Note: The title of this post is not a report card.  It's just my attempt at being clever. The report card would be all A's, for real.

It's been a little busy around the Food Orleans household this month, but that doesn't mean we haven't been eating.  Here are some photos and brief reviews of places we've checked out over the summer.

B #1:  Butcher.  Donald Link's Butcher is located next door to his Cajun-oriented Cochon, in the warehouse district.  It's a true butcher shop, where you can buy delectable pork cuts, poultry, lamb, beef, foie gras, and housemade sausages of all kinds, but it also has a bar and little tables and fantastic food.  Butcher has become one of our must-try places we like to take out-of-town guests to, and everyone loves it.  They have a full sandwich board (and the best muffaletta in town--you heard me), but my favorite thing to do is order three or four of their small plates--usually $6 each--and a plate of their boudin with mustard and pickles--only $3.  The menu changes constantly, but always includes a couple of options for those who don't eat pig and is always seasonal.

Butcher: boudin-stuffed quail atop braised greens and creamy mustard.

Grilled house-made sausage (so rich!) with cold tomato, okra, and mushroom vinaigrette.

The $9 sloppy joe.  It's worth it.  Everything is made fresh--even the chips and pickle!

* * *

B #2:  Bud's Broiler, the long-time local hamburger chain in New Orleans and its surroundings.  It's basic, dairy-diner type cooking, and it's cheap, and it's a welcome reprieve from what can sometimes be too much fancy food.  Everything (mostly burgers, but you can also get a hot dog or fish sandwich) is char-broiled to order and so satisfying.

Bud's Broiler:  This is pretty much the entire menu.

The broiler with its friend the television.

* * *

B #3: B Side.  Very important to note here that B Side is not in New Orleans--it's way far away in Little Rock, Arkansas. (Sorry!!!)  But if you feel like making a 7-hour drive some weekend, I suggest you plan your entire road trip around a meal at B Side--breakfast or lunch--and don't eat at all in the car so you can order lots of goodness from their menu.  This place understands how to make good food.  The photos here will hopefully serve as inspiration to try your hand at these dishes at home--we all know how to make eggs, after all.  We can't all make them look this pretty, but we can make them...

B Side: The famous "Biscuit Mountain"--a tower of all good breakfast foods imaginable, bridged with bacon.

French toast kabob:  a stick of French toast wrapped in bacon, cooked (fried? I don't know) and served with powdered sugar and maple syrup.  This kind of makes me want to punch someone in the face, it's so good.

"Figgy Piggy": fig-glazed roasted pork loin with sweet potato home fries.  Such wonderful, deeply satisfying food.  As our server said, "I came in one day and ate the Figgy Piggy.  The next day I came back and applied for a job."

Smoked gouda grits: just, Wow. Rich, creamy wow.

A fresh, bright huevos rancheros.  Someone there is really good at frying eggs, don't you think?  So pretty.

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And finally, C is for Charlie's.  Charlie's is about twenty minutes from mid-city, an easy drive along Jefferson Highway, in Harahan.  It's been around for decades, but recently chef Frank Brigtsen acquired it and revamped the menu.  He didn't make it fancy schmancy, though--just good seafood with a few high-quality twists.  We went there after reading about their "Unfried Seafood Platter" in the Gambit's spring restaurant issue.  I believe it's worth the drive.

Charlies:  Shrimp calas with homemade tartar.  Calas are traditional Creole fried rice fritters.  Think of it like a shrimp-and-rice hushpuppy, and also think, "Yum."

The "Unfried Platter"--I believe the components change with the seasons, but that day we had grilled redfish topped with buttery crabmeat and shrimp, a baked oyster, and shrimp cornbread.

Charlie's:  Keepin' it real.

SPECIAL BONUS QUIZ:  If you correctly guess which of these 4 restaurants the photo below was taken in, you will win a healthy dose of ego for the day plus my neverending respect.  Who knows where this lovely lady lives?

Everybody's rainbow talkin' these days, and I have to admit I say "Double complete rainbow!" at least once every 48 hours.  (If you haven't heard of the Rainbow Guy yet, watch the video at the bottom of the post.)  Now I'm shamelessly stealing one of his most charming phrases for the title of a stir-fry of three proteins and three colors of vegetables.  It might be cheesy, but it's exactly what I said when I was deciding what to add to the three proteins we'd purchased (catfish, shrimp, and chicken) and standard stir-fry sauce-building trinity of garlic, ginger, and scallion: "...and then if I have red bell peppers, carrots, and green onions, it'll be...it'll be like a triple complete rainbow!"  And you know what came next:  "All across your plate!"

Here is my favorite stir-fry recipe, which has served me well over the last 10 years as a quick, adaptable, relatively cheap meal.  It will give you leftovers that you can stretch over several days by adding little bits of veggies, broth, ginger, garlic--whatever you think will freshen it up.  It's not necessarily New Orleans, but it is definitely me, and it's begging for you to use your own local champions of the vegetable patch.  Plus, even in New Orleans, everybody needs a good stir-fry now and then.

The original recipe is here.  My version differs slightly in sauce ingredient amounts and more notably in method.  Use whatever combination of proteins and vegetables you like--but do try to keep the tri-color thing going, at least for a little while.

Jen's Favorite Stir-Fry

for marinade

• 1 1/2 pounds of protein (in any combination): boneless, skinless chicken (breast or thigh, cut into bite-sized pieces); shrimp (peeled, deveined); catfish (or other firm-fleshed fish, cut into 2" pieces); lean steak or pork (cut into bite-sized pieces); or extra-firm tofu (sliced, well-drained, and cut into 2" pieces)
• 2 Tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 Tablespoons sake or mirin (rice wine)
• 1 teaspoon cornstarch
• 1 teaspoon dark sesame oil
• 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)

for sauce

• 1 1/2 Tablespoons minced garlic
• 1 1/2 Tablespoons minced ginger
• 2 Tablespoons minced scallions (note: don't add these first three things to the liquid ingredients; keep them separate)
• 1/2 cup broth or stock (chicken, vegetable, beef, etc.)
• 2 1/2 Tablespoons sugar
• 2 Tablespoons soy sauce
• 2 Tablespoons sake or mirin
• 1 Tablespoon Chinese black vinegar or Worcestershire sauce
• 1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
• 1 teaspoon dark sesame oil
• 1 teaspoon Sriracha sauce (hot chili sauce)

to complete stir-fry

• 2 Tablespoons vegetable or peanut oil

• 1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
• 1 large carrot, cut into thin matchsticks

• 1 can sliced water chestnuts, drained
• 1 cup sliced scallions
• 1/4 cup dry-roasted peanuts (salted or unsalted, your choice)
• a few scallion slices and peanuts to sprinkle over the top
• hot cooked rice or noodles for serving

1. Combine all the marinade ingredients and protein in a medium bowl. Stir well, cover, and refrigerate for 20 minutes. (If using tofu, you can let it marinate up to a day for more flavor. Stir it very carefully).
2. Meanwhile, get everything else ready:  Mince the garlic, ginger, and scallion for the sauce and set aside.  In a smallish bowl, combine the broth, sugar, and the remaining sauce ingredients and stir with a whisk or fork to break up the cornstarch.  Set the sauce aside.
3. Cut up the vegetables for the stir-fry and have them ready to rock! It's gonna go fast and all your hands will be busy.
4. Take protein and marinade out of the fridge and let the chill come off of it for about 5 minutes.
5. Heat a large skillet or wok over medium high heat.  Add 1 Tablespoon of vegetable oil and let it get hot.  Add the protein and marinade and stir-fry for about 4 minutes, until just slightly undercooked (this time may vary depending on the thickness of your protein pieces and the type of protein it is, but I find that even with shrimp it takes about 4 minutes).  Remove the protein and juices to a bowl and set aside for a few minutes.
6. Heat the remaining Tablespoon of oil in the pan over medium-high heat.  Add the bell pepper and carrot (or whatever your hardest vegetables are) and stir-fry for about 2 minutes, till slightly tender.  Add the water chestnuts, scallions, and peanuts, and stir-fry for a minute or so.
7. Add the sauce to the pan and cook for about a minute, stirring constantly.  Return your protein and its juices to the pan and stir everything together for a minute or two.  The sauce will start to thicken up, so you may need to reduce the heat slightly to keep it from getting too sticky.
8. Serve over hot cooked rice or noodles, sprinkled with a few peanuts and scallions.

Makes 5 to 6 servings.  Leftovers are friends of the rainbow.

Since moving to New Orleans, we've had lots of visitors--close friends, family, high-school buddies, friends of friends--and they all want good food.  It's one of the main reasons people come here: the food.  You know you're gonna get it, and you know it'll (usually) be really good.

The question of where to go for it has been an ongoing project for the past two years--taking photos, notes, writing reviews, compiling lists so we'd have a good base of places to suggest to visitors, whether we were accompanying them or not (the list is kept here, online, so I won't lose it).  During our first year, we ate out in as many different places as our budget allowed, but stuck mostly to the mid-priced restaurants in our neighborhood; one of those places was Boucherie, in the Riverbend.

I haven't been to Boucherie in about a year, since we moved to mid-city.  But our friend Jonah was visiting this weekend, and we took him there for dinner on Saturday night--one of the best dining decisions possible to make in the city.  The food is so good there, and the prices are so appetizing, I just want to eat everything they offer.  It made me remember the first time I ate there and tried one of their famous "grit fries"--I wish I had a photo to show you, but that was back when I consistently forgot the camera--and realizing that Boucherie was a restaurant of innovation, but the decisions made about the food were smart, consistent, and tempered.  I knew I would be back again and again, and I was guessing that I'd experience a similar pleasure at other restaurants.  I was right.  I'd put Patois, La Petite Grocery, and Dante's Kitchen in the same league with Boucherie, but Boucherie wins overall because their prices are the most lovable.

I'm gad I can share photos from this visit:

goat cheese and eggplant terrine with a homemade chappati and beet root mustard

watermelon and creole tomato gazpacho with tuna ceviche--this was so perfect and refreshing--highly recommended!

steamed mussels with collard greens and grit "crackers"--mussels go with greens so well, and make such a delicious broth, I don't know why every place doesn't serve them this way.  Let's start a law.

seared tuna over a basmati rice fritter and sweet-and-sour okra, bordered by an Indian-inspired spicy sauce

smoked scallops atop creamy maque choux and oil-cured peppers--my favorite plate of the evening.  The scallops were seasoned expertly and the maque choux was rich rich rich.

This experience has also made me feverish to try places that have been on my list for too long.  Tell me what you know about them:

Green Goddess--the menu is a bit like a mystery novel but I hear great things about the food

EAT--looks simple but promising

One--I've heard it's good, although the menu looks like it might be trying too hard to be filling gourmet expectations.  We'll see.

Mondo--I just really really really really want to go there.

Now--what am I missing?  Tell me what other places are good and not overpriced and would make me really happy I went there.  I'll totally give you props.

I'm a lucky girl. Lynn Becnel, my co-worker and an excellent cook, often shares fresh lemons from her trees, rosemary and basil from her garden, and even the bounty that others have brought to her from their gardens.  Recently, I left work with bags of okra, squash, tomatoes, and cucumbers she'd brought from a gardner friend with a bumper crop.  And when I see fresh cucumbers and tomatoes and it's hotter than hades outside, I think gazpacho.  This recipe started out as soup, but when I tasted the vegetables, before adding the tomato juice that would become the "broth," I stopped tinkering.  It was good.  It tasted like a handful of garden--who was I to cover up all that gorgeous flavor?  So gazpacho salsa was born.

This is a base for a very standard, Americanized gazpacho that's been popular since the 70s.  Traditionally, a true Spanish gazpacho will contain pulverized bread, but I didn't include that--that's one of the reasons it works as a salsa.  There are a couple of extra steps I like to take with the vegetables, though, to refine the finished texture:  peel and seed the tomatoes, and seed the cucumbers--what I like to call vegetable grooming.  It's not as difficult as it sounds, and you get a little more playtime with those extra-cute summer veggies.  I peel the tomatoes to reduce the chewiness of the salsa, and I seed both the tomatoes and cucumbers to eliminate bitter seed flavors and that kernel-crunching effect that too many seeds can produce.  These are definitely optional steps, however, and if they seem too fussy, don't let them prevent you from making a batch of salsa.  It will still be divine and worth the effort.

To peel tomatoes:  Set a pot of water on the stove over high heat, bringing the water to a boil.  Have sitting nearby a large bowl of cold water with some ice cubes in it (you want it really cold to shock the tomatoes). While you're waiting, cut a shallow "X" in the bottom of each tomato--this is to split the skin and give the tomato a head start in peeling itself.  When the water boils, gently lower each tomato into the pot (I use sturdy tongs for this).  Let the tomatoes boil for about two minutes, then turn the heat off and carefully remove them with tongs straight into the ice water bath.  After a minute or so, the peels should start to curl away, making it extremely easy to slip the skins off the tomatoes and get on with the chopping.  Be careful, though--the tomatoes could still be really hot!  To seed them, simply cut the inner sections of the tomatoes away and discard--the seeds will be attached to the jellyish part of the inner flesh.

Next, seeding cucumbers:  Peel the cucumbers while they're still whole, if desired.  Slice each cucumber lengthwise, then take a small tablespoon (metal is more effective than plastic) and scoop the seeds out.  That's it!  Easy.

We ate this salsa for over a week, on everything we could think of.  My two favorite uses, however, were the simplest: with fresh, homemade tortilla chips, and with a simple cheese quesadilla.  Made with a good sharp cheddar and lots of butter, the cheese quesadilla is the perfect oozy foil for the bright crunchiness of this salsa.  It's snacking taken to a higher level.

Note:  A food processor will create a nice amount of vegetable juice for the salsa, and shorten the workload considerably.  But if you prefer not to process, just keep some of the juicy tomato parts so the salsa isn't too dry.

gazpacho salsa

• 4 large ripe tomatoes, peeled and seeded
• 1 purple onion
• 3 smallish cucumbers, seeded
• 2 red bell peppers, seeded
• 1 or 2 jalapeno peppers, seeded if desired (more seeds = more heat)
• 3 to 6 cloves garlic, according to how garlicky you want it
• 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 5 tablespoons white wine vinegar (or red wine vinegar)
• salt and pepper to taste
• minced fresh cilantro (optional)

1. Cut the tomatoes, onion, cucumbers, bell peppers, and jalapeno into chunks, roughly 1 1/1" square.
2. In a food processor fitted with the steel blade, pulse the cucumbers and garlic together several times, until chopped finely.  Remove to a large bowl.
3. Pulse the onion, bell pepper, and jalapeno together finely, then remove to the bowl.
4. Pulse the tomatoes until chopped and juicy, then remove to the bowl.
5. Add olive oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, and optional cilantro to the vegetables.  Taste, adjust seasonings, and let sit in refrigerator for several hours to develop the flavors.

Makes about 4 cups.

Notes:  I like to group the vegetables according to their hardnesses when I process them, to avoid mixed textures.  For instance, if soft tomatoes are processed along with hard onion, you might end up with tomato soup and big onion chunks that still haven't broken down instead of a more consistently textured chop.  But if you want a smoothly pureed salsa, you can certainly process the vegetables in any combination.

I've had dozens of cherishable moments living in New Orleans.  They happen all the time...how can they not in a place where a parade or a song can spring up at any time, for any reason at all?  This summer is a precious and tense time, because we're losing animals, coastline, food, and traditions.  We're celebrating everything and keeping one eye on the weather channel.

The past few weeks have been filled with marvels for me.  Truly, it's way too hot to do anything outside or even go anywhere, but we keep doing and going, and we keep getting rewarded for it.  For instance, the New Orleans Oyster Festival, which was held June 5-6 in the French Quarter.  We went on Sunday afternoon, after the rain cooled the air down.  And it was actually pleasant--so pleasant that we decided to find something fun to do in the Quarter after the festival shut down at 6:00 p.m.  More on that in a minute.  First, the food:

Turtle soup from the Court of Two Sisters.  Turtle soup is delicious.  I know it sounds bizarre to some folks, but trust me--it tastes like really really rich chili.

Char-grilled oysters from Oceana.  Think Drago's but with more cheese and spice.

Cochon de lait jambalaya from Luke.

Fried oyster po-boy from Stanley, dressed with delicious coleslaw.

It's quite possible that the fried oyster po-boy pictured here is the last one that I will eat for a long time.  You can still find some here and there, but they're disappearing quickly because of the increased prices.  When people want an oyster po-boy, they usually have a limit on what they're willing to spend, so places like Parkway aren't even offering them.  Charlie's Seafood, in Harahan, still offers their fried oyster platter, for instance, but you have to ask for it, because the price caused them to take it off the menu.

Back to the story:  wandering around near Jackson Square, we heard a voice over a loud speaker.  It was getting closer, and it was saying Hail Marys.  Then the voice turned the corner onto our street, and we fell in line with a few other people who happened to be passing.  It was the procession of Corpus Christi, the feast honoring the holy body of Christ, the Eucharist, the Last Supper.  We followed them into St. Louis Cathedral and sat for mass and responded when the cantor sang, "Taste and see the glory of the Lord."

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Last Monday, an electrical storm in the afternoon.  Then a rainbow, huge, vivid, long-lasting, sparkling with microscopic reflective dust particles.  Or were they angels?  This rainbow would not quit--one end would melt slightly into a cloud, then the cloud would pass and the color would come back even stronger.  I saw colors in between the colors.  Clouds that passed behind it were tinted to pastels, as if red or orange cellophane sheets were being dangled in front of them.  My neck was stiff the next day from staring at it.

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Yesterday, a celebratory lunch at Brennan's, one of the most revered and cherished restaurants in the French Quarter.  This is the place that invented Bananas Foster--halved bananas sauteed with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and banana liqueur, then flamed with white rum and served over vanilla ice cream.  Servers at Brennan's prepare this tableside, and know exactly when you should hit the shutter on your camera to get the best photo.  Diamonds in the fire!  I'll leave you with this, and I'll see you as soon as you can get here:

I don't know why I had to take one of the healthiest appetizer/salad/snack concoctions on the planet and fry it, but I'd do it again.  In a heartbeat.

See those white edges?  That's fried mozzarella oozing out of the breading, because I breaded and fried the cheese, too.  I've already decided that I'm going to be grounded for the week and I must eat nothing but wheat bread and carrots until I understand the consequences of my actions.

To be fair, there are some fresh, ripe tomatoes in the center, sprinkled with fresh basil and dressed very lightly with white wine vinegar and extra-virgin olive oil.  When I was making this plate of fried goodness, I didn't really know what the final product would look like.  I knew I wanted to use some unfried tomato, and I started assembling the plate by inserting red slices between the fried green tomatoes and cheese.  But right off the bat, that spelled disaster--too much fresh tomato juice touching the crispy sides of the fried items = soggy, sad crusts.  So I took the slices out, chopped them up, and piled them in the center, kind of like a chunky salsa (and hopefully a solid reminder of the origins of the dish).

This is a very simple recipe, and people love it, and I do hope you try it.  You can even use underripe tomatoes that aren't green but just light pinkish.  They'll hold together well enough and be super tasty.

fried green tomato caprese

• 1 large green tomato, sliced into 4 rounds
• 1 8-oz ball fresh mozzarella cheese, ends trimmed off,  sliced into 4 rounds (the chef gets to snack on the trimmings)
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup yellow cornmeal
• 1 to 2 teaspoons Creole seasoning, or any combination of dried herbs & spices that you like (dried basil would be particularly nice)*
• salt and pepper
• 4 to 8 tablespoons of butter, olive oil, or a combination
• 1 large ripe tomato (or 10 or 12 ripe cherry tomatoes), roughly chopped
• a few fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced
• 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1. Beat the eggs with about 1 tablespoon of water in a shallow dish.  Combine the flour, cornmeal, and seasoning (or dried herbs) in another shallow dish.  Add salt and pepper to the flour mixture if your seasoning isn't salty or spicy--you know your seasoning--so do whatever needs to be done for good flavor in the finished product.
2. Melt 4 tablespoons of butter (or oil) in a medium nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.  Dip tomato slices in egg, then in flour mixture (press the flour down somewhat so it sticks to the slices).  Add them to the skillet and cook about 3 or 4 minutes on each side, turning once, until crispy and light golden brown.  You may need to adjust the heat as you're frying to keep them from burning but still maintain a nice sizzle.  Drain the tomatoes on a paper towel-lined plate.
3. If there's still a good amount of fat in the pan, just use that to fry the cheese.  If you think you might need more, add it now and let it heat up.  Dredge the mozzarella slices just like you did the tomatoes--eggs, then flour mixture.  Add them to the skillet and cook for about 3 minutes on each side, until light golden brown, turning once.  The cheese will probably start oozing out the sides of the breading, but that's a good thing, in my opinion.  If you use a nonstick skillet and don't worry too much about keeping them pretty, they'll turn out just fine.  Drain them briefly on paper towels as well.
4. On a large plate, alternate slices of fried tomatoes and cheese, overlapping slightly.  In the hole in the center of the plate, pile the fresh tomato pieces.  Drizzle the vinegar and extra-virgin olive oil over the fresh tomatoes.  Sprinkle about a 1/2 teaspoon of salt over the fresh tomatoes, grind lots of black pepper over everything (fresh tomatoes and fried things), and sprinkle fresh basil over the top.  Serve it as soon as you can so the cheese is still soft and warm.

As an appetizer, this serves 4 people who will be your friends for life.

*Note:  I have a hunch that adding some freshly grated parmagiano-reggiano cheese to the breading would be on the awesome side.  There probably is a law against frying cheese in a cheese crust, but I'll continue to dream until someone shows it to me.

I'm a little crazy these days, and in need of some serious kitchen time to calm my nerves.  Why so crazy?  Next Saturday is the big, year-end music recital for the students I teach in Harvey and Marrero.  Nerves are frazzled, stomachs are full of butterflies.  This is the time of year when I become more psychotherapist than piano teacher, and to be honest, it stretches me pretty thin.  But my brain happens to be wired in such a way that when I get stressed, I like to tackle big cooking projects, like buying lots of bursting-ripe produce that must be used within 48 hours to avoid spoilage.  So while I may be walking around with a furrowed brow for a bit longer, it's a safe bet that I'm well-nourished.

A few weeks ago, I heard on the Farmer's Market Minute that Louisiana has a strong blueberry crop for 2010, due to certain weather incidents we had this winter.  I stopped by Golden Harvest Produce, which I pass every Saturday morning on my way to work in Marrero, specifically to purchase some blueberries.  But right now, they also have huge, ripe Creole tomatoes; beautiful watermelons; lots of eggplant, green beans, and cucumbers; and plump, dusky blueberries from Folsom, Louisiana, sitting quietly in the fridge.  I probably went a little overboard, buying two pints of berries and you wouldn't believe all of what else, but I figured I'd just settle in for a weekend of vegetable cookery.  And baking, because so many baked goods are tastier with blueberries added--especially cornbread.

I like a slightly sweet cornbread, but I don't think it's necessary to have sugar in the batter to include berries.  Blueberries are naturally tart, and add a nice amount of moisture to the bread, but they don't really contribute that much sweetness on their own.  Having said that, I think that if you do have sugar in the cornbread batter, the blueberries will make the bread taste sweeter than if it didn't have berries.  Maybe it's the illusion of fruit being sweet.  I don't know these things.  I just know that I like this bread, with beans for supper or with butter and honey for breakfast.

Use your favorite cornbread recipe, or use my favorite, below, which is taken straight from The Enchanted Broccoli Forest by Mollie Katzen--one of the first cookbooks I ever owned and one of the few I still use every year.  If blueberries aren't your thing, I imagine that chopped fresh strawberries would also be delicious added to the batter.  I love the idea of raspberries or blackberries, as well, but I don't love the idea of the seeds.  But that's just me.

A note of some interest:  Apparently, when blueberries are used in baked goods that include baking soda, there can be an alkaline reaction that causes a green color around the berries in the final product.  It's nothing bad, it's just a reaction.  I did notice some of this coloring, but the good news is the berries sink to the bottom of the pan during baking, so the green tinge is much less noticeable than it would be if the berries were suspended throughout.

blueberry cornbread

• 1 cup cornmeal
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup buttermilk (shake it well first)
• 1 egg
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 3 tablespoons melted butter, cooled slightly
• 1 cup blueberries

1. Heat oven to 350.  Lightly grease an 8"-square baking pan or a 9"- or 10"-inch cast-iron skillet.
2. Combine cornmeal, flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl.
3. Combine buttermilk, egg, sugar, and melted butter in a separate bowl.
4. Stir wet mixture into dry mixture, mixing just to thoroughly combine.  Gently fold the blueberries into the batter.
5. Spread mixture into prepared pan, and bake for 20 minutes or until the center is firm to the touch.  You can stick a knife point or a toothpick in as well, just to make sure no wet batter is still working in there.
6. Serve at any temperature, with anything, to anyone.

Makes 9 big squares of deliciousness.

Mother's is a New Orleans institution, famous for long lines, great grits, and heavenly baked ham.  The first time I went there, I ordered a ham po-boy--the ham is what's touted on their sign, after all.  But maybe I shouldn't have gone for the ham the first time.  It's the most perfect ham sandwich in the world.  The problem is that I can't order anything else on the menu.  I'll try the jambalaya or red beans or grits that other people at my table order--and bless them for doing that--but I'm committed to the ham po-boy above all else.

This is it.  I know it doesn't look like much, but trust me, it is the holy grail of ham sandwiches.  The truth lies in the simplicity and honesty of the ingredients:  shaved baked ham, shredded cabbage, mayonnaise, Creole mustard, pickles, and fresh French bread.  The ham is slightly sweet, the cabbage has a PhD in crispness, and the mayo and mustard create a background chorus that Ray Charles would hire on the spot.  I know I'm hyperbolic, but do you know that I would never get hyperbolic unless I felt it was my duty?  Because I wouldn't, I promise you.

But here's the thing:  I can't seem to order any main dish other than the ham po-boy, but when I went there on Memorial Day with some great friends, I was into trying something new; dessert just seemed the right way to go.  I asked for peach pie: they didn't have it yet.  The choices were pecan or sweet potato.  I love a good pecan pie, but sweet potato was calling to me...as if it were the only choice to make, as if the combination of sweet potatoes (in pie form) and ham (in po-boy form) would culminate in a makeshift Easter dinner.  So I ordered it, and we all shared it, and it was flabbergastingly good.

Simple, yes, and perfect.  Lightly sweetened, a serious crust, and a velvety texture that Leigh Wood described as follows:  "It feels like a blanket in your mouth."  I don't know if it's possible to get any closer to the happiness than that.

So now, I have two commitments when I go to Mother's:  a ham po-boy and sweet potato pie.  I've had visions of both several times in the week since our visit to Mother's.  It's a simple kind of love.

Wonderful red beans with ham; jambalaya; greens.  Everything I've ever tasted at Mother's is delicious, truly and honestly.

Remember when I drifted off into a sugar trance a few weeks ago, all gaga over macarons?  I've been thinking about them ever since--looking up YouTube videos on how to make them (it's a little more complicated than I was wanting it to be), scouring the Web for recipes (like David Lebovitz's chocolate macarons or this extremely intriguing flavor from Tartelette), and just spending all my regularly allotted daydream minutes on them.  So when I just happened to find myself on Magazine Street last Monday, driving through a light summer shower with Paul, I couldn't think of a better place to stretch our legs and spend some money than at Sucre.

I've been seeing Sucre's macarons (and their awesome chocolates) praised in national and local food magazines and on Web sites for the past two years.  Like I've said before, I'm not really that big a fan of sweets, but I will spend money on them, and devour them, when they're particularly time-consuming and/or "uh-licious."  That's what my grandmother used to call something that tasted too wonderful to describe: uh-licious.

I love the emphasis they put on using high-quality ingredients:

The texture of Sucre's macarons is so interesting and delicate, from the glossy outer layer that crackles ever-so-slightly when you bite into it, to the slightly chewy inner cookie, to the very soft and light filling holding the two cookies together.  I've sampled nearly all the flavors now, and I still think that lemon is my favorite.  It's like the most elegant and elusive lemon bar possible.

And Sucre's chocolates are a thing of mystery and beauty...I've never tasted any chocolates as serious as these, and I've certainly never seen any decorated more artfully.  Some look like marbles, some like mandalas.  I doubt that any are less than fantastic--I mean less than uh-licious.

I can't imagine a more perfect shopping spot for birthdays, anniversaries, or mother's day.  It just doesn't get any specialer than this.

I have to be honest:  I'm a little down these days. It's normally a great time to be in this wonderful city--festivals, sno-balls, seafood everywhere you look--and of course, that's the reason for the blues.  The seafood.  No fried oyster po-boys, no raw oysters in some spots.  Fishing folk shuttling executives out to the rigs instead of pulling in hundreds of pounds of shrimp.  It's a crying shame.

I haven't even felt much like cooking lately, though I've been desperate to eat something homey and comforting.  I just couldn't think of what that was.  So yesterday I started scribbling, doodling, trying to get down to the basics of what would make me feel better, and I came up with one of my favorite childhood meals:  fish sticks, peas, and mac and cheese.  Have you ever had this, or something like it?  With a little ketchup on the plate, it looks beautiful, in a Crayola kind of way:  crunchy golden fish sticks, a big splotch of red ketchup, bright green peas (cooked from frozen in nothing more than salted water), and orangy-yellow mac and cheese from the blue box.  Every time my mom pulled the ingredients out for this feast, I got so excited.  It was happiness in one of its purest forms:  looking forward to something.  Plus, I liked the challenge of getting one of those straight macaroni on each of my four fork tines before I took a bite. 

I have to be honest again:  Paul and I have had this exact dinner pretty recently--the kid version.  We both enjoyed the thought of it, and then when we ate it...well, it was less than satisfying, as so many foods enjoyed by our younger palates become.  But yesterday, I needed to recreate the heady anticipation of a meal much like that one, and I think I came up with a keeper:  pan-fried catfish, cool and crunchy black-eyed pea salsa, and serious mac and cheese (coming soon).  This is a comfort plate my taste buds can agree with, and it truly did help me go to sleep happier.  I hope it helps you too.

pan-fried catfish with black-eyed pea salsa

for salsa:

• 2 15-oz. cans black-eyed peas, rinsed and drained
• 1 small red onion (or half a large one), minced
• 1 bunch scallions, sliced thinly
• 1 clove garlic, minced (optional)
• 1 red bell pepper, minced
• 2 jalapeno peppers, minced (leave as many seeds in as you like for heat)
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup minced fresh cilantro
• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
• Tabasco, salt, and black pepper to taste

1. Combine all ingredients, and season with Tabasco, salt, and black pepper until it tastes really good.
2. Cover and chill for about an hour (or longer is fine).

for catfish:

• 4 fresh catfish fillets (cut them into smaller pieces if you like)
• 2 to 3 tablespoons of seafood seasoning, like Seafood Magic, or Creole seasoning, like Tony Chachere's
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup masa harina*
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil (olive oil is too strongly flavored)

1.  Rinse fillets and pat dry.  Season both sides well with seafood or Creole seasoning.
2. Combine flour and masa in a shallow dish; add about 1 tablespoon of the same seasoning to the flour (or you can leave the seasoning out, if you think it will be too strong or salty--you know your seasoning!).  Dredge fillets through flour mixture.
3. Heat oil in a large frying pan over medium heat, until the fish sizzles when you start to add it to the pan.  If the end of a fillet touches the oil and it doesn't start sizzling, put the fillet back on a plate and wait for the oil to heat up more.  You may need to adjust the heat throughout the cooking to prevent burning but keep the sizzle.
4. Fry in hot oil for about 5 minutes per side, until crispy at the edges and golden.  The thickness of the fillets will determine how long they need to cook, and the color of your seasoning will determine how dark the final product is.  If you're unsure, just try flaking into the thickest portion with a fork.  They'll be fork-tender, juicy, and almost pure white when they're done.
5. Serve black-eyed pea salsa on top of or alongside the fish (or together inside a taco shell--yum).

Serves 4.  Actually, the salsa serves more like 8, but it's a great healthy snack for the next day.

* Masa harina is corn flour used to make tortillas, tamales, and pupusas, and I recommend buying some so you'll be more inclined to make all of those!  It's very inexpensive and sold in the baking or Mexican foods sections of supermarkets, or in specialty markets.  But if you can't find it or don't feel like buying it, you can substitute an equal amount of regular old cornmeal, and the fillets will have a crunchy texture (as opposed to crispy), but they'll be oh-so-southern.