to drown out the dog barking and howling coming from Preston in the corner. By the end of this little performance, we had attracted quite the audience, all crowding around the bakeshop door searching for the cause of all the noise. Interestingly enough, none of them looked surprised. Just another day in the L'Auberge bakeshop.

Bayou Baker

I am from Minnesota, going to culinary school in New York, and externing in Louisiana. To say I have a very confused accent is an understatement. I am living with my roommate Andre, my fishy Kyle, and my car Beauregard (Bo). I have apparently started a blog in order to #1, placate my mama, and #2, share the culture shock experiences of a yankee baker in the bayou. After finishing my second day of work, I have already come to the conclusion that I work with some very... interesting characters, my current favorite being MeeMaw. She's an old, large black lady, with a deep accent, eccentric tendencies, and bright purple eyeshadow. She is the real-life Mama Odie from The Princess and the Frog.

MeeMaw is grouchy and has the biggest "heeee-hawww" laugh you've ever heard. In addition, she has promptly taken me under her somewhat oversized wing. I don't think I've ever been called "babygirl" so frequently in such a short amount of time. "Oh you gunn do jus fine don hur babygur, ohhhhh yes." Thanks MeeMaw...


Living in New York, I've realized just how much people feel the need to shorten words, because apparently their lives are just too busy for two syllables. A common phrase at school was "Girl, that shit cray." Because apparently saying "crazy" just takes too much time. I was really surprised when my born-and-raised-in-Louisiana Chef, for who MeeMaw's glacial pace is lightening fast, threw out a "That's cray" today. That is, until I decoded his accent and realized he was actually responding to a question about some unknown shellfish in the freezer, saying "That's CRAW." Evidentially the only things southerners are speedy about is their crustaceans. 


I've just started bringing my MinneYorkan ways to the south, but am looking forward to spending my 18-week externship down here. It should be a great time, complete with some bizarre people, good food, and lotsa crazy memories, because honestly down here, That Shit Craw.