Friends, Football… GUMBO
I’m not sure who decided on the name gumbo, but I’m going to go ahead and assume it’s definition has something to do with “the greatest thing to ever happen to the city of New Orleans.”
Actually, the word comes from the West African word for okra, “gombo.”
It’s perfect combination of shrimp, crab, chicken, rice, and the ever famous “holy trinity” of bell pepper, onion and celery, it’s the main reason I keep frequenting this city.
Every time I visit this magical place, I get a happy and warm feeling…and not because of the hand grenades and fish bowls.
The first time I ever set foot in the French Quarter, I went with my best friend. Jazz music filled the air, while the streets were filled with people dancing, and the smiles, I’ll never forget how happy everyone was. I had the best gumbo and oysters at a little restaurant tucked into the folds of the notorious Bourbon Street. Unfortunately, I was well below 21 on my first trip and didn’t get to experience the scope of New Orleans until I came back for my older brother’s birthday.
I give myself sister of the year for the ultimate birthday extravaganza. We made Bourbon Street our home for the weekend frequenting every tourist bar and eating gumbo from every hole in the wall restaurant we could find.
Each restaurant had its own take on the savory dish. None better than the other, just different, but all magical and mouth watering.
My favorite New Orleans trip had to be my most recent trip. I went with my five best friends in the world to support out alma mater in the Sugar Bowl. We were fortunate enough to be able to go early to fit in a New Years celebration as well. We got to New Orleans four days before the game to really experience the city.
Unfortunately, the city had other plans. It rained the entire time we were there. Turns out, lots of rain means lots of time for eating. So naturally, we did. Oysters, crab dip, all the seafood you can imagine and of course gumbo. The gumbo count for the week hit double digits; I can’t speak for my friends, but I most certainly never got sick of it.
The clock struck midnight and we danced in the middle of Bourbon Street during a downpour. I’ve never had more fun or been more cold in my life. We trekked back to the hotel where the staffers had warm gumbo waiting on us. We ate gumbo, drank champagne (gross combination if you’re curious) and talked all night long.
I can’t not smile when even thinking about a big bowl of gumbo.
Friends, Family, Football…… and sweet, sweet gumbo. If 2017 is half as good as that bowl of soup, I’m in for a great year.