INVISIBLE CHEFS: Where are New Orleans’ black chefs?

A panel conversation on why in New Orleans, where African-Americans are fundamental to the cuisine, there are relatively few prominent black chefs.

WHERE & WHEN:

New Orleans Jazz Market
(1436 Oretha Castle Haley Blvd.) Wednesday, May 3, from 5:45 to 8:30 p.m.

Moderators:
Brett Anderson (NOLA.com | The Times-Picayune) Zella Palmer (Dillard University)

Panelist and Organizer:
Tunde Wey (cook/writer)

Panelists:
Vance Vaucresson (owner Vaucresson Sausage Company) Jordan Ruiz (chef/owner The Munch Factory) Ericka Lassair (owner/operator Diva Dawg food truck)
Adolfo Garcia (restaurateur)

Todd A. Price
Dining Writer
The Times-Picayune

St. Mary’s Academy, founded by the Sisters of the Holy Family, celebrates 150 years

 

So many amazing women leaders that I know here turn out to have been educated by the Sisters.

 

Defying expectations is part of the fabric of St. Mary’s, which this year celebrates the 150th anniversary of its founding by the Sisters of the Holy Family, the pioneering order of Roman Catholic black nuns founded by Mother Henriette Delille. St. Mary’s Academy for Young Ladies of Color, the city’s first Catholic secondary school for African American girls, began in the French Quarter in 1867, then relocated to its own campus on Chef Menteur Highway in 1965.

 

An historic photo from the 1930s of the original campus in the French Quarter. The Bourbon Orleans Hotel stands there now. Courtesy of the Historic New Orleans Collection. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. L. Kent Nelson. CONTRIBUTED PHOTO BY Charles L. Franck Studio Collection at the Historic New Orleans Collection

 

St. Mary’s Academy, founded in 1867 by the Sisters of the Holy Family, celebrates 150 years | Education | theadvocate.com

Nola Files: The First 20 Stories

The Nola Files is preparing stories of the most influential people and places in New Orleans history. To do this history project justice we need to first focus on the people and places that had the widest impact and connected with most of the city. Please look through some of these options and vote for those you think need to be our focus first.

In this survey you will vote on PEOPLE who stories must be told.

 

The First 20 Stories

Pralines (PRAW-leens) Are More Than Just Candy 

This Eater  story is pretty good, but could use a little more context outside of the French Quarter tourist angle. Still, I am so very glad that Knapp included Rien Fertel’s analysis and research.

As a past farmers market organizer, I can tell you that the praline biz extends past the Quarter to thousands of locals who search for a particular variety that they grew up with: some look for a creamy taste, others want lots of chopped nuts and others need the sugar-free type. Most New Orleanians expect to find middle-aged African-American women as the chef behind the treat, although the Crescent City Farmers Market has most recently had genial Wayne Brown and his momma’s Crescent Creams pralines along with his of the old-timey “Nipples of Venus” concoction. Other vendors of pralines at CCFM include or have included the (white) family member of market fishing family Gerica Seafood who makes some tasty sweet treats based on a hundred-year old recipe from Raceland, and school bus driver Betty Walker who hails from New Orleans East, which remains one area of town where the homemade candies can be found on counters of all types of stores.

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Available at farmers market frequented by locals, at Broadway Ave and the River on a recent Tuesday. Pralines are NOT just for tourists.

 

Additionally, the dozens of varieties sold only through churches or a daughter’s office to this day also show the resilience and creativity of this local cottage industry.

Check out this wonderful piece that covers the “mammy” stuff that Rien alludes to; that crap certainly has denigrated the art of praline making which should be deeply respected and widely encouraged.

 

 

 

 

WATCHING PEOPLE MOURN AN AMERICA THAT NEVER WAS

I found this one of the best things I’ve read. Part of that is because it reminds me of the truth in the fractured, violent and yet sweet place that I call home. It reminds me that we can all show up for the Saints games, but not all of us get to hang out in the fancy bars afterward without sidelong glances being thrown. That Mardi Gras is a street thing, but some of those krewes are locked up tight.  Or, that job we disdain or the apartment we moan about is not open to anyone and everyone. And the other part of it is that Ruffin writes simply and poignantly and with fire in his veins.

 

We would have laughed in the face of your naïveté if we didn’t like you so much. It was sweet the way your eyes widened as your understanding of what we saw in our everyday lives played across your face. You were dismayed that your own blood didn’t care about the lofty constitutional precepts of justice and the pursuit of happiness for all. Your recognition of our separateness saddened us. It was like watching a child learn the truth about Santa Claus.

 

Maurice Ruffin’s piece