Don't Hate the Plate

The "WOW"-factor is something I use to describe a moment, place, or person when I am speechless...and I am rarely speechless.

However, as a recent immigrant to New Orleans and graduate from the University of Alabama it should come as no surprise that a WOW-factor happened last night as I was made to feel like a champion in my new hometown.  The collision of two worlds was never greater.

But this isn't a post about how great it feels to be a champion (it does); or the pride that I feel being a Crimson Tide fan (it runs deeper than most family lines).  This weekend I came to the realization that the 2011 National Championship confirmed my place in my new home.

I want to begin by saying just how amazing LSU fans can be.  Saturday night three family members and myself went to my favorite restaurant in New Orleans, Boucherie.  Boucherie has taught me how to eat collard greens, enjoy the romance and claustrophobia of a small boutique restaurant, and witness Southern cuisine in full presentation.  We did get the collards.  We did enjoy our meal.  And the restaurant was small.  But the perfect sort of small.  You see, the four of us are part of the "witty" fandom who pride themselves off of playful banter and good tongue-in-cheek fun.  So as we began to notice more and more purple and gold surrounding the 3-foot bar space we can not be at fault for striking up a conversation with a friendly, "Roll Tide".

And this is where I say again that LSU fans can be amazing.  For the 6'-4'" fellow with a red tan face dressed in a purple button-down and starched Wrangler jeans spoke up to defend his team.  It was nothing mean-spirited.  A few, "Yes, you can come here and spend your money.  We appreciate it here." "Are y'all all family? We know there aren't a lot of forks in Alabama family trees.", and the like. We shared takes on the menu and wine list and at one point were so chummy and loud that a fellow table (of, I would assume, not football fans) looked at one another to ask why we were sitting at different tables if we "obviously knew each other".  The 5th generation sugar cane plantation farmer's son was a cook at Boucherie.  He too had gone to get a "formal" degree and turned to cooking his way around because he had a love for food.

And as this farmer went on and on I began to realize my lesser WOW-factor.  New Orleans may very well have turned into my new home. No, we don't do barbecue very well here.  We may drink a little too often for other parts of the country (world).  We have a Halfway Holiday because we need a day to dress in costume between Christmas and Mardi Gras.  I am surrounded by Les Miles-loving, Saban Nation-haters, Saints loyalists.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Roll Tide until the day I die.