Mardi Gras, a French term, translates to Fat Tuesday, a day when cooks historically used all of their butter, fat, and milk before lent, resulting in the rapid cooking of fried foods and pancakes.
Susan began her day brewing a New Orleans special, a cup of Cafe Au Lait, a Creole drink made of milk and a mixture of a premium blend coffee and chicory. The strong blend is unpalatable without milk at Cafe du Monde in N'awleens, if you've ever tried it. Since beignets, fried dough covered in powdered sugar, another Cafe du Monde offering, are scarce in Texas, Susan cooked pancakes. Other names for Mardi Gras are Shriving Tuesday, a day to confess and repent, and Pancake Tuesday, when many churches offered pancake meals in pre-pandemic days. After Susan cooked the pancakes to a golden color, she spread butter on each one and poured the amber maple syrup on them until she created a sweet moat around the pancakes. With a piece of pancake on the end of a fork, she mopped up the syrup and savored it like a woman scooping the last hot fudge out of a sundae glass to avoid missing a single warm taste of the thick chocolate.
At lunch time, she popped a Louis Armstrong CD in her boombox to honor him and the other musicians who gave N'awleens the name, Birthplace of Jazz. Some say jazz was born there with drumming and voodoo rituals on Congo Square. Others say it started when Buddy Bolden formed a band in 1895.
Then, Susan showered, dabbed on voodoo perfume, custom blended for her in N'awleens French Quarter, and dressed in party clothes--emerald green leggings, a purple sweater, and a gold necklace, official Mardi Gras colors. Purple represents justice. Green represents faith. Gold represents power. You'll find these colors in food, clothing, accessories, and beads.
In the past, Krewe members, or club members, tossed beads to spectators from floats they built and rode on during pre-Covid-19 Mardi Gras parades.
Donned in her elaborate eye mask, a tradition so that social classes couldn't be identified, and her face mask, Susan borrowed her husband's truck to get ingredients for gumbo, a staple in N'awleens restaurants, and ingredients for those fruity, potent drinks called Hurricanes, named after the storms that frequently hit N'awleens and, like Katrina, have had devastating effects on the city's residents. She also bought a King Cake, a huge pastry, covered in white icing, and green, purple, and gold sprinkles, and decorated with a strand of beads. Inside the cake is a plastic baby, representing Jesus. Traditionally, whoever gets the slice with the baby, has to buy the cake for next year's party.
All went well at the store, so Susan didn't have to insert pins into her male and female voodoo dolls she bought in N'awleens.