good gumbo~

Can we have more McHanzo where instead of Hanzo being ‘your American ways are boorish and stupid haha idiot yankee’ he’s actually polite and curious about it? Because obviously he’s hugely into his own culture’s traditions? And other people’s customs and history are interesting to him? And he might actually like parts of American culture?

How about more McHanzo where Jesse is telling Hanzo old Native American legends, the origins of American icons, the great variety of customs and folklore across the huge country, and how to make a damn good gumbo.

New Orleans: Cajun vs. Creole
External image

Cajun vs. Creole Louisiana Food - An infographic by the team at Marriott Louisiana Hotels

Cajun or Creole: Big Easy Cooking

New Orleans cooking is as famous is its rich musical heritage. There are few places in the world where you can taste better food than in New Orleans. Hotels throughout the city are usually just a stone’s throw from at least one great restaurant serving up mouth-watering Cajun or Creole food. With the help of great cooking schools in the city, you can learn from local chefs how to whip up Louisiana classics at home. 

New Orleans School of Cooking

Book a hotel in the New Orleans French Quarter and walk to the New Orleans School of Cooking. The school offers classes by experienced Louisiana chefs. They guide you in creating some of the city’s most famous dishes, including Jambalaya, Gumbo and Corn Crab Bisque. Pop into the general store next door and pick up Cajun and Creole products, traditional spices, cookbooks and more to take home. 

Langlois Culinary Crossroads

Another great cooking school not far from the New Orleans hotels in the French Quarter is Langlois Culinary Crossroads, located in a 19th-century former Italian Market in Marigny. Langlois has a school, restaurant and store where you can find artisan products, cookware and foods. Students at Langlois can jump right in with one of the hands-on classes or sit back and watch the chef demonstrate classic techniques. After the two- to three-hour class, students can tell the difference between Cajun and Creole cooking.  

The New Orleans Cooking Experience

Opt for a downtown hotel in New Orleans and you can walk to the New Orleans Cooking Experience. Located just off St. Charles Avenue in a restored 19th-century Victorian mansion, this school’s classes guide you through the intricacies of a Cajun or Creole roux with the help of acclaimed local chefs. Chefs teach from a residential-style kitchen, where they share classic Cajun and Creole dishes from old family recipes.  

By the end of your class or NOLA vacation, you’ll know whether you prefund the smokier Cajun jambalaya or the Creole version with tomatoes. Maque choux will be a part of your vocabulary, and you’ll find yourself yearning for another taste of the Big Easy.

Infographic URLs

Southern Food Creole and Cajun Cookery

Southern Food Oysters Rockefeller

Huffington Post Cajun vs. Creole: What’s the Difference?

Louisiana CVB Cajun vs. Creole - What is the Difference?

Archives Cajun and Creole Genealogy

WiseGEEK What is the Difference Between Creole and Cajun

New Orleans French Quarter Cajun, Creole or Somewhere in Between 

NOLA Cuisine Maque Choux Recipe


Originally posted by originalhbicrebekah

Imagine: Imagine being friends with Davina, so she decides to cast a spell so Elijah and you can have a child together.

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson/Reader

Warnings: Some violence in the beginning, mentions of blood

Word Count: 2535

Reader Gender: Female

Author: thekaitj

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gambitvapes  asked:

thanks for all the gambit love bc he's pretty much the best, and the people NEED the good word of gumbo... glad yr delivering it

gambit is my absolute favorite! I rp him, and i am obsessed with him. he’s probsbly the character I love and connect with most. hell. I ve even got a phone cover w him on ir

lionessofthestars replied to your post:

The lioness leaves a large prawn-like thing at…

{I want to try this ‘gumbo’ you mentioned a few cycles ago}

“Oooooohh!” The realization hit him as he remembered what he had been rambling on about when his last homesickness bout hit. “I get it!” Hunk reached out his finger and poked the weird prawn thing. Under any normal circumstances a shrimp as big as this would have fed dozens of people if put in a stew. It might not be enough for a giant space cat though. “Thank you! All I need now is vegetables and a second meat source!” Hunk wiped his finger off on the floor and stood back up. Did he have any meat that would be good in a space gumbo? “Hm…” He scratched his chin and pondered. “I wonder if Coran would let me get into his secret stash…”

five cemeteries dean hated (and one he didn’t)

Fluffy Destiel and also me practicing Dean’s characterization.  Also, apparently I’ve been in fandom since like 2009 and I’ve never written a 5 + 1, so here you go

i. 1983

The flowers don’t look like the ones in Mom’s garden.  Hers are droopy, sun-dried, brown, crinkly.  These are vibrant, glossy, alive.  It’s November.  All the flowers in Mom’s garden are dead.

“Hold them.”

Dean looks down at the flowers being shoved into his hands and wrinkles his nose, deciding then and there that Mom wouldn’t like them, not one bit.  Still, he does as he’s told.  There’s something wrong, he’s figured out that much.  Mom hasn’t met them at the motel yet.  Dad won’t explain what’s going on.  And Dean can’t find the words to ask.

In his stroller, Sammy lets out a sharp, piercing wail.  Dad doesn’t stop pushing, like Mom does when they go for walks and Sammy decides he doesn’t like it.  Dean breaks into a short run to get level with his brother.  At the sight of him, Sammy calms a little, but he still looks scared.

Well.  It’s a new place, and Mom isn’t here.  Dean’s scared, too.

He wants to comfort his little brother, but words are still out of his reach.  He makes a few cooing noises instead and pulls a face that always promises a laugh.  He gets one. Pleased with himself, Dean bounds ahead a few paces.

Dad finally stops pushing the stroller. “Give the flowers to your mom, Dean.”

Dean pauses.  He can’t see Mom.  There’s new dirt spread on some of the grass in front of him. Dad points at it.  He wants Dean to do something about it, Dean can tell, but he doesn’t quite know what.  Hesitantly, he sets the flower down and follows Dad back out.

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How to Make Dat Gumbo

A long while back I posted some pictures of various bits of my gumbo making. Since then I’ve had a few folks ask for the recipe - and because I just whipped up a fresh batch for Mardi Gras I thought I’d put together a proper how-to.

So here goes! 

First, the Bona Fides

It goes without saying that there are lots and lots of recipes for gumbo. Okra / no okra, filé / no filé, sausage / no sausage, etc.  I can’t speak to anyone else’s tradition (other than to say that they are all wrong).  I can only share our own.  

This particular gumbo has its roots in the Louisiana Sunday suppers served to my pops in his youth by the Sisters of St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church.  

I will submit that, whatever your preconceived notions, if this gumbo was good enough for my dad, those Nuns and the baby Jesus it is good enough for you.

I have eaten this recipe my whole life and never known my father to deviate from it, but for the occasional dash of filé, which, let’s be real honest, you probably don’t have handy and I can assure you that you will not miss.

The Ingredients

  • 6 to 8 pieces of chicken (I am partial to thighs).
  • 2 and ½ cups of flour.
  • 2 cups of vegetable oil or the equivalent (butter, bacon grease, etc).
  • 64 oz / 2 containers of chicken broth.
  • 1 teaspoon or so of salt.
  • 1 absurdly large onion (for the gumbo).
  • 1 medium sized onion (for the stock).
  • 1 package of celery - five or six stalks
  • 7 or 8 bunches of green onions - as many as you can hold in your hands.
  • 1 green bell pepper of which you will promise to not use more than ½.
  • 1 to 2 pounds of large shrimp, shelled.  Fresh or frozen, your choice.
  • Additional salt and pepper to taste.

Ready? Let’s Get Started!

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Hands Off

Pairing: Jason/ Nico

Warnings: there’s two or three cusswords

Genre: fluff, Au

Description: “Nico di Angelo. That’s me.” Nico said. The blonde looked embarrassed and handed Nico his towel. “Er, sorry about that, I-I guess I just assumed it was mine, I mean, not many people at this gym would have a towel covered in superheroes.” The man stammered. Nico took the towel between his index finger and his thumb and made a face.

(in other words its the “oops I stole your gym towel” au)

read on ao3 (x)

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