July_Aug_2015_FINAL_62215

ROUSES.COM

WE ARE WHAT WE EAT

another man’s Evangeline. You say Tabasco,

I say Crystal. What’ll it be, Mister —

Zatarain’s or Tony Chachere’s?

Chee Wees or Zapp’s? Barq’s or

Big Shot?

We all drink coffee, but if you

like yours with chicory (I not

only think it’s a little bitter for my

tastes), I also probably know where

you and your momma come from.

(Unless you call her your “mother,”

then, well — I might need a minute.)

Answer me these following questions,

and I know more about you than if you

told me your age, gender and job; more

about you than your doctor; more, even,

than a tarot reader in Jackson Square:

How do you like your greens? Chard, turnip

or collard? Do you call it a yam or a sweet

potato? Snap beans, green beans or string

beans?

And if you call it a chayote squash instead of a

militon (or merliton), I know you’re not from

around these parts, Mister, so drop the fork —

slowly — and put up your hands.

What’s your indulgence – pickle tips or cracklins?

And to wash it all down, Tin Roof, La-1, Lazy

Magnolia or Abita? And if it’s Abita, is it Amber,

Golden, Purple Haze, Wheat, Andygator ... Ok,

you get the point.

It’s all different, but it’s all the same. It’s what we eat

and drink. It is us.

For instance, only in NewOrleans would you speak of the Mandinas

and Liuzzas like they’re members of your family tree — even though

you’re Jewish. You trust the names Leidenheimer, Kleinpeter and

Peychaud like kinfolk, but you’re Irish Catholic.

We’re all closer to each other

than we may think, nurtured

through generations at the

bounteous trough provided by

Gulf Coast fields, forests and

waters.We

are bound less by the

existence of our common diet

and more by our unwavering

ardor for our shared foodstuffs.

We are linked by, among other

things, the links we love to eat, be they Manda, Savoie, Rouses

or Richard’s. These are the comfort names of our comfort foods.

They are names — and people, families — you trust, because they

have always been there. In the ads, on the labels, right there in your

cupboards and pantries. And what on God’s green earth is more

sacred in a Southern home — after our requisite alters, devotionals

and bathtub Virgin Marys — than our cupboards and pantries?

It is the lulling and contended sense of the familiar that makes a

home a home. Oysters breed in cool waters the world over, but if

you ask someone from around here what an oyster tastes like, there

is only the salty-sweet, chewy brine of a Gulf oyster.

Crabs come in King, Snow

and Dungeness species, among

others, but what a crab tastes like

to you is what a crab tastes like

to me: Blue.

Boiled not steamed.

You make a roux like I make a

roux, and everyone who doesn’t

is just making soup.

We are what we eat, and that is the world around us, close to us,

dear to

us.We

are the collective experience of our shared meals and

bread broken in communal reverie and respect.

We are what we eat: Abundant, fruitful, flavorful, messy, spicy,

sometimes sweet, sometimes sour and — at our best — very hot.

We are unusual, colorful and

creative.We

are traditional, provincial and

communal.We

are

family.We

are what we eat, and we love who we are.

All those products we recognize from Rouses shelves

and freezers — Blue Runner, Blue Plate, Manda,

Chisesi, Savoie, Steen’s, Barq’s, Connecuh, Zapp’s and,

appropriately, Community — aren’t just names on a

label, but part of our lives, literally.

WHAT’S YOUR FLAVOR?

Zapp’s sells 16 different

flavors of potato

chips, including Bar-

B-Que, Cajun Dill, Salt

& Vinegar and Hotter

’N Hot Jalapeño. For

our 50th anniversary,

they made a special

commemorative run of

Spicy Cajun Crawtators

just for Rouses. The

bag featured J.P.

Rouse’s City Produce

Company’s truck and

the message: “From

the Zappe family to

the Rouse family,

congratulations on

50 great years.” 