Chapter 4

Since I still had on my work clothes and Tyson. I decided to refrain from trawling for sexual conquest and much satisfaction tonight. Instead I settled for a good meal at Katherine's Kitchen down near Jackson Square.

First though I had to drop off Tyson and take public. I don't care how small my ride unless it's a bike it really is a bitch to get parking in New Orleans. Particularly in the popular areas, like Jackson Square.

I had another monsoon to wash off the smell of the club and crawl space. After the scrubbing I then lathered myself with my own concoction of oils and put on some khaki cargos and a lemon yellow shirt. Both were cotton a material I prefer, satin? yeck. I love anything natural, wool, leather all those artificial materials just don't breathe at all.

As for all those lacy bits of underwear that guys believe girls like to wear ... I would rather go commando. With that thought I put my hair into my customary pig tails, slipped my wallet in one of the side pockets of my pants and threw Tyson a frozen bone as I closed the door.

Katherine's Kitchen was set in a small alley just a small walk from Jackson Square. The decor was all old colonial and it felt comfortable, like a well worn in Irish pub. To a tourist it might look a little dingy, but I had never really paid much attention to popular opinion and for me, taste far out weighed looks.

Katherine was actually the name of the owner and cook, but she always insisted that I call her Mama K. It would hard to really describe her except to say that she is a "real blues mama" and she made some of the best gumbo you could wrap your laughing gear around ("mouth" for those who don't know this aussie term).

Mama K waved me to my usual seat, which was some how always available. It was in the corner where I could see everything going on. Mama K gave some instructions to one of her apprentices and ambled over to my table.

"Here you go, cherie." She placed a large bowl of seafood gumbo with brown rice in front of me. "I made it how you like it, with a good does of haberneros and birds eyes."

She plonked herself down opposite me and watched as I breathed in the acrid fumes of the highly spiced gumbo. I loved the play of spices and the rich smell of roux. Mama K used real butter in her cooking and there was nothing like it.

"Thanks Mama K." I savoured the first spoonful, the flavour with rich and gamey. "Mmm, duck this time? with a hint of anise?"

Mama K chuckled. "Child, with that much chilli in it I am surprised you can taste anything at all. I know. I know." Her hand fluttered at me as I was about to protest."Whatever chilli I can put in it would be nothing compared to what you make. Seriously cherie, that chilli you give could melt a bank vault."

"Well at least the small batches I make will last you a long time." I forced myself to eat slowly. I hate to say it, but when I have a lot on my mind I tend to eat fast without taking much time to savour. Something I am definitely working. I used to lead a life burning the candle not only at both end but in the middle too.

"So what's up Cherie?"

"Oh nothing," I mumbled finding my gumbo suddenly very fascinating.

"Now, now." She chided. "You have been coming here for months, don't you think I don't know when one of my favourite customers has something on her mind?"