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Red Beans and Rice Good Enough to Earn Beads

It's actually kinda good and really easy to make.

Red Beans and Rice

My favorite sailor tale of all time, true story, starts out thus…

I found myself in New Orleans in a large back street mansion owned and inhabited by several drag queens. I am quite drunk which was not unusual for me in those days. Next to me, as I recline in a large hot sauce colored sofa, sits a rabbit. The rabbit is wearing eye liner and false lashes. I blink at the bunny. The cross dressing rabbit blinks back. I am comfortable, covered in beads, and certainly in no danger. Miss Chersharie has cold beer and hot red beans and rice. I stay.

The story, of course, has a happy ending as most stories involving red beans and rice do. This is a comfort food, a lucky food. It’s built for lumberjacks, tennis moms and cross dressing rabbits alike.


· 1 pound of dried red beans. The bag should weigh close to that.

· 2 cans of chicken broth (should be close to 4 cups total)

· 3 cups water

· 1 green pepper seeded and chopped

· 3 celery stalks chopped

· 3 cloves of garlic chopped (as usual, I use my cheater garlic in a jar)

· 1 pound of cooked sausage, the big link kind, cut into medallions. Use Andouille if you’ve got it. If not, just keep is simple.

· Three tablespoons of creole seasoning. It’s sold as “creole seasoning”

· Hot cooked rice. I use the quick microwave stuff.

Put everything except the rice in your crock. Put on when you leave for work. It’s done when you get home. It’s finished in about seven, but it can go longer. Serve over warm rice. Season with hot sauce iffin you want. I’ve also been known to leave out the sausage and cook with a ham hock, shredding the meat at the end. I’ve also been known to leave out the ham hock and sausage. That was during my disastrous “Meatless Monday” experiment/phase. Lesson learned.

Hey, sometimes a recipe is supposed to take you places. Let this one do that. New Orleans is a place to explore – far outside of Bourbon Street. It’s old southern charm crammed into the modern fantasy by begrudged debutantes and soused frat boys.

Don’t let those drunken fools mislead you. Where Vegas beats you over the head with sin, New Orleans is sophisticated debauchery and mystery. Find those streets. Tool around the Mississippi on a riverboat. Drink a tourist hurricane. Go on a ghost tour. Just be simple, happy, and enjoy a little piece of that city. And in the meantime, if someone happens to give you beads you earned, I’m not here to judge.

If you go, don't mention my name.

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