Another Holy Thursday rolls around, and again it is time to go to Dooky Chase restaurant in Treme and eat the superb gumbo dez'herbes. This is a traditional Creole Lenten dish, especially for this particular day, made up of 7 different greens and 7 different meats, to fortify good Catholics for the fast that follows on Good Friday. Mrs. Leah Chase's version is probably definitive, and I've been enjoying this dish on this day with a select group in Dooky's Gold Room gathered by my dear friend, the late RJH, with only the hiatus of my years of living in exile from the city. (Although RJH used to include me every year in the email invitation, whether I was going to be in town or not, whether out of habit or as a goad to get to me, I'll never know now.)
RJH died this past January, and at his funeral repast at Dooky's, his family and close friends all agreed that we would continue the tradition he started. So that very evening, Jacques Morial, son of the late mayor (another good friend of RJH, and the reason he and I first met) booked the Gold Room for Maundy Thursday with Mrs. Leah, who teared up at the gesture.
So there we all were, once more passing by the enormous line at the door to enter the Gold Room to greet each other, and where it seemed strange indeed not to see RJH standing there to welcome us. One member of the group had brought a small framed photo of RJH, and we all took turns posing with it and having it on our table -- because, don't you know, RJH loved to work a room and could never stay at his own table for long. (The rest of you outside our group who have to wait in the line -- believe me, it's well worth it!)
Two of RJH's three sons were there (one lives in town, one is a professor in San Francisco, and the middle son lives in Switzerland), and at the prodding of RJH's long-time companion D, stood and addressed the crowd warmly, thanking everyone for coming, and reminding us all that RJH's work for social justice and equality for New Orleans and Louisiana remained unfinished. We cheered. Talk at the tables was the usual -- politics and gossip, and our memories of RJH. A local lawyer, long a friend and ally of RJH, but with whom RJH often disagreed, confessed that he was still having arguments with RJH in his mind, and that no matter what, apparently they still disagreed. I admitted to dreaming about RJH last night, and getting scolded by him, that I wasn't doing enough, or doing it "right."
Well, we ate the wonderful green gumbo, and fried chicken, and the sweet corn bread that's almost like dessert, and drank iced tea and Dooky's strong hot coffee. We laughed and we talked and we remembered -- and when Mrs. Leah stepped into the room to greet us, we all applauded loud and long.
Miss you, RJH, always will. But we're keepin' the faith, and keepin' up with the sacred rituals and traditions that were important to you.
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