’Over the River and thru the Woods…’
Wherever you’re headed this Thanksgiving, may you have traveling mercies and enjoy the ride!
Love y’all, Camellia
* photograph by Jeremy Miniard – used with permission. Find more of his wonderful photographs at jeremy-miniard.fineartamerica.com
It’s no secret that Southern women guard their grandmother’s Cast Iron with the same zeal as the family silver, both were used to feed their families. Cast Iron actually helped settle this entire country. Ironworkers fed their families with hard work born in fiery furnaces. I grew up under the watchful eye of the original Ironman- the god of the forge, Vulcan. We sang Vulcan’s Song in grade school… ‘High on mountaintop am I, I look o’er the valley from on high…’ The statue stood atop Red Mountain beribboned with rich iron ore. Nighttime drives through the city of Birmingham were ablaze with the sights of furnaces pouring molten lava into molds that created all manner of necessary steel and iron. Perhaps a higher than normal amount of iron runs through my veins and maybe- just maybe, that’s why I love the Ironwork throughout historic Sea Soaked Cities of the South.
Balconies with lacy ironwork, parks and cemeteries surrounded by ironwork fencing are distinctive in Charleston, Savannah, St. Augustine, Old Mobile and of course, Ironwork is iconic in New Orleans.
There is literally a Trail of Ironwork in New Orleans, not derived of French influence but from Spanish architecture. After wooden columns and homes went up in flames, it was Spanish inspired Ironwork, reminiscent of feminine black mantilla lace installed on balconies and more…ah, the romance of it all still lingers.
It might surprise you to know, this frilly Ironwork was added during the Victorian era, not before. Most Coastal Southern Cities experienced floods, scourges of yellow fever, social upheaval, war, natural disasters and fire. Ironwork Architecture represents to me, the will to prevail come what may. 
Hundreds of years later, the ancient words in Deuteronomy ring true – ‘…but the Lord hath taken you out of the iron furnace…to be a people of inheritance as ye are this day..’ Whenever I visit an historic city, one of my favorite pastimes is sign up for Walking Tours. In fact, strapped for time…guided tours may be the best way into the spirit and sense of an old city.
I hope you enjoy this collage from my own traipse through the Trail of Ironwork in the Crescent City. This fall, if you take a last minute trip or long weekend to an historic city- sign up for a Walking Tour, if there’s old Ironwork and Architecture all the better!
Love y’all, Camellia
*All photographs are mine. *Verse from Deuteronomy 4:20 speaking of the Hebrews being brought out of great difficulty and slavery in Egypt.
*We continue to be very concerned about the wildfires in California, thankful for the brave firefighters and heartbroken for the residents who have lost their lives and so many homes.
Yes, you read that right! Two iconic Southern Pies in one glorious crust! The first time I tasted Sweet Potato Pecan Pie coincided with the first time I visited New Orleans… Paul Prudhomme was an up and coming chef whose Blackened Redfish was becoming all the rage. Spicy and delicious- Prudhomme put New Orleans on the top places to visit for the food alone! He was invited to the White House as chef for an international summit and became a household name. Lines formed early at his restaurant – K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen. Out of his kitchen came not only wonderful food, there were also chefs who would become famous in their own right.
I stood in that line more than three decades ago- the food was amazing, the experience delightful- made so because Chef Paul was sitting in a huge chair like a throne- with a tasting spoon. We sat mesmerized as he stopped waiters to inspect the presentation and even taste the food. We were rewarded by seeing him actually send back a dish or two! K-Paul’s Kitchen is still a wonderful restaurant, updated it seems to have lost something in rustic charm but the food…ah yes, the food. It is a must stop on my restaurant list in New Orleans!
Now, about that Sweet Potato Pecan Pie… Without the crust, Southerners add sugar, nuts and butter to an humble Sweet Potato Casserole and with a straight face call it a Vegetable! Our renowned Southern Sweet Tooth created the Sweet Potato Casserole in two forms…one topped with Marshmallows and the other iconic Thanksgiving side dish topped with a Crunchy Topping of Butter, Brown Sugar and Pecans…oh my! Chef Prudhomme had the genius to combine it all into a dessert. His Sweet Potato Pecan Pie was served plopped on top of a white mass of Chantilly Cream, whipped cream with Cointreau, an orange flavored liqueur… On top of the intoxicating Chantilly Cream that Tall Slim slice of Sweet Potato Pecan Pie made me swoon…
Let me stop right here…my grandmother often scooped out orange shells, filled them with spiced, sugared and mashed sweet potatoes warmed in the oven with tiny marshmallows on top-so to me, Chef Paul’s blend of Orange, Pecans and Brown Sugar are a match made in culinary heaven. One of my favorite Praline recipes calls for these same flavors! Over all of these years, decades really- I have never forgotten my first slice of K-Paul’s Sweet Potato Pecan Pie. Here’s how you make my adapted version-
Camellia’s Cottage Sweet Potato Pecan Pie
*It will cut better if chilled, but you may not be able to wait that long! *Chantilly Cream is heavy cream whipped with the addition of 2 Tbs of sugar and 1 Tbs. Cointreau or Cognac- my adaptation can be eaten without Chantilly Cream. You may add whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream is fine. Eaten plain? Just as delicious. Sweet Potato Pecan Pie deserves a place on your holiday dessert table- but why wait? Practice makes perfect!
If you are in New Orleans, stop by K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen, buy Chef Prudhomme’s Cookbook and don’t forget to buy a jar of his famous Spice Mix to make Blackened Fish, Shrimp, Chicken or even Beef! There’s nothin’ like N’Awlin’s Cooking!
Love y’all, Camellia
* A short list of my favorite places to eat in the Big Easy also include Commander’s Palace for fine dining, Ye Old Coffee Pot for Callas and Lost Bread, Café du Monde on one corner and Café Beignet for Beignets. Casamente’s anytime except summer for Po’ Boy’s, Corner Grocery for real Muffaletas, the Brennan group of restaurants- think Breakfast at Brennan’s, Red Slipper for breakfast anytime, Galatoires for steaks and seafood, Drago’s for chargrilled oysters and replacing our favorite hamburger at Yo’ Mommas which closed, is St. Peter’s Port, with French Market Seafood Restaurant for seafood of all kinds at reasonable prices. If you want to chase down a real hurricane- skip Pat O’Brien’s fake red juice and like a whirlwind- move all the way down to the quiet end of Bourbon Street to Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar- where reputedly the Hurricane was first served- reputation has it that four real fruit juices like grapefruit, orange and lime juice (maybe passion fruit?) is freshly squeezed over crushed ice, a bit of grenadine, then it’s all topped with an orange wedge and maraschino cherries- with or without a generous amount of Rum…it’s the real deal! I haven’t included the website information because this isn’t a paid list of recommendations and certainly not complete! *All photographs are obviously mine. My recipe is an adaptation of Chef Paul’s – his version is currently found on http://www.cooking.nytimes.com
*We continue to be concerned for Americans caught in the devastation in Puerto Rico and wildfires in California
A mere half day’s drive from my sweet home in Alabama…takes me to a different world- Vibrant New Orleans. A distinctly Southern City yet…unlike so many which are sleepily content under bearded Live Oak Trees… New Orleans pulses with life every hour of the day with:
Food on New Orleans menus isn’t like other cities- there’s Lost Bread and Callas, Angus Roulades, Etouffee, Remaloude, Chargrilled Oysters, Muffelatas and Barbeque Shrimp which isn’t barbequed at all. You may think you’ve eaten food like this- unless you’re in Vibrant New Orleans, believe me it’s a cheap imitation. 
On Jackson Square, why- there’s art hanging out like so many sheets on the line to dry… Antiques, Galleries and Fashion prance up and down long streets, Lacy Cast or Wrought Iron graces fine mansions, boutique hotels, graveyards, parks and genteel poverty…all with the backdrop of lively street music. I hate to admit it, since I’m reasonably respectable-yet honestly, the vibrant New Orleans street sounds make me just want to move with a walking rhythm that’s distinct to the Crescent City. No matter what I show or tell you, there’s no adequate way to describe Vibrant New Orleans…
When I think of Vibrant New Orleans-it’s a Collage of the well worn beauty, the bizarre and bazaar of senses that always fills my heart. I couldn’t resist sharing these impressions of my last minute trip first.
Stay tuned for more details about Vibrant New Orleans.
Love y’all, Camellia
*We are so thankful Hurricane Nate calmed down a bit before reaching our southern shores, but are heartbroken with the damage to our neighboring countries. This continues to be a year of turbulence.
*All photographs are mine, obviously. The last photograph, the scene in a Florist’s window seemed to be a throw away but somehow when I looked again- the picture captured a distinct piece of New Orleans. I hope you like it. The unknown violinist plays like an angel right in front of St. Louis Cathedral and among other street performers, but y’all, the art, music, food and scenery puts me in a different state of mind!
When Southerners leave home- they face certain perils that have to do with customs, language barriers, expectations and leading a sheltered life. I’m talking about travel within the continuous United States, not abroad. It’s a given that travelling abroad brings it own set of perils. Southerners-
I love New York, Philadelphia and Boston; have been to each of them several times and would go back in a New York minute, yet I know I will face perils, fall in a trap of my own doing. New York is always the subject of much discussion among those of us who have actually left home from time to time.
I recall a friend telling me that she thought her taxi driver was a Sultan whose day job was to drive a cab but who surely had a bit part in the Broadway hit-Aladdin. Upon getting in the taxi, she squealed, ‘Harold Joe, ask this fine specimen of a man to take us to the Taj Mahal!’ The driver never spoke a word from airport to the hotel despite her exclamations the whole way! 
Then, there is the issue of closet space in the hotel- there’s no room for her grandmother’s Humpback Trunk (just kidding but we do tend to seriously overpack) There is not even a hot plate for the Grits her mother insisted on sending. We need our space and our comfort food.
Speaking of housing, a young friend was moving to New York with her college roommate, the girl said, ‘I’m hoping we can find a Co-Op somewhere in the Village.’ Let me tell you, where I’m from- a Co-Op is the ‘Seed and Feed, Barbed Wire, Bush Hog Parts, Bedding Plants and Chainsaw Blade Shop’ and is certainly not in a Village! Now, why would anyone want to live in one of those? We understand the desire to go to New York to shop– however, the thought of moving there with all of that noise, sy-reens blaring all night (ambulances), underground subways- not to mention it’s cold as kraut; we cannot imagine actually living there full time! We warn our young, if they take a wild hair and want to leave home-
You don’t want to move off up there, you’ ll get mugged, lost underground on those subways, fall off the Brooklyn Bridge and not have a penny to your name to call your daddy to come get you!’
Then, we pull out the big guns and put the fear of God in them…‘It’s just isn’t done…a beautiful young lady running wild with no chaperone. It’s beneath you, I tell you- trashy.’ To be honest, if she’s got her heart set on moving, not a word we say will be heard. She will know we’re right, when those folks figure out that Mary Jim-
No doubt the food is wonderful- just takes a bit of getting used to. Still. Take Carnegie Deli. The waiters aren’t given to dawdling while a Southern lady gets oriented, situated and tries in vain to spread out-tote bag on the next chair and coat neatly folded over the chair back- Oh no, you’re jammed in there like a sardine next to folks who would rather not be in such close quarters either. 
At Carnegie Deli, the waiters have no patience for a Southern lady taking her own sweet time perusing the menu, either. Here’s how it goes-
She about dies. Now in the first place, unless a Southerner has established who your people are and knows a little something about your background, she goes by the looks of you; your manners speak volumes about your character. And- Southerners get very uncomfortable discussing money…
The mode of transporting Southerners is essential, we tend to like Double Decker Tour Buses- we always ride on top so we can see everything, waving to our hearts content- just like Dignitaries and Beauty Queens in parades back home. The peril of Tour Buses is with the earplugs– you won’t find a southern accent on any station- they offer French, Spanish and Mandarin Chinese- the Southerner ends up saying, ‘It all sounds Greek to me, I didn’t understand a word he said.’
It’s perilous for folks from the Lower Coastal South to go to the top of Skyscrapers- I heard one lady tell her husband she just knew they were up higher than Look Out Mountain, Tennessee. She felt faint right before her knees buckled.
Times Square is perilous too- there’s so much going on it’s hard to concentrate, not to mention the half naked traffic controller. He might have on patriotic skivvies and cowboy boots (Harold Joe is convinced he’s an undercover cop), but really! No self respecting Officer of the Law would be caught dead in a get-up like that in my part of the country! Broadway Shows are where we really shine…
After all, given the choice, we tend to love the most Bizarre Plots and Twisted Tales especially when a Skeleton clatters out of a Closet! We will always favor the Eccentric Aunt or the Crazy Uncle- Every. Single. Time! Yes, there are perils associated with leaving home… then again, we subject ourselves to it over and over again! Now, you know I’m gonna say this… Like all good Southern tales, this one is part truth, part myth and part outright lies! Hopefully, good for a laugh or two!
Love y’all, Camellia
P.S. I love Philadelphia, time would not permit my southern experience with ordering Philly Cheesesteaks! I love Boston- it makes me laugh to hear those folks say- ‘Get in the CA’… not too estranged from a Southern accent- Hah-vahd Squah…just slays me! And, I truly love New York! One of my very dearest friends lives in New York ! Hello and love you Elizabeth!
And…I have mourned, truly mourned the closure of Carnegie Deli, but hey, there’s always Katz’s!
*Photographs are obviously mine (excuse the mixed tones!) However, the two beauties by the car, and the one in the driver’s seat- belong to Jeremy Miniard- I love those vintage pics Jeremy! http://www.jwminiard.fineartsofamerica.com Go say hey to Jeremy!
Camellia's Cottage 