Give It Up For Guest Blogger Wic! – I Am Digging Wic – We Are Vibing Thru Blogging Across The Planet & Never Met! – Wic Believes In Seeking God In Nature & Not Only In “A Book” – I Can Go Along With That

“God is said to have written Scripture and Nature.” – Wic

Kevy’s Comment

I am very excited to feature fellow blogger Wic, and giving him a grand showcasing.

Photo Of Wic

A few weeks ago, I found fellow bloggers with whom I connected in several ways, namely in perspective on life, love, and spirituality, just by reading their posts. I posted comments to several of their posts and asked their permission to feature them on my site.

Wic gave me permission a week ago, but I have been so busy that I had become drained and had to get away from computers, blogging, television, and all things media. Do you ever get that way as a blogger? I hope that Wic appreciates that I was not going to force introducing him to my followers. I just can’t do things normally. My friends from New Orleans says that I always have to “add cayenne” to everything I do.

As I mentioned in a post comment, I no longer hold on to old relationships that don’t vibe with who I am today just because of history or tradition. Many of those relationships were simply held together by kinship, religion, race, or class, but not by spiritual connection. None of these things have anything to do with my true spirit, my true essence, today.

Therefore, in these crucial times, I have abandoned many relationships, including family ones, that do not elevate my spirit. Instead, I find adventure in meeting new kindred spirits randomly, such as Wic’s.

“My God is a wild untamed God, who throws stars into space and sits with me, relaxed, and communes in the forest. How about yours.” – Wic

Continue reading “Give It Up For Guest Blogger Wic! – I Am Digging Wic – We Are Vibing Thru Blogging Across The Planet & Never Met! – Wic Believes In Seeking God In Nature & Not Only In “A Book” – I Can Go Along With That”

Black People Get Healthy! – U Created That Back-Porch-Booty, Front-Porch-Belly & UR Poor Health –Take Responsibility – From UR Brother Kevy!

This is not a fat-shaming post. Let’s make that clear.

I am not opposed to big booties. Some are nice and shapely, like onion or bubble butts. These are the way God made them. Some, however, are big and out of shape from not getting exercise and not eating properly. Some folks don’t even try to exercise, as much as they consume. These are the ones I wish to reach with this post. I am not shaming, though.

As for ‘front-porch-bellies’, that may be a different story.

Our digestive system is the foundation of our immune system, with the gut playing the largest role. Excessive weight causes inflammation adversely affects immune cells, and can even impair cognition. Having a big belly may be a sign of more significant health issues.
“A huge proportion of your immune system is actually in your GI tract,” says Dan Peterson, assistant professor of pathology at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.’ – John Hopkins Medical Research

Everyone can benefit from this post. It is especially aimed at Black people. But it would be nice for all people to understand what I have to say about Health & Lifestyle.

This post is also a scolding of my peeps. But it is a scolding based in love. It’s like a father chastising his son for misbehaving. I want the best for you but have to ‘lay down the law’ to let you know that I’m serious, but I do care.

Black people (and all people, of course) with unhealthy lifestyles lets be real with each other, okay?

Photo Youtube - TLC - latin post black-women-are-more-likely-to-have-diabetes-due-to-their-lifestyle
Photo – YouTube – TLC

You are a large part of the problem when it comes to the status of your health and the health of your community! I can say this. I am an African American man. That gives me street creds.

You are a large part of the blame for the disproportional impact of the Coronavirus on the African American community.

Before Coronavirus many of you were already unhealthy. Admit it.

Don’t play with me.

Continue reading “Black People Get Healthy! – U Created That Back-Porch-Booty, Front-Porch-Belly & UR Poor Health –Take Responsibility – From UR Brother Kevy!”

Calling All New Orleanians – It Is Gumbo Season! – Filé Gumbo Is In The Air

“Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.” – Confucius

Just as in Thanksgiving kicking off the mirliton season, the Christmas holidays kick off the gumbo season in New Orleans, especially for Black Creole families.

Mirliton is also referred to as chayote squash.  It is a summer squash that has a taste of melon and pecan.  During the holidays traditional creole families half, boil, scrape the fiber out of the shell, thensauté it with onion, garlic, bell pepper, celery, parsley, and spices, then adding Italian breadcrumbs, ham, and shrimp.  We then stuff the mixture into the hollow mirliton shells and bake, topped with butter.  This is very delicious and one of my all-time favorite Creole dishes.  

Gumbo is New Orleans’ most popular dish.  This is a traditional meal all over the state of Louisiana but is especially popular among black families, especially roles.  The ingredients may vary from family to family, neighborhood to neighborhood, and in various parts of the state.  But we do tend to agree that either the gumbo is going to be filé Gumbo or Okra Gumbo.

Filé Gumbo is thickened by filé (dried and ground sassafras leaves) and pan-roasted flour, called a roux.  Okra Gumbo is more popular among roles.  It obviously contains okra, tomatoes, ham, shrimp, and crab, but typically does not contain the variety of ingredients that file gumbo does.

Gumbo is New Orleans’s melting pot dish.  The name is derived from a West African word for okra.  Filé comes from the Choctaw NativeAmerican Indians.  And roux is a much darker version of the French sauce base.

Continue reading “Calling All New Orleanians – It Is Gumbo Season! – Filé Gumbo Is In The Air”

Gumbo in the Air (Part 1)

May 19, 2018

“Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.” – Confucius

Gumbo in the Air (Part 1) – In memory of my dear mother – 10/2/1918 – 5/14/2014

She and our close-knit family knew when the first cold draft blew through the floorboards of her historic home, gumbo season had arrived. Though a modest home, you could sense from the gallery-side rose garden that she kept, the hallway piano and furniture aligned with photos of grandchildren, to the floors clean enough to eat from, her home and family reigned supreme, even above herself. She delighted now in beginning to prepare the season’s first Creole file gumbo. With the opportunity for her to illuminate much brighter stolen from her as a domestic servant, she gladly surrendered to servitude to please everyone, especially her family. She had surrendered and accepted her humble station in life with pride.

Eunice had a hard life but somehow sustained through unimaginable challenges. Her Black Catholic faith gave her determination and kept her going. Having endured through the black plague as a child, the Great Depression, the birth of 11 children, the death of 2, as well as, marriage to my violent and alcoholic father, she proudly told her survival stories as family members attentively listened. With certainty this occurred as she worked on one of her many tedious seasonal projects, such as when preparing crayfish bisque, washing and changing curtains on her home’s 35 windows, and at gumbo time.

Though she led most work on these major undertakings, she made use of having such a large family, and carefully took advantage of the free labor, but only on simple tasks. Maybe tasks like peeling shrimp, but never deveining them. Chopping the ‘holy trinity’ seasoning (onion, celery, and bell pepper), but never browning the roux. There were details in this recipe that only she knew how to ‘do right’. As kids, she told us many times that if she wanted something ‘done right’ she’d do it her damn self. We would hear this line often, especially when we didn’t make our beds to perfection.

A feisty woman with passions for Catholic saints, especially for St. Anthony, ‘for he’s never failed her’, hard work, and her gumbo recipe. Though her determination seemed special, she was not the only one. Many humble New Orleans Creole women also felt the gumbo breeze of each season.

Before surrendering her passion for preparing gumbo to old age and frailty, she once again prepared this culinary delight to the attraction of her family, friends, and neighbors for weeks to come. She grew up during The Depression and told stories to us as she went through this methodical and lengthy process. At a vibrant 80 years young, she had prepared nearly 150 batches. I calculated it for she prepared gumbo only at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and perhaps on one additional special Sunday, say for a birthday or even for a funeral. …About 3-4 times a year. She started cooking at age 10. Now you do the math.

She actually started preparing the dish months in advance, storing ham bones, turkey parts, crabs, and shrimp in preparation for this day. She never bought the frozen seafood, no siree! She only used the fresh shrimp from the fisherman on the side of Claiborne Avenue, where most black mothers did bargain shopping at neighborhood meat, super, and dollar store markets. Sometimes when the timing synchronized, the Seafood man or ‘Okra Man’ rode through the impoverished Uptown neighborhood in an old pickup and parked it on a corner with his wares to sell. From his megaphone he shouted, “I got, Okra, Blue Crabs, Shrimp, and anything else gumbo, which is nearly everything, until Eunice and many black mothers sent their kids out to the street corner to get a pound of ‘this or that’.

She carefully pulled bite-sized meat from thawed carcasses and placed them in bowls, boiling the bones for broth. Shrimps and crabs were cleaned and prepared, but put in the fridge, for they were added last. She used to add oysters but stopped altogether because they could spoil the gumbo, not allowing her to freeze some for future Sunday dinner surprises. Frugality ran through her veins. She did not believe in waste. She knew how to stretch a dollar; she could ‘make it holla’ too.

We had limited tasks to perform, such as bringing items to her or cleaning up after her, and of course eating 2-3 bowls when ready. By the time Eunice brought all the preparation together, bowls covered the kitchen table and inside the fridge. With the ‘trinity’, seafood, chopped meats, sausages, broths all prepped, she stood over the stove with a cup of all-purpose flour in her hand aimed and ready to start the roux.

As the roux browned everyone took a bit of a breather, namely her. We all knew that after the roux, broth, spices, and other ingredients were combined, the gumbo would make itself, and only required stirring and an attentive eye on the stove. We could not mistake the nutty smell of roux browning to the color of perfection. That smell signaled to me, and the rest of the household, that we could go out and play. To her, it called her to the next domestic chore, likely already in the making. She would say, ‘a man can work from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.’ Her work never seemed to end.

Continue reading “Gumbo in the Air (Part 1)”