New Life Goals

The mega-nerds of the world are rejoicing, as they are finally able to say "I told you so."  The zombie apocalypse has arrived. 


In the past few weeks, some people in Miami have decided to create a new drug, something about bathsalts? It sounds very relaxing, but be warned, it will change your appetite drastically. This new drug is messing with people's brains and turning them into cannibals.  People have been chewing off their friends' faces, mothers have been eating their children, and teenagers have been chompin on the homeless men living around the corner. There have been multiple reports of this zombie-like behavior resulting from the drugs, including two in Miami, one in South Dakota, and most recently, one in good ol Lake Charles, Louisiana. 


In general, I would appreciate it if my friends did not eat my face, and therefore I have come up with a plan. 


I am taking my non-bathsalted friends and we are going to barricade ourselves in Sam's Club.  We will have food, beds, entertainment, George Foreman grills... everything we need to stay alive for years.  There are also only two doors into the Lake Charles Sam's Club, and both are bulletproof.  In case there is any chance of a zombie security breach into our lair, southern Sam's Club's also sell guns and ammo. We are all set. 


If there is ever a time that it is safe to emerge from Sam's Club, I have decided to drop out of culinary school.  Everyone will be eating other people, and therefore chefs would be obsolete. I have decided to become a mortician instead. There will be plenty of chewed up dead bodies lyin around, and the industry will be booming. 


Sami's Mortuary, you stab em we slab em.

Chicken Fried

"You eat squirrel baby?"


"Excuse me?"  I figured I had misheard Mr. Sam when he walked into the bakeshop asking me if I frequently indulge in woodland creatures.  It could have been the old black man's strong accent or the three loud mixers going that had caused me to believe Mr. Sam had said something more normal. Or it could potentially have been the fact that it was 3AM, I had been alone in the bakeshop all night, my ipod had died 2 hours previous, and I was starting to argue with the ovens, but whatever the reason, I asked Mr. Sam to repeat himself. Which he gladly did.


"I say you eat squirrel?"


Apparently I was not mistaken. The man did actually ask me if I eat tree-rats. 


"Ummm, no?"


"Aww das too bad. Dey's gooooood!"  Apparently Mr. Sam's wife had made squirrel for dinner. I didn't ask where she obtained the squirrel, and he didn't offer the information. I figured it's probably better that I didn't know. 


Evidentially people in Southwest Louisiana frequently eat squirrel. There are many ways in which to deliciously prepare the southern delicacy, including but not limited to: 


Fried
Stewed
Baked 
Boiled


I now have various recipes for squirrel should anyone want them. They are also all good with various different proteins.  Turtle works well boiled and stewed. Bats have very little meat, and are "tricky lil buggers", but are delicious when fried. Rabbit is great baked into chicken tender type objects. Etc. 


Now, I can't help but think of Mr. Sam whenever I see a cute lil fluffy squirrel tail flying between the leaves of the giant mossy oaks outside. Or a less cute, less fluffy squirrel tail  lying flattened on the side of the road...


I told myself I would branch out in my culinary endeavors while living down here. 
I didn't think that'd be so literal.

The Slow Life

"Why speed? It just makes you get there faster."


I love the south.

Housekeeping's Revenge

American Idol has hit Lake Charles.


One of the final three contestants currently fighting to win American Idol is from nowhere but Lake Charles, Louisiana, home to L'Auberge casino and pretty much nothing else.  This small town has been completely shutting down every Tuesday and Wednesday nights to watch Joshua Ledet sing on tv.  There are cars with window paint cheering for Josh, flags have been raised with his face on them, every company sign and billboard in town is announcing their devotion. 


When the American Idol season reaches the Final 3, each judge picks one contestant with whom they go back to their hometown for a few days. Lake Charles fairly exploded when it was announced Josh made the Final 3, and he and Jennifer Lopez would be coming back for a few days.  There was a pep rally for Josh, a parade at which they threw beads in true Louisiana fashion, and a concert for the name nobody knew 3 months ago.


I walked into work today to find Chef Cesar attempting to make a sugar showpiece and throwing a hissy fit. He was stomping around and growling about how the humidity of Southwest Louisiana was his nemesis. Chef Bill usually does all of the showpieces, but seeing as he was out of town, and American Idol was IN town, it was up to Cesar.  The piece was to be an amenity in the villa that would be given to either Josh or J-Lo "in secret". Evidentially L'Auberge and American Idol didn't think anyone would be able to guess that they were going to be staying at L'Auberge instead of the Microtel...


After a few hours of his piece falling over and breaking in various places, Cesar finally called Justin and I over to help him take his extremely fragile 3 piece centerpiece across the busy casino to the room that would be housing the biggest thing to come out of this town since they started drilling oil. 


Guess which part I was trusted to carry...

I was a tad bitter until the metal stand hit the ground...

We found out later that the showpiece was put in J-Lo's room.  Evidentially when Jennifer Lopez walked into the casino this morning, she told the woman that showed her to her room not to even look at her. Rude much?? Maybe she should learn to not be so rude to the people who change her sheets and bring her clean towels.

Gravy

MeeMaw has found a boyfriend. He's 18 and currently working as a bartender at Jack Daniels  Bar and Grill at L'Auberge.  Evidentially she likes his biceps and his triceps and his tricycle and his bicycle. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but apparently it's a good thing?  


"I love 'im more'n gravy!!"  And thats saying something...

The Gypsy

It's probably not the best idea to reject a gypsy... Especially in the voodoo town of New Orleans.  Which is perhaps why Courtney and I are now cursed.


On a pleasant stroll through the French Quarter yesterday, Courtney and I happened upon a gypsy man setting up shop outside the cathedral. 


"Let me read your palms ladies." he called.  I smiled and declined, saying we were in a slight hurry to meet up with our aunt, not wanting to aggravate the man who thought he had magical powers...  (Hopefully he couldn't read lies as well as palms, or else we might be in more trouble than we know.)  I didn't really feel like paying the guy 10 bucks to tell me my non-existant cat was about to get run over by a truck, or that in my next life I'm going to come back as a zebra. 


When he kept calling us over, Courtney rather abruptly barked "No!"  Courtney is a fairly calm person, the gypsy probably would have said she'd come back as a hippy. Which is why it was somewhat surprising to me to have her act so aggressively. Though I guess, when in New Orleans...


"Never say no to a gypsy dear...."  the gypsy quietly said with a mysteriously low voice that strangely enough reminded me of Sweeney Todd. 


"Ya know Courtney," I said as we walked away, "I think that was a curse threat."  We both laughed awkwardly, knowing that the gypsy man was probably a scam, but keeping in the back of our minds that we are in New Orleans... 


We then immediately went to the nearest Voodoo store, (which was terrifying in itself) and bought lucky rabbits feet. Better safe than sorry I guess.


Maybe it'll be fun to come back as a zebra...

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.