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INTERVIEWS SFA Founding Members --- Interviews by SFA Members and Friends Project sponsored by Jim 'N Nick's Bar-B-Q |
Leah Chase Food is about everything, you know. You can do everything--music and food, people and food. That's the most important thing about food: It brings you with people. And I think that's the only reason why I stayed in it that long. So I like what [the] Southern Foodways [Alliance is] doing. I think this is so important to put this in the University to teach people, particularly now days. I mean because we have to get people back to food, back to the dinner table. That's gone. Fast foods came along, and you have nobody at the dinner table. We have to get people back there. – Leah Chase --- After fighting adversity in the wake of the Hurricane Katrina levee breeches, Leah Chase will soon reopen Dooky Chase, her family restaurant in the Treme neighborhood of New Orleans. That restaurant has been her life’s work. In 1945, she met musician Edgar "Dooky" Chase II, whose parents owned the restaurant. After the two married, and when their children were old enough to attend school, Leah Chase began working at the restaurant three days a week, first as a hostess, later as a chef. In the years that followed she has transformed Dooky Chase into a landmark of New Orleans cookery, dishing peerless gumbo and other Creole delicacies. Along the way, she has befriended such luminaries as Justice Thurgood Marshall and musician Ray Charles. Leah Chase served as the first president of the Southern Foodways Alliance Board of Directors. In 2000, she received the organization’s Jack Daniel Lifetime Achievement Award.
What follows is a portion of the original interview that has been edited for length. To download the entire transcript in PDF form, please click here. Subject: Leah Chase, SFA Founding Member --- April Grayson: [C]ould you explain how you became involved in the SFA [Southern Foodways Alliance]. Leah Chase: Well, you know, I had--I guess my restaurant for a long time when they organized this thing, the Southern Foodways Alliance, and I guess my name was submitted by somebody, so I agreed to come aboard because food is my business, and I just like talking about food. I like--food is about everything, you know. You can do everything--music and food, people and food. That's the most important thing about food: It brings you with people. And I think that's the only reason why I stayed in it that long. So I like what Southern Foodways are doing. I think this is so important to put this in the University to teach people, particularly now days, I mean because we have to get people back to food, back to the dinner table. That's gone; fast foods came along and you have nobody at the dinner table. We have to get people back there. So I think that's important. And you were the first President, is that correct? No, I wasn't the--was I the first President? I haven't--I was a President at one time but I don't know that I was the first President. [Laughs] Well can you tell me what that was like, your experience as President? Well, for me it was good because I was in my kitchen all the time, and John Egerton and John T. really helped out there, because I couldn't attend all the meetings and I couldn't--so they helped me in picking up the slack where I couldn't come. And I'm glad they did because, you know, that's another thing we have to learn. See, I belong to a lot of things; sometimes I can't be the leader there, but I can support you. I can do what I can do, so it's not all the time being the leader. You let the man who can lead, lead, and then you be sure you're there to back him up. And those are the kinds of things I like to do. I like what these men have done in this organization. John T. has done wonderful here--all the people here. I think it's a great thing that we do because in the South that is important. Food is important to us in the South. I know no other living. I hear people talking about living in New York or living here; I know only the South. Good or bad, that is my life, you know. So and you can find good things about New York, and I can find a lot of bad things, too, living there. I wouldn't want to live there, but that's not here or there. But you can find good things about the South--many good things about the South: the warmth of the South, the--the people in the South. Everything about it I like, I personally like. So if that's my life, I'm going to make it work. I'm going to make it work for me; I'm going to try to make it work for those who surround me, and that's what I'm all about. --- So do you mind telling me the date and place of your birth? I was born in New Orleans, January 6th, 1923. I--my mother was from New Orleans. My father was from a small town across the lake from New Orleans in Madisonville, and that's where I came up until I went to high school. Then there was no high school in this small town. There was segregation; so there wasn't no high school for blacks other than a public high school. I don't think they had much of that. So we were staunch Catholics, you know, and people are in that area, so my daddy insisted that we go to Catholic schools and we were--I was educated by the Sisters of the Holy Family and they--they taught me in Madisonville, and then they taught me in high school when I came to New Orleans. And that was as far as I could get was high school, and I was only 16 years old when I graduated from high school. So they had a problem there, you know. In those days you couldn't get a job unless you were 18--19 years old; so I had to do housework. And all these things these people talk about today about being a maid, if you will, or a house worker or a cook, I did all of that. I was fortunate enough to work for people that were kind to me, you know. I think because it was a small town--it was a very small town--and everybody knew one another. The blacks and whites did not mingle, but at least they knew one another. The richest people in town were here, and we were the poorest people, I guess, and we were here, so we knew one another. So that made life, I think, easier. But I enjoyed my work; I learned. I look at life, honey, and everything you do should be a learning experience. I learned a lot of things working for this lady in her--in a little boarding house from cleaning up a house. You learn about people and there's nothing--no product more important than human beings. I don't care who they are; there's nothing in the world more important than human beings. And you learn about those people. You take some things that you can use, and then things you think you can't use or your mother wouldn't allow you to use, you don't take. And that's how you grow and that's how things should be with people's lives. That's what I'm trying to tell young people today. They're moving and they're moving good, and I'm proud of those who can move. But are you stopping to help somebody else? Are you stopping to see how you can make another person feel his worth? Now, you see, people I came in contact with--I was, I guess, fortunate. Even now at 82 years old I run into people that make me feel like I'm worth something. And I don't care who they are; I like people to make you feel that way and you can work on. This is crazy. You don't know how--you're starting to think that you don't make somebody else feel good; they're not going to do anything. So you want people to move; you want to build your country; you want to build your city--make everybody move; make them feel good, and they'll keep you going. So those are the things I learned a lot in life and to look at people and take what you can from them. Nobody becomes--people will say well Leah who was your role model? And I had parents that were good parents; they were poor. I'm educated. My father had on only about a third or fourth grade and my mother had only seventh grade, but they were good parents and they taught you how to take one step more, you know. You have to be--go a little bit higher. Then when you got that way and you got children they were still telling you now you have to make your children go a little higher. You have to build. And they had enough common sense to know that. They had enough common sense to tell you how to get along with other people. Our motto in living--my daddy always told us--he always said don't worry and he used to fuss at my mother because, you know, women worry. Don't worry; it doesn't do you any good. He said you get up in the morning and you pray and you work and you do for others; that's all. That's the three rules we lived by at my house. We had to do that. We were so poor. But we had to do something for others, and those are the things that get you along in life. So it really got me along, and I'm still doing it. So it--it must work. And the simplest things in life you can do. Now you have to teach children how to be educated and they have to do that and--because even if you're going to be a cook, a chef or whatever--a cook, you have to be certified today to advance and to grow. So you go to school and you learn those things and you learn how to do it. You learn from everybody; you take a little bit from everybody and that way--and that's what I have done. So nobody becomes--no one person becomes my role model. I may look at these people across the street from me and I look at them and I said you know look at that; that's pretty smart what they're doing. I can do that. I can learn to do that. And then everybody becomes your role model because you take what's good from everybody. You take whatever good they have, you take it and you--you move on it, and that becomes your role model. And I think people should do that--pay more attention to other people. You might think a person has nothing to offer, the way he looks. He might look--but if you talk to him long enough, you will find that he can offer you something. --- Can you tell me the history--sort of the history of [Dooky Chase] restaurant, and how you think you have made an impact on your community there? You know that restaurant started as a little shop across the street. My mother-in-law--my father-in-law was sick and he had ulcers for any number of years until he died really, and he could not really go out to work, so my mother-in-law stayed there and you see--they sold what you call lottery, but it's a different ballgame than what the lottery is today. So--and she was able to sit there and sell her lottery, and he could sit there and sell it. And then she would sell sandwiches, you know. And my mother-in-law was an interesting woman--stubborn as a blue-nosed mule, but really a hard-working woman, and she was a good money manager. I wish I could be that way like she was. She was a good money manager, and she could really do things, you know. So she started that little sandwich shop; she was a good cook. She could cook and make sandwiches and it just grew. So when it grew she moved across the street. She lived--it was what we called a double house in New Orleans. You know, we had the double shotgun. She lived on one side, and then the little restaurant and bar was on this side. And they were--my father-in-law--very popular, you know. He was out a lot, and he was popular. Everybody loved him. Everybody loved my mother-in-law because she was a community person. I could see her now; Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would sit in what we'd call the Neutral Ground with her sacks of apples and she would get--the children would come. Well you can't do that today because traffic is so heavy, and you just can't do that. But I thought that was so nice; she did that every time. She would sit there and she would give out apples and oranges to the neighbors and she would do--befriend the neighbors wherever she could. So that's how that started. So when I came in--in [nineteen]'46 I came from working in the French Quarter, so I knew what restaurants were all about. Where in the black community it was segregation, so they did not know in the black community really what real restaurants were about. They had never been in one; they couldn't go. It was only the people like me who worked in them who knew this is what you do; this is how you set this table, and this is how you do. And black people did not even want to eat in restaurants at first because they couldn't go into them. And it was too funny--how your parents shield you without telling you, you know, these--these people are white and they don't like you, or these people are white and they don't want you there. They never told you that; they didn't ever say that to you…. …So when I came in there, I said we have to change because by that time the black people were becoming attorneys and things, and you had a few that would work and had lunchtime, so the first thing I did was put on a lunch, you know. And it was too funny because here I'm going to come in here to this building where my mother-in-law was making money--she was making money. In [nineteen]'45 everybody was making money, you know, so she could say this little crazy girl coming in here and she's going to tell me what to do; I'm sitting here making money, you know. [Laughs] But I knew I wanted to change; I thought in the black community we should have everything that the whites had and I saw--and I still see no reason why we can't have it. We just have to be working on it and just--you know just work at that, just be yourself and work at that. And in my case I think it's proven to be good. I--I hope so anyway. But that's how we started there and I started putting things on. It was too funny because--this is so stupid and how you can be so young and naïve--I came from the white restaurant I told you, and one thing they used to serve was Lobster Thermadore. So [I figured] that's what I'm going to change, too. I'm going to put that out, and I'm going to serve Lobster Thermadore, and I did. I said there's no difference in people besides--they're just different--their color of their skin; that's all. They eat the same; they--. That was so stupid and naive. You have different tastes. You have different cultures. You have a different background. And what's wrong with that? Nothing. You know, you just do that. So that, too, taught me you are you; you are you, you know. It's just--we're just different in our cultures and our upbringing and that's--that's good, I think. [Laughs] So I learned that—well, the people say what in the world is this? She's going to ruin everything Emily and Dooky built. Yeah, that's what they said about me, you know. She's coming in there and she's just going to ruin everything they've built. They have worked hard and they've built it and she's coming in to ruin it. [Laughs] So I had to work…. ...When we stayed--after integration on this corner which is--had moved--one time the neighborhoods were mixed in New Orleans. All mixed, the Italians had a grocery on the corner, and they lived there and some whites lived down the street; it was pretty well mixed. Well I don't know if--if race had anything probably to move them out. I think economy, a better way, finding a better space--maybe the city was growing out and--and they were getting older and the children said well I can't believe you're here alone, so we're going to take you with us, and now the space opened. So the thing moves out, and you're all black again. But--and I still--they said Leah you're going to have to move this restaurant, or you're not going to make work here. It's not going to work here. Even my husband--it's not going to work here. He--nobody will come. The whites certain won't come, nobody will come. So I said nope; I don't think so. We don't owe anybody anything, and this is our building, and I am what I am. This is the people I know. I'm black; my community is black. I can't be anybody else, so why should I move my space somewhere else? My job there--if the community is going down, it's my job to pick it up. I have the only thing here that's going to pick up this neighborhood. So I better fix up my place and do this. So that's what we did, and in 1984 we made it grow to what we did…. …Look, when I first started setting up the tables you know they said nobody--nobody is going to eat this with this fork that's sitting here, and nobody is going to eat that and the--, you know they used to put the ketchup and the hot stuff out. No, I don't want any ketchup and hot stuff on this table. Get it off; no. And then we're going to do what we have to do; so I had to struggle to get it going. So, you know, you get the ups and downs and you keep--you get a new breed now coming in [and they] don't know where you're coming from, don't understand about service. Don't understand a bit about service. And today I could serve people all day and all night and be happy as a lark. To me, you meet people; you get to know them; you get to know what they like; you--you get to serve them and you can see happy faces if you make somebody happy or when you serve them nice and that's--that's all I know about. So service for me will be important until the day I die. I'm sorry if it looks like a maid or if it looks like this. I am sorry; that's my life. --- So tell me about the food. Now the food as I said when I started with this--now I can go back to my Lobster Thermadore, you see, because it's integrated, and they have had an opportunity to go in other restaurants. That's why those things are good for learning. So you learn what they eat and you try that and you come back, and now you know how to eat a medium-rare steak. Before you could say Oh my God, we can't eat this meat. They would go, you know, and they would come back. And they would go to banquets at the hotel, and they would come back. And I said Well you just ate. Oh no, we couldn't eat that rare meat they served us over there. I said Why didn't you tell them you don't like it rare, you know? Just tell them what you don't like. [Laughs] No. So now we have learned, and that is the good thing about integration--most important thing is not that I can sit next to you at a movie, but I have learned. I have learned some of your culture. I've learned to appreciate that. And then you learn mine, and that's what the world is all about--learning one another and learning to live with one another. --- Speaking of food and getting back to SFA a little bit, when you first became involved with the organization did you have a vision of what you would like for it and--and if so how has that vision changed? Yeah, I--I thought it would really--really like advertise the people--the people in the South, you know, because people in the--people from far away--you would think that would be past by now, that people who lived in New York, people who lived in the North, people who lived in the Northeast, they think Southerners are just--just dummies like, you know. Now they're learning we're not so dumb. We know how to dress. We know how to do things. We have something to offer here in the South and--and that's what this organization has done, really. And more so now, I see people coming from Massachusetts, people coming from all over, and that is good because then--you see, we have a lot to offer in the South. A lot. A lot those people can take with them back home. And I think sometimes they are doing that. Take out something back home with you and apply that to your neighborhood or apply that there, and I think this organization is doing wonderful with that. This year is marvelous. --- I'd like for you to tell us a little bit more about the food in the restaurant. And I'm assuming that if someone came and said Serve me what you think is the quintessential Creole meal or Southern meal, what--what would it be? Well, you wouldn't get--I wouldn't serve you a Southern meal because that's not what I'm all about…I could I guess. I tell them all the time, you know, they come [and say] Well, do you have soul food? Well, tell me where your soul is. If your soul is in China, I can't help you a bit; if your soul is in Mississippi I can help you. I can put you on a pot of greens and make you some smothered pork chops and cook you some this, that, and the other. But that's not really what I do. We do Creole food. We do Jambalayas and Shrimp Creole and Chicken Creole and all of that--a lot of baked macaroni. That's Southern too, like me. So we kind of blend it in a little bit but we'll--we do those things. We know how to have good breakfasts but we have grits and grillades and maybe a braised quail and some fried catfish. We kind of mix it up and do those kinds of things. So you know--and that's what people maybe sometimes don't understand about New Orleans. They--but they are learning now that this is what we do. We do a lot of stuffings. We stuff eggplants, we--well I think in the South, in Southern cooking, they stuff a lot of things, too, you know. We stuff chicken breast, we stuff everything, including people. [Laughs] We do a lot like that. But the food--that's a combination of food. You can do that. I can't say well you can't come to my restaurant because I can't fix you that, because you can't eat that. No, you come there. I'm going to try to fix something you can eat. I'm going to fix you food. You tell me what you don't like, and tell me what you like, and I can do that for you and it's fun to do that; then I learn from that. I learn how to do other things. So that's really fun. --- To download the entire transcript in PDF form, please click here. |
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