A job covering restaurants in New Orleans brings its own pleasures. But the longer I pursue this work, the better I understand how these pleasures go beyond the delicious food.
This job means talking with New Orleanians about their ideas and their ambitions, their cravings and obsessions, their discoveries, their memories and their family stories, all through the lens of food.
It means spending time with people who contribute to the character and personality of a living, changing food culture. It means learning from people who make New Orleans a truly great food city, not just a city with many great restaurants.
This year, I was fortunate to make many new acquaintances, and I had the chance to get to know others better. Some are new to town or just beginning careers; others have distilled their perspective over generations.
Each deepened my appreciation for the many subcultures in this city’s famous food scene, for the new ideas and energy invigorating it, for the tenacity required make it on the business side and for the rewards that this calling can bring beyond the bottom line.
Their stories filled my notebooks, and they fueled my work. Today, they fill my memories of another fulfilling, enlightening year.
And then, there’s the part of the story that’s always there, if not always explicitly named.
It is New Orleans people and the connection though a lifestyle that revolves around food.
New Orleanians are not just an audience or a customer base. We are active participants, analysts, historians and ambassadors for a richer idea of a shared food culture.
It shows in how we relate to each other and weave family stories around our food and restaurants. It's part of our civic pride and it's a way to celebrate our own blessings and respond to the setbacks and losses and grief that life bring us.
Great food can stick with you. My waistline is a testament to that. But in a community like ours, where the connections between people and place and the passage of time is right there on our plates, it lives in your heart too.
