When you are married to someone from Louisiana and more specifically New Orleans (NO) your are going to have to eat beans rice now and again. It’s some unwritten law. So it’s seems at least four times a year we are eating beans and rice , some form of gumbo and who knows what else. He worst part of this is the amounts made and the flavor. I am sorry I just cannot figure out this country’s fascination with huge amounts of carbohydrates, starch and a little meat. The best part , however, is there is quite a bit of prep involved and I enjoy the preparation . I chop the onions, garlic and sausage. I love the prep I do not get to cook enough with just the two of us here now and the dog dead. This is even worse now Dianne is seriously dieting. I am relegated to microwave cooking. I am living on chung king noodles and frozen burritos. Try it, you’ll like it, Especially if you have a have a couple jalapenos. So, I am grateful for a change and something do: help out with dinner even if I do not particularly like the menu.
The beans are cooking, we soaked the bens all night and have been simmering since 7:00. I just put in the onions and the garlic—there are slated to cook the rest of the afternoon. I’ll slice the sausage later in this day and fry it up. I think we’re supposed to eat about four or five—actually the whole event is a ploy to have one of the kids come over for dinner. He seems pretty distant right now—we have not a clue why. Actually, He has never been too big on family events coming over when he wants something. He does not get authentic Louisiana cooking often and usually will make the ultimate sacrifice of visiting when one of his favorite dishes is available—in this case rice and beans.
The weather is brisk—I am even wearing sock on the weekends. I tried going yesterday with out socks and froze my butt off—so today, white socks and sleeve heavy T. I am uncomfortable during the transition stage always chilling . Oh well, such is life I am just glad to be alive.
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