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16
MY
ROUSES
EVERYDAY
JANUARY | FEBRUARY 2017
the
Eat Right
issue
“O
kay Paw-Paw, are you ready to eat lunch?
It’s almost ready.” I hurriedly garnished the
pilaf with basil and diced tomatoes, while
his nurse, Lydia, helped him from his chair to the eight-
seat kitchen table. I was trying a new approach today.
I was going to feed my 79-year-old grandfather, Walter
“Tommy” Bond, a diabetic with over 35 years in the
game and four other co-morbidities: Parkinson’s,macular
degeneration, hypertension, sleep apnea, peripheral
vascular disease, and stage 4 kidney disease.
The most recent and potentially disastrous
among them is congestive heart failure. He
was diagnosed three years ago, resulting
in several adjustments to his routine and,
unfortunately, his diet. He is restricted to
1500 milligrams of sodium each day and
50 ounces of liquid. That is total liquid,
including water, soups, and his morning Joe.
This gets a bit tricky, as does he.
This day, he wanted to have tacos.
I’d decided to make him a low sodium pilaf dish for lunch and cook off
spicy taco meat, with a side of black beans and fixings for my grandmother
to put together for dinner. That way he could still fly just under the total
sodium count. Okay, so the pilaf was tomatoes, basil, garlic, onion, red quinoa
seasoned with herbs, vinegars, lemon zest, and almost no salt. High in plant-
based protein, light, refreshing — you know, poison to a life-long restaurant
hopping New Orleanian like my grandfather. He didn’t say much as he took
his first bite.The second forkful practically fell out of his mouth.
There’s always a critic.
Though adhering to a fluid restriction is difficult and often unwanted,
it increases quality of life and makes the disease more manageable. My
grandfather would argue this point and suggest strongly if he cannot eat a
muffuletta or drink two cups of coffee, then “What’s the point of living?”
I get it, I really do.
Paw-Paw’s love affair with New Orleans food began in earnest when he moved
his young family to the city in 1968.Workday lunches at Galatoire’s, Antonine’s
and Arnaud’s fueled his passion. When I arrived on the scene in the early 80s,
he took on a second full-time job spoiling his grandchildren. He took me to
brunch at Commander’s Palace, where their lovely meandering jazz ensemble
serenaded me with “Hello Ashley.” I lost my “glass slipper” at the Traditional
English Afternoon Tea Service in Le Salon at the Windsor Court hotel.
Paw-Paw’s job entertaining industrial clients for Entergy meant more
lunches and ore dinners, including meals at a hot new restaurant, Emeril’s.
He likes to boast that he once had two multi-course tastings at Emeril’s in
one day, which probably didn’t do his pancreas any favors. He lived to eat!
We as a family lived to eat. We are the family that goes to lunch in New
Orleans to talk about where we are going to eat dinner.
Food has always been my bond with my grandfather. Growing up,
we spent hours around the kitchen table talking and eating. He
taught me how to grocery shop, how to categorize your list based
on section of the store, and how to comparison shop for staples
like milk, eggs and bread. His influence and mentorship led me to
business school first, then ultimately culinary school.
So when my grandfather spat out my first attempt at low-sodium,
I was gut punched by the real time feedback. I’d tried so hard to
please him.
But emboldened in my valiant attempt to keep his sodium in check,
I returned a week later to cook breakfast, a veggie scramble sandwich
with avocado ... and a salt-free spice blend. I’d adapted the average
Creole spice blend of cayenne, thyme, garlic powder, onion powder,
and oregano, by adding smoked paprika or smoked chili powder to
give a depth of flavor without the salt.
a
Fork
in the road
by
Ashley, Rouses Deli Merchandiser