As lifelong Saints fans, this is totally uncharted territory for us: the team we’ve rooted for is finally playing in the biggest football game there is!  We’re lightheaded with excitement and one of our bakers, Brandi Gayneaux, came up this confectionary delight in honor of New Orleans playing in the big game in Miami.

It’s one of our Pain’ Fais’ Bless King Cakes twisted into a Fleur Des Lis.  We’ll be making them all week next week … as well as mailing one to a bakery in Indiana!

J.P.’s uncle is a philosophy and ethics professor at University of Southern Maine.  He writes poetry "on the side" as he puts it.  A few years back he decided he needed to learn Spanish and started going to Mexico on a regular basis... especially in the winters to escape the biting cold of Maine.  He recently sent J.P. this poem and we had to share it with you.  "Pan" is bread in Spanish, in case you haven't watched Dora the Explorer lately.

 

“Hey pan!”
In the early evening of the winter dark
Under the stars the secular culture’s muzzin
Welcomes the faithful home
With the ancient call of bread
“Hey pan!”
The call of home in Cuernavaca
Outside
Huddled neighbors with flashlights
Bow before the trunk of the old Chevvy
We thrive on a simple display of peddler’s bread
Pretty feast of baked air
There I perform my daily rite
Greet Roderigo
Ask for the children
Laugh with friends
Choose my bread
Pay the few pesos
Say good night
Buenas noches
Gracias…hasta mañana…
“Hey pan!”
“Hey pan!”
The day is ending in its usual peace
“Hey pan!”
Life goes on
Buy our bread
We’ll come back again tomorrow
“Hey pan!”
Flour and yeast and salt and water mixed
Punched down
Rising living dough
Ovened to a crisp golden brown
For you for me
“Hey pan!”
May you
May all of you taste the quiet beauty
The sustaining peace of this bread
“Hey pan!”
May it nurture you

I receive a shipment from a company based in New Orleans every Thursday.  We always talk Saints football.  We talk about whether Reggie Bush should be traded (No!  Every game in which he has over 100 all-purpose yards, the Saints win.  Just stop thinking of him as a Running Back.), why all the secondary players keep getting hurt, etc.  We talk passionately and I can tell from the surprise in the delivery guys’ eyes that they can’t believe Cajuns are just as passionate about the New Orleans Saints as people on that side of the Atchafalaya Basin are.

Actually, we might have them beat.

This is our latest creation.  It doesn’t have a name —mainly because we don’t want NFL lawyers sending us Cease and Desist letters— but you know why it has those colors just as much as we do.  It put a smile on the delivery crew’s faces when they saw it and we’ll be making it every weekend that New Orleans is in the playoffs!

G. Harvest was a man who experienced more in one month than most men experience in one decade.  His adventures inspire the breads that we make.  Here’s the story behind our Harvest King Cake.

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On my first trip around the world I took an extended stay in China at the Beijing City Central International Youth Hotel.  It is a mouthful to say and the name is longer than the rooms are wide but the price was low.  China is so different from America and I was determined to stay in Beijing long enough to understand what made these wonderful people tick. 

In order to fund my stay I took a job in a Western bar in the trendy Chao Yang district.  My Chinese coworkers hated me.  They gave me a Chinese name which I later learned was a great insult –“turtle egg” – but because the American owner liked me they had to put up with me.  I cooked, tended bar, washed dishes, and waited tables… often all on the same night.

Things were slow on nights that we didn’t have foreign bands coming in but on the nights that we did have them, I made enough money to cover my hostel bed with just enough left over to go out drinking with the bands after we all got done for the evening.  I heard more EuroPop than I care to ever hear again.  I listened to punk bands from America that sang with fake British accents until the thought of ripping my ears off of my head to stop listening seemed logical.  Occasionally the music was great.  Once, it made me cry.

There was one night, near Chinese New Year, that I showed up for work and saw an accordion and fiddle on stage alongside the usual bass, drums, and guitar.  I expected some kind of Neo-Polish rock band or maybe some Romanian gypsies.  Two hours later I was pouring drinks at the bar when the show started.  The singer said “Bonjour!  We’re Tico Comeaux and the Sheetrock Floaters from Louisiana!”  I stood there as the first song started, a classic Louisiana Two Step, and wept.  It was the first time I’d heard a Cajun accent in months.  Until that moment I didn’t realize how much I missed home.  They played all the songs I’d danced to at wedding receptions and High School parties. 

After the show ended I went back to Tico’s hotel and we passed a good time until the sun came up.  The conversation kept coming back to Mardi Gras, which was only two days away.  Tico’s band was playing at the bar again that night and I decided to do something special for them.  I made a decadent King Cake with cream cheese in the dough, fruit incorporated throughout, and a splash of nutmeg.  The icing was timelessly simple: water, powdered sugar, and vanilla.

When I presented them the King Cake, they held the platter as gently as I’ve seen mothers hold a newborn child.  Every bite we took was savored.  There wasn’t a word spoken in the green room until every slice eaten.  No King Cake has ever tasted that good before and I’m not sure than one ever will again.

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Our Harvest King Cake is available every day we’re open until Mardi Gras.

To serve with Great Harvest Gingerbread.

Ingredients:
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 4 Tbsp (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
- 2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
- 1 tsp grated lemon zest
- 1/4 cup water
- Strips of lemon peel for garnish

Preparation:
In a small sauce pan, combine 1/2 cup sugar, 4 Tablespoon butter, lemon juice, , lemon rind and water. Place over medium heat and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 4 minutes, stirring until the mixture is clear and slightly thickened. Serve warm over gingerbread. Top with strips of lemon peel, if desired.

Here's another holiday party dish that's a homerun!

Ingredients:
- A loaf of Acadian Herb bread, cubed (6 cups)
- 1/4 Cup of Milk
- 1 1/4 Cup coarsely chopped, cooked ham
- 2 Tablespoons of melted butter
- 3 Green onions, sliced
- 1 Egg
- 8 Ounces Brie Cheese, peeled and cubed
- 1 Medium Pear, peeled and chopped

Preparation:
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
- Beat butter, milk, and egg in a medium bowl
- Add bread cubes, ham, pear & onion.  Toss.
- Spread mixture in greased, 8 x 8 baking dish
- Top with cheese cubes.
- Bake uncovered 25 to 30 minutes until pears are tender and cheese is melted

Serve as a side dish or spread on more slices of our Acadian Herb bread.

We've all got parties we'll be attending this month.  Instead of bringing that tired old Velveeta dip, try this for an easy entertaining tip! 

Take our delicious Walnut Fig Bread (Saturdays), cut off the top, and pull out the insides to make a bowl.  It's just the perfect size for a small Brie Cheese.  Pop the cheese round into the bread bowl, drizzle it with a bit of Fig Jam and pop it in the oven at 350 for 20 minutes.  Serve with the Walnut Fig bread pieces you pulled out of the middle for dippers and everybody will rave!

G. Harvest was a man who experienced more in one month than most men experience in one decade.  His adventures inspire the breads that we make.  One of our most popular sweets is our Chocolate Brownie Bread.  Here’s the story behind it:

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Every woman has a story about The One Who Got Away.  For many of the women I have loved I have the unfortunate pleasure of being that person.  It’s not something I have ever set out to do… it’s just that the women I fall for learn that my adventurous spirit isn’t a passing fancy after they have developed feelings for me.  By the time they realize the adventures I talk about having aren’t just dreams but are plans I’m actually developing, they have to decide whether or not they want to join me or stay in the life that they know.  Most have chosen the life that they know.  And I have become The One Who Got Away.

It wasn’t always this way.

I was a young man living in my native South Louisiana and was on the introspective journey of discovering who I was.  (I highly recommend this time of inward focus for any person in their early twenties.  It will save you from so many regrets later in life!)  I had walked away from the family business and was living in a garage… not a garage apartment but an actual garage.  I hung a hammock from the roof above the hood of my car, mounted a hot plate on the wall, bathed in a work sink, and stored my clothes in the trunk of my car.  For this glorified parking space I paid $25 a month.  I was doing seasonal work at the time, jumping from farm to farm, harvesting whatever crop was in season.  It was quiet work that allowed me to think deeply about my life’s meaning and I was also able to start saving money for a trip I wanted to take to my ancestral village in France.

My deep thinking stopped on the day I met Emily.  She was from New England and would never give me a more specific locale than that.  Her red hair and joyous spirit made my heart spin and sink at the same time.  I felt both light headed and grounded any time when she walked onto the field full of pecan trees that we were both working.  She would be my wife.  I knew it.  The money I had set aside to travel became savings for an engagement ring.

Emily and I would talk all day long about the adventures we would have together and the ones she had already been on.  She told me about hiking the Appalachian Trail and serving as a research assistant in the deserts of Nevada.  She wanted to see Thailand but I wanted to stick to English speaking countries like Malaysia… we compromised and agreed to visit a beach town in both.  She talked about the chocolates of Belgium and how she couldn’t wait to try them in an actual café in Brussels.   I took note of her love for chocolate and started working on a bread to bake for her.

We finally confessed our feelings for each other on a Friday late in November.  I had brought a thermos of coffee and, as we shared it during an early morning break from harvesting, I told her how much I loved her.  My heart exploded out of its solitary spot in my chest and pumped throughout every limb and rang like church bells in my ears when she told me she felt the same way.  Our work for the rest of the day was easy despite the cold and the constant hunching to gather pecans.

That weekend I bought a meager engagement ring and went home on Sunday to bake this bread I had been formulating in my mind.  Because Emily was allergic to dairy I had to make a totally vegetarian creation.  I used baking soda and vinegar as the leavening agents.  I folded cocoa powder into the sugar and flour.  I added chocolate chips with reckless abandon.  I wanted Emily to be transported in her mind to that Belgian café she had been dreaming of when she took her first bite the next morning.

I showed up the next morning to the field full of pecan trees with a thermos of coffee in one hand, the loaf of chocolate bread in the other, and a ring in my pocket.  As I sat and waited for Emily to arrive I noticed that all of the leaves had fallen out of the trees and our work would soon be done.  I couldn’t wait to start our travels together! 

I waited by my car until late in the morning. 

When Emily didn’t show up, I asked the land owner if she had called in sick.  He informed me that she had quit the previous Friday.  He didn’t know where she had gone or where she had been living.  She left me no note.  She gave me no message through the farmer.  She simply vanished.

My heart shrank a little that day.  I drove back to the jeweler and sold him the ring for 80% of the purchase price.  I sold my car later that week and bought a ticket to St. Etienne du Montluc.  The distant relatives I met there helped me get over Emily.  But I’ve never forgotten her.  I think about her every time I make Chocolate Brownie Bread.

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Chocolate Brownie Bread is available every day of the week between now and the end of the year.