Red Beans

In early winter, it can be warm enough in New Orleans to wear summer clothes.

But the trees are bare and the sun burns the shadow of their branches across the black pavement and onto the walls of colorful buildings in densely packed neighborhoods. It seems no one is awake at this hour, but I can smell the coffee brewing in the small breakfast place around the corner and from down the street comes the aroma of sausage, rice and beans, being prepared for lunchtime in a small shop with tables set up outside.

For seven dollars, they will heap enough for lunch and dinner into a styrofoam box you dig into with a plastic knife and fork. It is good they do not charge by the pound. There are several kinds of hot sauce available, if you’d like.