My girlfriend Catherine and I travelled to New Orleans. We love live music. As Canadians, this mysterious city intrigued. After many recommendations, we checked out: “Kermit Ruffins’s Mother-In-Law-Lounge.” in the neighbourhood called “Treme.” On our last night we were painfully hungry. I promised Catherine a lavish, pull-no-stops dinner. Without researching, I naturally imagined we’d get this replete dinner at “Kermit Ruffins’s.” We enjoy tossing the dice…. We arrived into a wonderful environment: a large backyard; picnic tables; patio lanterns; lots of people dancing with a rousing stage. We were the only two Caucasian people. Overdressed in the simmering heat in my collared blue shirt; and Catherine was in a fancy, light-pink dress. Everyone was African-American and dressed comfortably with loose t-shirts and low-hanging pants. We spectacularly stood out, but felt non-verbally, intrinsically at ease. The picnic tables openly looked to the stage with the talented, synchronizing 13-piece brass band jamming some joyfully passionate Motown. With flowing smiles, neither Catherine nor I will ever hear The Temptations: “Just My Imagination” the same again. The singer emanated with no qualms about his vocals fading into almost-obscurity under the cascading beautiful brass that bellowed! Joviality jazzed! Stomachs were growling. A sweet, young southern belle server took charge. We ordered Coronas and asked for menus. A standard, perfunctory exercise: Or so we thought. The server’s mischievous, sincere smile gave her away before she could hit “play!” She replied, with aplomb, in a southern drawl that was music on its own: “Aw: Honey: you in Kermit Ruffins’ place… ain’t no menus here!!” Stomachs growled. “Pardon?” “Aw, Honey, Honeeet…you and you beauty here witchou’, y’all gonna eat what EVERYONE is enjoying! That’d be Kermit’s own, fine, spicy turkey!” - (growl!) - “….which y’all is gonna get when all y’all head over to that cooler there!” She pointed cheerfully to another table with a tall, blue cooler sitting on top. She skipped away. Perplexed and starving, Catherine’s eyes had questions; but I had a quest…. She was not kidding. If we were to eat in this wonderful place, this beautiful evening: we were eating the ONLY food: spicy turkey! Information was sweetly glossed over: Upon investigation: no ladle. Saving grace: Paper Plates! (At least…) Glanced at my shirt. Glanced at Catherine’s beautiful dress. Catherine’s saucer eyes: “You got to be kidding!” Raised eyebrows: “When in Rome Orleans….?” Clear as a drawing: I’m reaching in deep: and scoop! With my digits! Firing eyes; quivering lip; hazy determination; growling stomachs: we’ve come too far! Investigation begets gross invitation and clear operation! Immersed and scooping; right down; against the grain, seam, and squishiness; right to and at the very bottom of that strangely-beckoning cooler! Unquestionably: I scraped the bottom of the barrel! To extract the gold. Right up to throbbing mid-knuckle. Right up the streaky side! Sanitary questions took an immediate hike! Every first two knuckles of my brave left hand scraped like a trip to the dentist! I slopped it all onto our sturdy, piled, paper plates! Operation Continuation: why be forks, when no ladle?! No forks! No knives! Glory Be! Just the useful fingers of my l-e-f-t! I mouthed: “No utensils!” Catherine widened a wonderful combination of bafflement and adaptation! Hunger bends formality! The delectably indelicate delicacy was devoured deliriously! Then it hit me: Our server returned, and I asked: “Was that cooler full at first?” Unapologetically smirking and confidently knowing nobody cared: “OVERFLOWING! Honey!” It was the beautiful, unquestioned, high-spirited norm! I broke a joke: “‘Go with the Flow’ will never mean the same for us, again, eh?” Catherine stifled her laugh, but it eked out…. Then the two unsuspecting Canadians: ferociously fingered for seconds!!! The genuine atmosphere matched its unprecedentedly delicious spicy turkey! It zinged and played with our taste buds like the back-flipping trombone player! This was how I treated Catherine, my girlfriend and a VERY GOOD SPORT, for our “lavish” dinner that I had promised her all that day! Race had no face in this lovely place! I felt: “Why can’t this be the ‘America’ I see on TV??” An exuberant message was hand-painted just outside of Kermit Ruffins’s: “Try imagining a place where it’s always safe & warm!” It was not just our imaginations!