“Try Dooky Chases” my friend texted me when she learned I was going to New Orleans. I almost didn’t. I was tired from a day at the CALGM conference and had missed everyone else going to dinner. Walking down the streets in the French Quarter and choosing one of the countless places to eat just a few steps away from the hotel would have been easier.
I had Googled “Dooky Chase” and read a bit about it. Founded in 1941, it was famous for the amazing food, it’s chef, Leah Chase (ninety years young), and her collection of African American art that covers the restaurant walls. Important meetings of civil rights leaders had been held there during the 60’s. It was one of the only places blacks and whites could eat together then. A pope and US presidents had dined there as well as famous artists, musicians, and sports figures. How could I not go?
Well, it was a cab ride away, and the longer I stretched out on my bed and read about the place, the sleepier I got.
“Mom, you have to go,” my daughter encouraged me over the phone after I told her about it. So, I pulled myself up, talked to the hotel concierge who checked to see if a table would be available, found a cab, and made the short trip across town. How glad I am!
Dooky’s was even better than I imagined. An unassuming brick building, restored of two long years after Hurricane Katrina, offered not only great food (I had the seafood platter but questioned my choice after smelling the fried chicken delivered to the table next to me…I wasn’t disappointed in my choice once I took a bite!) and art, but also New Orleans hospitality. After holding a couple of conversations across the aisle with other patrons, I was invited to join the fried chicken table by one of its guests whom I would soon learn was Tony.
The conversation was lively. I felt like one of the family. Not surprising according to our young waiter.
“When you’re in Norlens,” he said, “you’re family. We eat together and party together…”
“And go through hurricanes together,” Maria added.
Me, Susan, Tony, (from top)Clint, Maris, Miss Leah, David
They shared desserts with me (praline bread puddin’ and peach cobbler) and then Tony said, “She’s gotta meet Miss Leah.” everyone nodded.
That’s how I found myself in the kitchen, shaking hands with the Queen of Creole Cuisine, Leah Chase. The chef, author, and television personality was holding court in her kitchen where grateful customers and admirers came to thank her, ask her to sign one of her cookbooks, give her a hug and bask in her gracious smile.
My new friends insisted on waiting with me for twenty-five minutes until my cab arrived. While we waited I talked through a door into a room that held even more wrt work. An eclectic collection, it deserves to be catalogued.
“This is about one-third of her collection,” one of the waiters, Oscar, told us as he continued getting the restaurant ready for the next day’s business. “It is in the process of viewing catalogued.”
We wandered through more of te restaurant taking thin stained glass and sculpture. Oscar showe us one of his favorites, an Elizabeth Catlette print of Harriet Tubman.
“Dooky’s is a museum,” I thought. The staff were singing and doing a dance step or too as we waited. The cab arrived. After hugs and waves, I got in and returns to the hotel. I had had dinner, met new friends, enjoyed artwork, And met an amazing woman who has played a significant role in our history.
I walked into my room, flopped on the bed and thought about the people at the CALGM convention, working for civil rights for the marginalized in our society. Quite a night. Quite a road ahead.
I was trying to sit quietly, to be aware of the Holy Presence within and without. The beeswax candle was burning. Scripture was waiting to be savored. And corn muffins were baking in the oven.
