The
background for why I love to cook and serve others
They say a great novel or story begins with a single
word. Well the story I will tell today begins with a pot. Not just any pot, but
my pot. Now there are all types of pots made from all types of materials, but
my pot is what we might call old school. It is not one of those fancy Le
Creuset French pots. It is not made by Magnalite, or coated in any special
Teflon material. My pot was forged from a raw material called iron and cast to
be a simple vessel to prepare food. That is my pot.
I can’t help but think of a line from a movie when a
soldier is handed his newly assigned weapon. This is your weapon soldier, hold
it tightly, clean it, and care for it because it will save your life. My pot is
almost like that. It is a 20 gallon cast
iron pot that ignited my passion to cook. That pot became my instrument of
choice and I knew if used and cared for properly it would last a lifetime. Yes
my pot was created like all other cast iron pots, strong, durable and ready to
stand the test of time. I want to share the wonderful and exciting story of my
pot and where it has been since it was created.
My pot has its beginning in Louisiana, my home
state. It was forged and made by people who have a passion for cooking. Cast
iron pot cooking in southeast Louisiana has its roots going back hundreds of
years. I would guess if we really trace back the roots of cooking and kitchens,
we would find cooking an entire meal in one cast iron pot is not new to
southeast Louisiana.
As our ancestors settled in what we call home,
southeast Louisiana, they brought with them a recipe that would easily be
adapted through generations to become what we call Jambalaya. There are many
recipes for this meal. There is creole style or Cajun style, everyone who lives
in this area has their favorite style. Some call it red or tomato jambalaya and
some call it brown jambalaya, it’s a personal thing I guess.
Well, back to the pot and how we became acquainted.
About twenty years ago I was working for an automotive dealership. A friend of
mine had gotten out of an automotive career and decided to pursue his passion
for cooking. He opened a catering company and one of his first purchases was a
twenty gallon cast iron pot, my future pot.
As his business grew he purchased larger pots. You
know the old adage, the larger the pot the more food you can fix and who
doesn’t like to fix and serve large amounts of food!
Shortly after his business started growing I would
help him cook as my schedule allowed. I felt right at home cooking and serving
people. Maybe some of it was because of the smiles on the faces of people as
they experienced their first taste of some of the best jambalaya in the
world….just saying.
But I think in
reality was what was going on, at first and I did not realize, was the pot was
a focal point or maybe better said a gathering place for people to share
stories and find comfort.
You see most people who love to cook use typical
household pots. You probably own a normal set of pots yourself. Maybe your
largest pot is a one gallon pot or maybe a little bigger. But this pot, which
is not really a large pot, was twenty gallons. So the average person sees this
black cast iron pot on a stand and smells the aroma of the jambalaya base
cooking and it is like termites flocking to a streetlight on a hot summer evening
in south Louisiana. What I was learning was that people are drawn to the pot.
Yes, people are drawn to a pot that has the aroma of
butter and chicken cooking. The smell of our trinity [onions, bell peppers and
celery] rising out of that pot draws them in, man, woman and child alike. It is
a glowing neon leg wrapped in a black garter on a darkened street that everyone
wants to see just like in A Christmas Story!
That is what I learned. The pot by itself sitting in
the garage or trailer is not a big draw. But add a fire and food and you are
instantly making friends. Everyone wants to be around the pot and even if
allowed, stir the pot in a good way.
Ok, back to the story. So I fell in love with
cooking jambalaya. About this time I was leaving my automotive career and
beginning a new chapter in my life. I had quit my job, sold my house and some
possessions. My wife and I were moving to St. Louis where I would be a student
at Concordia Seminary.
Not sure if I would ever return to Louisiana, I
wanted to purchase a cast iron pot for the next adventure of my life. My friend
offered to get a pot for me, actually the whole rig as we say; a pot, lid,
base, burner, hose and last but not least a large paddle/ ladle to stir with.
He showed up one day to deliver my new pot but in reality it wasn’t a new pot.
It was his old pot that had been used for years now. It was well seasoned as we
say. Cooked in, cleaned, and oiled down after every use. This pot was ready to
go on our adventure.
Some of possessions got sold, some given to friends
and family and some were stored at my parents. But the pot, the cast iron pot
made the moving van and the trip to St. Louis to our apartment on the seminary campus.
There the pot was carefully carried down the flight of steps into our basement
[what the heck is a basement]. It stayed down there for the first six or so
months of my seminary education. Unused, sitting there in a basement, the
famous pot stayed.
The first six months of seminary education is
likened to trying to drink water from a fire hose that has been opened. It is
so much information to try to absorb in such a short period of time. There are
languages to learn, Greek and Hebrew, all in ten week cycles. Learn one, move
to the next one and while you are learning a new language you begin using the
newly acquired language at the same time. But that is only the start of the
educational journey. Ten weeks at a time, with a break of two weeks in between.
There is nothing quite like a seminary educational journey. I could not wait for
those two weeks in between classes. It was a welcome break to reset and relax
for a few moments.
It was in one of those breaks the pot came out of
the basement. I broke out the recipe and started rounding up the ingredients to
make enough for a hundred or so people. You should have seen that fiasco,
cutting up the trinity and sausage in our small apartment kitchen. It was a
sight to see and a smell to behold.
When I started cooking the pot did what it was
supposed to do. It drew people in. It drew people whose noses smelled something
different in the crisp air of St. Louis. The smell of simmering chicken and
onions drew them like it had always done. In typical fashion when someone
stares and smiles long enough at the pot I will always ask if they want to stir
the pot. Most people are like giddy school children when given the opportunity
to stir the pot. They are a little tense at first but that is soon replaced by
getting a feel for the ingredients and the pot. The anxious smile is replaced
by a peaceful smile that only one who has stirred a large pot of jambalaya
understands.
Well as jambalaya goes, it wasn’t my best but the
people on campus thought it was. Once the pot was emptied and cleaned it went
back down into the basement awaiting its next adventure. But that adventure
would take a year to happen.
The following school year I was asked by one of the
pastors on campus to cook a pot of jambalaya for students who were headed out
for their field work and for those graduating. It was billed as an event that
would be social in nature and the pot would be the draw.
The pot never disappoints. That first event by the
office of admissions at the seminary was successful because the pot drew them
in like it was designed to do. The look and size of the pot, coupled with the
aroma drew them for the event and it was hailed as a successful outing. Thus it
began…
This event would be the premier event for that
twenty gallon pot. Year after year that pot would be used to bring smiles and
comforting delicious food to all who gathered around it, but like all things do
that eventually changed.
Then the twenty gallon pot became too small for the
event. The event on campus grew from the students of those two classes, to the
students, their families and the faculty and staff. Basically the entire campus
and anyone we meet in St. Louis are invited to join us. So this event that once
was around a hundred and fifty turned into an event that was close to five
hundred people. It was a blast! We got to bring delicious Louisiana style cooking
and food to this small parcel of land in Missouri.
But the pot, or should I say pots were still the
center of attention. The twenty gallon pot was replaced on these trips by
thirty gallon, forty gallon and even a ninety gallon pot. No matter what the
size of the pot, the desired effect is still the same. Cast iron jambalaya pots have a draw to them
like no other.
For the most part the pots and the group of
Louisiana cooks that came together every year to make the trek to St. Louis
confined their talents for large scale cooking to this sole event. But then one
day that changed.
I guess I have skipped the fact that along the way
of adding cast iron pots we added a bit more equipment than just those pots.
Along the way trailers to haul the equipment were purchased. Fryers, barbecue
pits, boiling pots, and all of the support equipment were secured and added to
this growing collection of cooking equipment. Thus it began…
I am not even sure how it started. I try to think
back but I can’t remember the actual event when the pots were used for
something other than the annual trip to St. Louis to cook at the seminary, but
it happened.
Katrina might have been the start as I think harder.
Katrina is such a beautiful name but one nasty hurricane. That hurricane
ravaged the Gulf Coast area and our former community in August of 2005. We were
on our internship in the Chicago area when the hurricane hit. For a brief time
our eyes were focused on the television waiting and hoping for the best. It
seemed like an eternity before we finally heard from our parents, children and
extended family that they were physically safe. Some had lost their homes other
had minor damage but we knew we could just not sit and wait for relief to come
to them.
Organizing a group from our internship church
family, we filled a 24’ rental truck with food and hygiene supplies and made
the trek to Louisiana. We set up our base camp in the parking lot of Bethany
Lutheran our home church in Slidell Louisiana. With their facility turned into
a relief camp, our supplies restocked their tables and our tent was set up
outside to start cooking. Our guess is that we served close to a thousand
people that day.
Since that Katrina moment, the cast iron pots have become
something of beacon that draws people in and provides delicious food whenever
and wherever the trailer stops and the cast iron pots roll out.
The destinations and reasons have changed from those
humble beginnings on the patio of my apartment on campus. The trailers have
been to St. Louis Missouri, Selma Alabama, to Moore Oklahoma, to Baton Rouge
and New Orleans Louisiana, to Houston and Austin Texas, to Biloxi Mississippi
and so many other local places that I have a hard time remembering all of them.
Whenever and wherever the trailer goes and the pots
get unloaded the same thing happens. It’s like watching a movie that is adapted
from a book written a hundred years ago. It first appears on the silver screen
in the twenties, remade in the forties and redone one last time in the
eighties. It is a Déjà vu experience every time the back door of the trailer
opens and the pots roll down the ramp. I wouldn’t trade that feeling and that experience for anything in the world.So what is that feeling?
What is that experience? It’s hard to describe. It only comes to you when you
step out and help someone.
A simple twenty gallon cast iron pot, a love and a passion
to cook, along with a desire to help, started it all. This is the story of my
pot.
