Kenner Louisiana Restaurants
On the first proper winter day in November, two women in puffy jackets stand in the cold. When she steps on the counter at the back of the restaurant, she smiles broadly and genuinely. Looking closely at her black and white portrait, which is mounted next to her kitchen pass, her husband can be seen standing behind her, quietly clutching a handbag.
If you're new to Hurst's, there's always a free song playing at the back of the restaurant. On a recent Tuesday morning, the song was "Don't make me beg," a soul ballad in Art Nouveau style that sounds more like an old school country song than a modern soul song.
Hurst's green tastes like a proof of concept for a generational transfer of knowledge, spooned on a white plate in a lagoon that spreads out in front of you at the back of the restaurant, just a few meters from the kitchen.
The hand - torn, long - is as green as I've ever eaten, seasoned with pickled pork tail and a hint of salt and pepper. Hurst has also become a favourite of his wife Katherine, who cooks choked ribs in threads of pork, onion and gravy on Fridays.
Katherine Hurst, who raised six boys and five girls at the restaurant, feeds her family to feed her customers what her family feeds. In addition to the Treme chicken that became famous under Willie Mae Seaton, he founded the family barrack in nearby Shrewsbury in 1939, founded by his father-in-law, the late Dr John Hurston, and his wife Katherine. After doing business in Kenner since 1946, Hurst has not received much press attention, but he has founded a number of other restaurants in New Orleans and other parts of Louisiana. The taqueria, soul food and snack bars are new, although some have been founded and are growing in recent years as the highway is marked by a steady stream of new restaurants, restaurants and restaurants - different from - all - but - the same.
Felton Hurst, son of Sr., has worked for Skycap for over 20 years and took on the lead role as a chef in 1994.
Katherine Hurst, now 94, occasionally eats lunch in a skycap painted in various beige tones and decorated with artwork. When I reread the book after my return to New Orleans, I was reminded that the taste of meat and vegetables does not mask the rich, rich flavor of food, the richness and depth of its texture. The menus, smothered and suffocated, told me the story of a woman and a man who had to rely on the back stove and crockery to fuel their work.