Trying to rebuild, but their homes were destroyed, and it’s a long drive from “At my age, you can’t waste time.”ĭooky Chase, the 64-year-old Creole-soul food house thatĨ2-year-old Leah Chase ran, was located in the Tremé, across from the LafitteĬharles, fêted by locals and visitors, a pioneer of ’60s-era integration whereīlacks and whites could eat together, it was a New Orleans institution. That’s for damned sure.” Her hand caked in Zatarain’s Wonderfulįish-Fri, she drops the oysters into hot oil. I know I better get back there for Mardi Gras day. This restaurant, I got to find me some people. “Get a little paprika and just tap it in there,” she Gotta be dry when I put ‘em in the grease, or they’ll be soggy.” I toss the oysters, praying they’re Put a handful of oysters back in the strainer. She’s got me dumping the oysters into a panful of Zatarain’s You don’t know what the heck you’re doing.” Go into this business unless you know something about the back part. Watch it, baby! There you go, kiddo.” And she’s Got her daughters, Leah and Stella, setting the buffet and laying out the Works for the Fraiches but used to cook with Warren LaRuth, pounding the She dunks the breasts in eggs and evaporated milk, then flour, salt and She’s heating crab soup and shrimp Creole,Ĭorn muffins, frying chicken. Leah Chase is standing at a monstrous La Cornue stove. There's a 2600-bottle wineĭoberman bites me on the way in.
Portuguese carved-wood, four-poster bed, floors and ceilings imported from France. The spectacular Provençal-style house is dressed in Dresden chandeliers, a
I’ve driven 71 miles, past hurricaneĮvacuation route signs and flapping pelicans, to Baton Rouge to help Leah ChaseĬater a party at the home of Donna and Dr. Thursday, December 15: “Are you Betsy? Betsy, get that belly outta my face.” I tug down my t-shirt, pull up my hip-huggers and grab an apron.