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MY
ROUSES
EVERYDAY
JANUARY | FEBRUARY 2016
The 2009 Roadshow, though a fun project, was also
a costly proposition — three weeks on the road,
ingredients, logistics — that resembled a long working
vacation spent in kitchens across the South. Great to do,
but tough to wrangle without income.
A recent trend, though, seemed to provide an answer.
The “pop-up restaurant” movement had gone from
a craze five years ago into a viable model driven by
Internet conveniences. Social media would help you
spread the word. Online services could help you pre-sell
tickets. And with the right partners in the restaurant
world, this could be a thing.
Johnny’s Half Shell is a white-linen seafood restaurant
an easy walk from the US Capitol. At Ann’s suggestion,
we’d partner up for a one-night dinner seating. She does
deviled eggs and a beyond-sinful bread pudding, I do
beans and cornbread. We’d set up tables on the terrace
and sell tickets. We’d see how it goes.
The event sold out quickly (a good sign), but the real magic
came on the first night. After a few hours in the working
kitchen (with Johnny’s veteran staff exhibiting considerable
patience) we whipped up beans and cornbread for 80
hungry diners.Then it was showtime.
After a quick introduction and explanation
of the whole Monday night/red beans
connection, we scooted around the tables,
explaining the proper bean-to-rice ratio, how
to pour cane syrup on cornbread, and, in a way, just passing along the practical
aspects of the Louisiana table to a crowd unfamiliar with the early week ritual.
Each of the 10 tables seemed to have at least one Gulf Coast expatriate on hand
for stories and additional information.
Then, about halfway through, something magical happened— folks started
moving from table to table for conversation’s sake. Some were friends who’d
come together but sat at different parts of the room; others were strangers who
made connections earlier and wanted to continue conversations before dessert.
People talked in way that looked more like a wedding feast than a dinner party.
One friend noticed that even the conversations didn’t fit the usual local forms.
“We had a full table and nobody ever asked, ‘What do you do for a living?’
which
never
happens in DC. It’s usually the leadoff question, but everybody
just got acquainted and ended up telling stories. It was the strangest thing…”
The conversational roar that came from that 10-table clutch on
that warm autumn night in DC was a testament to the power
of the Big Table. It was a sign that something like a simple
Monday-night supper can get people talking, laughing and
coming together.
In the months since, the Red Beans Roadshow went to a few new
cities — Nashville, Atlanta, and a 2-night return engagement in
DC) — and with any luck will hit the road come springtime. I’m
already planning my big Rouses run. After all, once you pack the
travel kitchen and work out the cornbread math, the highway
starts calling…
“We may enjoy our beans and rice (or rice and beans) in
slightly different ways depending on where we live and
who taught us to make them, but we can all appreciate
a full pot and the work that went into making it.”
—Donny Rouse, 3
rd
Generation
the
Around the World
issue