Jezebel Sauce — Dale Knows How To Host

Dad and Mom with their friends at a Mardi Gras Ball in Mobile, Alabama. 2018 (right before Mom’s decline)

Not Mardi Gras but my sister at Halloween. For years anytime we had to dress up we went as gypsies. I know that’s not PC now. But it is what it is. And, our interpretation of gypsies usually involved a lot of eye makeup, necklaces, and striped socks for some reason.

Not gypsies, just ROCKING THE 80s! My sis and me before a NC School of the Arts dance in maybe 1986?

Granddaddy Volberg telling a story at one of his parties. This was the den of the house he designed, the rug was rolled back for dancing. I believe that is Nonnie in the back in the black and white dress.

Granddaddy loved his cocktails! Nonnie is in the back in the yellow dress.

My Mom’s parents. I think that was one of Nonnie’s wigs. We loved to try them on as kids!

Mom in Mamou, Louisiana with a friend. Not sure who but I’m sure my Dad will tell me.

Channeling my mother, I made a Fleur-de-Lis 7 layer dip one year when the Saints were in the Super Bowl.

For Mardi Gras this year, I made the Galatoire’s shrimp remoulade recipe.

Can’t find the photos from when Chris and I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but here I am in my Saints jersey on Tuesday.

Another Mardi Gras has come and gone! It is time for me to dial back the fun. My daughter jokes that after I die she’s going to write a blog called “Sarah Likes to Party”. I’ve already purchased the domain just in case she’s not kidding. Mom and Dad liked to party, too. Although I’m sure that Mom would NOT like me using the word party as a verb. Mom came from party people, my Nonnie and Granddaddy literally designed their house to host fab events. I used to love to help Nonnie get ready for her shindigs. There was always lots of cooking, some dreaded cleaning, and, then, the magic experience of watching my grandmother get dressed up. Nonnie’s bathroom had multiple wig stands on the counter. You never knew what look she was going to cook up for the evening, but she always looked incredible. Once the party started hopping Granddaddy would stand by the record console, deejaying jazz standards and dance tunes. He loved to tell a story and always had a drink in his hand.

There’s something I find classy about a well stocked bar cart. In my younger days I would just drink everything as soon as I got it. Now, there’s a certain luxury to having choices on hand. Dad and I exchanged texts on Wednesday, each describing our Mardi Gras celebration. My group drank Sazeracs, Dad’s drank Vieux Carrés. On Dad’s bar cart is the old fashioned mesh-covered soda syphon that I gave Mom for one of her birthdays. She used to love to drink seltzer (she predated the La Croix craze by decades!) and I thought this was a super sophisticated gift. I was in college at the time. The only problem with those soda makers is that they require nitrous cartridges and, with the kind of water habit my Mom had, she plowed through them. Always thinking creatively, Mom figured I could use the spent ones for a sculpture project or something. So, she would send me boxes of them when she was done. Shiny and cool looking, I put these used cartridges in a big bowl on my coffee table. Little did she (or I, actually!) know that one can use nitrous recreationally to get high (aka “whippets”). So, when I had people over to my house there were some interesting comments from those more savvy. By the looks of the pile on my coffee table it was amazing I was getting any school work done at all!

I made my first gumbo the other day, not for Mardi Gras but just for a dinner party. I had been coached up on making a roux by my friend Steven, a New Orleans native. Steven told me that a salty old dude back home said that cooking a roux should take about the same amount of time as drinking a six pack of beer. Being competitive in nature, I wanted to make this the darkest, most funky roux I could. It took hours. I probably should have recreationally used some nitrous to pass the time while stirring every minute or two! The gumbo turned out well, but not that well. You know what I mean? When you work so hard on something and it doesn’t necessarily taste like it? I will try again! I’m stubborn. In case you missed my post from a while ago here’s a link to our friend Pableaux Johnson’s gumbo, which is not the recipe I used the other day. My bad. Lesson learned!

You know what requires minimal stirring and is delicious? Jezebel Sauce! A quick google tells me that its origin is debatable but most likely from the Gulf Coast. Mom’s recipe suggests you serve it over a block of cream cheese as an appetizer (like pepper jelly) or with boiled shrimp. Both sound good to me!

JEZEBEL SAUCE

1 jar (18 oz) pineapple preserves

1 jar (18 oz) apple jelly

1/2 cup horseradish

3 tablespoons dry mustard

1 tablespoon cracked pepper

Combine all ingredients. Cover and chill.

Makes 4 cups.

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