Belton Kevin - Kevin Beltons Big Flavors of New Orleans

Kevin Beltons Big Flavors of New Orleans

Kevin Belton with Rhonda K. Findley

Photographs by Denny Culbert

Kevin Beltons Big Flavors of New Orleans

Digital Edition 1.0

Text 2016 Kevin Belton with Rhonda K. Findley

Photographs 2016 Denny Culbert

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except brief portions quoted for purpose of review.

Gibbs Smith

P.O. Box 667

Layton, Utah 84041

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ISBN: 978-1-4236-4158-2

For my mother, Sarah; Nan, Aunt Dorothy, and all my family, past, present, and future.

It was a complete joy working on this book with my friend Rhonda. Getting the voices in my head all together, I am sure, was like herding cats for her. We spent many hours eating and laughing at ourselves.

Thanks to Monica. She was able to keep us in line and on schedule so she could edit all our screw ups.

My cousin Lorna enabled me to recall memories and thoughts accurately. Many thanks to Austin, Cabral, and Packy for the work they put in prepping and organizing so all I had to do was walk in and not mess it up. With Dennys amazing eye, he was able to bring our creations alive on the plate. So not only did they taste wonderful, they looked wonderful as well.

It was a pleasure working with Terri, Dawn, and Jim and the entire staff at WYES (PBS New Orleans) in being able to share New Orleans food and culture with others.

The New Orleans School of Cooking was founded in 1980 by Joe Cahn because there was nowhere people could go to learn about New Orleans cuisine. Thanks to the efforts of Greg and Suzanne, the school is still a family-run business. We get to introduce New Orleans food and culture to people around the world. Bruce Trascher was not only a fellow chef and business partner, but most of all, he was my friend and I miss him very much.

Kevin

Thank you Kevin, for believing in our partnership and trusting me with your family memories and food secrets. Because of you and your family, this book is filled with love. Monica, you make us all look good. Carlos Leon, your support means the sky is the limit. Thank you Fatma for letting us sit for hours on end in Fatoush while we wrote and ate your amazing food.

Rhonda

I grew up at 2719 Valence Street in Uptown New Orleans. That makes me an Uptown New Orleans boy. My parents, Sarah and Oscar Belton, along with my Grandmother Nan, created a true, comfortable home where family, food, and love were the main ingredients. Thats actually a New Orleans home to me. Looking back now, Ive come to realize that our household truly reflected the values and the personality of what it means to be from New Orleans.

Our house was in the New Orleans style called a double shotgun, with a few minor architectural changes la Miss Magnolia Battles discretion. Thats my Grandmother Nan for ya.

Shotgun style means the rooms in a house line up one after another with no hallway and are pretty open for everyone to know everybodys secrets. So you get pretty close. And, we liked it like that. Up until I was six or seven years old, Nan and I were roommates. She was my best friend, mentor, teacher, and overall life coach. It was by her suggestion that my parents added on the upstairs addition called a camelback that became my childhood oasis.

The kitchen was the heart and soul of our house. The rich yellow walls were offset with white trim. The shiny, white porcelain sink was perfection, not a scratch on it. The appliances sparkled. You could eat off my moms kitchen floor. We gathered together around the kitchen table everyday for almost every meal.

I was ringside for all family discussions that took place at that table. Whether we were talking about current events or work issues or the needs of family and friends, those issues were taken up usually over shelling pecans, stirring the gumbo pot, cooking rice, or peeling shrimp.

I suppose thats why I feel most comfortable in the kitchen. Any kitchen. Your kitchen. My kitchen. Thats what comfort is to me. Laughter. Tears. The smell of gumbo cooking. And, love. Lots of love. And lots of food.

My parents were adventurous and werent shy about getting out in the city. Intrinsically, New Orleanians are very neighborhood-centric. Thats still true to this day. Not the Belton clan. We were out and about all over town in search of great food and, of course, family visits. We had family and friends all over the citythe 7th Ward, New Orleans East, Westbank, the French Quarter, where my dad lived until about age 10. I mean all over. So I like to say that I experienced New Orleans from the backseat of a blue 1960 Dodge Dart. And, those experiences with my family made me the person and the chef I am today.

As an only child, I shared the backseat of the Dart, driven by my mother, with the bounty of fresh ingredients from markets, grocers, and butchers from across the city. My mom knew the very best spots to shop for the freshest ingredients city-wide.

We would get fresh shrimp from the seafood lot over in Westwego. Mom would drive across the Mississippi River Bridge back in those days when there was only one bridge downtown. Often times, I hit the open lot market with her. And, other times, she would drop me off at Sid Goodreauxs house to socialize while she ran to the market. Mom was not afraid to power over to the Westbank if that meant getting fresh-caught seafood. I shared the backseat with shrimp that was still wiggling fresh from the water or blue crabs packed in ice. On the way back, she would stop at Dons Seafood on Broad Street for fresh oysters. Theyd come along for the ride in the backseat, too.

Mom was committed to fresh food. I realize this now because of how she managed the kitchen and me and Dad as well. It wasnt unusual for Mom to be cooking dinner and turning on her heels and saying, Can you run over and get some French bread? She only had to ask once. Dad and I were up and out the door for a quick run up Freret Street and over to Simon Bolivar to the front door of Leidenheimers bakery for fresh French bread. It seemed like they never turned off the ovens there. I remember the little retail store. And, the flashing red light indicating that a new, fresh batch of bread was just out of the oven.

Getting fresh bread was that quick in New Orleans. That easy. And, I just always thought thats what everybody else did. We never went for just one loaf, it was always two. The Belton men would snack on one on the way home.

Trips to see my Grandma Emily and Grandpa Oscar along with Uncle Norman and Aunt Marion in the 7th Ward usually were intertwined with a visit to the butcher for the best Creole sausage in New Orleans. For me, the 7th Ward was all about butchered meats and handmade sausages as well as the best fried-oyster poboy in the city. Again, Mom had figured out who did the best and Im grateful that she always took me along to experience these places first hand.