Seafood gumbo…
and a King Cake. Two years ago myDarlin’ was preparing a Super Bowl feast for the family, of seafood gumbo, beignets and King Cake, after all it was being held in New Orleans. And it was times like this that he so enjoyed cooking, for it was more than just a job when it was for his family and friends.
The day prior, we took a trip to the Cajun Meat market to get sausage, Filet Gumbo, Beignet mix and Community chicory coffee. And as we waited in line, I listened to this kind Hawaiian talk of his time living in New Orleans and marveled at how he immersed himself in the culture. Off to Harry’s Farmer’s Market to pick up the blue crabs and a King Cake (you see, they were out at the Cajun Market and we didn’t act quickly enough to order the real deal from Maurice’s Bakery in NOLA). Shopping with myDarlin’ was always such a pleasure. I delighted at how excited he got about food and remember the first time we went to Harry’s. A kid in a candy store is a good way to describe it, as he picked up an exotic piece of fruit and described where it came from, what it tastes like and how to use it in food preparation.
And that morning, we ate beignets and drank chicory coffee, as the door to Margaritaville slightly opened let a breeze into the heated kitchen. And our grandsons smiled a big smile sprinkled with as much confectioners’ sugar as was on the beignets themselves. It seemed that before I could clean the dishes, it was time for the seafood gumbo. A bit of rice in the bottom of the bowl, a crab placed ever so carefully with claws over the side and a couple of ladles of a wonderfully spicy, thick gumbo.
The anticipation of trying something new hung in the air as everyone got their bowl and went back over to the table. A few quiet moments, exploring one’s pallet with delightful tastes of New Orleans, then turns to accolades of a job well done for myDarlin’. And it is clear that he is a happy man.
Football commences on the big screen, with the appropriate amount of inspirational outbursts. Halftime arrives and it is time to cut the King Cake. And I listen as he shares the meaning of the bean with our grandsons.
‘A little bean was traditionally hidden in it, a custom taken from the Saturnalia in the Roman Empire: the one who stumbled upon the bean was called "king of the feast" and is also responsible for buying the next year’s cake or throwing the next year’s party. The beans have since been replaced by a plastic baby Jesus figurines.
The game is over, the kitchen cleaned and everyone has gone home myDarlin’ Robert Kenui Pope, Now, it’s just you and me in the quiet stillness of our home and you say to me, “We have a good life, don’t we baby?” Yes, myDarln’… yes, we did.
Today I am filled with gratitude for our ‘good life’, a treasure so simple, yet so elusive for some. And I pray that you too may be blessed with a ‘good life’ as you place your trust in the Lord at the dawn of a new day.
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