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Cooking with Grease-A quick update

Hey ya'll lol. Heeeeeey! Ya'll looking for me? I miss this space. It's been months since I've checked in, hasn't it. I'm sorry. Busy, busy, busy. How ya'll doing? I really do hope you're well. I know things are rough at the moment, gas prices went back in time to 2008 and there's a war going on in the middle of a pandemic! Food prices are astronomical and minimum wage hasn't changed since before I entered into corporate America. The world is a shit show and some of us are out of toilet paper.


Let's all take a few moments for stillness. Breathe in. Breathe out. Unwind & Release. Do this as many times as you need. Drop your shoulders and unclench your jaw.


Sooooo much has been happening in my life, like I'm tremendously behind on organization and tracking right now, there's plenty to focus on but everyday the list gets shorter. I will try to do better with this social media thing.

Firstly, let me say, "Thank You!" You guys have expressed to me in delight of my blog, I'm highly excited and ultra grateful because I didn't know how serious to take this new endeavor. What a wonderful feeling this brings. I thank you, again, it was the encouragement I needed to keep going. An extra thank you for all the "Treat Me's" I've received, they went straight to my coffee fixes. After all this time I'm still finding new, enjoyable cafes.

Per my last blog, I promised you guys an update on the happenings after the Paint & Sip. If you haven't read that blog it's HERE if you'd like to catch up. I assure you it's an enjoyable read. Very well, with a "toot" of my own horn, I can cook ya'll, "real bad". The expats who came to the Paint & Sip did some really heavy convincing on why I should cook for the community. Our community, you know who I'm speaking of. Strong laughter included, I wasn't having it, didn't want any parts of it and I gave them plenty pushback but they eventually won me over. I'm a softy in real life and don't use the word "no" too often. The reasons are simple on why I didn't want to jump into it, I just didn't. I was on an almost two-year hiatus from cooking. Yea, you read that correctly. I went from cooking every day to a silent kitchen. Even my pots were confused.

At the time I was depressingly frustrated with the entire kitchen and everyone who needed food to survive. (It was really just myself and the world I live in). I let them all fend for themselves, either that or we ordered in. They also had to take care of me in the process, I didn't want any parts of being who I've always been, a caretaker and nurturer. It is what it was at that point. In this short time I've learned to be unapologetically sad, it's a natural feeling and denying it would make matters worse for me. When I'm happy do you convince me to be sad? It's ok to feel, don't let anyone force you to be strong in that moment. With that said, I've allowed all of us to feel our feelings, no more upbeat exteriors with a suffering soul. It's wack and played out.


Once I was done being dragged by my ankles, beaten like a third leg and hung out to dry like fresh garlic, I gave in. I agreed to cook for the community. I cooked family dinners, I had a weekly menu, I catered a yacht party, a birthday party and I was offered to cook for a church. Pastor homeboy did something real grimy so I backed out of it. Side bar...If you can not cook in the states, don't think you're coming to Mexico to be a chef. If cooking isn't your thing, please don't try to supplement your income with subpar, mediocre food by serving us warm garbage. We're tired of wasting our money. Stawp it! I say this with my chest puffed because I know what food should look and taste like. My friends are annoyed, I'm annoyed. I just got upset thinking about it, let me take a moment.

It's been 80 seconds, I'm ok now.


I focused my menu on New Orleans own cuisine. I'm in my element, the kitchen to me is more comfortable than my bed at times. At least I don't have to share it with anyone. My week of preparation was flawless. I did all of my shopping, chopping, seasoning and marinating. A quick quirk about me, what I cook really depends on my mood for that day, so I would switch up sometime, it's weird, but the "holy trinity" goes with everything New Orleans, so if I have an excess of veggies I can always freeze for later. Also if you're unfamiliar with the vernacular, click HERE for a short read about the "holy trinity".


Every week my menu stayed consistent with myself and what I felt like putting the energy into. There were some weeks when I wanted to get super fancy but the heat in this house got hands and I don't want the literal smoke and exhaustion it comes with. Simple and easy was my go-to. For my first week I had close to 40 orders. I was rolling, zoned out, that's when I felt like myself again. Amiya, my second oldest, was my sous chef and personal assistant. She's amazing, impactful and has become consequential in helping me find my mental safe spaces. I appreciate her stepping away from that "middle child syndrome", syndrome. Progress. However, she still demands her QT with me, something I'll never deny any of them. They are all equally special to me.


Feeding the community is an adrenaline charge but after the whole ordeal of the day I am consumed and empty. The following day I'm jaded, ready to throw in the big and lil' towel until they come in, the golden hellos! I'm blessed and grateful again of all the praises and adoration of my efforts and quality of my food. It gets me to next weeks meal.


Altogether, with trips in between, developing new and healthy friendships, worrying if I'm raising these kids "correctly", fighting the urges of my sweet tooth, working at securing my safe spaces, now combine that with troubles of relationship wretchedness, throw in some sad moments, laughable lessons, also add in some teachable moments and you got your new favorite girl here. Still here, leisurely at best most times, but still here.


I have hella trips and experiences to share with ya'll. I promise I won't leave you in limbo that long.


Love & Light

Frenchi a la Carte

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