Home cookin'

Andrew's home from Alabama. And I'm still up to cleaning my house. I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying this study and cleaning challenge.

Andrew went to Alabama to get himself a new truck! We are full of joy by God's provision and blessing on us. He truly orchestrates everything in His perfect timing. It takes a truck to make us realize that sometimes. And it doesn't hurt that my husband is now calling me Mrs. Aldean. Maybe I called myself that, can't remember. I called him Andrew Aldean last night. I think he liked it. If you don't like country music, you will not understand my reference.

There's nothing like your man driving a truck, and the sound of pipes coming home to you. (No matter how "classy" you may think you are, pipes can still make a girl's heart flutter.)

Just to be clear, it's not that loud.

I digress.

I think I have forgotten to tell my blog about Andrew's trip coming up in September. He will not have to go far for this excursion, but his cousin and brother are driving a way to participate as well. What are they doing, you may ask?

They are going alligator hunting with Troy Landry.

No, really they are. As you can imagine, they are thrilled beyond recognition.

There was a slight misunderstanding on my part in the fact that I thought I was going too. For about 10 minutes, I was jumping up and down, thinking about what I would wear and what I would recap on the blog. I simply couldn't wait. Then mom says, "Oh, honey, you can't go. It's just the boys."

"What? Seriously? Why? Elizabeth gets to go!"

If you watch "Swamp People", you know who Elizabeth is.

Regardless, I was devastated.

I've come to accept the fact that the girls will just have to go plantation touring and our own swamp tour adventuring. Doesn't sound so bad.

My mom and I quickly realized that we needed to get started in preparing for our September guests.
True to our Louisiana way, there was one thing on our minds: the food.

Since Andrew was away this weekend, I went home and got to work.

It was more like Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning; a two-day process of making the best chicken and alligator sauce piquante for our company! Just enough for this select group of 4 friends.

Mom taught me how to make it from start to finish. Making a roux is the chore that starts this whole process off. That, and deboning your chicken. 

Andrew once read about a 3-beer roux. By the time you drink 3 beers, your roux is ready. 

That can be a little flaky for my interpretation. 

My mom had a nursing school friend who had a "roux shoe." Her friend didn't know what color her roux had to be, so her mom told her to cook it until it was about the color of that shoe. I don't think the mom intended for her to store a shoe in her kitchen, but that's the story of the roux shoe. I guess I'll have to learn my own trick. 

I also learned about the Trinity in cajun cooking. 

You know, onion, bell pepper, and celery: The Trinity. 

The kitchen was really starting to heat up now.

We cut up the gator meat. 

To get the game-taste out of the gator meat, we boiled it for a while. 

I should confess: maybe I wouldn't be suited to go out on the lake and gator hunt. This smell was about all I could handle. I don't know how, but the finished product was delicious. How do we cajuns do it?

Having the best cook books known to man doesn't hurt, either. 

I think the best ones are not shown; family favorites from our family and our family friends. You'll want to get your hands on those. 

We planned out our menus: breakfast, lunch, appetizers, dinner. The morning of the hunt, the boys need to be at the lake for 5 AM. My mom was worried that the boys wouldn't eat till that evening; we weren't sure if they stop to eat or what? My only thought was "when have you ever known a cajun to go hungry?" 

My mom conceded with this reply: "No truer words have ever been spoken." 

I know I'm right, but I also said that I would wake up and give them a to-go breakfast. 

This is all, of course, if everything goes according to plan. We're praying that this hurricane season doesn't interfere with the boys' hunt and our cookin'. Every true south Louisiana girl has to think of such things. As you know, September is prime hurricane season in our area. It's something we're very aware of; we've been used to it our whole lives. That's why you will never see a Louisiana girl get married around that time. Or if she does, she knows she's taking a huge risk. 

This year, there is a Hurricane Whitney if we ever make it to the W's with the named storms. Let's hope that will not the case because Whitney is certain to be a category 5. You can bank on it. 

So let's hope for good weather, good food, and good times in south Louisiana as this hot summer comes to a close. And you know what that means? Football season is mere weeks away. A good, southern girl knows her blessings: her man with a truck, the ability to cook good food, and the joy of college football season. 

Amen.