ROUSES_MarApr2019_Magazine-R

photo by Romney Caruso

he was sort of fluffy-looking as a newborn, and when he was still in the hospital, everyone said he was a little poochie; the name stuck for 60 years. That, and his real name is Ulysses, and as he grew up, he never wanted anyone to call him “useless”! Poochie’s work took him up and down Bayou Lafourche. Everybody knows him — he has a wonderful, larger-than-life character — and everyone loves him — and he would always show up at our house with these sacks of oysters. Like a lot of Italian men his age, my dad was fearless in the kitchen, and would come up with all sorts of ways to prepare the oysters. They turned up in different spaghettis. He fried them, grilled them, made oyster and artichoke dip with them. Of course, he ate them raw with different homemade dips like remou- lade, or with Tabasco and horseradish. He would some- times sit on the porch and shuck them and eat them, and I remember him offering me a freshly shucked raw oyster when I was a kid, and my responding with an emphatic and unambiguous “No!” These days, I can’t get enough of them! Among the many recipes, my father made an oyster rice dressing that became a holiday tradition. We still prepare it every Thanksgiving and Christmas. (Get the recipe at www.rouses.com.) Mom always cooked when he had to work, but when he was home, she always cooked with him. When she wasn’t side-by-side at the stove with him, she was sitting at the table peeling things. They were a cute couple cooking together, especially when they cooked for the holidays.

Over the years, we preserved as many of Dad’s recipes as we could. There was one, however, that eludes us to this day. It was an oyster and broccoli soup. The ingredients, as I recall them, included chicken broth, fresh garlic, broccoli and pasta, and he would season the soup to taste. At the very end, he would add fresh oysters. It was a simple dish, and probably one that he improvised and — having found a winner — continued cooking throughout his life. On a cold day, there was nothing better. I remember my nephews, Chris and Nick, eating it one day toward the end of my father’s life. It was one of the last meals he made when he was healthy. I remember them sitting at that table, and I happened to be there and, I mean, you didn’t often see young kids eating oysters in a soup. It was that good. And try as we might, we still haven’t duplicated it quite yet. It is a lost piece of Rouse family history. My sister Cindy jokes that the recipe isn’t really forgotten, because we never knew it to begin with! My dad was a well-rounded cook. He spent his life in the food business, and he found great joy in the garden or behind the stove. He loved to watch his family and friends eating, loved to make sure everybody had food. He always served everyone before he made his own plate. And if more guests arrived and there was not enough food to go around, he’d be right back in the kitchen, adding more and more to the pots to make sure everyone left full, satisfied, and with a little more joy and a few new memories that they didn’t have when they’d arrived. It’s the sort of family spirit we try to keep going at home and in our stores today. That’s my father’s real legacy, and one we hope will live forever.

50 MARCH•APRIL 2019