Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 February 1917 — Eating in New Orleans [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Eating in New Orleans

O.NE of tlie most Interesting things in New Orleans is the delightful restaurants, some of them so quaint, and wholly Unlike anything in any other city. To the wanderer along the byways it will appear in the course of a few wanderings that a very large portion of the city’s population eats in most unconventional places and unexpected attitudes. It takes Its meals sitting on cotton bales, or sacks of coffee, or on a friendly step: or it goes about its work with a sandwich in one hand, munching contentedly. The noise and confusion of the streets confuse it not at all; it pays no heed to the dust that sifts down upon its food, and it brings tp the consumption of Its noonday lunch, especially, a happy-go-lucky indifference that should enable good digestion to wait on appetite, and health on both. The methods in which those unconventional meals may be supplied to the busy laborer or to the man-out-of-work and with a very few coins to rattle In his pocket are as numerous as are the viands served, says the New Orleans Picayune. There is no fancy cookery connected with them, but they furnish forth the means of staving off hunger in a more or less satisfactory fashion, and there is no complaint. All along <South Rampart street, from Poydras market to the Union station, is the habitat of the fried-fish vendor. In some mysterious manner the Greeks have taken possession of this particular business; and the descendants of Pericles und Themlstocles—perhaps—acquire a little corner of somer*iarger store, at the front; spread out a gas or . oil stove along one side of it, stretch a kind of shelf along the front, and then

proceed to fry fish. It is all very simple. There are no tables to straighten up, no dishes to wash, no napery to send to the laundry. Sandwich of Fried Fish. An applicant for fried fish appears on the sidewalk and shoves 10 cents -toward- the artio* inside; Two~sllces of bread with a slice of fried fish between them are, shove<l toward him. There Is no trouble about wrapping the sandwich, even. The purchaser stands ouK side and eats his fried fish sandwich or sits down on the curb, or walks along, masticating it at his leisure; and that is all there is to it. How much less red tape there is on South Rampart street than in the more formal restaurants further down I It is alorig the wharf, from end to end, that the eating places flourish in the greatest variety.- You "will find in one place a little open shed which has nestled up against the side of some larger building. The chef —perhaps a man, or it may be a woman —stands back of the long table and hands out sandwiches or pies or cakes, according to the demand, and there are liquid refreshments of a kind to be had on request and the payment of a denarius. Men are lined up in front, eating audibly, because it is said that the table manners at the little wayside eating shed are not always above reproach. And as some of them go. much refreshed, others come, for theye Is a big custom for the Improvised restaurants along the river. There are other restaurants which may be said to be perambulating, and which have this ad van t age— tha t they go to their customers, instead of waiting for the diners to come to them. Here is a negro with a basket of pies and cakes. He is very Indignant, for he has been delayed by a crcwd that were Intent on eating, It Is true, but were basely intent also on eating on Credit. He gathers up his basket haughtily and goes his way/remarking, as he goes, “Nothin’ doin’!” Perhaps he has had experience in providing meals for people who were going to pay for them next Saturday. From Basket and Cart. Making her way up and down the ‘long Bienville wharf is an old wopian, bending under the weight of a heavy basket. ”1 suppose she’s been selling along- the river 25 years, or maybe more,” says a bystander. -Truly she is very old. Her face is lined} and nose and chin (show a tendency tn

meet, and her hair is twisted into the smallest little knot imaginable, you see when she takes off her sunbonnet; but she makes her way through the lines of merchandise very alertly, and sells and sells and sells. “I bet she’s got money!" declares another bystander; but everybody agrees that if she has money she has earned it and Wishes hes good luck with her day’s load. In and out through the throng goes a little boy with a pushcart, loaded with things to eat. Not far behind him comes a negro woman with her little boy helping her carry the heavy basket; and she, too, is selling as she goes. You would not suppose that all the multitude of vendors could Bell the accumulated horde of sandwiches and pies and cakes which make up nearly all the loads, but everywhere the men are buying—the wharf employees, who cannot leave their work to go out for lunch. .You wiII see in one place a group of 30 or 40 of them, sitting on long timbers that are lying there, ready for shipment, all of them eating with such looks of bovine content as many a rich man might well envy as he sits down to his cut glass and silver and his stalled ox. with the other accessortea. If you drive on down the line of the river, you will come to a flock of the little street restaurants, lined up by the sidewalk. They are mounted on wheels, seeming to indicate the method in which they reached that point in the first place, and in which they might be moved in case the location were not found satisfactory. . Diner* on the Curbstone. The diners are sitting, 50 or 60 of them at least, on the curbstone across the street; as many more are prone on

the sidewalk, a wall at their backs, their legs extended straight before them; such pictures of contentment as few cities can furnish; and if you look into the flock of restaurants you will see that the cooking and slicing and the selling are stilt-going on—The hoard ofhea Ith has never invaded these charmed precincts, apparently. They ail look indescribably dirtv and the dust is terrific; but trade does not languish, and the smeii of cooking fills the air. Clear musical notes sound just around the corner; and here comes one of the well-known institutions of New Orleans —the hot-wafile Wagon. The wagon shines with paint and cleanliness; the occupant of the wagon is resplendant in snowy apron and cap. Is it that you desire a dozen waffles? Be- . hold, while you stand expectant he has poured the batter onto the hot griddles, has turned them, has taken them up, golden brown and sprinkled them with powdered sugar and deftly folded them in a paper, and they are yours! If you are In the residence portion of the city of course your respect the conventions and take those waffles Inside before you unwrap the bundle; but if you are downtown —well, things are different You eat them standing, and find them very good indeed. At certain hours of the day ornlght *—principally toward sunset and in the earlier hours of the evening—-the hot tamale man is abroad. He lugs a heavy basket and he might easily be a Mexi* can, judging froip his complexion; and he cries: "Ot tamale! Tamale Caliente! R-r-r-red hot!" all in the manner that should go with hot tamales. 1 But is he genuine, or only a base imitation? It is greatly to be feared that he is an imitation and would not know' a genuine tamale if he should See it. To be genuine, the tamale must be made of boiled corn, —not of corn meal! Perish the thought! The corn must be hulled and boiled soft, as for lye hom•iny; and then it must be rolled to a. paste on a metate board, and with a ! metate roller. It must be mentioned ' that both board and roller are made of stone. Having been rolled sufficiently, a little wad of paste Is flattened in the hands, covered .with meat that has been boiled to shreds an enormous, quantity of pepper —and then the tamale is wrapped in a corn husk, neatly folded over at the end, and ; steamed.

IN AUDUBON PARK.