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W e d n e s d ay, M a r c h 12, 2025
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Danny Heitman AT RANDOM
A walk in the Bywater was just the medicine I needed Last fall, I asked Pico Iyer, a travel writer and spiritual thinker I’ve followed for years, how he keeps a sense of hope in a troubled world. Iyer touched on several points, but his parting comment is the one I remember most vividly. “During the worst days of the pandemic,” Iyer recalled, “I was asked to give a talk to a local hospice organization. At the end, the moderator asked me to offer some advice. I’m sure he was expecting something wise or sonorous or lofty. All I could say was, ‘Take a walk. If the world doesn’t look better after you do, you will almost certainly feel better.’ ” A few days later, Iyer’s words came back to me as my wife and I took a weekend walk in the Bywater neighborhood of New Orleans. Our friend, photographer Lori Waselchuk, was in town on business, and we’d agreed to meet her for lunch. This was the weekend when pop singer Taylor Swift was in New Orleans, and I wasn’t sure I’d be up to navigating the traffic and crowds. But we glided easily into the Bywater, ending up on a stretch of Chartres Street that was pleasantly quiet. At nearly noon on a Sunday morning, New Orleans was still waking up. It’s one of my favorite times in the city, when the day is slowly arriving, and the town is still rubbing sleep from its eyes. Distracted as we took in the shops and houses winking to life, my wife and I overshot the restaurant. A family in the next block was stretching its legs — a man and his wife on bicycles with their children lined up behind like ducklings on tiny bikes of their own. I asked them how far we’d walked past our lunch venue. “I’m not sure,” the father of the brood said. “But isn’t this a nice place to get lost?” We had to agree. The autumn morning was wonderful, the sunlight sweet and forgiving. Meanwhile, another man approached and offered to consult his phone for directions, thinking they might be clearer than what I’d found online. He was Chuck Walker of South Carolina, and we had a good laugh about a tourist helping a Louisiana guy find a lunch spot. Chuck, I soon learned, sings in Bedlam Hour, a punk rock band that was in New Orleans for a gig. Chuck’s shirt sported
STAFF PHOTOS BY JAN RISHER
On a cold February morning at one of the ten boucherie stations, culinary student Josephine Burkhardt stirs the pot of raccoon and rooster stew as chef Chris Sherrill and other chefs, butchers and locals gathered around on Feb. 22 at Chef John Folse’s boucherie at White Oak Estate.
John Folse keeps the Louisiana boucherie tradition alive with 375-pound hog to feed a crowd
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BY JAN RISHER Staff writer
oucheries start early in the morning. Louisiana didn’t invent community events to prepare and preserve pigs. The history of those go back thousands of years, with roots in Europe. That said, boucheries, or hog killings, on cold winter days are a part of Louisiana tradition — and Chef John Folse is doing his part to keep the tradition alive and show the next generation how it’s done. The French word boucherie actually means butcher shop, but it is also the word for what was and continues to be a social event born of necessity — friends and neighbors helping each other do the hard work of slaughtering and preserving a pig. On Feb. 22, about 75 butchers and chefs arrived by 6 a.m. for Folse’s annual boucherie at White Oak Estate, which started with a butchers’ breakfast. Folse welcomed chefs and butchers alike and invited everyone to get involved. “Enjoy the day. Put your hand wherever it wants to go,” the acclaimed Louisiana chef told those
Tripp Rion leads one of the 10 boucherie stations was called ‘Game Changer.’ At this station, they served a variety of smoked meats in various ways, including tacos. gathered to be a part of the boucherie from start to finish. “If it’s something you see for the first time, jump in. Today is all about touching food.” Folse and his team, including Michaela York and Danling Gideon, have organized the annual events
since 2016, when they hosted a boucherie for the “A Taste of Louisiana” series on PBS — skipping 2021 and 2022 for the pandemic. “ As a kid, one of my fondest memories growing up was the boucherie — my grandfather, his brothers and sisters, their husbands and wives, my aunts and uncles and their children and a lot of cousins. It was like a festival. There were probably 50 or so cousins that were there,” Folse said. “And they would kill six pigs at a time.” He explained that the pigs were killed on a Friday, cut in half and hung on the side of the old corn house. “On Saturday, the women would take all the innards out,” he said. “And I can remember them sitting around the table, cleaning the intestines, scraping everything out, washing them out to make the casings for the sausage and the boudin. They would make the cracklings and hog head cheese and red boudin and white boudin. Everybody would leave with a roast or steaks.” With the proliferation of
ä See BOUCHERIE, page 2G
ä See AT RANDOM, page 3G
What’s the art installation in front of Southern’s Mini-Dome? BY ROBIN MILLER
Is it a paperclip? Or could it be the metal Staff writer spring for a clothespin? Then again, who would The sculpture hasn’t aldedicate a sculpture ways been yellow, but it’s to those things? Not Al always been unusual. LaVergne. Maybe that’s an underHe was the sculptor of statement. The abstract LaVergne this steel configuration that piece stands in full view piqued Mark Jeffers’ curiosity. in front of the F.G. Clark Activity “What’s the story behind this Center at Southern University’s entrance, and passersby, no doubt, sculpture?” the Baton Rouge resihave given it consideration at one dent asked. “I’ve passed it several time or another. times. It stands in a prominent
place, so I know it must have some meaning.”
Representation of positive change LaVergne was a professor of art at Southern University when the university commissioned him to create a piece to front the newly built activity center, nicknamed the “Mini-Dome” by the Southern community because of its resemblance to the Caesars Superdome
ä See CURIOUS, page 3G
Date, place set for Attic Trash and Treasures sale BY JOY HOLDEN Staff writer
Baton Rouge can release a big exhale. Attic Trash and Treasures have found their location for the 2025 sale and set the dates. The sale will be held April 11, 12 and 13 at Town and Country Furniture on 6545 Airline Highway, Baton Rouge. Julie Terrell, board president of Attic Trash and Treasures, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, says the
much-anticipated sale will feature a large and diverse collection of pre-owned goods including kitchen items, artwork, jewelry, furniture, rugs, electronics, boutique clothing and holiday decor. Each year, Trash and Treasures donates their profits to other local non-profit organizations. The chosen organizations for 2025 are Baton Rouge Children’s Advocacy Center,
ä See SALE, page 3G