by Jenna Mills
Add the parsley and cook for another 5 minutes. Blend the reserved shrimp liquid into the ingredients. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer and continue cooking for another 30 or so minutes. Add the shrimp and cook for 2 minutes more. Blend in the fil6 powder. Put 1/2 cup hot, cooked rice into a large bowl, and ladle the gumbo on top. Hunker down, and enjoy. Serves 6-8.
TARA PREJEAN'S PAIN PERDU
There's nothing like a plantation breakfast. When establishing her bed-and-breakfast, Tara Prejean knew one of the ways she could make sure her guests came back for more was to give them something special for breakfast … and hence her Pain Perdu was born.
In the old days, money was tight and Creoles couldn't afford to throw away food. Stale bread, they learned, could actually be quite useful—bread crumbs, croutons, bread pudding and … French toast (lost bread/pain perdu). Baked fresh daily, French bread only maintains its freshness for a short amount of time. But slice it up and dip the pieces in a sugary batter, then fry them up … oh, la, la!
Here's what you need:
3 eggs
1/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp cinnamon
1/2 tbsp nutmeg
1 cup milk
2 sticks butter
1 loaf stale French bread
(or 10 slices of regular bread)
Powdered sugar
Cane syrup
Here's what you do: Beat the eggs and sugar together until the sugar is dissolved. Blend in the vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg. Whisk in milk. If using French bread, cut the bread crosswise into 1-inch slices (otherwise use presliced bread). Melt the butter in a heavy skillet. When butter is hot, begin cooking the bread by dipping each slice into the egg and milk mixture, then placing it in the hot butter. Brown the bread on both sides. Remove to serving platter. Spread with margarine, if you like. Add a dusting of powdered sugar and a dribble of syrup. Enjoy! Serves 6.
I've always been fascinated by old places. There's a feel to them, a texture, as if the echoes and memories of all those who lived there before linger somehow, inviting and seducing. If you close your eyes, you can almost see everything as it once was.
As a little girl, I loved visiting the old antebellum plantations of Louisiana. I would walk through the grand entry halls and walk up the sweeping staircases, run my hand along the banisters and let my imagination soar.
Somewhere along the time Cain and Renee's story was first starting to form in my mind, I was home visiting my parents. Now my father, he's an avid amateur photographer, and visits home always include viewing the photographs he's taken since our last visit. He travels a great deal, so I'm always in for a treat. This time was no different. This time I was flipping through his photo album when I ran across one of the most haunting photographs I'd ever seen. Columns. That was all. Beautiful, ornate, weathered columns standing by themselves in a heavily wooded area. Clearly they'd once embraced a home. But the columns were all that remained, rising like placeholders against a steely gray sky.
And just like that, Cain and Renee's story had a home—a home that no longer stood. Suddenly I could see everything. I could see Cain standing among those columns, waiting for his lover to emerge from the woods. I could hear the echoes of her voice, and feel the whisper of the wind. I could feel his anguish. His horror. His guilt. And then I could see them there many months later, when she came back to him—and he walked away. And I could see him standing there again another night, ready to put the past to rest and embrace the future.
A photograph … that's all it was. But for me, those columns provided the soul to the story, and the rest, as they say, was history.
Sometimes it's hard to watch the evening news. We turn on the TV and hear about flood and famine, hurricanes and tsunamis and earthquakes, wars and discord. It's impossible not to look in the mirror and wonder what really matters. What's important. What cannot be replaced. Many of life's small pleasures suddenly seem trivial, even insignificant. How can we sing when there is so much strife in the world? How can we dance when there is so much turmoil? How can we smile when so many others hurt?
How can we curl up with a book when there are cities and countries to rebuild, and a war to win?
So many questions … too few answers. Can we ever go back to before? Can hope fill our hearts? Can we find a way to believe in happy endings again, in peace and harmony and security, in dreams that once upon a time we believed unequivocally could and would come true?
Should we even want to?
Yes. Absolutely, positively, without a doubt yes.
History is populated by events, horrific and wonderful, that changed the course of the world. One instant can change one life, ten lives, thousands of lives. But it's important to use this heightened awareness to celebrate all that is good. Because still, there is so much good. It's everywhere, all around us. It's the laughter of a child. The warmth in a friend's smile. The gentleness of a lover's touch.
Romance.
But what is romance, really? Is it red roses and expensive chocolates, sexy lingerie and champagne and silk sheets? Maybe. Sometimes. However, more often than not it's a celebration of the power of human relationships, of communication and values and principles, of honor, loyalty and commitment. Growth. Respect. Making the hard choice, because it's the right choice.
Romance is as old as time itself. Romance is love. Romance is the belief that dreams can come true, good can defeat evil and happy endings really can happen.
Recently, my husband I celebrated our fourteen-year anniversary. Now, maybe this isn't all that long, but considering over half of all marriages end in divorce, we considered the event a significant milestone. It also prompted us to evaluate how we've stayed together, when so many of our friends and relatives have suffered the heartache of broken marriages.
The answer?
Romance.
No, I don't mean flowers and expensive jewelry, candles and fine wine, though sure, each of those has a time and place. Romance in real life is much like romance in movies and novels—not the clichés everyone thinks of, the bodice rippers from another era, but the honest representations of life as we live it. The struggles and challenges and compromises, the tears and triumphs. The joy. Stakes may be higher in fiction (hopefully!), the drama more intense, the characters larger than life, but at the core of each story are the same touchstones we all encounter—the hard choices, desires that conflict with responsibility, the compromise and growth that make life so rewarding.
In fiction (just as in reality), romances offer a glowing affirmation of the best of the best, a world where good conquers evil and dreams come true. Where multifaceted men and women face challenges and grow to overcome them. Where insecurities and pettiness are put aside for a common good.
A librarian's daughter, books have always filled my hands, stories my heart. I can't imagine anything different. Shortly after 9/11, I picked up a book by a friend of mine, Kylie Brant. Now, one thing you need to remember: a book goes into production approximately nine months before it hits the shelf. That means the author puts words to paper a good twelve to eighteen months before. Well, in Kylie's book, her protagonists were hunting terrorists threatening to release the anthrax virus in the United States. Wow. Does art imitate life, life imitate art, or are the two really mirror images? Many would say my friend had terrible luck to have this work of fiction released during such a tumultuous time. And her sales may well prove this to be true.
But let me tell you something. In her book, the good guys won. And at that moment in time, there was nothing I needed to read more than a story of a man and a woman with the courage to face down an evil challenge and not only survive, but win. Because I need to believe that's possible. I need the faith that comes from believing art and life are mirror images, that anything is possible, that good can win in real life, so long as the values promoted in romance are the values we live by—honor and integrity, compassion, dedication and loyalty, courage. Faith.
Because ro
mance isn't all roses and flowery vows of love. It can be as simple as putting gas in your significant other's car because you know they're busy and won't have time to do so. Romance can be taking a loved one's hand and holding on tight, because you know they desperately need the warmth of human touch. Romance can be walking your dog through a park or doing the dishes. Because when it comes down to it, romance is not about sex, but rather, the glue that makes our world a place where we want to live.
Romance is about love, and romance matters now more than ever. Romance is a mirror of the world in which we live, the world where hope still fills our hearts, where happy endings happen, where dreams can and do come true.