The Big Uneasy
I’ve never been to New Orleans, which is amazing because there aren’t many places in the U.S. or abroad that I’ve missed visiting. I don’t know when I first heard the nickname The Big Easy, but I’m guessing it was about the time the James Conaway novel by that name was published in 1970, or at least by the time Dennis Quaid played Remy McSwain in the 1986 movie, again of the same name. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to understand where the name comes from, but there have been plenty of pundits that have opined about its origins and meaning.
The musical scene, which is apparently everywhere in New Orleans, is certainly part of the name, as is the town image as a fast and loose town with alcohol. That well-earned reputation goes back to the “noble experiment” of Prohibition, which was not taken seriously in this hard-drinking, Bible-thumping city. The French heritage has also contributed to this partying manner that relishes its Cajun spices, which combines both the French and Canadian elements of culture and cuisine. The most famous and widely distributed hot sauce, a burgeoning condiment category, is from nearby Iberia Parish in Avery Island. The ubiquitous Tabasco brand of hot sauce, made simply of Capiscum peppers, vinegar and salt, is a staple in most homes and every diner in the land.
This blend of casual good times, plentiful food and drink and the spices of life make for an interesting balance of smooth and easy and joltingly nerve-rattling. We have all noticed that the hottest, most tropical spots in the world are the places that favor the spiciest and hottest food. There have been a number of studies and conclusions about the rationale for this reality. The discredited theories are the most common ones, including the cooling theory (call it forced perspiration) and the spoilage cover-up that spices are used in places where food is more likely to go rancid. The earliest studies concluded that the best explanation for spicy food being most common in tropical locales was that it provided an effective antibacterial agent that made food safer to eat in warmer and more humid climates where the risk to spoilage was highest.
That was a good theory back when we didn’t have Sub-zeros and plenty of ice and salt to keep food fresh and safe. Now social scientists are forced to acknowledge that these cultures have simply come to like spicy food. I find the discussion of eating as a sociological phenomenon quite interesting. It is said that putting material (whether animal or plant-based) into one’s mouth and consuming it into our innermost systems is the most intimate and dangerous act we perform, and we do it at least three times daily. Compare that to random sexual encounters by a promiscuous person. That involves bodily fluids, but full consumption and internalization as is done with food is really quite a bit more invasive and pervasive. We share food with our families and friends as nourishment and ritual. It must be safe and recognizably safe by all.
Food has many dimensions besides its biological and security necessity. We are all connected by food and beverage and our identities are very often linked to it as well. Cultural pride is tightly aligned in many cases with the food and/or beverages with which those cultures most closely identify. Think of France and champagne and foie gras or Italy and it’s pizza. Despite the New York City debate about which Ray’s Pizza is the original, the real first pizza came from the ovens of Raffaele Esposito of Naples Italy about 140 years ago.
It is said that New Orleans got The Big Easy moniker by contrast to the New York City nickname of The Big Apple. Even though The Big Apple name was used 100 years ago, it can be said that it came into popular use about the same time that The Big Easy came into the vocabulary, about 1970. If life in The Big Apple is intense and hard, life in New Orleans is loose and easy. That’s thought to be a desirable state of being in the same way it’s positive by today’s standards to be “chill”. Interesting that being chill might involve dousing your eggs with Tabasco hot sauce and burning the roof of your mouth and your throat with the stuff.
My brother-in-law is a hot sauce connoisseur. He knows hot sauces of all types and he knows the composition and the underlying peppers that go into them. He even grows the peppers and cooks up his own hot sauce which he is in the process of building into a commercial brand. He calls his sauce 1-10 Hot Sauce, and he plans a range of 1-10 in terms of degree of heat. This is some sort of toughness pride that causes aficionados to say they can handle a 10. He cuts the hotness with some fruit compounds that he cooks into the sauces to varying degrees. The sweetness distracts your tongue from the coming apocalypse and the tyranny of the sauce. He tells me he plans to issue an “11” in honor of that famous Spinal Tap moment, but so far he has a 3 and a 7. I know I can’t handle the 3 and won’t go near anything higher. People of Mexican, Indian and Thai heritage get a taste and want to buy as much as they can. If I accidentally get some into my mouth, I w.ill retch and gag until it’s gone or neutralized. When I order Indian food, I get a “2” just to be safe. I see no dishonor in not wanting to trash the soft tissues of my mouth.
I will be making a point soon of taking a drive down the lower Mississippi to see that slow-moving and pleasant part of country that ends down in the bayou and on the delta where New Orleans so tentatively perches. I will enjoy the jazz. I will check out the French Quarter. I will certainly eat lots of beignets and other Cajun delicacies including Andouille sausage. I will be careful with the heat of my consumables now that I understand the intimacy of the act of eating. This will all work to make my trip be a visit to The Big Uneasy.