"Wi Chef"

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Paul Prudhomme Outside Of His Restaurant “K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen”, In New Orleans (1979)

For a period between 1989 and 1990 I was the head chef at a Cajun Creole restaurant (Fat Franks). We did our utmost to produce authentic creole food in a place not exactly known for the cuisine. During that time this man was my guru, I devoured everything on him that I could find from the other side of the globe.

The one issue we had was that at the time Sassafras was illegal in Australia, I believe it can now be imported with a licence, but fortunately a friend of the restaurants owner had smuggled a few jars of Sassafras powder into the country. We kept that stuff in the safe.

I visited New Orleans in 2001, but I had stopped chefing by then and had just graduated Uni as an archaeologist and I barely had enough money for the trip, so much so that when I stood outside his restaurant reading the menu I came to terms with knowing I wouldn't be dining in there this trip. To this day I regret not selling a kidney to do so though.

I miss cooking that food, I also miss eating it. I think I should smash out a gumbo or a jambalaya soon.

10 hours ago

8 hours ago

Same.

1f2frfbf

7 hours ago

I have never once considered my access to filé powder as a sort of privilege... on the few occasions I couldn't buy it, with a small amount of effort, I could make it... I now know, and I won't take that for granted again.

MackReed

6 hours ago

I’m a roux man myself, but I respect the old ways.

Also, cool on you that you had that trade. Mealtime at your place must be grand.

BooBounder 2 hours ago

Roux or file ... smash out something ASAP. We lived in NOLA for most of the 90s, and dined at K-Paul's many times. It was always amazing. I have 2 more comments to follow ... few people to share them with these days.

BooBounder 2 hours ago

We took an Australian (from Drouin, Victoria) to K-Pauls' in the late 90s. On the menu that day was ... Something with Hot Fanny Sauce. Once the hysterical laughter subsided, we may have been the only table that night that got the Australian slang translation of that.

BooBounder an hour ago

New Year's Day, around midnight in the French Quarter, somewhere around Dauphine and Conti, we saw a guy exit a darkened doorway to a private home. He was carrying a bottle of wine in a brown bag, and seemed to be hurrying as he went diagonally across the street in the direction of Burgundy. Difficulty walking. Very large and round. Trimmed beard. We instantly knew who it was. Or was it? We told that story a few years later to a server at K-Paul's. She was dubious, and replied "Chef don't walk." Since then, we have entertained the low probability that it might have been Dom Deluise.

"Wi Chef"

Argie

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