Dear Feastlings,
While it’s been a less celebratory Fat Tuesday than many- the eightieth mass shooting so far this year in the US at a New Orleans parade, and a less depressing but still uninspiring week of rainy, cloudy weather that reminds me that as much as I love visiting Portland and Seattle, I don’t think I could manage an extended stay in a place where the sun is something you know is there but don’t get to experience- my own intention is to eat my feelings, as it often is. Beads? I don’t need them. Jazz? I do love jazz, but the thing that’s going to lift me out of this cloudy funk? It’s copious amounts of crawfish etouffee. I can’t think of a more perfect day for it. When it’s grey and drizzly, and there’s a sadness hanging in the air that the rain won’t rinse away, I’m inclined to warm myself, literally and figuratively, from the inside. You’re welcome to as well, as we’ve made an easy thirty or forty gallons of the stuff, with the intention of warming the figurative and literal insides of as many of our friends as we can.
If the etouffee alone doesn’t do it, we’ve got not one but two wine tastings headed your way this weekend as well, a Saturday trip to the not-explored-enough region of Roussillon,
which will take place at 2:00, and a Sunday tasting of curious longtime winemaking locales, complete with food pairings,
which will take place at 3:30.
And the etouffee will flow all day long today- possibly even tomorrow if you all don’t come by and finish those thirty-plus gallons. Now come and warm your bellies and your spirits with us.
Love,
Doug