Last night Roger and I arrived in New Orleans for a brief stop before we head out to New Iberia and start filming on the "Ma Louisianne" project. We came in at night so I really couldn't see the bayou flanking I-10 but as soon as we hit the familiar streets the tension rolled off my shoulders.
We've been planning "Ma Louisianne" for 3 years now. It started when we ran into Chef John Besh backstage at the James Beard Awards when Spatulatta won in 2006. The amount of work leading up to this shoot is unlike any other we've done. Besides the usual ducks that must be gotten in a row there was the fundraiser last September. I haven't really had a day off since then.
So when we walked into Drago's last night and saw the happy crowd we knew we were home. I ordered a split of champagne to celebrate the fact we had arrived at last. We'd been on our cells phones in the car on the way down borrowing waders from cousins, booking hotel rooms, making contact with friends. But now we could kick back and relax.
Roger and I just looked at each other across the plates of char-broiled oysters and thanked each other for the work each of us has done to get us to this place and for the commitment to our marriage and our goals.
New Orleans seemed to rejoice with us. All the laughter of the happy holiday revelers engulfed us and welcomed us home.
Showing posts with label champagne pops its own cork. Show all posts
Showing posts with label champagne pops its own cork. Show all posts
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Spontaneous Spring Celebration
Spring was announced with a loud POP at our house yesterday. So loud in fact that I ran down stairs expecting to see something had exploded. Instead, I found Roger, my husband, laughing hysterically.
To say the least, this last winter was miserable and cold. We endured day after day of gray, gloomy skies. Winter had started on November 7 and by tax day there still was no sign of Spring. That coupled with dialing down the heat to save money made me one unhappy camper.
Well yesterday morning, the temperature in Chicago finally made it into the upper 50s. Sun was streaming in through all the windows of our drafty old Victorian. I had spent my lunch hour, still in my winter jacket mind you, raking leaves in the garden. A few daffodils were open but I could see signs of more flowers to come. Bloodroot shoots were starting to unfold and startling, pink sprouts of Solomon's Seal were breaking through the dirt. I felt like life was worth living again.
Back at the computer on a Friday afternoon, I could hear bird song. The first day of Spring was unfolding outside. The temperature was climbing into the 60s. I was having a hard time concentrating on grant writing when I heard the loud pop.
Down in the kitchen, Roger was waving a bottle of champagne around. We had been given it for the holidays but we were not into celebrating at the time. The bottle sat all winter on the kitchen counter near a narrow window where a pot of forced paperwhite narcissus kept us off the suicide watch.
A beam of sunlight had come through that window, this year's first it seemed. It struck the dark bottle, warming it. Pressure built up and whammo!
So Spring announced herself at our house by popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. She forced us to knock off work early, take our glasses out to admire the daffodils and celebrate!
To say the least, this last winter was miserable and cold. We endured day after day of gray, gloomy skies. Winter had started on November 7 and by tax day there still was no sign of Spring. That coupled with dialing down the heat to save money made me one unhappy camper.
Well yesterday morning, the temperature in Chicago finally made it into the upper 50s. Sun was streaming in through all the windows of our drafty old Victorian. I had spent my lunch hour, still in my winter jacket mind you, raking leaves in the garden. A few daffodils were open but I could see signs of more flowers to come. Bloodroot shoots were starting to unfold and startling, pink sprouts of Solomon's Seal were breaking through the dirt. I felt like life was worth living again.
Back at the computer on a Friday afternoon, I could hear bird song. The first day of Spring was unfolding outside. The temperature was climbing into the 60s. I was having a hard time concentrating on grant writing when I heard the loud pop.
Down in the kitchen, Roger was waving a bottle of champagne around. We had been given it for the holidays but we were not into celebrating at the time. The bottle sat all winter on the kitchen counter near a narrow window where a pot of forced paperwhite narcissus kept us off the suicide watch.
A beam of sunlight had come through that window, this year's first it seemed. It struck the dark bottle, warming it. Pressure built up and whammo!
So Spring announced herself at our house by popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. She forced us to knock off work early, take our glasses out to admire the daffodils and celebrate!
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