It’s funny what makes you nostalgic. Snapshots, old clothes, yearbooks, ticket stubs –– those are the obvious triggers, but when I packed up all of those things a few months ago to move back to New Orleans, it was in such a blind hurry that I didn’t really take the time to think about it. I threw everything in boxes, marked “Misc.” on all of the lids and loaded up the truck. I thought maybe I had escaped the weepy reflection that so often characterizes a big move for me.

But no. Kitchens, of all things, one of the main highlights of this month’s issue, got me thinking, started me remembering and even made me a little bit homesick for Columbia, Mo. Because after all, I spent my childhood in New Orleans, but I became an adult in Columbia.

As I looked at the gorgeous kitchens in this month’s issue, I thought back to the kitchen in my very first apartment. The electric stove was improperly wired and would shock my roommates and me if we leaned up against it, but that didn’t really matter because, except for Jell-O shots and a few batches of Christmas cookies, we didn’t cook a single thing.

When I moved into my own place a few years later, though, it had a gas stove and plenty of counter space, and I started cooking a few old family recipes and slowly worked my way up. By the time I moved again, this time to a house I bought with my husband, not even a soufflé could scare me.  In that kitchen on Melbourne Street, I made strawberry tarts with citrus glaze, coq au vin, brioche, lamb chops, risotto. In the bitter cold Missouri winters, I made hearty chili and stew and stroganoff. In the Missouri summers that were almost as oppressively awful as they are here, I made wheat berry salad, gazpacho and cold couscous with garlic vinaigrette.  Several times, full of maternal energy but not yet ready for a real baby, I made dog biscuits from scratch, lovingly mixing peanut butter and carob chips into the batter and cutting them carefully into bone shapes for my enormous –– and enormously spoiled –– mixed-breed puppy.

And it was in my last kitchen in Missouri that I started to suspect, following a fight-or-flight response to the smell of a frying onion, that, ready or not, that long-awaited baby was on her way.

By the time I moved back home to New Orleans in January, I was officially a grown-up. The baby and the husband were pretty good indicators, but the sheer number of kitchen gadgets I’d amassed was irrefutable proof.  Zesters, mandolins, juicers, a Kitchen-Aid mixer: These are not the tools of adolescents.

My kitchen has come a long way from the days of that faulty electric stove, but I must admit that it is nowhere near as nice as the ones in the pages of this magazine. But regardless of whether you have a granite island and a Wolf range, the kitchen is one of the best rooms in the house and is full of nostalgia potential. Especially in New Orleans, where food is a way of life, the kitchen is a prime place to congregate and make memories.

In fact, as I write this, I have beans soaking on the stove and a pot of chicken stock cooling in the fridge, getting ready to become gumbo. I’m giving two dinner parties this week, busy making new memories in a new kitchen in New Orleans.  

noteworthy home and garden events

On May 14 at 7 p.m., Karen Blackburn will present “Gardening in the Heat of the Moment,” part of the New Orleans Botanical Garden Spring Education Series, at the Garden Study Center. Blackburn will talk about the best plants to use and maintain during the hottest months of the gardening season. The cost is $10. On May 21 at 7 p.m., Richard Sacher will present “Water Features for Small Gardens” at the Garden Study Center. Also part of the education series, this lecture, with accompanying slides, will demonstrate how a small water feature will attract birds, mask street noise, provide soothing tranquility and bring your garden to life. The cost is $10. For more information about either of these classes, please call
483-9473 or e-mail scapley@nocp.org. On May 28 from 10 a.m. to noon, design expert Peggy Stafford will present “Floors, Walls & Countertops, Oh My!” at Longue Vue House & Gardens. This program is free thanks to a grant from the Helis Foundation, but reservations
are required. For information or reservations, call 488-5488 or e-mail info@longuevue.com.

Everyone fortunate enough to grow up in New Orleans understands that childhood here is a little different than anywhere else. Jazz Fest is an acceptable reason for skipping school. Snowball fights happen in the summer and leave your clothes stained with syrup. I could make both a strong pot of coffee and a strong mimosa by the age of 7. (A good Bloody Mary took somewhat longer to master.) And instead of taking a yellow school bus home from junior high, I caught the streetcar outside of the old Lusher on Carrollton Avenue and rode it down to the Contemporary Arts Center where my mother worked.

I grew up at the CAC, constantly surrounded by amazing modern art, so being in the home of one of this month’s subjects, artist George Dureau, brought back a lot of memories for me. I am happy to be back in the land of hot roast beef poor boys and 70 degree Christmases, but even more so, I am happy to be back in a town so full of creativity.

The Rabins, the subjects of our other home profile, and all of the homeowners on the Junior League of New Orleans Kitchen Tour are my kinds of people, too. All of them lost so much in Katrina, but to a person, they rose to the challenge to create or re-create gorgeous homes within the city. So much has been written about the spirit of New Orleans that there’s nothing more really left to say, and it would all be such a cliché if it weren’t completely true.

One amazing thing about New Orleanians these days is that everyone here now really wants to be here. They wouldn’t put up with it –– with all of the nonsense and frustration that accompanies a 504 area code –– if they weren’t as stupidly in love with this city as I am.

And I’m already working hard at raising the next generation of die-hard New Orleans residents. A sentimental part of my heart is overjoyed when I feed my little girl, Ruby, small bites from a coconut snowball at Pandora’s or watch her toddle around the same City Park I loved as a kid. She’s already addicted to Popeyes red beans and Brocato’s gelato, and I’m hoping that by her second birthday in December, she’ll be dancing the zydeco.

This month, I have Jazz Fest to look forward to, and I’m planning to slather Ruby in sunscreen and take her along. And yes, because I’m raising her like a true New Orleanian, we will both be playing hooky.

It was 18 degrees in Missouri and I was freezing when I saw the job posting in New Orleans. There was ice on top of snow on top of more ice. There were no leaves on the trees; the sky had been gray since November; and it was King Cake season, and the Midwesterners didn’t care. My hands were so chapped they were bleeding. I’d been living in Missouri for a decade, yet I knew I would never get used to the winters or the food or the lack of Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest.

After Hurricane Katrina, when so many people were leaving the city, all I could think about was getting back. I kept talking myself out of it. What about the crime, I’d say, or the mosquitoes or the likelihood of another catastrophic hurricane? But there I was, looking for jobs in my beloved, broken hometown.

And now here I am, helming a magazine whose very title seemed like a joke to my friends in Missouri. “New Orleans Homes?” they scoffed. “Do you photograph FEMA
trailers or what?”

***

 New Orleans never seemed that extraordinary when I was growing up here; it was just home. After I went away to college, though, it finally registered just how special this city was. And after Katrina, I realized just how hard we were going to have to fight to keep New Orleans from being just like anywhere else.

One thing that sets New Orleans apart is its homes, its quirky, funky, elegant, wonderful homes. In the awful days that followed the storm, I remember worrying that all of those homes were going to be bulldozed, replaced with shoddy construction that looked like Anytown, USA. It’s too soon to fully breathe a sigh of relief on that one, but I am happy to see that there is still a lot to celebrate in terms of homes. No, I don’t plan to feature FEMA trailers, though I am happy to see trailers rather than abandoned houses and hopeful that where FEMA trailers now stand, fabulous renovated homes will soon follow.

 I feel very strongly that city magazines such as this one are vital to a city’s identity and morale, and I am thrilled to have a chance to play a part – however small – in the recovery of one of the most incredible and vibrant cities in America.

***

It was 75 degrees in New Orleans when I drove to my first day of work at Renaissance Publishing. Everything was green and blooming; there was King Cake in the break room; and when I returned home, my godmother surprised me with an enormous pot of beans and rice – it was Monday, after all.

So, honestly, I’m just trying not to worry about the crime or the mosquitoes or the likelihood of another catastrophic hurricane. Because I’m home. I’m home, and I’m warm, and I’m so very happy.

--Eve Kidd Crawford




We Have a New Editor
Eve Kidd Crawford is the new editor of New Orleans Homes & Lifestyles magazine.
Crawford, a New Orleans native, holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism. Her work experience includes editorial positions at Columbia Home and Jefferson City Home magazines.

Former editor Sue Strachan has accepted the position of public relations director for the Ogden Museum of Southern Art.

With the changes, New Orleans Homes & Lifestyles continues its commitment to being the leader in regional home coverage.

A few months ago, a portion of my Editor’s Note included me thanking all of my sources and co-workers for their help producing this magazine. Little did I know that I was getting ahead of myself.

This is my last issue as editor for New Orleans Homes & Lifestyles, as well as St. Charles Avenue magazines. Starting this month, I will be the public relations director at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. It’s an amazing museum and a great opportunity, but I will miss working on these magazines and the people who work on them with me. But first, I need to thank Errol Laborde, the editor-in-chief at Renaissance Publishing (also a co-owner of the magazines) for giving me the opportunity to helm NOH&L, and to Missy McLellan, who originally hired me back in 1995 when the company was called New Orleans Publishing Group (NOPG).

Kudos to my art directors through the years, but I want to shine a spotlight on the three I worked with the most: Stephanie Carey (now in Atlanta), Tiffani Reding, this magazine’s current AD, and Eric Gernhauser, whom I’ve worked with for 12 years—and  we’re still friends! To the photographers whose careers I’ve seen blossom through the years: Sara Essex, Eugenia Uhl, Jeffery Johnston, Thom Bennett, Cheryl Gerber, Greg Miles, Patrick Salisbury (aka paxtonsight.com), Steve Millet, Nijme Rinaldi Nun, and Pam Valiant and others who have left the city for bigger challenges. To Lee Cutrone (you see her byline here and in Gambit Weekly), who juggled working for two competitors (as did many photographers) and whose attention to detail when producing articles was always appreciated.

To all of my “secret” sources (hey, I’m not giving them up yet!), who helped me find the amazing houses that have graced this magazine and who took my panicked phone calls when a house fell through and I had to find a new one … yesterday. To my talented writers: Keith Brannon, Jewel Bush, Paul Greenberg, Suzy Kessenich, Bonnie Warren, Russell McCulley, Faith Dawson, Tara McLellan, Ginja Moseley, Morgan Packard, Peter Reichard and Margaret Zainey Roux. To longtime contributors Vesta Fort and Lisa Tudor, who always knew how to beautifully style a story, as well as write eloquently. To the salespeople I have worked with throughout the years, whose enthusiasm and hard work on behalf of the magazine was an important, but often overlooked, part of its success.

To all of the advertisers who have supported the magazine, as well as those stores who let me borrow items for photo shoots. To my editorial support staff through the years, but a big shout for Sarah Ravits, the talented editorial assistant for this magazine and a number of others, as well as the editor for her own projects.

To Kristi Ferrante, another 12 year veteran like me and Eric, whose grace, wit and patience always was appreciated. To Renaissance Publishing’s other co-owners Todd Matherne, Kelley Faucheux and Alan Campbell, who saw a chance after Hurricane Katrina to form a publishing company and took it.

Finally, I have to thank Bill Metcalf, the founder and owner of NOPG, then MCMedia. He was hands-off on my projects and allowed me and the editorial staff to create publications that remain respected in the city.

A long list, and I’ve no doubt forgotten some important people. However, I will miss all of you  and appreciate your contributions.

Of course, I hope to see you at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art!