Coffee, New Orleans Style

I have measured out my life in coffee spoons… (T.S.Eliot)

"Café a la Creole
Travelers the world over unite in praise of Creole Coffee, or “Café a la Creole,” as they are fond of putting it. The Creole cuisinieres succeeded far beyond even the famous chefs of France in discovering the secret of good coffee-making, and they have never yielded the palm of vicory. There is no place in the world in which the use of coffee is more general than in the old Creole city of New Orleans, where, from the famous French Market with its world-renowned coffee stands, to the old-time homes on the Bayou St. John, from Lake Pontchartrain to the verge of Southport, the cup of “Café Noir,” or “Café au Lait,” at morning, at noon and at night, has become a necessary and delightful part of the life of the people, and the wonder and the joy of visitors."
Picayune Creole Cook Book, 1901 pg. 1

"In New Orleans, coffee blended with chicory has been sold since Civil War days. Chicory is a cultivated leafy vegetable with a carrot-shaped root. During the Napoleonic wars when blockades cut off Europe from the coffee-growing regions of the world, chicory came into general use. It was found that the root, when dried, roasted and ground, made an excellent addition to coffee, and the supply of the then expensive and scarce coffee could be doubled by combining the two. People soon became accustomed the unique flavor and continued to use it even after coffee became more readily available. Today in New Orleans there are as many drinkers of the chicory-blended coffees as of the pure."
Recipes and Reminiscences of New Orleans (1971)

"Creole coffee is a mixture of pure coffee and about twenty percent chicory. Use a heaping tablespoon of coffee to every cup. The water should be boiling… Drip a very little at a time, about an after dinner cup, over the coffee. Creoles do not like cream in their coffee, preferring hot milk; café au lait is about half coffee and half hot milk."
New Orleans City Guide 1938 Pg 172.

As I read the above quote from the New Orleans City Guide (1938) I was reminded of my mom and her coffee. Coffee was a very important part of her day. From the early morning cup or two with breakfast, to the afternoon “coffee break” she would often share with neighbors, to the after dinner “demitasse”, strong black coffee and chicory in a dainty “half cup”, coffee would frame her day.

The details were important as well. First, it had to be coffee and chicory. Pure coffee was “persona non grata” at our house. Then it had to be “drip coffee”, very strong French roast with added chicory prepared by dripping boiling water over the grounds. “Boiled coffee” tasted well, boiled or bitter so an electric percolator was not allowed either. No, the water was boiled in a saucepan and then poured over the grounds (a heaping tablespoon per cup) in the drip coffee pot. Milk (not cream or half and half) was heated in another pan and poured into the coffee cup and topped off with a teaspoon of sugar.

Unless it was after dinner and then it was strictly “café noir” or black coffee, served in pretty little china half cups called “demitasse” with no milk or cream.
I was struck by how exactly my parent’s coffee routine followed the New Orleans guide for creole coffee.

As for me, I love my Keurig "drip" coffee maker.

Rene Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle

As I said before, my roots go deep in New Orleans and of course, as a French creole, the family tree goes back to France. Family tradition has it that we’re related to the illustrious and intrepid explorer pictured above. As you may remember from grammar school history, La Salle discovered the mouth of the Mississippi River , named the area Louisiana (Le Louisiane) after King Louis XIV and claimed the entire region for France.
I decided to do some research into exactly how we may be related. I know that it’s not a direct relation since LaSalle never married and had no known children. Family tradition again has it that he’s a great (great, great…..) uncle on my maternal side. So I took some time to see what I could find out about LaSalle’s family history.

First, the name: LaSalle’s full name is Rene Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle. Actually the La Salle part of his name is a title, Sieur translates to “Sir” or “Lord of a fiefdom,” so he was the lord of the fiefdom of La Salle. His given name was Rene Robert Cavelier. This is where the connection to my family comes in. My maternal great-grandmother was Marie Odette Cavelier. She was born in 1861 in New Orleans and died there in 1903, just 42 years later. When she was twenty she married a much older civil war veteran named Joseph Demoruelle, my great-grandfather. (I probably don’t need to say what side of the war he fought on; suffice it to say that I was told that he would rise and put his hand over his heart whenever “Dixie” was played.)

So, the Cavelier (pronounced Cav ul yah) name is the family connection through my great-grandmother.

Cabbage Ball, Uniquely New Orleans

I am continually amazed when I find that things that I grew up with and assumed were common around these United States were unique to New Orleans. Case in point: Cabbage Ball. My 7th grade daughter decided to try her hand at her school’s softball team this spring. As you know, the ball used in softball is not particularly soft, as evidenced by the many bruises on her legs and arms from errant pitches. I mentioned that we used to use bigger, softer balls, called cabbage balls and suggested that we should get one for her to practice with. I didn’t get much of a response from either the daughter or the husband so I dropped it. While looking for news about the Mississippi flooding in Louisiana, I came across this news report about the resurgence of cabbage ball in Louisiana schools. Come to find out, cabbage ball is unique to New Orleans’ parochial schools, who knew? Yep, just one more thing that sets my upbringing in the New Orleans area apart as unique.

New Orleans: Charm of Place

Sherwood Anderson wrote this about New Orleans in 1922:

"...I want to tell them of long quiet walks to be taken on the levee in back-of-town, where old ships, retired from service, thrust their masts up into the evening sky. On the streets here the crowds have a more leisurely stride…

I stick to my pronouncement that culture means first of all the enjoyment of life, leisure and a sense of leisure. It means time for a play of imagination over the facts of life, it means time and vitality to be serious about really serious things and a background of joy in life in which to refresh the tired spirits.

In a civilization where the fact becomes dominant, submerging the imaginative life, you will have what is dominant in the cities of Pittsburgh and Chicago today.

When the fact is made secondary to the desire to live, to love, and to understand life, it may be that we will have in more American cities a charm of place such as one finds in the older parts of New Orleans."

Mes Racines (My Roots)

This is my dad, circa 1922ish, on the steps of his French Quarter home. The story goes that he spoke French only at home and didn't learn English until he went to school, probably around the time this picture was taken.

The pretty lady is my mom, circa 1935, when she was a maid in a Mardi Gras ball. As you can see, my roots are deep in New Orleans. Unfortunately, I haven't lived there since I graduated from High School, and I miss it. This blog will chronicle my passion for the New Orleans culture and my New Orleans heritage.