Stephanie and I had been working all morning inseparate rooms in our house. She was cloistered upstairs in our office toiling on some year-end reportsgoing to the numerous officials in the states we are distributed in. I was downstairs answering the one hundred and seven emails I had let pile up during the week between Christmas and New Year’s.
Everyone’s been busier than the proverbial one legged man in a butt-kicking contest at our petite farmhouse brewery. Along with our friends at Valcour records, my family just released our first seasonal/collaboration project. Our side of the collaboration was of course a beer - one that we have christened Courir de Mardi Gras. Courir is crafted in the style of a Biere de Mars, a centuries old style of French farmhouse ale.In France this style of beers is brewed in pretty-small batches on farms, thus insuring that not many of them are imported to the states. While we brewed multiple small batches of the beer to refine the recipe, designed the packaging, and labored to get everything approved by the Feds and States we distribute to, the guys at Valcour were busy working on the companion cd, the Best of Valcour Records, Volume I. It was a lot of work, getting the CD and Biere out before Mardi Gras, but I think everyone’s gonna dig it -the CD and the beer are both a lot of fun, and tastefully perfect for Mardi Gras get-togethers.
Just before Christmas we also released the last of our LA-31 series of beers. At New Orleans’ famous Rock and Bowl we helped put on a fantastic evening to raise money with (and for) our good friends at Louisiana Folk roots – they do so much in the preservation and promotion of our Cajun culture. At that party (fabulous music guests Corey Ledet and the Lost Bayou Ramblers) we released our newest beer - Mello Dubbel. In collaboration with Mello Joy Coffee we are crafting a Belgian Dubbel style beer that is spiked with their signature, dark French-roasted, and very Cajun coffee.
Umm, not to brag, but both beers are pretty freaking good.
We’ve also been working on the new brewery; currently framing in and sheet rocking the tasting room and production offices, and also a lab. We are likewise are doing all of the planning and wiring and plumbing to get ready for the brewery equipment coming later this year.
And working on some other, top-secret beer projects. Arnaudville is fast becoming the Area 51 of beer.
So, Stephanie and I had been laboring all morning, separated like we each were in solitary. If we absolutely had to communicate, it was by shouting at each other up and down the stairwell.
We had not shouted a kind word to each other all morning.
Dorsey was on the road working with our distributor in Biloxi for the Top of the Hops festival coming up on the 28th of February. Byron was draping theneck hangers on bottles of our Courir de Mardi Gras beer. These hangers allow for the free download of two songs from the Valcour website. Cory had been working away on some new packaging changes for some of our core brands, plus starting work on the next – way too cool, and top-secret seasonal.
Stephanie and I had skipped breakfast – opting for a couple of tall mugs of Dark Roast Mello Joy coffee. Nearing noon, my beer belly started to announce that it was empty – but I still had about seventy emails to answer – and new ones coming in.
“Damn, I’m hungry,” I said out loud.
Stephanie still clicked away at the computerupstairs
I shoved enough of the piles of papers and old mail, samples of barley and marketing products, and the accumulated reminders of everything we had to get caught up on that covered our kitchen table aside -just enough room for two place settings.
Then I went into our ice box.
I emerged with a couple of Honey Crisp apples (worth all of the hype), and a too-large stick of home-made venison sausage. I sliced both, and then washed some bon-bon sweet grape tomatoes dressed with nothing but a little sea salt, and set them on a very nice platter of mixedolives, Brie cheese,and some very nice crackers. Even with the backdrop of unfinished work, the platters piled high with food started to calm me and my increasingly impatient stomach.
I called up to my overworked and severely underpaid partner – it was past time for her to take a little break. While I waited for her to get to a stopping point, I pulled out two bottles of Courir de Mardi Gras beer from the back of the fridge, and poured them into a couple of fancy-pants Belgian beer glasses.
Being a French style of beer, of course it appreciated being on the same table with the casually arranged platters of food. When working out the recipe, I did not foresee how well this francophone ale would pair with all of the disparate flavors of a cobbled together lunch - not only did it pair with each unique food, it united them. I was in foodie heaven, wearing a little black beret and stereotypically laughing like one of the French cartoon characters in Ratatouille.
Freshly sliced straight from the garden tomato is tough to pair with many beers, near impossible with wine – but the Biere de Mars laughed at the tomato pairing throw-down. I’m bummed that this beer is only going to be available until Lent – just before we start harvesting the really great tasting tomatoes from our little springgarden.
Stephanie and I enjoyed our respite – we mocked the ever-increasing size of our inboxes while eating and drinking leisurely. I tried to convince her that a second Courir de Mardi Gras Biere would maximize our afternoon’s efficiency.
She didn’t buy that, but she didn’t argue too much either.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
The opening lyrics of Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson (though I think I’ve only heard the Johnny Cash version of the song) pretty much sums up how many brewers start our Sabbath morning. Saturday nights are usually pretty busy for us, meeting the folks interested in our crafted beers at beer festivals and dinners, hanging out at the bars and nightclubs that have our beer– and of course it would be rude not to throw back a few pints with fellow beer enthusiasts.
Also the occasional night cap when you finally make it home.
A Sunday morning hangover is a common, work-related injury of the brewing profession. I guess it is something we all learn to not only live with, but develop our own cures for.
I don’t so much have a cure, but I do have my own Sunday morning hangover routine. I wake up pretty early and quietly trudge downstairs, dragging my bare feet to our still dark kitchen. On our breakfast table there is a tiny little AM/FM clock radio that I tune to KRVS 88.7, the public radio station in Lafayette. On Sunday mornings from seven to nine is one of my favorite radio shows – Le Reviel hosted by Louis Michot. Louis is also the violin player and vocalist for the Lost Bayou Ramblers and always plays a great collection of traditional Cajun songs. He also broadcasts the entire show in Cajun French.
If we could get every radio station in Acadiana to carry his Sunday morning show – I would not have to hang-over fumble with the tiny dial on our kitchen radio.
Feeling a little more like myself thanks to the radio’s toe-tapping two steps, I pull out my large, very well seasoned, cast iron Dutch oven and start a batch of couche-couche. It takes all of about thirty minutes to get a batch just right, so about 20 minutes into it I’ll plug in my old General Electric percolator – filled with either Mello Joy dark roast (the strength depending how hung-over a state I am in). The sounds of coffee perking, and the aromas of the frying cornmeal and coffee, along with Cajun French music coming from our little radio takes me back forty years to pre-dawn summers in Grandma and Papa’s little kitchen.
To a time well before I could legally drink beer.
By now my little girl and wife have usually made it downstairs. Sipping from big cups of Café au Laits, my wife and I rush to get the hot bowls of couche-couche to the table. My wife always pours Steen’s syrup on hers, while I prefer two sprinkled on tablespoons of very refined table sugar. All three of us look forward to that magical moment when the couche-couche is sweet and hot and the milk ice cold, and rushing we each swallow the first several spoonfuls because we know soon everything will be tepid and mushy in our bowls.
Those first spoonfuls are Heaven though.
Speaking of Heaven, we have to finish our Sunday breakfast before nine thirty, because Father Brown’s Mass is at ten thirty. Catholics cannot consume anything an hour before Mass (though I think when I was a kid the fast started the night before). Father Brown also has Mass at seven and eight, but I don’t think these times were devised for worshipers who consumed too many pints of craft beer the night before.
Father Brown’s the best and he always gives us enough to ponder on for the next six days – and he also enjoys craft beer and is a great supporter and friend of our little brewery.
His Mass always prepares us for the hard work of the week ahead – and by the time it ends the occupational hangover has pretty much been cured. Our theme song is a little less depressing Sunday Morning Coming Down and something a little more upbeat.
Maybe ZZ Top’s Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers.
Bayou Teche Beers are now available in much of Mississippi, and we look forward to meeting more of our supporters and beer fans there. Great things are happening in the Deep South when it comes to craft beer and I want to give ya’ll a big Merci Bien for helping us be a part of it.
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
The opening lyrics of Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson (though I think I’ve only heard the Johnny Cash version of the song) pretty much sums up how many brewers start our Sabbath morning. Saturday nights are usually pretty busy for us, meeting the folks interested in our crafted beers at beer festivals and dinners, hanging out at the bars and nightclubs that have our beer– and of course it would be rude not to throw back a few pints with fellow beer enthusiasts.
Also the occasional night cap when you finally make it home.
A Sunday morning hangover is a common, work-related injury of the brewing profession. I guess it is something we all learn to not only live with, but develop our own cures for.
I don’t so much have a cure, but I do have my own Sunday morning hangover routine. I wake up pretty early and quietly trudge downstairs, dragging my bare feet to our still dark kitchen. On our breakfast table there is a tiny little AM/FM clock radio that I tune to KRVS 88.7, the public radio station in Lafayette. On Sunday mornings from seven to nine is one of my favorite radio shows – Le Reviel hosted by Louis Michot. Louis is also the violin player and vocalist for the Lost Bayou Ramblers and always plays a great collection of traditional Cajun songs. He also broadcasts the entire show in Cajun French.
If we could get every radio station in Acadiana to carry his Sunday morning show – I would not have to hang-over fumble with the tiny dial on our kitchen radio.
Feeling a little more like myself thanks to the radio’s toe-tapping two steps, I pull out my large, very well seasoned, cast iron Dutch oven and start a batch of couche-couche. It takes all of about thirty minutes to get a batch just right, so about 20 minutes into it I’ll plug in my old General Electric percolator – filled with either Mello Joy dark roast (the strength depending how hung-over a state I am in). The sounds of coffee perking, and the aromas of the frying cornmeal and coffee, along with Cajun French music coming from our little radio takes me back forty years to pre-dawn summers in Grandma and Papa’s little kitchen.
To a time well before I could legally drink beer.
By now my little girl and wife have usually made it downstairs. Sipping from big cups of Café au Laits, my wife and I rush to get the hot bowls of couche-couche to the table. My wife always pours Steen’s syrup on hers, while I prefer two sprinkled on tablespoons of very refined table sugar. All three of us look forward to that magical moment when the couche-couche is sweet and hot and the milk ice cold, and rushing we each swallow the first several spoonfuls because we know soon everything will be tepid and mushy in our bowls.
Those first spoonfuls are Heaven though.
Speaking of Heaven, we have to finish our Sunday breakfast before nine thirty, because Father Brown’s Mass is at ten thirty. Catholics cannot consume anything an hour before Mass (though I think when I was a kid the fast started the night before). Father Brown also has Mass at seven and eight, but I don’t think these times were devised for worshipers who consumed too many pints of craft beer the night before.
Father Brown’s the best and he always gives us enough to ponder on for the next six days – and he also enjoys craft beer and is a great supporter and friend of our little brewery.
His Mass always prepares us for the hard work of the week ahead – and by the time it ends the occupational hangover has pretty much been cured. Our theme song is a little less depressing Sunday Morning Coming Down and something a little more upbeat.
Maybe ZZ Top’s Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers.
Bayou Teche Beers are now available in much of Mississippi, and we look forward to meeting more of our supporters and beer fans there. Great things are happening in the Deep South when it comes to craft beer and I want to give ya’ll a big Merci Bien for helping us be a part of it.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Karlos, Byron, Dorsey, Can't Dance...
Back when my father was a young man, rural folks in Acadiana still held bals de maison, or house dances. The men would push the furniture to the walls and sweep the floors, while the women cooked a big gumbo and also some sweet dough pies. Since there were not any dance clubs within driving distance, these rural Cajuns would gather weekly and dance at their neighbor’s homes – until eventually it was their own turn to host one at home. At these house dances there were always dance contests – one for the best two-step, and one the best waltz.
I suspect my dad did not win any of those contests.
My dad tells us that later, when salles de dance (dance halls) started opening in rural St. Martin parish, there were still dance contests, though the halls added Jitterbug, Polka and Charleston categories to the competitions.
For over two centuries the Arnaudville Knotts have been cursed with an unexplainable inability to dance. Oh we love to two step and waltz – we just do not look good doing it. Two left feet does not describe it, unless they were Frankenstein’s feet. My grandfather was a bad dancer, as was his father. My father is pretty bad, as are my brothers. As for me, when I dance I look like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, if he was cursed with arthritis and a strange lack of rhythm.
And Frankenstein’s feet.
And curiously we all married women who love to and are fantastic dancers. I am sure my mom won some of those dance contests back in the day (surely before she met dad). I am sure my grandmother did too, she was also a fantastic dancer. My brothers’ wives, as well as my own could, if they were not handicapped by Knotts as partners.
When my brothers and I are sitting around the brewery, talking about those events in our Cajun culture that bisected with drinking beer, one thing that kept coming up (other than Bourée tournaments, trail rides and crawfish boils) was those old-time, Cajun-music driven dances.
So Byron and I did not think it odd when Dorsey and Laurin suggested we sponsor a LA-31 dance off. Keeping alive old Cajun and Creole traditions while enjoying crafted beers is like a Blues Brothers, “we’re on a mission from God” calling for us. Plus no one could accuse us of putting on a dance competition because we wanted to win any of the prizes for ourselves - it is beyond belief that our dancing abilities would allow that.
So put on your dancing shoes (or cowboy boots) and come out and see us this Sunday, February 27th at Whiskey River Landing on the Henderson Levee for the first LA-31 Dance off, presented by Schilling Distributing. We are kicking off at 4 pm with Jamie Bergeron and the Kicking Cajuns. The dance off will have three rounds, ending in a final elimination round to crown the overall best dancing couple.
I hear the prizes are very nice – and will include beaucoup LA-31 biere. While you are there look for my wife on the dance floor – her partner will be dancing like he has on Frankenstein’s boots.
I suspect my dad did not win any of those contests.
My dad tells us that later, when salles de dance (dance halls) started opening in rural St. Martin parish, there were still dance contests, though the halls added Jitterbug, Polka and Charleston categories to the competitions.
For over two centuries the Arnaudville Knotts have been cursed with an unexplainable inability to dance. Oh we love to two step and waltz – we just do not look good doing it. Two left feet does not describe it, unless they were Frankenstein’s feet. My grandfather was a bad dancer, as was his father. My father is pretty bad, as are my brothers. As for me, when I dance I look like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, if he was cursed with arthritis and a strange lack of rhythm.
And Frankenstein’s feet.
And curiously we all married women who love to and are fantastic dancers. I am sure my mom won some of those dance contests back in the day (surely before she met dad). I am sure my grandmother did too, she was also a fantastic dancer. My brothers’ wives, as well as my own could, if they were not handicapped by Knotts as partners.
When my brothers and I are sitting around the brewery, talking about those events in our Cajun culture that bisected with drinking beer, one thing that kept coming up (other than Bourée tournaments, trail rides and crawfish boils) was those old-time, Cajun-music driven dances.
So Byron and I did not think it odd when Dorsey and Laurin suggested we sponsor a LA-31 dance off. Keeping alive old Cajun and Creole traditions while enjoying crafted beers is like a Blues Brothers, “we’re on a mission from God” calling for us. Plus no one could accuse us of putting on a dance competition because we wanted to win any of the prizes for ourselves - it is beyond belief that our dancing abilities would allow that.
So put on your dancing shoes (or cowboy boots) and come out and see us this Sunday, February 27th at Whiskey River Landing on the Henderson Levee for the first LA-31 Dance off, presented by Schilling Distributing. We are kicking off at 4 pm with Jamie Bergeron and the Kicking Cajuns. The dance off will have three rounds, ending in a final elimination round to crown the overall best dancing couple.
I hear the prizes are very nice – and will include beaucoup LA-31 biere. While you are there look for my wife on the dance floor – her partner will be dancing like he has on Frankenstein’s boots.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Pappa Was Not a Rolling Stone
Pappa was one of the last holdouts.
Every New Year’s Day we would all get together at my grandfather’s home in Bayou Portage. Like all of his French-speaking neighbors, our grandparents would slowly simmer a big pot of black-eyed peas promising next year’s good luck. There also was one of smothered cabbage, guaranteed to bring us money, also on Grandma’s kitchen table.
What separated us from most of the other families getting together that day was that we had presents for one another!
Pappa made sure of that. It was a tradition he wanted continued.
Funny, people of his parents’ generation would not have thought those presents odd at all. New Years day was planned around a large midday meal (called diner in those days), with the accompanying black eyed peas and cabbage, and multiple dessert dishes and demitasses of café noir. After the extended meal and multiple exchanges of “Bonne Année” presents were exchanged among the members of most Cajun families.
I just googled “Cajuns exchanging New Years’ Gifts” and the couple of hits I got suggest this Cajun tradition was one that was brought over from rural France, and was practiced there since Roman times.
Pappa did not like the way most of his neighbors (and his own grandchildren) were forgetting this old custom. To him, we were adopting the ways of Les Americans (what he called English speakers, a term almost as insulting as Yankees). You see, we were getting presents on Christmas – and to the older folks that practice was sacrilegious on one of the two most holy days of the year.
On Christmas, past generations in Acadiana would stay up for Midnight Mass, and then prepare for a thoughtful day celebrating our Saviors’ birth– and a very large midday meal in his honor.
By the way, this year in Arnaudville, Father Brown’s Christmas Mass rocked. He’s the best.
The last fifteen or so years my father has renewed the New Years’ custom his father so stubbornly held on to. My wife and I still exchange presents on Christmas – we do have a son and daughter who would move out if we did not. And they look forward to New Years at my Mom and Dad’s house (and a second round of gifts for them), continuing a Cajun tradition that goes back centuries.
We would like to thank everyone who has helped us start up the brewery this year – all of our family, friends, the supporters we have met during our travels around Louisiana, the retailers, bar and restaurant owners who continue to believe in us, folks at all of the distributors, the three people who read my blogs, and everyone who has stopped by the brewery to say hello. We appreciate all of the help more than we could ever express. And for those lucky enough to try one of the few cases of our most outlandish beer yet (a test batch of a very high alcohol Christmas seasonal ale, squeezed out of a single oak barrel and spiked with a very secret, and in many States, illegal ingredient), don’t worry, it will be available next year in larger quantities.
If I get my Christmas wish and the fine folks at the Federal Offices of the TTB approve the formula in time.
My brothers and I, our wives and family would like to wish everyone in the Bayou Teche Brewing community a Joyeux Noël et Bonne Année.
Every New Year’s Day we would all get together at my grandfather’s home in Bayou Portage. Like all of his French-speaking neighbors, our grandparents would slowly simmer a big pot of black-eyed peas promising next year’s good luck. There also was one of smothered cabbage, guaranteed to bring us money, also on Grandma’s kitchen table.
What separated us from most of the other families getting together that day was that we had presents for one another!
Pappa made sure of that. It was a tradition he wanted continued.
Funny, people of his parents’ generation would not have thought those presents odd at all. New Years day was planned around a large midday meal (called diner in those days), with the accompanying black eyed peas and cabbage, and multiple dessert dishes and demitasses of café noir. After the extended meal and multiple exchanges of “Bonne Année” presents were exchanged among the members of most Cajun families.
I just googled “Cajuns exchanging New Years’ Gifts” and the couple of hits I got suggest this Cajun tradition was one that was brought over from rural France, and was practiced there since Roman times.
Pappa did not like the way most of his neighbors (and his own grandchildren) were forgetting this old custom. To him, we were adopting the ways of Les Americans (what he called English speakers, a term almost as insulting as Yankees). You see, we were getting presents on Christmas – and to the older folks that practice was sacrilegious on one of the two most holy days of the year.
On Christmas, past generations in Acadiana would stay up for Midnight Mass, and then prepare for a thoughtful day celebrating our Saviors’ birth– and a very large midday meal in his honor.
By the way, this year in Arnaudville, Father Brown’s Christmas Mass rocked. He’s the best.
The last fifteen or so years my father has renewed the New Years’ custom his father so stubbornly held on to. My wife and I still exchange presents on Christmas – we do have a son and daughter who would move out if we did not. And they look forward to New Years at my Mom and Dad’s house (and a second round of gifts for them), continuing a Cajun tradition that goes back centuries.
We would like to thank everyone who has helped us start up the brewery this year – all of our family, friends, the supporters we have met during our travels around Louisiana, the retailers, bar and restaurant owners who continue to believe in us, folks at all of the distributors, the three people who read my blogs, and everyone who has stopped by the brewery to say hello. We appreciate all of the help more than we could ever express. And for those lucky enough to try one of the few cases of our most outlandish beer yet (a test batch of a very high alcohol Christmas seasonal ale, squeezed out of a single oak barrel and spiked with a very secret, and in many States, illegal ingredient), don’t worry, it will be available next year in larger quantities.
If I get my Christmas wish and the fine folks at the Federal Offices of the TTB approve the formula in time.
My brothers and I, our wives and family would like to wish everyone in the Bayou Teche Brewing community a Joyeux Noël et Bonne Année.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
On the Importance of Taking a Nap
The morning sun never caught my grandfather in bed. Getting up while the roosters still snored, and also before the heat of the day, he would eat breakfast while watching Passe Partout. When we stayed with him and Grandma my brothers and I joked that they got up before anyone spoke English – in those days Passe Partout was broadcast entirely in Cajun French, as was my grandparent’s conversation around their kitchen table.
My grandfather would head out to his farm, working until dinner time. Dinner was served at noon, and it was the big meal of the day. Grandma would have two or three home-grown vegetable dishes ready, plenty of rice and gravy, maybe a roast, or a baked chicken and if my brothers and I had been good all morning there were mounds of French fries and a pitcher of homemade Zatarans root beer on the table for us.
I don’t know when we started calling the noontime meal in Acadiana lunch. I guess lunch is what you eat when you live by a clock, “we have one hour to grab lunch.” Dinner at my grandparent’s house was an event, often with visitors, boisterous laughter and long conversations, with no one looking at their wrist watch to see how much time was left till work started again. Coffee was served after dinner and as the conversations wound down, my grandfather would always head off for his nap.
He was not alone in his daily nap routine; all of the old Cajun men we knew would head off after a hard morning’s work for one. They always woke up to start the afternoon like it was a brand new day.
It had been a long time since I took a nap.
All of us have been very busy at the brewery. Byron, Cory and I are brewing up batches of our smoked beer, Boucanee. After each batch is ready there is also the kegging of the fresh beer and cleaning the fermenters and tanks, and then delivering of the filled kegs to our distributors across the state.
All of the work is done by hand and there is no air conditioning in the work areas of our little brewery.
Every weekend and many weeknights there are beer dinners, festivals, tastings and sales meetings with our distributors for Dorsey and Laurin to attend. If we are double (or triple) booked, then my wife and I, or Byron and Cory would head out after brewing.
We are loving every minute of it. We have met and made so many new friends, and enjoyed visiting with people passionate about craft beer, and about our Cajun and Creole heritage.
But a nap would be good.
Over the three day labor day weekend my wife and I, and our little daughter (with SpongeBob boogie board, SpongeBob beach towel, SpongeBob videos, SpongeBob fruit snacks, SpongeBob toothbrush, and toothpaste, and assorted SpongeBob products) loaded up in my wife’s little car and headed west to a condo on Galveston beach. We turned off our cell phones and did not bring anything that would remind us of the work piling up at our little brewery. LA-31 T-shirts and Koozies not allowed.
We did not even bring any LA-31 to drink. Three days without my favorite beer would be a difficult cross for me to bear. (The editor is not taking this well and is thinking about deleting the last two sentences…oh, last four sentences.)
We built a few sandcastles with our little girl and watched as the waves slowly eroded her fortresses. We then jumped in those waves laughing with our little girl as she tasted the water of the Gulf for the first time. Playing in the condo’s swimming pool is how we spent our afternoons and our daughter enjoyed soaking in the hot tubs in the evening; I’m sure she’ll want one for Christmas.
The second day there I got a nap, got another one on the third day, nice. The old Cajuns we knew growing up were right about a lot of things – the importance of the daily nap was one of them.
We are now back to work at the brewery, and though we cannot always squeeze in a daily nap, I caught Byron napping under a mulberry tree and our son Cory sleeping on the tasting porch after our two beer lunch yesterday.
Our grandfather would be proud.
Thanks to Erica for use of the condo and access to her fully stocked pantry. I especially appreciated the six packs of St. Arnolds and New Belgium beers she got for me – those beers made the two afternoon naps even more pleasurable.
My grandfather would head out to his farm, working until dinner time. Dinner was served at noon, and it was the big meal of the day. Grandma would have two or three home-grown vegetable dishes ready, plenty of rice and gravy, maybe a roast, or a baked chicken and if my brothers and I had been good all morning there were mounds of French fries and a pitcher of homemade Zatarans root beer on the table for us.
I don’t know when we started calling the noontime meal in Acadiana lunch. I guess lunch is what you eat when you live by a clock, “we have one hour to grab lunch.” Dinner at my grandparent’s house was an event, often with visitors, boisterous laughter and long conversations, with no one looking at their wrist watch to see how much time was left till work started again. Coffee was served after dinner and as the conversations wound down, my grandfather would always head off for his nap.
He was not alone in his daily nap routine; all of the old Cajun men we knew would head off after a hard morning’s work for one. They always woke up to start the afternoon like it was a brand new day.
It had been a long time since I took a nap.
All of us have been very busy at the brewery. Byron, Cory and I are brewing up batches of our smoked beer, Boucanee. After each batch is ready there is also the kegging of the fresh beer and cleaning the fermenters and tanks, and then delivering of the filled kegs to our distributors across the state.
All of the work is done by hand and there is no air conditioning in the work areas of our little brewery.
Every weekend and many weeknights there are beer dinners, festivals, tastings and sales meetings with our distributors for Dorsey and Laurin to attend. If we are double (or triple) booked, then my wife and I, or Byron and Cory would head out after brewing.
We are loving every minute of it. We have met and made so many new friends, and enjoyed visiting with people passionate about craft beer, and about our Cajun and Creole heritage.
But a nap would be good.
Over the three day labor day weekend my wife and I, and our little daughter (with SpongeBob boogie board, SpongeBob beach towel, SpongeBob videos, SpongeBob fruit snacks, SpongeBob toothbrush, and toothpaste, and assorted SpongeBob products) loaded up in my wife’s little car and headed west to a condo on Galveston beach. We turned off our cell phones and did not bring anything that would remind us of the work piling up at our little brewery. LA-31 T-shirts and Koozies not allowed.
We did not even bring any LA-31 to drink. Three days without my favorite beer would be a difficult cross for me to bear. (The editor is not taking this well and is thinking about deleting the last two sentences…oh, last four sentences.)
We built a few sandcastles with our little girl and watched as the waves slowly eroded her fortresses. We then jumped in those waves laughing with our little girl as she tasted the water of the Gulf for the first time. Playing in the condo’s swimming pool is how we spent our afternoons and our daughter enjoyed soaking in the hot tubs in the evening; I’m sure she’ll want one for Christmas.
The second day there I got a nap, got another one on the third day, nice. The old Cajuns we knew growing up were right about a lot of things – the importance of the daily nap was one of them.
We are now back to work at the brewery, and though we cannot always squeeze in a daily nap, I caught Byron napping under a mulberry tree and our son Cory sleeping on the tasting porch after our two beer lunch yesterday.
Our grandfather would be proud.
Thanks to Erica for use of the condo and access to her fully stocked pantry. I especially appreciated the six packs of St. Arnolds and New Belgium beers she got for me – those beers made the two afternoon naps even more pleasurable.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
In the Garden
My little girl and I worked all morning in our little vegetable plot
today. We harvested some Creole tomatoes, cucumbers, yellow squash
and zucchini, several bell peppers, and thyme and basil leaves.
When we were kids, our grandfather always tended a
large vegetable garden, and I kind of want to pass that tradition on.
Though it is a lot of work, my little girl is still small enough not
to notice that it is.
We still had a lot of food in the ice-box left-over from yesterday’s
Independence Day barbecue – mainly a lot of grilled meat.
Several species had a place on that July 4th grill, but the focus was
on the traditional hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken wings.
We also put some fresh pork sausage in our smokehouse,
smoking the links with the same cherry wood that we use to
flavor our Boucanee beer.
Man we drank a lot of beer yesterday for America’s birthday.
My daughter and I went back into the house with our freshly
harvested bounty. We washed and put away the vegetables,
taking the time to sample a few cherry tomatoes. Our niece
was visiting from Arizona, so we visited with her and
her toddler son. In South Louisiana, our conversations always
end up being about the next meal. We had plenty of left-over
barbecue beans, potato salad, Cole slaw and leftover barbecued
meats, but we decided on doing something with the vegetables
my daughter and I had just brought in.
While my wife boiled some angel hair pasta, I put some fresh basil,
olive oil, parmesan cheese and pine nuts in the food processer.
Seasoning with some salt and freshly ground black pepper, I then
pressed the pulse button several times making pesto sauce
for the pasta.
We often make fresh pesto – you can put some on top of
Cajun-seasoned, broiled catfish filets a few minutes before
you take them out of the oven. Sometimes I’ll mix them with
egg yolks for deviled eggs, or boiled potatoes and fresh
green onions for a pesto potato salad.
I poured an LA-31 for my niece – she lives in Arizona and
our beers are not available out of state yet. I then
sliced up the yellow squash and zucchini, tossed them with
some of the fresh thyme we picked, olive oil and salt and pepper.
I sautéed them on the grill outside for just long enough for
them to pick up some of that smoky goodness you can only get
from outdoor cooking. We also sliced up some of those fresh
Creole tomatoes and cucumbers.
You know, everywhere around Acadiana there are specialty
meat shops selling stuffed anything you can think of, multiple
meat sausages, tasso, turduckhens – you name it. Growing up I
remember holiday meals with many meats on the table – beef roast,
several chickens in a fricassee and smothered pork chops on the
side would be a typical holiday meal. We all fall into the trap
of thinking Cajun food is about meat and seafood, but we forget
about our tradition of delicious vegetable sides.
That same holiday table would have maque choux, smothered
cabbage with andouille, hot from the oven, and still in
their skins sweet potatoes, black-eyed peas and smoked sausage,
petite pois with onions and tasso, lima beans,
field peas with snap beans, and smothered potatoes.
Our grandfather had an acre set aside
for his vegetable plot, and he grew everything he needed there
for our grandmother’s signature vegetable dishes.
Though we often think of our area’s specialty meats, our
cuisine has some of the best vegetable dishes in America.
Like beans and rice.
So we opened a twelve pack worth of LA-31s, and served
ourselves heaping plates of pesto with shredded parmesan
(yeah, yeah I know that pesto is not a Cajun vegetable dish),
sautéed squash, and salted tomatoes and cucumbers.
We ate so much, and though we had no room for dessert,
we forced down some Blue Bell pecan praline ice cream.
Tomorrow it will be hard to get back to working at
the brewery; this has been one long and relaxing holiday weekend.
Happy birthday America.
today. We harvested some Creole tomatoes, cucumbers, yellow squash
and zucchini, several bell peppers, and thyme and basil leaves.
When we were kids, our grandfather always tended a
large vegetable garden, and I kind of want to pass that tradition on.
Though it is a lot of work, my little girl is still small enough not
to notice that it is.
We still had a lot of food in the ice-box left-over from yesterday’s
Independence Day barbecue – mainly a lot of grilled meat.
Several species had a place on that July 4th grill, but the focus was
on the traditional hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken wings.
We also put some fresh pork sausage in our smokehouse,
smoking the links with the same cherry wood that we use to
flavor our Boucanee beer.
Man we drank a lot of beer yesterday for America’s birthday.
My daughter and I went back into the house with our freshly
harvested bounty. We washed and put away the vegetables,
taking the time to sample a few cherry tomatoes. Our niece
was visiting from Arizona, so we visited with her and
her toddler son. In South Louisiana, our conversations always
end up being about the next meal. We had plenty of left-over
barbecue beans, potato salad, Cole slaw and leftover barbecued
meats, but we decided on doing something with the vegetables
my daughter and I had just brought in.
While my wife boiled some angel hair pasta, I put some fresh basil,
olive oil, parmesan cheese and pine nuts in the food processer.
Seasoning with some salt and freshly ground black pepper, I then
pressed the pulse button several times making pesto sauce
for the pasta.
We often make fresh pesto – you can put some on top of
Cajun-seasoned, broiled catfish filets a few minutes before
you take them out of the oven. Sometimes I’ll mix them with
egg yolks for deviled eggs, or boiled potatoes and fresh
green onions for a pesto potato salad.
I poured an LA-31 for my niece – she lives in Arizona and
our beers are not available out of state yet. I then
sliced up the yellow squash and zucchini, tossed them with
some of the fresh thyme we picked, olive oil and salt and pepper.
I sautéed them on the grill outside for just long enough for
them to pick up some of that smoky goodness you can only get
from outdoor cooking. We also sliced up some of those fresh
Creole tomatoes and cucumbers.
You know, everywhere around Acadiana there are specialty
meat shops selling stuffed anything you can think of, multiple
meat sausages, tasso, turduckhens – you name it. Growing up I
remember holiday meals with many meats on the table – beef roast,
several chickens in a fricassee and smothered pork chops on the
side would be a typical holiday meal. We all fall into the trap
of thinking Cajun food is about meat and seafood, but we forget
about our tradition of delicious vegetable sides.
That same holiday table would have maque choux, smothered
cabbage with andouille, hot from the oven, and still in
their skins sweet potatoes, black-eyed peas and smoked sausage,
petite pois with onions and tasso, lima beans,
field peas with snap beans, and smothered potatoes.
Our grandfather had an acre set aside
for his vegetable plot, and he grew everything he needed there
for our grandmother’s signature vegetable dishes.
Though we often think of our area’s specialty meats, our
cuisine has some of the best vegetable dishes in America.
Like beans and rice.
So we opened a twelve pack worth of LA-31s, and served
ourselves heaping plates of pesto with shredded parmesan
(yeah, yeah I know that pesto is not a Cajun vegetable dish),
sautéed squash, and salted tomatoes and cucumbers.
We ate so much, and though we had no room for dessert,
we forced down some Blue Bell pecan praline ice cream.
Tomorrow it will be hard to get back to working at
the brewery; this has been one long and relaxing holiday weekend.
Happy birthday America.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Beer In Me :: Forums
From Andy Dugas of the Beer in Me:
Click here to read Forum Post at the the Beer in Me.
Bayou Teche Brewing is releasing LA-31 Boucanee, a lightly smoked wheat beer.
This news is from Karlos Knott of Bayou Teche Brewing.
Karlos tells me that their Biere Pale is selling very well in all parts of South Louisiana. The demand for Biere Pale is very high and they are selling out every month in every market.
Currently, it is my (Andy) favorite beer and is available in the New Orleans area.
Now Bayou Teche is releasing a new beer, LA-31 Boucanee. It is currently their favorite beer at the brewery and he describes it as a lightly smoked wheat beer, very refreshing and goes with anything grilled, smoked, or a meat that loves being smoked (pork or chicken). They also drink it with gumbo, boudin, sausage po-boys and grilled hamburger.
LA-31 Boucanee will be available for a tasting one night this week at the Avenue Pub in New Orleans in a cask. They will begin offering it on tap in about 3 weeks.
Karlos shared the tap handle artwork for the Boucanee with me. (Picture is to the right)
Thanks for the information Karlos, I can’t wait to try out LA-31 Boucanee!
Click here to read Forum Post at the the Beer in Me.
Bayou Teche Brewing is releasing LA-31 Boucanee, a lightly smoked wheat beer.
This news is from Karlos Knott of Bayou Teche Brewing.
Karlos tells me that their Biere Pale is selling very well in all parts of South Louisiana. The demand for Biere Pale is very high and they are selling out every month in every market.
Currently, it is my (Andy) favorite beer and is available in the New Orleans area.
Now Bayou Teche is releasing a new beer, LA-31 Boucanee. It is currently their favorite beer at the brewery and he describes it as a lightly smoked wheat beer, very refreshing and goes with anything grilled, smoked, or a meat that loves being smoked (pork or chicken). They also drink it with gumbo, boudin, sausage po-boys and grilled hamburger.
LA-31 Boucanee will be available for a tasting one night this week at the Avenue Pub in New Orleans in a cask. They will begin offering it on tap in about 3 weeks.
Karlos shared the tap handle artwork for the Boucanee with me. (Picture is to the right)
Thanks for the information Karlos, I can’t wait to try out LA-31 Boucanee!
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