Post by remylebeau on Jan 10, 2013 15:47:53 GMT -5
"Dayum dis cooyon spiceless Yank food! I'm gon' go coo-coo if'n I don' get me s'm decent grub.." It wouldn't take much to realize who was banging around in the kitchen at Xavier's School.. not with that accent.
Remy LeBeau had gotten fed up with bland Northern cooking. Luckily, one of his lesser known hobbies was cooking. He grew up in New Orleans, and he considered it one of the greatest cooking capitals in the world. People had said before that you needed a passport to come down South, and the Crescent City was no different. Hell, Northerners even needed a dictionary to figure out what the foods were. Granted, there were things in N'Awleans that you couldn't get anywhere else in the world. Beignets, creole, gumbo, etoufee, fried alligator.. the list was endless. There were many things that he missed about his home.. the cooking was one of them.
That was when he decided to make gumbo. He took off to the store to get the supplies, and he thanked his lucky stars that he had brought a stash of New Orleans spices with him, namely his Tony Chachere's and his gumbo file. He made his own roux (as any Cajun would), and 30 minutes later a pot was simmering, filling the entire mansion full of delicious fumes from the gumbo.
Today, the Cajun was in casual garb, that of blue jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, looking more than a little odd without his usual trench coat on. It was hanging off of one of the chairs near him, so to leave his work unhindered by the cloth. He was well-toned, the shirt fitting the tall man tightly and his arms rippled with muscle as he chopped his green onions. Long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck to keep it out of the way, and his red-and-black demonic eyes were focused on his task as he chopped. He was barefoot, of course.
He finished with the green onions, tipped them into the pot, and he started on the bell pepper. Occasionally he would stop to stir the pot or to shake a good bit of a spice into it. He was humming as he worked, a song that sounded like 'Simple Man' by Lynard Skynard. Yes, the Cajun was in 'hog heaven' as it were.
Remy LeBeau had gotten fed up with bland Northern cooking. Luckily, one of his lesser known hobbies was cooking. He grew up in New Orleans, and he considered it one of the greatest cooking capitals in the world. People had said before that you needed a passport to come down South, and the Crescent City was no different. Hell, Northerners even needed a dictionary to figure out what the foods were. Granted, there were things in N'Awleans that you couldn't get anywhere else in the world. Beignets, creole, gumbo, etoufee, fried alligator.. the list was endless. There were many things that he missed about his home.. the cooking was one of them.
That was when he decided to make gumbo. He took off to the store to get the supplies, and he thanked his lucky stars that he had brought a stash of New Orleans spices with him, namely his Tony Chachere's and his gumbo file. He made his own roux (as any Cajun would), and 30 minutes later a pot was simmering, filling the entire mansion full of delicious fumes from the gumbo.
Today, the Cajun was in casual garb, that of blue jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, looking more than a little odd without his usual trench coat on. It was hanging off of one of the chairs near him, so to leave his work unhindered by the cloth. He was well-toned, the shirt fitting the tall man tightly and his arms rippled with muscle as he chopped his green onions. Long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck to keep it out of the way, and his red-and-black demonic eyes were focused on his task as he chopped. He was barefoot, of course.
He finished with the green onions, tipped them into the pot, and he started on the bell pepper. Occasionally he would stop to stir the pot or to shake a good bit of a spice into it. He was humming as he worked, a song that sounded like 'Simple Man' by Lynard Skynard. Yes, the Cajun was in 'hog heaven' as it were.
