I’ve never been happier in my life.
It’s been two weeks since Mardi Gras, and things here in the greatest city in the world are back to normal, or whatever passes as normal in this wonderful, crazy metropolis. The news media coverage has dwindled away, Billy Needham is no longer mentioned on the front page, and the breathless stories about the “miracle of New Orleans”—the multiple crashes of the deadly aircraft drones on Emily Beaudette’s estate—has been replaced by stories about the upcoming NFL draft and what it means for our Saints.
And there’s been a few other miracles as well, like the one I keep on glancing at as I hurry to keep up with Marlene’s insistent and barking voice.
Across the street, sitting on a low concrete wall, are about a dozen white guys, dressed in yellow T-shirts, pants, or hoodies.
Members of the Franklin Avenue Soldiers.
But today they’re not waiting to gun for me.
They’re chowing down on my food. After I saved the city, I guess the Franklin Avenue gang was so appreciative they decided not to murder me.
Yeah, miracles indeed.
I’ve been interviewed, re-interviewed, and told that I can expect additional official interviews in the future from various government agencies and congressional panels. The Times-Picayune has been all over the story since the first responders came to Emily’s estate, and among the stories they’ve broken include the promotion of Cunningham, some unexpected retirements from the upper NOPD brass, and a small blurb about a high-ranking FBI official named Morgan who’s been tasked a new and important assignment.
As head of the FBI field office in Butte, Montana.
The line is long and I know we’re about to run out of food, but I don’t care. We’re alive, we’re well, and Marlene being Marlene, she’s also found a way to make an extra buck from all that’s happened: colorful T-shirts that show a drawing of the Killer Chef truck, with a shotgun blast exiting the rear door, a caricature of me running away, and the caption: I HAD A BLAST AT KILLER CHEF!
Then I hear a voice yelling from outside, “Hey, this place stinks! It discriminates against the less-abled! I’m going to sue, just you see!”
I walk over from the stove and fryer, look through the service window, and smile.
“Gordon, I’ll be right down!”
Marlene says, “Make it quick, damnit, that line’s not getting any shorter!”
I step out from the rear of the truck—where a new sign says, DON’T KNOCK IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO PAY, an attempt to thin out the autograph seekers and reporters—and race over to see my friend Gordon Andrews, the skilled PI who had helped me and New Orleans so much in my investigation. Along the side of the truck, near the posted menus, are scores of cards, handwritten notes, and even drawings from school children, all carrying the same message:
Thank you for saving New Orleans.
I didn’t want to post them outside the truck, but Marlene overruled me, as she usually does. “Think of the publicity and foot traffic, you silly man,” she said.
Gordon’s a middle-aged, gray-bearded man of true elegance and class, wearing a baby-blue seersucker suit and red bowtie, and as I approach, he expertly maneuvers his electric wheelchair around to face me.
He’s been in that chair for twelve years, ever since a man he was tailing as part of a case got rattled and shot him, severing Gordon’s spine and permanently paralyzing him. But his sense of humor, his smarts, and his connections all across New Orleans remain as sharp as ever.
I grasp his hand and say, “Gordon, again, thanks for helping me out. It made the biggest difference.”
He gives my hand a strong squeeze and says in his cultured voice, “Well, old friend, if that’s what you think, I’ll drop my threats…if in addition I receive an extra-large serving of your famed waddle.”
“Of course,” I say, “and it’ll be on the house.”
His smile is as cheery as ever. “I have no doubt…but Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Before you scamper back and start cooking and ignoring Marlene’s insults, I need to ask you this: what’s next?”
“What do you mean?”
He swivels his chair around, looks at the line of hungry customers stretching away, many leaning left or right to take selfies in front of my truck. He says, “Oh, you have quite the business here, friend. But suppose Marlene decides she’s had enough? Or your feet and joints start aching too much? Or your lungs start acting up because of all the smoke and grease you inhale?”
Marlene leans out the window, gives me a sharp glare that says, Get your ass back in here and get to work!
“I’ll figure it out then, I guess,” I say. “I don’t think any kind of official police work is going to be in my future…I burned a lot of bridges, insulted too many higher-ups along the way.”
“And also along the way, you saved hundreds—if not thousands—of lives,” Gordon says. “Here.” He passes me a manila envelope from a pouch on his wheelchair.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Your future, if you want it,” he says. “The application for becoming a licensed private investigator in the great state of Louisiana. It’s not a cakewalk, Caleb. There’s an intensive forty-hour course, followed by a rigorous exam. And if you pass, congratulations, you have to work for a sponsoring agency for six months before taking on any of your own cases.”
I gingerly hold the envelope. It should feel heavy with all of the paperwork inside, but instead it feels as light as a feather.
“You think I have what it takes to be a private investigator?” I ask.
“After the events of the past few weeks, I do,” he says. “And so do many others. I’ve gotten numerous phone calls, inquiring if you were available to help in some…complex cases. And Caleb, I’d be honored to be your sponsor when the time comes.”
I nod. “I’ll think about it.”
“I know you will,” he says, smiling. “In the meantime, how long are you going to make a poor cripple like me wait for some food?”
“Not long, I promise,” I say, turning, and instantly realizing I’ve just uttered a lie to my old friend.
Because Vanessa is standing at the rear of Killer Chef.
I go up to her and she nearly leaps into my arms, hugging and kissing me, and I hug and kiss her back.
“Hold on,” I say, laughing. “I must stink of sweat and grease.”
She kisses me again. “And you think I care?”
We break apart, but not too far apart. My chest is hurting after that hug, and I couldn’t care less.
“I’m hoping you don’t,” I say.
Wearing jeans and a white blouse, she looks positively angelic. Her blond hair looks like spun gold, her simple clothes can’t hide her curvy body, and her smile is the true expression of someone who has stepped onto a new path of life and love.
“Lucky for you, you’re correct, Mr. Rooney,” she says. “I know you’re busy, but do you have time for one of our famous walks?”
“I’ll make the time,” I say, tearing off my apron. I open the rear door and shout in, “Mar, I’ll be gone for a couple of minutes! Make sure you give Gordon whatever he wants, on the house!”
I drop the apron and envelope on the truck floor and Marlene shouts back, “Make it quick or I’m coming after you with that shotgun, and this time, I won’t miss!”
We start to take a quiet walk down Esplanade Avenue, a wide boulevard lined with stately, stunning old homes. Before long, our hands find each other’s, our fingers intertwine.
“I never said thank you,” she says. “For, you know, everything.”
“That’s because you didn’t have to,” I say.
“If it weren’t for you, I’d still be trapped,” she says. “Stuck in a job I hated. Married to a man I despise.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true, Caleb. You didn’t just save this city. You saved…me.”
We stop walking under the shade of a gent
ly swishing oak tree. I turn to her and slip my hands around her waist.
“You’re a lot stronger than you realize, Vanessa. You deserve nothing but the best in the world. You would have found a way to get it.”
She smiles at me and leans in.
“I think I already have. Scratch that. I know I have.”
Under the spreading oak trees, we kiss and kiss, and then I hear the honking of Killer Chef’s horn.
She laughs. “I see Marlene is calling you back.”
“Great food and great customers can never be denied,” I say.
She takes my hand, gives it a loving squeeze, and starts to gently propel me back to the place I love most.
“Come on,” she says, “I’ll lend a hand…if you want.”
I squeeze her hand hard.
“I want,” I say. “Very, very much.”
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“Killer Chef keeps the peace with great food.”
—Caleb Rooney
Recipes from the
Killer Chef Food Truck
Blackened Catfish Sandwich
1 catfish filet, about 5–6 oz.
1 tbsp. honey
¼ tsp. kosher salt
¼ tsp. freshly ground black pepper
½ tsp. cayenne pepper
¼ tsp. ground cardamom
1 tbsp. prepared horseradish
2 tbsp. mayonnaise
2 tbsp. olive oil, divided
1 small yellow onion, halved and thinly sliced
1 small green pepper, halved lengthwise, seeds removed, and sliced into thin strips
1 small baguette, preferably from Leidenheimer Baking Company
1 tsp. butter
Pat catfish dry with a paper towel. Coat with honey and season all over with salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper, and cardamom, and set aside.
In a small bowl, mix together the horseradish and mayonnaise.
Place 1 tbsp. of the olive oil in a medium sauté pan over medium heat. When oil is shimmering, add onion and green pepper and stir to coat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until onion and pepper are soft and beginning to brown slightly, about 5–7 minutes. Remove from the pan and set aside.
Raise the heat to medium-high, and add the remaining tbsp. olive oil to the sauté pan. When oil is shimmering, add the catfish and cook until spices are blackened and catfish is cooked through, about 3 minutes per side. Remove from the heat.
Split the baguette down the middle lengthwise, and melt the butter in another pan set over medium-high heat. When butter is melted and bubbling, place baguette facedown in the pan, making sure it’s in contact with the butter, and toast until golden brown, about 3 minutes. Slide toasted baguette onto a plate and spread the top half with horseradish and mayonnaise mixture. Top with the catfish, onion, and peppers, and serve.
Cajun-style Scrambled Egg Po’boy
1 tbsp. rendered duck fat
1 small yellow onion, diced
2 extra-large eggs
1 tbsp. heavy cream
¼ tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. Cajun seasoning*
1 small baguette, preferably from Leidenheimer Baking Company
1 tsp. butter
2 scallions, white and green parts thinly sliced
Melt duck fat in a medium frying pan set over medium heat. When fat is shimmering, add diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.
While onion cooks, crack both eggs into a small bowl and beat with a whisk. Add cream, salt, and Cajun seasoning blend, and whisk to combine.
Add the egg mixture to the pan with the onion and lower the heat. Using a heatproof spatula or wooden spoon, gently stir and fold eggs until large curds form and the eggs are no longer runny. Remove from the heat.
Split the baguette down the middle lengthwise, and melt the butter in another pan set over medium-high heat. When butter is melted and bubbling, place baguette facedown in the pan, making sure it’s in contact with the butter, and toast until golden brown, about 3 minutes. Slide toasted baguette onto a plate, fill with eggs and sliced scallions, cut into halves, and serve.
* You can find Cajun seasoning blends in the spice aisle of any grocery store, or you can make your own by mixing equal parts ground black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, dried thyme and/or dried oregano, sweet paprika, and cayenne pepper.
Duck-Fat Fries
1 lb. russet potatoes
2–3 qts. rendered duck fat*
Sea salt
Scrub potatoes thoroughly and peel if desired (though leaving some or all of the skin on is fine). Slice potatoes in half lengthwise, then cut into ¼-inch-thick strips. Soak the potato strips in cold water for one hour, then drain.
While potatoes are draining, melt duck fact in a large (at least 5-quart), heavy, high-sided pot or saucepan. Once fat is thoroughly melted, heat over medium heat until temperature reaches 325 degrees on a frying or candy thermometer. Carefully lower drained potatoes into the melted fat, working in batches if necessary so as not to drop the temperature of the fat, and cook through, about 5–7 minutes. Remove potatoes from the fat using a slotted spoon or spider, and drain on paper towels.
Potatoes should be fully cooked but not fried.
While potatoes drain again, raise the heat under the fat to medium-high, and heat until temperature reaches 375 degrees. Return the potatoes to the fat, in batches again if necessary, and fry until crispy and golden, another 2–3 minutes. Remove potatoes from the fat using a slotted spoon or spider, drain on paper towels, and sprinkle liberally with sea salt. Allow to cool slightly, and serve.
Duck fat can be stored for later use: Allow to cool thoroughly, pour through a fine mesh strainer into desired storage container, and chill in the refrigerator. Duck fat can then be stored in the freezer for up to six months.
* You can render and save your own duck fat whenever you roast a whole duck or sear duck breasts. Tubs of rendered duck fat are also widely available at most grocery stores and online.
Crab Gumbo
½ c. unsalted butter
⅔ c. all-purpose flour
1 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 lb. Andouille sausage,* sliced
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
1 medium green pepper, seeded and finely chopped
3 large celery stalks, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 (14.5-oz.) can diced tomatoes
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp. Cajun seasoning
2 tsp. kosher salt, plus more to taste
8 c. shrimp stock (or shrimp stock and water)
6 oz. dark beer
1 c. sliced fresh okra, or 1 c. frozen cut okra, thawed
1 lb. jumbo lump crabmeat
White rice or grits
Parsley and chopped scallions for serving
Make the roux: In a large, heavy saucepan or Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. When butter is bubbling and frothy, whisk in the flour until combined. Lower the heat and continue cooking, whisking or stirring frequently, until mixture turns a deep chocolate brown, 30–40 minutes. Remove the roux from the heat, scrape into a bowl, and reserve.
In the same saucepan or Dutch oven, heat the vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Add the Andouille and cook until sausage is brown and has released some of its fat. Add the onion, green pepper, celery, and garlic, and cook until vegetables are starting to soften, 5–7 minutes. Add the reserved roux back into the pan, stir to combine with vegetables, and cook until starting to bubble. Add the tomatoes, bay leaves, Cajun seasoning, and salt, and stir everything to combine. Add the shrimp stock (or stock and water) and the beer, scraping up any brown bits of sausage off the bottom of the pan. Bring to a boil, then lower heat, cover, and simmer mixture for 1 hour.
After an hour, remove the
cover, add the okra, and continue simmering, uncovered, over medium-low heat for another half hour.
Stir in the crabmeat and cook for another 5 minutes, until the meat is just cooked through. Remove the bay leaves. Serve over white rice or grits, and garnish with chopped parsley and green onions.
* You can find Andouille sausage in most grocery stores and butcher shops, or online.
Savory Grits
3 c. water
1 c. stone-ground corn grits
½ tsp. salt
1 c. heavy cream, divided
2 tbsp. butter
¼ c. grated Parmesan cheese (optional)
Bring water to a boil. Add the grits and salt, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Most of the water should be absorbed and the grits should be thicker.
Add half of the heavy cream and continue to simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, for another 10 minutes. Stir in remaining heavy cream and simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until all the liquid is absorbed, another 20–30 minutes.
Stir in the butter and Parmesan cheese (if desired) and serve warm.
Dirty Rice with Crawfish Boudin
2 tbsp. vegetable oil or bacon fat, divided
½ lb. pork sausage, casings removed
½ lb. chicken livers
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 small green pepper, seeded and chopped
2 large celery stalks, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp. Cajun seasoning
1 tsp. kosher salt
Bay leaf
¼ c. chicken stock or dry white wine
4 c. cooked white rice
2 tbsp. chopped parsley
4 links crawfish boudin*
The Chef Page 29
