New Toulouse

Madame Editor,

This letter is to formally endorse Henri Godenot for Mayor.

I’m nobody in particular. But when I heard he was running, more than a few thoughts came to mind: one, that he should be recognized for his business acumen as soon as possible, and two, that the quality of his honesty and integrity should be mentioned.

Having wandered into the city several years ago, this writer chanced upon Monsieur Godenot, who enthusiastically pounced upon that encounter with offers of grand tours and a residential safari, which he made good on that very day. We sailed by air over the river to New Toulouse Algiers, where there was prime real estate to be had. Within four or five hours, a transaction occurred from my wallet to that of a Mr. T. Avro—brokered by H. Godenot—for many thousands of lindens. The land was sound but swampy.

Over the years we have seen H. G. do his part for the community in ways we all appreciate and recall. His becoming mayor was to the benefit of all, certainly. Of course, he’s always been most effective in serving various causes—not many may recall his impersonation of a priest for special occasions and charity events. I’m attaching a photo of just such a time, out in the swamp when he pulled some especially fine effects while offering priestly advice to bayou dowagers and fireflies. Father Godenot’s stump speeches on many a subject are things of legend—perhaps he could truck out this special talent to win the primaries.

Whenever the Mayoral elections actually are, we wish everyone the best in making their decision, for the sake of the community and other things.

Miss R. Beedit

Before I moved to New Toulouse that October five years ago, my name wasn’t RMarie Beedit. In fact, it wasn’t anything at all yet. You see, I only grabbed this moniker hastily so I could procure a train ticket.

My first stop was in an empty city. The city was full of steel and asphalt and underground tunnels, and it was named Manhattan Island. The only two beings I encountered there were inside of a small house. They were reptilian creatures sitting together on a couch in front of a glowing box, chatting in a mysterious language. They never said anything to me. I lurked hopefully in front of that house on a patch of pavement with a fetid pool next to it. There was a mattress on the ground there, where I slept a few nights before catching another train.

For a while I bounced from city to city. The Imperial City, Old New York, Athens, Rivendell. During this time my dreams felt like a pitch-dark cave where a distant drip echoes. “Where is the drip? Should I try to find it?”

In every city at that time, I noticed one commonality other than the occasional drive-bys by hucksters and oafs: Halloween decorations. It was as though all the cities had held a formal confab in the sky and agreed that Halloween is a universal cause for celebration and vividness. I was always greeted by herky-jerky ghosts and skeletons, fat orange glowing pumpkins, fall leaves, and hooting owls, all placed with such care or even zeal—but never by people. Little bats flitted out and surprised this lone explorer in a rush of warm, mad company. Someone was indeed here, and someone will be here again, but nobody is here now. And it’s going to be Halloween. Where are you going?

Finally my shoes wore out. I decided to gel my identity a bit more by looking for some long-lasting duds. Perhaps a hat as well, to ward against those wayward drips. I landed at the Curious Seamstress in New Toulouse. At that moment, it was an empty city too. But the original green Tarantula Arms with its rows of tiny, stuffy striped rooms was a comfort. I imagined a lonely working girl or fellow in each of them—Americana, a touch of squalor, an urban box; it was nearly like a real home I sometimes knew. 

One fine morning in New Toulouse as I practiced walking down the street in my Daughter of Shanghai getup. I noticed someone quickly scurrying out of a building: a dapper fellow with round glasses. “Hello!” he called, rushing toward me.

“Good morning,” I said back.

He shuffled along, tipping his hat, and asked, “Would you like to have coffee?”

It was the first time in two weeks, since getting on that first train, that I encountered somebody sentient and without apparent diabolical intentions. We had coffee, we rode an airship, and I was home. 

Here’s to our kind mayor, who greeted this wayward soul five years ago. And to a happy Halloween!

---

RMarie Beedit is the proprietor of Argonaut Travel on Shotgun Row in New Toulouse, and of Weeds, across the street.

FROM THE EDITOR’S DESK

The Tattler printing press is beset with a post-flood infestation of large snails, and the print room staff are busy round the clock refilling dishes with beer. The snails seem to have an unusually high tolerance for alcohol, and we may need to resort to spirits—send supplies if you can!

This special broadsheet edition of the Tattler was made possible by Mr. Lawrence James of James Ads & Signs, who very kindly donated the use of his own press.

---

CLASSIFIEDS

FOR SALE—20 art canvases with muddled and vague images on them. First and final sale, from the just opened, and now closed, “Plein Air Watercolor Gallery of New Toulouse.” Author offers this wisdom, hard earned: read the weather report *before* starting a new venture. Signed, Washed Out.

LOST—Beloved pet crawfish, answers to “Jimbo,” very affectionate. Contact Gigi Lapin c/o Tattler.

LOST—Grandpa Moonbeam, in an oak casket with brass handles, last seen headed NE. Buy him a drink and send him home if found.

---

LETTERS

Dear Sir,

Now that you’ve cleaned up the flood, I’m wondering when the blight will be cleared. 

a) tree branches around town
b) roof off the travel agency – not that I have ever liked the travel agency much. Too many weeds!!
c) fatheads and grass shrimp still squirming around in the cemetery
d) general mildew smell

Please provide an update on these items as soon as possible.

Miss Penny
A Visitor

Dear Sirs,

Please provide our criteria of what fits into the “weed” family. 

Also, please provide a ledger sheet with New Toulouse’s tourist revenue and GNP (I know we’re not a nation, but whatever the equivalent would be). I need to know these things right away.

And I am in the market for a cheap backhoe.

Thanks,

RMarie Beedit
A Denizen

---

ASK MISS GALA

By Galatea Monday

The storm washed up all sorts of unexpected visitors in New Toulouse, but one of the most mouthwatering and terrifying was certainly the kraken! So for those of you who were lucky enough to cut a piece of this monster for your own, here are some recipes for your dining pleasure.

GARLIC & MAYO CALAMARI
10 oz. peanut oil (or other oil with a high smoke point!)
1 lb. squid (tubes and tentacles)
2 tablespoons corn flour
4 tablespoons semolina
2 teaspoons Old Bay seasoning (or use 1 teaspoon salt & 1 teaspoon paprika)

For the garlic mayonnaise:
1/2 clove garlic (or more, if you love it; less, if you’re a vampire!)
3/4 cup mayonnaise

Heat the oil in a small saucepan, and cut the squid into half-inch rings. Put the cornflour, semolina, and seasoning into a plastic freezer bag. Add the squid rings and tentacles and toss to coat. When the oil is hot enough, fry the squid in small batches to get the best crunch. Fry until golden (fairly quick). Grate or crush the garlic into the mayonnaise, stir to mix, and then serve with the fried squid.

S&P CALAMARI
About 2 cups peanut oil (or other oil with a high smoke point), or enough to come about 1/2-inch up in a frying pan
2 tablespoons sea salt
2 tablespoons black peppercorns
1/3 cup corn flour
1 lb. baby squid (cut into rings, tentacles left unchopped)
Lemons (for to squeeze)

Put the oil in a frying pan over a high heat. Bruise the salt and peppercorns in a mortar and pestle, and combine this mixture in a freezer bag with the cornflour, adding the squid and tossing to coat well but not heavily. When the oil’s very hot, fry the squid in small batches, and cook each batch briefly until just crisp on the outside and still sweet and tender inside. Remove to plates lined with paper towels. After several seconds, remove the greasy towel, squeeze lemons over them, and eat them fast!

I left work on Thursday feeling like they’d given me a deep massage with a poultry mallet. But that’s okay, because nothing scrambles my pixels. When I got home, the weeds were undisturbed in the yard, but there was a quickly scrawled note under the door. “Got a lead in Bayou—someone is taming gators. Please check it out.” I heaved on my galoshes, feeling mighty indignant. Trained gators? Do I look like I have a leg to spare?

I paddled over to the swamp warily. The signs was unmissable: “Click for Free Ridable Gator!” and “Danger, Do Not Feed or Molest.”

Curling my toes, I clicked for a delivery of said rideable gator and tried it on. Sure enough, it was tame as a kitten and took to the water just fine, mouth agape and seemingly ready for a juicy hunk of something delicious. But it obeys just fine and looks pretty spectacular.

You too can get a free rideable gator, courtesy of Miz Monnett, at Blue Bayou.

---

[The following open invitation arrived in our mailbox yesterday. —Ed.]

If you love gators and if you love Mardi Gras floats, you might want to join our group. Learn how to decorate your rideable gator in your own personal style! Let the spirit of Mardi Gras and the crazy humor of New Toulouse haunt the bayou in the form of the Rough Riders and their gators! Laissez les bons temps rouler! Contact me if you want to join up.

Maria Monnett
Bayou Rough Riders
Gator Krewe

---

RMarie Beedit is the proprietor of Argonaut Travel on Shotgun Row.

Dear Miz Beedit,
 
I have finally taken the plunge and moved out of the proverbial parents’ basement to make it on my own in the world. This means that now I’m entirely responsible for stuffing my own craw full of presumably nourishing things. Do you have a good recipe for a new bachelorette?
 
Miz Soto

---

Miss Hax,

Congratulations upon your foray into independence, rent checks, utilities, and foraging for the ever-evasive home-cooked meal. 

Of course the first thing that comes to mind isn’t the utilitarian craw-stuffing material, but rather a dish to elevate the senses for comparably few pennies. If you’re clever—and I know that you are—you’ll only dirty one pan. Your guests will look on in curiosity as you stir and pour by the stove with your primitive wooden spoon (I use my Italian grandmother’s). But when you serve this pile of heaven, conversation will lapse as their mouths revel in your awesomeness. Not a euphemism.

---

Mushroom Risotto

Thanks to Biba Caggiano for inspiring this recipe. Her book Trattoria is great.

5 oz. (or more) fresh wild mushrooms, chopped (porcini, chantrelles, portobello, etc.)
Olive oil
Garlic
1/2 cup dry white wine
Salt
Pepper
3 tablespoons butter (vegans, substitute another fat)
2 small onions, finely chopped
2 cups Arborio rice
1 cup dry white wine
6 cups chicken or veggie stock
Parsley

Heat the olive oil in a medium frying pan until it smokes, and sauté the mushrooms for 3–5 minutes, until golden.

Toss in some chopped garlic and 1/2 cup or more of dry white wine. Let the wine almost reduce, season with salt and lots of pepper, and set aside.

Melt the butter in a large skillet and toss in the onion; sauté till translucent. Add the Arborio rice and stir to coat with butter.

Add the wine, and stir the rice with a wooden spoon until the wine is almost absorbed.

Turn the heat under the risotto to medium and continue to stir it, adding about 3/4 cup of stock at a time—6 cups of stock in all. (I also add water from soaking dried mushrooms, which makes the mushroom flavor very rich.)

When most of the stock is absorbed and the risotto is soft but not gummy (it’s almost chewy, like there’s still a tiny, hard granule inside the individual grains), add the mushrooms and some chopped fresh parsley, and stir the risotto well.

Garnish with more parsley when serving. Enjoy! 

---

Miss Beedit recently inherited a breezy old shotgun house in New Toulouse. She welcomes trespassers and can predict your future.

Today we examine an essential universal question. Personally, I ask it at least three times a week, maybe more. And I bet it comes up for you too as part of your natural human condition, like when you wonder about the afterlife at unexpected times. The question is, “Who doesn’t like goats?”

I recently came into possession of some goat milk yogurt. “Came into possession” may be a bit of a stretch; I spent my own hard-earned money on it. Having no beef against cows, I suppose I had some propaganda in my head about goat cheese being fantastically good for you. And anyway, who doesn’t like crostini broiled with a little goat cheese, laid out so nicely atop micro-greens and then drizzled with lemon vinaigrette? And who doesn’t like goats?

So I thought, this yogurt is made from goats. It has to be great, like yogurt on steroids! And it was indeed powerful: it was like putting a bunch of grass in your mouth when you were expecting blueberries.

So there it sat, looking at me every time I opened the icebox. I needed to force myself not to waste it.

Miss Kari suggested a Jordanian national dish called mansaf. But mansaf is all about huge chunks of melt-in-your-mouth, beautifully spiced lamb. Lambs are cute, and they taste good too, but being a hurried vegetarian, I just haven’t had time to drum up a variation. I haven’t given up though, Miss Kari.

So, thus ensued this simple yet delicious recipe. It’s not vegan this time. Because goat.

Greek Tomato Yogurt Soup
Adapted from Cooking for Health, by the Moosewood Restaurant, and the Wishful Chef

Makes about 6 one-cup servings

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
2 garlic cloves, minced or chopped
1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
2 sun-dried tomatoes
1 1/2 cups vegetable broth
Generous dash ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme (or 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh)
1 tablespoon honey
1 cup goat milk yogurt

Heat a large pot on medium. Add the chopped onion and garlic and cook for 5 minutes, until soft. Add the tomatoes and cook down for 8-10 minutes.

Add the vegetable broth, sun-dried tomatoes, thyme, and honey. Bring to a boil, then simmer for about 15 minutes. Allow to cool.

Using a hand blender, puree the soup until nice and creamy. Season with salt and pepper, then mix in yogurt. Serve hot or cold.

---

Miss Beedit recently inherited a breezy old shotgun house in New Toulouse. She welcomes trespassers and can predict your future.

In yet another unfortunate Desire-fueled accident, an impromptu funeral party was flattened by the streetcar. At about 10:30 Friday night, Armand was driving his handsome hearse, transporting—along with several pallbearers-cum-joyriders—a corpse, thought to be that of Miss R. Beedit. (Details on her pending undeadness pending.)

Miss Karima Hoisan stood on the coachman’s step of the hearse alongside Miss Maggie Hawksby. When the carriage paused by the cemetery, says Miss Hoisan, “I was talking with Doc Avalon, who was in the street offering one of her experimental therapies for our dubious corpse, when suddenly I felt a very powerful sensation in the vicinity of my backside, as though a powerful force was in fact jolting me from behind!”

In short, it’s a miracle that every party at that intersection were not sent to his or her respective end. In short order, the whole mess was consumed by a big fireball, with the terrified horse hauling the whole thing.

Since the streetcar isn’t powered by anything particularly flammable, it’s speculated that the doctor may have propagated some kind of experimental electrical current with the idea of corpse “reanimation,” when in fact the entire coach was blown up. (They say Armand makes great floats, and now it’s official: Armand can also maintain great exploding floats.)

Miraculously, all—including the infernal streetcar—were accounted for afterward. The citizens sat in Armand’s parlor, enjoying some stiff beverages whilst puffing Miss Hawksby’s oracle pipes. The circumspect group mused on the afterlife, which pretty much made Armand yawn.

---

Jack Mondieu, Ace Reporter, is a figment of your imagination.

Now and again on an especially balmy night, we indulge in wistful thoughts of the old Sugar Mill out there in Bayou. So many memories, but sometimes memories are even better without soaked feet.

Back then, everyone thought it was such a good idea to “modernize.” “Oh yes, doll, you can throw parties here in the swamp—everyone will slog over in their finery.” But to citify a sugar mill in a swamp is akin to revamping a tallow buggy floating in tapioca. If you think bringing plaster to a swamp is a good idea, I have some sixty-pound yoga balls to sell you.

In desperate social measures you’d row over to the city with your nice shoes stowed in your satchel for last-minute burnishing on dry land. The ladies would be waiting at some gazebo or another, filled with birdsong and chatter. If we were all lucky, the pralines would have survived the trip, not melting, getting too greasy, or mysteriously disappearing.

These are especially good because the nutritional value might balance out the sugar. (Like Pazzo once said while floating through town in his merman costume, “My trident offsets my tiara.”)

Vegan Salted Caramel Pralines

2 cups whole pecans
1 cup almond butter
1 1/4 cups pure maple syrup (use half this amount for a less gooey, more savory praline—it tastes fine)
3/4 cup solid coconut oil
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
2 teaspoons cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Lay out the pecans in a single layer on a cookie sheet. Toast them in a 350°F oven for 10 minutes. Keep an eye on those pecans! They can burn quickly.

Put all ingredients for the salted caramel into a food processor or a high-speed blender. Blend on high for approximately 2 minutes, scraping down the sides periodically. (Blending this long will create a somewhat sticky, caramel-like sauce). You must beat the caramel for at least two minutes. If all you have is a bowl and a wooden spoon, your mileage may vary.

So now you have your nice caramel, and to that you want to add your pecans. Stir it all together or mash it with your hands.

Lay the resulting blobs on waxed paper—you want about two tablespoons each or maybe eight nuts’ worth, in a fairly compact disk.

Chill the pralines overnight in an airtight container between the sheets of waxed paper.

They are tasty!

Caramel sauce adapted from bakerbettie.com.

---

Once a Bayou bait shop owner serving the best leeches and pie, these days Miss RMarie Beedit can be found in the St. Louis Cemetery, looking for night crawlers and shiny pennies.

King Carrot Cake pour Gigi

One of my favorite activities is walking on the railroad tracks in Bayou. There’s something about those rutted industrial tracks raised above the wilds, the shimmering canal, and the ancient trees beside those humble, rickety old ties. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen anybody maintaining those tracks in almost forty cat years. And if you’re wondering, I’m anything but a cat.

I’m closer to a rabbit, I guess, but only by virtue of my relationship with our neighbor Miss Lapin. Speaking of whom, I’ve been seriously worried about her over the past few weeks. Ever since the publication of a certain vegan fettuccine recipe, that rabbit seems to be suffering a nutritional deficiency due to a diet consisting almost solely of alligator pears.

Of course, aside from being concerned about her well-being and girth, I’m also feeling a bit responsible. After all, not everyone has common sense when it comes to sound nutrition, plus rabbits are delicate creatures; too many sweets, and they’re down for the count. Too much fat, and they look more like hedgehogs than hares.

So I consider it my duty to influence a change in regimen, and what better time to do it than just before Mardi Gras?

Please note: this recipe is not only vegan, but it also glutenless, since I can’t bear to use or hear the term “gluten-free” again. AAAAGH.

---

Glazed Carrot KING CAKE
(adapted from a recipe on theveganscreen.blogspot.com)

1 cup oats
1 1/2 cups buckwheat flour
1 1/2 cups date sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/3 cup cooked and peeled sweet potato
1 cup vanilla soy milk or vanilla almond milk
3/4 cup olive oil
1 cup water
1 cup grated carrot
1/2 cup currants or raisins (optional)
2/3 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
1 baby

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a regular-sized bundt pan and set aside.

In a food processor, grind the oats into a fine meal. Transfer the oats to a large mixing bowl, and set the food processor aside. Add the buckwheat flour, date sugar, salt, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, and nutmeg to the bowl, and stir until combined. In the food processor, add the sweet potato and “milk”; combine until smooth, and add it to the dry ingredients, along with the olive oil and water. Fold in the carrot, and stir until the batter is combined. Fold in the raisins and walnuts. Transfer the mixture to the bundt pan, and smooth out the batter with the back of a spoon. Bake the cake for approximately 35 minutes, or until a knife or toothpick comes out clean. Cool the cake in the pan for about 30 minutes, then carefully flip the cake out onto a plate. Allow it to cool for about an hour.

Tuck the baby into the cake so that it is hidden.

For the glaze, combine:

2 cups powdered sugar
1/4 cup refined coconut oil
2 tablespoons non-dairy milk
1 pinch salt

Split the glaze into thirds, and add a drop of purple, green, or yellow food coloring to the individual portions. Drizzle the glaze over the cake, and cover the cake until ready to serve; refrigerate any leftovers.

---

Once a Bayou bait shop owner serving the best leeches and pie, these days Miss RMarie Beedit can be found in the St. Louis Cemetery, looking for night crawlers and shiny pennies.

The Delectable Alligator Pear

Dear Miss Beedit,

As a rabbit in the bayou, normally I forage for grasses, leaves, bark, twigs, nuts, and berries, but I’m getting tired of salad. I have access to a kitchen and the market. Do you have any suggestions for delicious vegetarian meals that are easy to make?

Respectfully,

Sugar N. Spice

---

Dear Sugar N. Spice,

Thank you for your inquiry. A perennial problem among herbivores is indeed this: sometimes no matter what you conjure up for dinner, you feel like you’re eating salad.

Although, as a rabbit, this might not sit well with your gustatorial makeup, I’m going to recommend you try a couple of cooked things. Different textures can really create a sense of diversity in one’s diet!

These recipes feature the smooth, rich, sublime avocado, also known as the alligator pear. Possibly exotic for the bayou, but oh, so delicious, the avocado has a non-aggressive flavor, with a faintly nutty aftertaste. But oh, the texture! Rich, buttery, and smooth, you can use a nice ripe avocado in place of traditional fats to excellent effect.

---

Fettuccine Guacamole

Domesticated bunnies probably eat food that has some gluten filler in it, so the wheat in the pasta ought to be okay for you. Try to use fresh pasta—its texture goes really well with the avocado. Add some crunchy walnuts to round off the flavors and textures.

1 avocado
Juice of 1 lemon
Zest of 1 lemon
1 clove garlic
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup walnuts, ground or chopped
1 12–16 oz package fresh fettuccine

Put the avocado, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil in a food processor. Process until smooth.

Boil 2 quarts of water in a pasta pot. Add about a teaspoon of salt to the water.

While the water is heating, gently toast the ground walnuts in a pan.

Boil the pasta for about 3 minutes, until tender. This is fresh pasta, so it shouldn’t take long.

Drain the pasta, and put it into a large bowl or back into the pot. Add the avocado mixture until all of the noodles are coated.

Place the pasta in bowls and top with the lemon zest and ground walnuts.

---

Kale Salad with Avocado, Lemon, and Sunflower Seeds

Here’s one that will keep your bunny cheeks working happily for hours. Yes, it’s salad-like, but again that decadent avocado somehow takes you beyond mere roughage, into a world of richness and wonder.

About 4 large kale leaves (enough for 4 loose cups of chopped leaves)
1 ripe avocado
1 lemon
1/3 cup sunflower seeds, raw, no shell
Salt and pepper

Remove the stems from the kale leaves. You can usually just do this with your hands. Then chop the kale into 1/2-inch pieces.

Remove the avocado seed and peel, and cut the avocado into 1/2-inch cubes. Place in a medium-sized mixing bowl. Squeeze the lemon on the avocado, and mash it with a fork. Add salt.

Add the kale leaves to the mixing bowl and toss with the avocado. You can let this refrigerate for a while—up to 2 hours.

When ready to serve, sprinkle the salad with raw sunflower seeds. The kale will still be crisp, but it will have a very rich texture mixed with the avocado and lemon.

Croutons are nice with this too.

---

Croutons

Seedy whole-grain baguette, sliced
Olive oil
Sea salt
Garlic, if desired

Brush baguette slices with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt. Gently toast in a cast-iron pan on top of the stove. Serve warm croutons nestled alongside your kale/avocado salad.

---

Once a Bayou bait shop owner serving the best leeches and pie, these days Miss RMarie Beedit can be found in the St. Louis Cemetery, looking for night crawlers and shiny pennies.