March 9, 1893.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



207 



"that you could stand the exertion of walking around 

 that far now?" 



"You in a hurry?" 



"Yes." 



"Do you insist on it?" 



"I insist. The coffee will do you good, if you can get 

 to it." 

 "Say?" said he. 

 "WeU?" said I. 



"Why can't you go around there and bring me back a 

 cupful with you? No use of two fellows both gettmg all 

 tired out on the same vacation. What's a vacation for?" 



"You forget, sir," said I with some dignity, "that I 

 have not as yet been introduced to the lady." 



"That's so," «aid he. "Well, I reckon I'll have to take 

 you around and inti-oduce you." 



Millie's house Ave found to he low, white, green- 

 shuttered, neat and clean, like many other houses on the 

 narrow little side street down which we turned. Millie 

 herself was tall, straight, turbaned, not uncomely and re- 

 spectful after the enjoyable way of the Southern negro, 

 male or female. She may have been a widow, a married 

 woman, a divorcee or a spinster, although into her social 

 status we did not inquire, short of a jest or two when she 

 declared she found it "mo' inderpentah" living with no 

 man around to bother her. But whatever her social 

 classification, her claim in one degree was indisput- 



thing else in the world, she began to shovel that hot wa 

 ter in, a spoonful at a time. Meantime the Chief sat by 

 with half closed eyes in a trance of contentment. 



"Old man," said he, "this is what I call Paradise. No 

 coffee is good which takes less than an hour or so to 

 make." 



I can't say whether it was one hour or two hours or so, 

 that it took Mniie to make the coffee, for she was so odd a 

 character in her way, and withal so bright and shrewd, 

 that I fell to cultivating her; forgot the coffee; but I know 

 the moon was shining through the hve oaks when at 

 length she stopped ladling the boilmg water in on the cof- 

 fee, and rising, Avent to the box which served her as a 

 cupboard, and took down two tiny china cups, of the size 

 we call in the North after dinner cups, though they are 

 just the same size, we found, and just as good, before din- 

 ner as after. The Chief and myself scorn conventionali- 

 ties in dining, at least on vacations. These cups Millie set 

 in the shallow hot water in the saucepan, until they were 

 thoroughly heated. Then she poured out into them in 

 a tiny, trickling, intoxicating, etherially ravishing stream, 

 this nectar, this divine substance, this inspiration of 

 genius, this product of refined art, the Creole coffee. 



Reluctantly it escaped, just a little bit for each cup, 

 from the inner chamber into which it had been distilled. 

 It was jet black, thick almost as a sirup, and had an aroma 

 that would make a man see visions. The tiny spoon of 



nee. In addition, I thought I detected a red pepper hull, 

 and maybe a trace of tomato, though the latter I doubt. 

 Pepper of some sort was there, for the gumbo was hot 

 enough to make a gumbo tenderfoot weep. Other things 

 also were there, and all through everything, making the 

 subtle, indefinable, unmistakable flavor of this gumbo, 

 was a keen, savory smack nnhke anything I had ever met' 

 before. This was what I had missed all my life. I had 

 been looking for this. If any gentleman has lost a chord, 

 he can find it by applying to Millie, Opelousas. 



"It's the fiU you taste," suggested one of my compan- 

 ions. 



"Now whatever is afllef" asked I. Then they laughed. 



"Any cook in Opelousas has her j^Z^ jar," said my friend. 

 "The fili gatherei-s brmg it in. ThefiJe Ifeuille?] is the 

 yovmg leaf of the sassafras bush. The cooks dry it and 

 keep it in jai-s. Sometimes they make a kind of stock 

 liquid of it, with which they flavor the gumbo. Millie, 

 bring your jar." 



MiUie brought the jar. It was full of thin, roUed-up 

 leaves of some sort, soaking in a liquid, perliaps prepared 

 for this particular gumbo-making. The leaves did not 

 have the odor of sassafras bark, and the gumbo did not 

 taste the least bit in the world Uke sassafras. The flavor 

 was delicate and strange, but it wasn't sassafras, that I 

 am sure. Yet this was gumbo file, and they said the fiU 

 came oft" from the lowly sassafras viae; and there you are. 



GROUP OP MULE DEER. 

 Second Prize, Forest and Stream Amateur Photography Competition. 



Photo by A. S. Bennett. 



able. She was a cook from 'M'ay, 'way back yonder. 



MiUie- greeted the Chief as a long lost friend, and he 

 having made known oiu: wish we sat out on tlae tiny 



faUery, m the dusk of the early evening, while she busied 

 erself about the fireplace. All the cookery on that 

 street, and I dare say much of that of the entire town, is 

 done at the open fireplace. And this is how MiUie made 

 the Creole coffee. 



In the first place she took down an iron kettle, be- 

 spouted and black, which she swung on the crane, and at 

 length had boiling over the fire. Then she placed on the 

 brick hearth an iron saucepan into which she poured an 

 inch or so of boiltng water, and kept it hot. Near by, 

 and on the hearth also, for she did all her cooking at the 

 level of the floor, she had put the Creole coffee-pot, a 

 tall, narrow pot of pottery (they say copper is better) with 

 a deep, narrow cup, which, fitted with a shoulder at the 

 top, projected into the pot proper by about a third of the 

 latter's length. The bottom of this interior cup was per- 

 forated. The whole coffee-pot, after the insertion of tliis 

 inner receptacle, closed with a lid, like an ordinary coffee- 

 pot. Besides these titensils, and in front of the fire also, 

 Millie placed a fourth vessel, a taU. block tin box, with 

 close-fitting lid, which she gave us to understand con- 

 tained the ground coffee. 



"Yo' kain' mek no good ca/e," said she, "'thout yo' got 

 good cafe to mek it wif . Thissheh cafe cos' me t'ree 

 poun's fo' a doUah. Then, yo' has teh pah'ch the cafe 

 beh'ies mighty kyehful. "They's a heap in th' pah'chin', 

 befo' yo' .:,-oin' mek good cafe. Yo' kain' dar' buh'n a 

 sengle l3eh'y; all mus' be jus' so, so w'en yo' gotn' grine 

 et, thissheh cafe goin' be aU er Kght broAvn chock'late 

 colah. Yo' has teh gi-ine et purty fine, so's the watah 

 ain' goin' to soak froo too queck. Y'^o' tek'n' smell thissheli 

 cafL" 



She offered us the coffee box. It was full of finely 

 ground coffee, not of a dark brown or black, but lightish 

 or chocolate brown color. The aroma was delicious. I 

 suspect some trade secret tinrevealed, but this was all 

 Millie told me, and others must guess as we did, at what 

 makes the real difference between this coffee and the 

 suspicious mixture of the North. 



Millie now nearly filled the inner receptacle of the cof- 

 fee pot with this ground essence of Elysium, and her ket- 

 tle having meantime boiled slie began to potir the boiling 

 water on the top of the ground cofltee. But how did she 

 pour it? In a sti-eam, a pint at a time? By no means. 

 With the greatest dehberation in the world, and in the 

 serene_consciousness^ that^ she had^ niore time than any- 



sugar completed it, rounded it out into a perfect, finished 

 work of art. It was not a drink, it was a creation. To 

 taste it was not to drink, but to soar, to float, to dream, to 

 touch the ineffable place where thrills g'row on the trees. 



The Chief raised his tiny cup against the moon and 

 gazed at it with the deliberation wliich is his wont. He 

 tasted. Even in the moonlight I saw his eyes snap. 

 Again he tasted. I saw him cross and uncross his legs 

 — an unusual exhibition of activity. He drank. Won- 

 derful! Ho rose and made a pas or two. "C'est bon!" 

 said he. "MiUie, do that encore, see?" 



JliUie did it encore. The Chief was saved. ActuaUy, 

 he proposed a walk out to the edge of town. And so we 

 walked out to the somber fringe of moss-garbed woods 

 that shut in the quiet Uttle city. Tlie bright moon was 

 over all and the February of the South meant May. The 

 door of a cabin opened and against the Ught was framed 

 tlie figure of a girl who sang, in a clear, sweet voice, not, 

 I think, for two Northern barbarians, some words whose 

 refrain seemed to be, "Abide, abide, my own, my own!" 



Was this the island of the sirens? Abide? We woidd 

 never leave this land of cairn, this place where men grew 

 young again! And so we wandered on, babbling, garru- 

 lous, talking of our youth, oui- slips, our lost ambitions. 

 Now we were going to be young again. We were going 

 to do all we ever had set out to do. We Avere going to 

 write books, to travel, to be great and to be good! 



Oh, wondrous Creole coffee! 



The next morning I was ashamed to look TSte Rouge 

 in the face. Tete Rouge, by the way, is a horse, the 

 horse I tried at Opelousas, But about Tete Rouge and 

 the quail I reaUy fear I shaU have to teU another time. 



But the gumbo. I forgot about the gumbo. Many 

 have heard of gu.mbo, who know not gumbo. You can't 

 get real gumbo in the North, because it doesn't grow 

 tliere, any more than bananas do. For gumbo, real 

 gumbo, gumbo as is gumbo, you have to go to Louisana, 

 to Opelotisas. Then, it may be, you wUl have to go to 

 that same small side street and look up black MiUie, Avho 

 made the puissant coffee. At least, four of us went there 

 one night and two of the party were Opelousas gentlemen 

 who ought to know good gumbo when they see it. 



aiiUie had the gumbo ready. We had ordered it the 

 day before. You have to order gumbo the day before, 

 because it takes nearly a day to make good gumbo. This 

 was good gumbo. 



MiUie handed us each a disli containing what first 

 seemed soup, then pot au feu, then heaven. Visible in 

 the rich liquid were Eocene evidences of chicken, also of 



How do you make this gumbo, MiUie?" I asked, after 

 I, had eaten two or three plates of it— it was purelv a 

 gumbo festival, nothmg but gumbo and coffee 



"WeU, seh," said she, "et takes a good w'Ue teh make 

 gumbo. Yo' puts thmgs in the pot, yeh, 'long in the dav 

 sometime, an yo lets et seramer, 'n semmer, 'n semmer " 



ihis seemmg to her a rational explanation of the pro- 

 duct of g-umbo, I felt bound to press the matter further 



"What things do you put in, MiUie?" I asked 



"W'y, chicken, 'n rice, 'n things." 



"What else." 



"W'y, law! I dunno." 



"Any red pepper?" 



"Oh, yessah." 



"When do you put in theflU?," 



"W'y, I jus' puts et in; sort of afteh aw'Ue you know 

 seh. 



"How long do you leave the gumbo on tlie fire before 

 you put in the fiU? " 



"W'y, bress meh ha'ht, I kam' sca'sely jes' 'member 

 seh. ' 



"How much does it take?" 



"Oh, not er grea' deal, seh, jes' 'bout 'nuff to season up 

 w at yo got on er-cookin' at the time, seh." 



long does it take the gumbo to get done." 



"W y, I dunno; oh, quite er w'ile, seh." 



"And you can't tell me how you make it, so I can show 

 •the folks up North.''" 



"W'y, no, seh, I kam' tell how all I makes et I ies' 

 makes et seh, dat's all. I 'spec's yo' think et's a heap 

 hah deh teh make'n et is. Et's mightv easy teh make 

 gumbo. I kain' jes' 'zac'ly 'scribe how I does et, but I ies' 

 makes et. ' •' 



From the above directions I trust any one wUl be able 

 to make g-umbo on sight. For my part, I believe in let- 

 tmgwell enough alone, and so I think I wUl onlv eat 

 gumbo hereafter when I am somewhere around near 

 Opelousas, and then I wiU eat it first, last and aU the 



There are other sorts of gumbo besides gumbo file Of 

 these, gumbo okra is the main one. This is a thicker 

 pastier compound, containing the okra plant. Gumbo 

 may be composed also of game. For this the negress 

 cooks prefer young squirrels. Quad are rather dry for it 

 Oyster gumbo is also made. But giunbo liU is the dis" 

 tinctive gumbo, and is acknowledged to rather lay ov^ 

 aU other gumbos m the gumboine qualities of its a-umbo- 

 essenceness. ' E. B.Sim, 



175 Mo.vROE Street, Chicago. 



