Pableaux's Monday Night Red Beans & Rice

Mom with her bridesmaids (including my stepmom, Linda (!), to my mother’s right) in yellow.

Mom with MIchael McVaugh in the yellow living room at Mallette St. during one of my parents’ annual New Years Eve black tie parties.

Mom setting a pretty table with her Wedgwood Florentine in our gold dining room at Mallette St.

A bunch of hippies out back of our Mallette St. house during its yellow incarnation. (That’s Van Quinn in the back left, this is definitely a Chapel of the Cross Choir Sherry, probably Easter.)

Me with my boyfriend, Devin, and Nonnie in our butter yellow kitchen at Mallette St. on Christmas Eve in the mid 90s. Just look at that brown fridge, that thing wouldn’t die!

Mom with her granddaughters at Christmas in the Carolina Meadows house. Recognize the wall color? And that’s the harpsichord Mom built behind them.

Me in a yellow romper that someone in my family probably made at Fripp Island, SC with my mom, sister (in a crazy yellow hat?!), and Nonnie in the background.

Luca in a yellow outfit that Mom DEFINITELY made at her first birthday party at our ranch in Wimberley, Texas. Look at that view! Sigh. Wish we’d hung onto that house.

Me and my sister, Elisabeth. We got a lot of mileage out of that yellow tube. We loved it! Now kids need iPads, lol.

This meme just showed up on Instagram the other day and made me laugh. Elisabeth and I LOVED Pop Ups! I’m on the right eating one at Elisabeth’s birthday party at Mallette St. I think that’s Charlotte Gill next to me in a Glenwood Gators t-shirt.

Photo of Dad and Mom taken by our friend Pableaux Johnson. (Story below)

Spring has finally freaking sprung here in Rhode Island. Thank God, because this winter was trying, to say the least. I looked out my window this morning and blossoms have appeared on a tree in my yard seemingly overnight. They feel like apology flowers after a lover’s quarrel. I’ll take them.

I’m still getting used to my house being MY HOUSE alone. Mainly it’s awesome but those gutters aren’t going to clean themselves. When I drop food there is no scrappy Texas hound dog there to gobble it up. Weird noises in the night require investigation by me, myself and I. Oddly, I was able to find out that the old lady who had previously lived in my house didn’t actually die here. In the world’s most “Rhode Island” story, I was introduced to a new friend, Phoebe Summersquash (amazing name, right?!) by my 90s RISD pal, Deb Greene, who shares a Fire Island summer rental with Phoebe and her husband. Originally from Rhode Island, Phoebe and her husband recently moved back after many years in New York. Before meeting in person Phoebe and I started following each other on social media. She saw a pic of me in front of my new house on Instagram and was like …. “wait a minute!”. It turns out that she is somehow related to the previous owners of my house, has been in it before, and knew the siblings who were selling it. Small world, right? Well, I guess, small state. But of all the houses in Rhode Island …..

So, the sweet Mrs. Barto declined but did not die here. The banging around I hear is most likely my old furnace, something I’m unaccostomed to. So unaccustomed that when Luca was visiting in the Fall I actually ran out of oil and we had no heat or hot water for a while. I called an oil company that would deliver on weekends and explained that I’m a Texan and an idiot and thought the oil would last longer to which the lady replied, “You’re a Texan, you should know about oil.” Touche’.

So, this winter was spent learning about, well, winter. I now know just how cold I can stand it in the house. I’ve also discovered that you should always shovel the snow in your driveway immediately before it turns to ice. (Oops. I had a skating rink out there for months and would actually give instructions to visitors to “walk carefully up the driveway, you can cling to my car and pull yourself along if you need to”.) I finally bought a car window scraper, abandoning the makeshift one I had made out of an Amy’s frozen meal box. And I got my ass to Texas as often as I could.

So, now I have all sorts of surprise flowers popping up in my yard. I picked a bunch of daffodils for my desk yesterday. Funny how I felt like I shouldn’t and I might get in trouble. You know what? They’re MINE! Their cheery yellow color is an instant dopamine boost. Mom loved yellow! I believe I’ve mentioned that our Mallette Street house was basically an exercise in variations of yellow: for a time the exterior of the house was a orange-ish yellow, there was a rich gold in the living and dining rooms, a pale greenish yellow straw in the breakfast room, lemon yellow in my parents’ bath, primary yellow on the old clawfoot tub in the hall bath, a subtle kind of butter yellow in the kitchen…

Mom and Dad came to Texas for Luca’s first birthday and Mom made her the cutest yellow smocked poofy little bubble dress. Luca had very light blonde hair and the combo was adorable. I can still hear my mom saying “lallow” (baby talk for yellow, which sounds nauseating but was actually really cute to hear). Funny how I can still hear her voice saying certain phrases. She used to call me “mouse” because I apparently I made weird little noises as a baby.

Late January brought the bad news of Pableaux Johnson’s death. Some of you might know him and, if you did, you know that he has been memorialized by the best already, The New York Times even did a piece on him. For those who don’t know him, I’m happy to introduce you. I knew Pableaux several ways. I think I heard his unforgettable name first from Mom and Dad who knew him as a cook and food writer from their involvement with the Southern Foodways Alliance. The organization would host weekends in certain spots with a focus on one iconic dish or another. I remember pimento cheese in like Oxford, Mississippi, or somewhere, and oysters in Apalachicola, Florida … things like that. Chefs and writers would gather to taste, talk, and generally have a good time. (I’m wondering if this is where Mom and Dad met the writer Julia Reed who invited them to one of her sandbar parties in the Mississippi River and transported them there in a boat with a very official “Department of Having a Good Time” seal on it?) Anyway, lifelong friendships were formed and Mom and Dad became friends with Pableaux (who was basically my age) that way.

I got to know Pableaux socially once I moved to Austin. Pableaux had grown up in Louisiana with my friend Mary, he went to college at Trinity College in San Antonio with my friend Stephen, and he lived in Austin at one point on Landon Lane (a tiny 1 block street near campus where, oddly, Chris and I lived prior to buying our Zilker house). Mary and Stephen, who were married for a time, met in the back yard of Pableaux’s Landon Lane house at a summertime party with kiddie pools to put your feet in. That tracks, Pableaux was the ultimate host, always considering his guests’ comfort. Pableaux left Austin before we got there but he would visit periodically. One night when Luca was maybe a year old I got a call from Mary saying “meet me at Nuevo Leon, Pableaux is in town!”. So, I loaded up the baby and hustled over to the East side. I had heard Pableaux’s name for years but had yet to meet him. That was about to change, big time. I walked in the restaurant and a bald, bearded man swooped in and snatched my baby and went off to the bar returning with the most GIANT margarita I have ever seen. Babysitting AND bartending services? Yes, please. We proceeded to become great buddies. There was never any warming up phase, you were just instantly friends with Pableaux. He was known for making great mixed cds. He had a few with him that night that he gave me. I found one a few years ago and made a Spotify playlist of the songs.

I remember attending one of Pableaux’s Red Bean Roadshows in Austin where somehow he convinced Home Slice Pizza to let him take over the restaurant for the night. He made his famous red beans and cornbread and there was lots of wine and whiskey. We sat at communal tables and had a good old time. It was classic, easy Pableaux community building. I also remember Dad calling me up once to say “Pableaux says hello”. Mom and Dad had been sitting on the street in New Orleans and all of the sudden Dad felt a big wet kiss on the top of his bald head. Alarmed, he turned around and saw Pableaux’s shining face. That man’s joy was undimmable. Dad and Pableaux shared a birthday, January 8th, which is, oddly, also celebrated by Elvis, David Bowie, Stephen Hawking, Kim Jong Un, and my tiny little grandma, Alice Reed. What the actual hell with January 8th?!

Anyway, this January, no so long after his birthday, Pableaux suffered a cardiac arrest while photographing a second line parade in New Orleans. That’s kind of the perfect way for him to go. Too soon, but perfect. I heard from people all over the world mourning Pableaux. My friend Mary flew from Oregon to New Orleans to attend his memorial. Soon after she mailed a photo to my house, it was an image of Mom and Dad that Pableaux had taken. Evidently at the memorial his family printed out hundreds of Pableaux’s pictures for people to sort through and take as a souvenir. What’s crazy is that Mary has actually never met Mom and Dad, I think she might just know them through this blog or my social media. It was so thoughtful of her to snag the photo, I sent it to Dad who was incredibly touched. He didn’t know that the photo existed and loves having something from Pableaux, especially both he and Mom are now gone.

So now I will give YOU something from the inimitable Pableaux Johnson. I’ve shared his Turkey Bone Gumbo recipe before, so today I thought I would share his iconic Red Beans and Rice recipe. It’s so iconic that Camellia Brand Kidney Beans actually shares it on their website.
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Pableaux’s Monday Night Red Beans & Rice
(The Monday night tradition started so chefs could have something easy to make on their laundry day.)

Ingredients

1 pound Camellia Brand Red Kidney Beans, soaked
1 pound good smoked sausage, preferably andouille, sliced into coins
3 tablespoons oil
2 medium onions, chopped
1 rib celery, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped
6 to 8 cloves garlic, minced
Tony Cachere’s Creole Seasoning
Salt and pepper
1 tablespoon dried basil
Pinch rubbed sage
3 bay leaves
Crystal Hot Sauce
1 bunch green onions, chopped
1 bunch flat-leaf parsley, minced
Cooked rice for serving

Directions

Heat oil in a large heavy pot. Brown the sausage, stirring frequently, to render as much fat as possible. When well browned, remove sausage from the pot and drain on paper towels. Add onions to pot and season with lots of Tony’s, salt and pepper.
Cook onions over medium heat, stirring frequently, until well browned. Add garlic and cook 5 to 10 minutes; add celery and bell pepper and cook until translucent.
Drain water off the soaked red beans and add the beans to the pot. Cover with fresh water. Rub the basil between the palms of your hands as you add it to the pot. Add sage and bay leaves. Add sausage back to the pot and stir well.
Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until beans are tender, about 1 to 1-1/2 hours. When beans are tender, mash some with a potato masher until the mixture looks creamy.
Stir in the chopped green onions and most of the parsley, reserving some parsley for diners to add at the table. Season well with Crystal Hot Sauce.
Serve hot with cooked white rice, extra parsley and more hot sauce.

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