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During this short tour, I bought a bottle
of wine and a box of chocolates. I
bought both because I was still thankful for the repair of Coco. Back at the motel, I took a shower and watched
TV until 6:45pm18:45. At 7:00pm19:00, I was standing in
front of a small house in a nice class district when Jamal opened the door. The moment the door opened a delicious smell
left the house. A second later, it reached my nose. I had a healthy appetite so the smell made my
day.
Behind Jamal, in a small corridor,
I saw a boy and four girls in line and at the end a lady of about the same age of
Jamal. Jamal approached me enthusiastically and gave
me a firm handshake. I had to move the wine and box quickly to my
other hand to receive his hand. After a whole minute of holding my hand and telling
me, how honored he was, he started to introduce his family to me. His oldest son Darryl was not there to
welcome me. He was 22 and married and had
a house a few blocks away.
The next one he introduced me to was
his 21 year old daughter Imani. Imani was
a beautiful young woman with a very sympathetic smile, a little shy and tall. “Guys in our neighborhood are standing in line
for her, but she is very selective,” Jamal told me. He probably expected an angry face from her. Instead,
she got a blush from ear to ear. Shanice was the next in line. She was 19 with
a funny rebellious expression on her face and completely not impressed by this
strange white guy. Kiara was the third girl, and she was 16 and
eyeing me curiously without a blink. Alexus was 14 and a copy of her sister Imani
only seven years younger.
The last in line was his
13-year-old son Darnell.
After he introduced all his children,
he took a special time with introducing me to his wife Chloe. Looking
at the apron she was wearing she just left the kitchen for a moment, to greet me.
I didn’t ask the manager of the
motel, whether to give the presents to the lady or the man of the house.
What I remembered was that she told me not to give flowers without a vase.
Her explanation was that the person would be too busy with the preparations
for dinner to have time to cut the flowers and to find a suitable vase.
I concluded that it would be correct
and save to give the wine and chocolate to Chloe. Looking at her reaction, she totally agreed
with my choice. She was pleasantly surprised. The whole
family escorted me to the living room, and Jamal invited me to sit down, in what
was definitely the most important armchair in the room. Kiara told me that her mother prepared a traditional
regional meal today. “It is called Creole Jambalaya, my favorite,”
she told me.
“We hope you will love it too,” Jamal
complemented her.
I asked them if they knew the
origin of this regional meal. Chloe was just coming in from the kitchen and
told Jamal that dinner would be ready in half an hour, and that she wanted to
tell the guest all about the history of Jambalaya. “Honey, if you prepare the dining table for
seven people and watch the stove that would be great.” With a big smile, Chloe nested herself next
to me and started her story about this traditional recipe. “Most
families change the recipes a little to make it their own. I have two brothers
and five sisters, and I can taste blindfolded, who of them made the Creole Jambalaya.” “But my mother makes the best” Darnell reacted
spontaneously.
“Creole refers to enslaved
people of African born in Louisiana,” Chloe continued “They
are our ancestors. It started around 1600 in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
With not much to spend they had to use whatever
ingredients were available, and therefore, it became a diverse mixture with as
many variations as there are cooks who made it. In general it is called Jambalaya or Creole Jambalaya.
The basic ingredients are meat
and/or seafood, onions, celery, bell peppers, tomatoes and rice. The meat is browned in the iron pot.
The bits of meat that stick to the
bottom of the pot are what gives rural Jambalaya its brown color. The meat is taken out, and the onions, celery,
and green or red bell pepper are added together with some oil. It all is sautéed. Next, the stock and seasonings are added,
and the meat is returned to the pot.
This mixture is covered and then
simmered for at least one hour. After one hour, the mixture is brought to a
boil, and raw rice is added to the pot. It is covered again and left to simmer on a
low heat for at least a half hour without stirring. I just put the rice in the stove. So within a
half-hour we can go on and enjoy the dish.” Chloe
had a fascinating and attractive way of talking about this subject. At the end
the half hour seemed way too short.
She herself loved talking and looked
a little irritated when Jamal came with the general request to rise from our
comfortable chairs and take a seat at the dining table.
Not much later, Jamal entered the
room with the Jambalaya in the iron pot. They were religious people so Chloe started with
a short prayer. God, we thank you for this food. For rest and home and all things
good. For wind and rain and sun above. But most of all for those we love. It was not the standard way of reciting a prayer,
but more like singing a gospel.
At the end of her prayer, there
were a harmonious six voices saying “amen”.
Altogether, it attested to a long
family tradition. Thereby,
I recognized that they all had skilled vocal voices. With a fraction of delay came my “amen,”
resulting in an overall smile. Darnell took the serving spoon and one by one
the family gave their plate to Darnell who filled it with Jambalaya. Meanwhile, I asked Chloe if they also sang in
front of public. “Chloe is the lead singer in the Sunday
service here in Houma.” Jamal told me with pride in his voice. “If you like, the girls can sing a few songs
for you after dinner” Chloe complemented.
I was afraid the girls wouldn’t like
the way their mother forced their hands.
Instead, Shanice reacted very
enthusiastically and with the same enthusiasm, she told me, her mother would also
love to sing for me. “This would be something I will never forget,”
was my reaction, knowing this would raise the pressure a little. Chloe
waited a few seconds and then told me that singing is always a pleasure to her.
At the end of this conversion,
Darnell had covered all plates with this traditional meal.
Everyone was waiting for “the
signal.” The magic words came from Jamal “Bon appetite.” For a
number of seconds, the whole room was without words because they were all concentrated
on their first bites. After everyone
had swallowed it, they all looked at me, expecting my reaction. During that moment of tasting my brain was
telling me that they would expect more than “it is nice” from me, so I was racking
my brain to find a suitable reaction. The Jambalaya tasted delicious, so that was
not the point, but how could I put that in the right perspective. In a way that I could convince them, I liked
it very much. I decided
to compare it with one of my favorite typical Dutch meals hoping that this would
express my appreciation enough.
The best way is to compare it with
my favorite, typically Dutch, meal my mother makes during winter times.
It’s about a meal-Soup that needs
a long preparation, including leaving the soup a night untouched before it is
perfect.
You cannot compare the taste with
Jambalaya but you can say they both have a long history behind it. Like the
Jambalaya, in the past, the soup was prepared because people did not have too
much to spend. It was a very nutritious meal, which was important, especially during
wintertime. Nowadays, this soup is still prepared when it
is freezing outside. It’s partly tradition, nostalgia but it also tastes delicious.
I think I made the correct review
because Chloe told me she was very glad with my kind words. She asked
me about the name of this typical Dutch food, and I told her I did not mention
the name because I do not know the English translation for it.” “That answer is too easy. You can describe
the ingredients,” the comment came from an unexpected direction. Imani’s
reaction was spontaneous, and she was scared up by it and got a blush. The others were also surprised. “You’re right and I will try. It’s a soup but
not served like a pre-dinner, but it is the main dish. It is like the Jambalaya, cooked and served
in a great pot. It’s with
meat, not fish and with potatoes instead of rice.
The main ingredient is a very
small, around five mm hard and round vegetable called spliterwt
cooked until it’s soft and weak and it’s called erwtensoep
or like popularly snert. A typical Dutch winter event is skating on natural
ice. As soon as the rivers and lakes are frozen
everyone from very young to old will be searching for their skates on the attic.
They will go outside with their gloves, scarfs and wool hats on to skate on natural
ice. During this Dutch event, the few who do not like
to skate are placing stalls at the bank of the river or lake selling the ‘snert’ in a plastic cup.” Chloe told me she thought I referred to pea soup.
In America, they know about the recipe, but she herself never tasted it. She went to her bookcase and found the right
cookbook. After checking the index, she navigated directly
to the page with a recipe of pea soup illustrated with a little black-and-white
picture. “Yes, that the soup,” I reacted very enthusiastically. I told
the family that during my trip, passing towns and cities, I am always interested
in the history of the towns.
“The results are sometimes
entertaining, exciting stories. Can one of you tell me something about the history
of Houma.” Darnell stood up from his chair with his finger
in the air. He stated too everyone that he could tell the story because he just
learned it at school.
Without waiting for a confirmation,
he started telling me a great nineteen-century story. European Americans founded Houma in 1834. They
built it on the location of a former settlement of the Houmas Indians. In their
language, Houma means ‘red’, which referred to their war emblem, the Crawfish.
Before the civil war, this area was
developed for plantations, using enslaved African Americans for the hard work. During the civil war in 1862 four Union
soldiers, traveling from New Orleans to Houma, were attacked by several armed citizens.
Two of the Union men were killed, and the
other two were seriously wounded. The Union
brought troops into Houma, where they began to arrest residents on a large
scale. The investigation of the murders lasted several days, without any result.
To frighten the citizens, the home of the local Doctor and two other houses
were burnt down; two other houses were torn down. The soldiers confiscated the sheep, cattle,
mules, wagons and saddled horses from the area. The slaves began to desert their masters
under the protection of the soldiers. The frightened citizens had no means of
resistance.” “What a great story” was my reaction. I hope I can remember all details when I am back at my
motel because I will write it down in my notebook before sleeping. Is it
possible that you put in a few words, the facts and figures, like the dates and
the name of the tribe?” I asked him. After
dinner, Chloe and Jamal invited me into the Living room for local liquor while
the children were doing the dishes.
Chloe told me the liquor was good
to oil her vocal cords. Thirty minutes later Alexus and Darnell had
finished doing the dishes and Imani, Shanice and Kiara changed clothes for their
performance.
They were standing two meters in
front of us.
I was flabbergasted. Suddenly, they were stage-animals. “Our repertoire is mainly soul and blues, do
you have a request,” Shanice directed her question to me. I’m sure
that they all were thinking that a young white European guy had no clue about
American blues and soul. They were wrong because this music already
reached Holland for years, and it was my favorite genre! My quick and enthusiastic response completely
surprised them and as I gave them names and song titles, their eyes grew bigger
and bigger with surprise
“First of all, when the three of
you came in, I was speechless. As a
group, you are just the younger version of The Three Degrees and that’s my
favorite group!
I even have a crush on one of them,
Sheila. At home,
I have a few gramophone albums of them. During my answer
I saw their growing eyes with amazement “I also love My Way of Nina Simone and
So Sad the Song, Neither One of Us, and I feel A song (in my heart) of
Gladys Knight. But my favorite is Loving Arms of
Millie Jackson.” For a brief moment they were flabbergasted,
Chloe was the first to respond
“I will sing the last one; I love
that song too” Chloe interrupted. The girls had a short consultation together before
Shanice told me they would sing Woman in love. To be honest, the moment the three girls did their
performance right in front of me with all their intention and glance in my direction,
I felt a little uncomfortable. It
made me weak, and their powerful voices amplified this feeling.
I even got a little emotional,
but I made sure they didn’t notice it. After Woman in love, they sang a couple of songs
from their usual repertoire. We got a private performance of one hour, which I
will never forget. However, there was more!
Chloe’s took the floor. When she started with the first lines of my favorite
number, I noticed the tension within the family; “If you could see me now. The one who said she would rather roam. The one
who said she’d rather be alone.” Her beautiful
low dark voice and her great appearance, it was too much for the family. I saw that Jamal and some of the girls got
emotional. For how this family loved music and because
of the low dark voice of Chloe so close in front of me, I also had to remove a
few tears. Later, I understood that for a neat Christian
family, the songs and the appearance of Millie Jackson is controversial. Their religious
community ignored Millie silently. The girls never listened to the numbers of Millie
Jackson. They were very surprised about their mother’s choice. “I can almost feel your loving arms again.” After
Chloe had sung this last line, there was a loud applause. After this musical intermezzo, we continued
talking about this subject. I told them about my Jazz experience on my first
day in New Orleans. They sounded
not enthusiastic, maybe because the bad reputation of the Bourbon Street. I told them I would never forget this evening
with them and when I was back home, I would certainly cook Jambalaya for my family. Darnell gave me a paper with a short
summary of the history of Houma. Such a great guy! Jamal made a picture of me with
the whole family. At my request, he also made a picture of me together
with the Three Degrees, It was an extra-special moment for me. I was angry with myself because I did not bring
my camera with me!
At half past ten, I had to say
good-bye. With a heavy heart, I took everyone's personal
farewell and left this loving family. Dear Note I’m back in the motel and before
going to sleep, I watched TV for a short time. The weatherman from the news program
predicts a rainy-day tomorrow. Despite the rain, I certainly want to go on with
my trip because it is still a long way to the West Coast. It was a great
evening! I still remember it as a
wonderful experience. Let’s hope a lot of interesting days will follow. With all
those little events as testimony entrusted to you, you became priceless to me. Sleep on tight dear Note, |