15 miles to the muffaletta

Napoleon once said, "An army marches on its stomach." Actually there's some debate as to whether it was Napoleon who said this or Frederick the Great. I'm going with Napoleon because I think that it would typically take a Frenchman to be so keenly attuned to the vital role of food in every field of human endeavor. (On the other hand I suppose one might argue that the German would be more likely to be so keenly attuned to the minutiae of military strategy.)

Speaking of French people and food, maybe it's our French heritage that helps explain why we're so passionate about good eating around these parts. If you want to observe this passion in action, try this experiment: Next time you happen to be in the same room with two our three native New Orleanians try raising the question of who makes the best roast beef po boy in town. You'll probably find them expressing their preferences with the articulateness of wine connoisseurs and the aggression of a pack of stray dogs fighting over a ribeye.

A tourist once asked one of my colleagues for directions to a restaurant of a certain well-known, middle-of-the-road, national chain, which I shall leave unnamed. The pedicabbie responded, "We don't have that restaurant here. But if you really want sh***y food, I can probably help you find something. And if you want overpriced sh***y food, I can help you find that too."

A friend of mine from Cajun country once went to Jamaica for vacation. When he got back I asked him how the trip was, and he was very enthusiastic. "Oh, it was wonderful!" he said. "I had the time of my life."

"How about the food?" I asked.

"Oh the food," he said waving his hand dismissively. "The food was lousy. But when you're from South Louisiana you don't go traveling to eat!"

OK, back to where I started, which was with that quote of indeterminate origin about an army marching on its stomach. What I had set out to say was that this same principle applies to pedicabbies. A pedicabbie rolls on his stomach. Actually, that doesn't quite convey the right meaning, does it? My journalism degree isn't helping me out much here. Anyway, I think you get what I'm trying to say.

When I first started the job, my boss told me that I could claim the money I spent on food as a tax write-off since food is our fuel just as petroleum products are the fuel of car taxis. My first thought was that this was a bit shady. After all, we have to eat either way, right? I really didn't get it then. What I've discovered is that if you're pedicabbing full time, then you're going to be spending A LOT OF MONEY on extra food.

Since I started the job back in November I've lost about 25 pounds, and I eat like a horse. Not really like a horse because horses eat mostly salad. Not me. I'm eating good New Orleans food. Oyster poboys and fried boudin balls and crawfish pies and bread pudding. All of it that I can afford. I get home at 5 in the morning after working the night shift, and I go to bed, and after a couple of hours, I wake up hungry, so I get up and eat, and go back to bed, and a couple of hours later I wake up hungry again and eat some more and go back to bed. This is my lifestyle lately. Did I mention that I've lost 25 pounds?

I remember when I was a kid,  there were a couple of guys who were riding their bikes across the country who visited our church one Sunday morning. My parents invited them over for lunch after church. To this day I remember how how much those guys seemed to like my mom's cooking. They piled their plates high over and over again, so many times that we finally lost count. My mom was really flattered. Now, all these years later, I understand better what I witnessed back then. My mom is a good cook, without a doubt, but there was another force at work that day. It must take a ton of calories to cross the continent on a bicycle. (Also, those two didn't really talk like churchgoing folk as I recall. I hate to be cynical, but I can't help wondering whether they  knew in advance that they were likely get an invitation to lunch if they went to church. Nothing wrong with seeing the Lord's house as a good place to get fed, I suppose. After all, Jesus was known for giving out free lunches.)

Once when I was riding the pedicab, some smart aleck called out to me from the side of the street, "Hey, what kind of mileage do you get on that thing?" I answered him without missing a beat, "Oh, I get about 15 miles to the muffaletta!"

New Orleans vs. Minnesota

Jesus said the meek would inherit the earth, but so far all we've gotten is Minnesota and North Dakota.
Garrison Keillor

I've had a couple of riders from Minnesota recently. I was glad for the chance to try out on them some personal observations which have been occupying my mind lately -- observations concerning the differences between their home state and mine. I was gratified when these Minnesota natives assured me that I was on the right track (assuming of course that it wasn't simply a matter of their being too polite to disagree) because truth be told, I've never been there. My image of Minnesota is based largely on the work of the groundbreaking cultural anthropologist Garrison Keillor. If the real Minnesota doesn't bear any resemblance to Lake Wobegone, then all my analysis is way off base.


Let's start with the facts of the case: Minnesota  is home to the headwaters of the Mississippi River; New Orleans, on the other hand, is located near the mouth of the Mississippi. The "mouth" of course is the place where the river discharges its contents into the great septic pool of the sea. Which raises an interesting question: Why is it called the mouth? If we're going to go with body parts, wouldn't it... Ummm, never mind...


OK, where was I? Oh yeah, so Minnesota and New Orleans are located at opposite ends of the Mississippi. They say you can wade across the Mississippi at its source in Minnesota. You could also wade across it at New Orleans -- if you were 202 feet tall. (I've read that it's 200 feet deep; I figure you'd need that extra two feet just to keep your head comfortably above water.)


Anyway, the idea that Minnesota and New Orleans are at opposite ends of the river got me thinking about all the ways that we, the inhabitants of these two places, are mirror images of one another. Their culture is built on a  northern European (Scandinavian) base; ours is built on a southern European (Mediterranean) base. They're Lutheran; we're Catholic. (Not me personally, but you get the idea.) They reward restraint; we practice excess. They're modest; we're flamboyant. Their big annual event is the state fair, the highlight of which is butter sculpture. (I'm not making this up!) Our big annual event is Mardi Gras, the highlight of which is girls exposing their boobs for a set of plastic beads. (I'm not making this up either!)


What about the food? Here's an actual quote from the Wikipedia article on Minnesota cuisine: "Minnesota is also known for hot dish and jello salads." I'm not sure what "hot dish" is exactly, but I doubt that the heat comes from an abundance of Tabasco. And jello salads? Seriously? And they think sucking crawfish heads is weird?  The closest thing you can get to jello salad in the Vieux Carre is jello shots, which they sell at a certain daiquiri shop. Presumably these appeal mostly to the under-21-with-fake-id crowd. Either that or tourists from Minnesota who've come here to really cut loose.


Let's consider music for a moment. Bob Dylan is undoubtedly Minnesota's most famous music man. Here on the south end of the river, if you're going to have pick one singer/musician who best represents New Orleans, I think you'd have to go with Louis Armstrong. Now, picture their faces. Look them both up on Google images if you want to. But really, why bother? You know what I'm talking about without even looking.


Let's start with Louis Armstrong. I estimate that those bulging eyes and that huge smile make the white to black ratio of his face something like 3:1. In every picture he he seems to be showing an expression of either delighted amazement or amazed delight. Look at Louis Armstrong and you see the very embodiment of laissez les bon temps rouler. (By the way, I'm aware that the happy negro stereotype was one that was all too comfortable for a lot of white racists and deeply disturbing to blacks and that Satchmo took plenty of flack from fellow African Americans for being an Uncle Tom. But scholars seem to be recognizing more and more that he made a substantial contribution to the civil rights struggle. And he pulled it off with that big grin on his face the whole time.)  


What about Dylan? For all his rebellion against conservative Midwestern values, he embodies an austere outlook that must have deep roots in his Minnesota milieu. Like Armstrong, he has two variations in his repertoire of facial expressions: sneer and scowl. Unlike Armstrong, his eyes and teeth aren't so prominent. In fact, we know that Bob Dylan has eyes because we sometimes get a glimpse of them through the narrow slits of his eyelids, but as to his teeth, there hasn't been a confirmed sighting in forty years. (Someone pointed out that the Wikipedia entry on Bob Dylan features a recent photo of him smiling slightly and revealing teeth. I would urge caution. We're all aware that Wikipedia isn't exactly known for its reliability.) 

If I'm right that the cultures at the north and south extremities of the river are polar opposites, my next question is: Why? Is it really coincidence? Do you suppose that the river might actually have something to do with it? Here's my theory: The Mississippi drains an area of well over a million square miles. And the drinking water in New Orleans comes from the river. So perhaps we're enriched by all the nutrients of more than a million square miles flowing right to our doorstep. Or, one might argue, poisoned by the pollutants... Depending on which end of the river you come from, I guess.