Toya Boudy - Cooking for the Culture

COOKING

FOR THE

CULTURE

Recipes and Stories from the Streets of New Orleans to the Table

TOYA BOUDY

To my best friend, my husband, and my manager, Christopher Boudy.

To my readers: I created this to be a peek over the fence into my life and journey up to now. I want this to ignite many fires inside of you. I want to be so transparent that it makes you crave to look deeper into yourself. I want my execution and creativity to knock the dust off a dream waiting. I want my words to stick with you, bubbling up when you need them most. Ive always understood that this life is not my own. One of my missions is to light enough fires around the world so that the darkness wont seem as dark, wont be as scary. I intend for you to feel empowered, seen, and be well laced with ambition by the end of this book.

I invite you to follow my journey through food, black culture, life lessons, and art. Though everyones journey is different, I hope by the end of this book, you are sparked to spread your wings, find your why, heal, and feed people along the way.

Long live the dreams we have within.

CONTENTS If you are going to follow links, please bookmark your page before linking. Early birds always get the worm

So much happened in the morning at my house, starting just before the sun arrived.

From bed I could smell coffee, something sizzling in the pan, and the sounds of the dog food being poured into a metal bowl while the Channel 4 news blared from the front room. Sometimes Id wait to rise until I heard footsteps and saw the hall light peaking underneath my door, or other times Id get up on my own to sit in the kitchen to watch my daddy pack his lunch for workthe lunch was so big that my uncle Walter called it a Yogi Bear lunch. As my daddy was leaving for work, my mama would be coming home from working one of her jobs. Sometimes both of my parents held two jobs depending on the circumstances. Mornings werent for lounging. They were for the getting ahead of the daily curves and turns of your daily work. There was a great deal of order to this time.

No one slept past 8 AM unless it was one of my parents sleeping to rest before an overnight shift, or if it was your birthdayand even then, my mama would be so excited that it was one of our birthdays that she would wake us up just to tell us Happy Birthday. Needless to say, with all the work and constant daily routines, my sisters and I formed a firm work ethic. Theres three of us, all girls, and my parents managed to never give any of us any kind of excuse or reason why we couldnt do somethingnot gender, time, money, or lack thereof for that matter. Not one thing was presented to us as if it wasnt possible.

Both of my parents are amazing cooks, both knew how to grill well, both could fix just about anything with their hands, and could even tell you what was wrong with your car if you drove up or started it up in front of them. They were a team. We really saw it at work when they made the decision to buy a house. Of course, everyone wants to buy a home, but its always a certain push that gets them there. For us, it was someone attempting to break into our apartment. That was the last straw. You see, my daddy grew up in the Magnolia Projects and my mama shared a tight space with her five siblings Uptown, so they both had this engine inside them, driving them to get better for us. I remember the day they stood together and looked at the broken glass from the window. I knew something would be different simply because generally when they stood together, shit changed and the problem would be solved or fixed after that.

Often, I compliment them on how they made us so firm and loving just by leading by their actions. Both of them have type A personalities, and theyve learned how to flow like a freshly tuned-up bicycle. They worked hard as hell, and they fought like any couple does and wed see them fuss at each other, but then youd see my mama get up out of her sleep to set the coffeepot to brew for my daddy like it was his alarm clock, waiting for him to get out of bed. And youd see him fixing her something to eat or walking up behind her to kiss her on the cheek. Do I think they knew the strong and nurturing women they were creating? I dont think so. The more Ive gotten to know them as adults, and not just parents, the more Ive come to realize that they were just loving us the way they knew bestby leading, teaching, nurturing, and it was just that, the best they knew. Theyre the reason why were all great artists and entrepreneurs. They taught us well.

2 SERVINGS

Believe it or not, I remember getting ready for kindergarten vividly. Dark mornings, maybe 6 AM , freshly ironed clothes, super neat hair, and breakfast. Sounds impossible, doesnt it? Notice how early we got up when school started at 8:15 AM . Timing is key. As black parents, especially in the 1980s, my parents knew their children wouldnt be treated the same as children of the other races. So in order to make sure their children would not be targeted in any way, they made sure my sisters and I were super neat, pressed, and well behaved. It sent a direct message that said, This kid is cared about. My parents were working hard, rotating shifts, and still finding time to make breakfast and iron. Food was made from scratch and the house was clean, no matter the hours they worked. Breakfast was warm and super comforting. My mama made farina so sweet youd think, This must be the stuff that put Goldie to sleep in baby bears bed. There was always extra sweet milk around the edges. If love could be disguised as porridge it would be farina. 2 cups milk cup evaporated milk 1 pinch salt 4 tablespoons sugar teaspoon vanilla extract cup cream of wheat (farina) Fresh fruit for topping (optional) Bring both milks to a simmer over medium-high heat in a medium saucepan. Add the salt, sugar, and vanilla extract. Heat until the sugar dissolves, stirring frequently. Gradually add in the cream of wheat, stirring until it is completely incorporated. Use a whisk to smooth out any lumps that may occur. Depending on the type of cream of wheat you use, there will be different cook times. Cook on low for the amount of time directed on the box. Once done, remove from heat and serve. It can be topped with fresh fruit or enjoy it just the way it is!

4 TO 6 SERVINGS

As he was teaching me how to cook eggs, my dad told me, They say if you can cook an egg, you can cook anything. My parents were very big on breakfast, and I swear it feels like everyone from New Orleans is the same way. You can pick up a quick $2.50 breakfast with a few faves, including eggs, bacon or hot sausage, and grits. You can find a plate anywhere, from Uptown to downtown. 8 eggs cup milk 2 tablespoons butter teaspoon salt, more to taste teaspoon black pepper, more to taste Optional toppings: minced herbs, shredded cheese, cup sauted mushrooms, or chopped tomatoes Crack open all the eggs into a medium bowl and begin to whisk until it goes from a deep yolk yellow to a lighter yellow. Add the milk and get real whisk-y with it! Whisk by hand for 1 minute. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-low heat, then add the butter and let it melt. Once the butter starts to get a few bubbles, make sure that you tilt the skillet to make sure the butter coats the pan, then immediately add the eggs without stirring them. Sprinkle the salt and black pepper, then let them cook for 1 minute before scrambling them. This is the time to add minced herbs, shredded cheese, sauted mushrooms, chopped tomatoes, or anything else you like, or keep them plain. Using a spatula or wooden spoon, gently scrape the edges, working your way to the center and folding them gently while breaking them apart and scrambling to form cloudlike eggs. Keep shifting them until all the liquid is gone, about 8 minutes, depending on how soft or firm you want them. Remember, they will continue to cook and set once they are off the heat.Next page