reading Lynne Bryant’s latest post http://www.lynne-bryant.com/ i remembered and dug out a piece i wrote some twenty-two or three years ago. … enjoy !
The Cajun Kitchen …
( or: The Cage-In-The-Kitchen … as the case may be. )
There is this lady, see, who tells this story about a Cajun kitchen. Except that she gets confused and the story isn’t at all about cooking gumbo … but winds up being a tale about critters … and people and critters.
Well, this lady cares a lot about people, which is why she has these critters scurrying about in her kitchen while she slaves away at the gumbo & the roux & the okra. So far as this lady knew Daniel Boone never got as far south as the live oak trees & the Spanish moss, but pecans and peanuts being indigenous to the area her kitchen is very seductive.
Were there a drafting table in this kitchen it would be very nearly perfect … for, you see, the guy who poured over footings and re-bars would have a place to put his chili bowl & the squirrel would have legs to climb. It ( ‘it’ being the kitchen ) would need huge screened-in windows, though. The lady making a roux and the guy counting window sills would want to be able to see the tractor head for the tree-line and keep an eye out for the re-fitted shrimp boat. ( You know, of course, that Chet Atkins will go to his concerts only on a shrimp boat!) (and, besides, it might be Captain Flint and LaVern! )
By now this has gotten to be the most laid-back kitchen in the fantasy of mankind. I mean, we have, in harmony, this guy who often thinks that the synonym of courage is fatalism and this lady who cuts up okra & dropper-feeds future Daniel Boone’s while Chet Atkins & the Cajun fiddler do their thing on the screened-in porch ( never mind that Spanish moss has slipped in where the ‘changing leaves’ were … I don’t think Garrison Keeler would even notice. ) and assorted visitors … both two & four legged types … who sort of come & go with their British ( or whatever ) accents and their squeaks & chirps ( are there any birds in this story? )
All in all Cajun kitchens are good places to be. Where else would a daddy want to be when he gives his daughter a new license & a set of car keys and watch her drive down the road; or a mommy want to be when she finds there are mysterious bumps in the bicycle road. Cages-in-the-kitchen may wind up in the attic, but Cajun kitchens never do … not for the people who have lived in one.