My mom taught English, typing and shorthand at Straight Business School at Claiborne and Esplanade avenues — a place with roots stretching back to 1868, when it evolved from Straight University.
During those long New Orleans summers, she’d bring me along to her classroom, where I’d sit in the back with books and puzzles, trying to keep myself occupied.
But eventually, something caught my attention more than any puzzle could: laughter. My mom was laughing. Her students were laughing. They were having the time of their lives learning shorthand and typing, subjects that could easily feel like drudgery.
“Why do you all have so much fun in class?” I finally asked her.
Her answer changed how I would eventually approach my own teaching. “I don’t want to get bored with what I’m teaching,” she explained, “so I make it pleasant and fun for myself. And I make it fun for my students because they learn and retain more in a fun atmosphere. When you take the pressure off with humor, they stop thinking, ‘This is work, this is a chore,’ and they actually absorb it.”
Years later, when I started teaching cooking classes, those words echoed in my mind. Some people are nervous about cooking. Some find it intimidating. But if I could make it fun, the way my mother made typing fun, they would learn more and retain it better.
Over the years, countless students have told me, “You make that look so easy.” That’s all Mom. That’s her legacy of teaching with joy instead of pressure.
Ironically, I never actually learned to type. Every summer, Mom would draw a keyboard on posterboard, circles with letters and numbers, just like the real thing and tape it in my bedroom window above the desk where my typewriter sat.
“Look at the board, not your fingers,” she’d instruct. Then she’d call up from downstairs: “Are you practicing your typing?” I’d yell “Yes, ma’am!” and bang a few keys loudly so she could hear. To this day, I can play piano, but I peck at a keyboard.
Honey Lime Chicken Enchiladas Casserole
Photo by Monica Belton
What I really loved about those days at the Business School were the vending machines. Every once in a blue moon, I could pick out my own snack, those little Lance crackers or Tom’s products. They probably weren’t that good, objectively speaking, but to a kid? Pure delicacy, because I was with my mom, having a snack, having fun.
That spirit of nourishment, both literal and emotional, stayed with me into my own parenthood. During the summer, my son, Kevin, had two-a-day practices. I’d start something in the oven, drop him off at morning practice, come home to finish cooking while he showered and got a ride with a teammate. He’d arrive home with 10 to 12 teammates in tow.
The rules were simple: pick up Gatorade or water on the way. Throw practice clothes in the washing machine. Eat. Then lay down. They didn’t have to sleep, but they had to get off their feet, watch TV, read and drink that gallon of fluid before afternoon practice.
I’d make big pots of spaghetti and meatballs, pans of meatloaf with oven-baked potatoes, food that gave them protein and carbs, and fuel for young athletes. While they rested, I’d fold their laundry. They’d grab their clean clothes and head off to afternoon practice.
One day, their coach approached me. “I’ve heard you have a couple kids coming over,” he said. When I confirmed it, he started naming names, all my regulars. “How do you know?” I asked.
“Because they have more energy than anybody else.”
It was worth every penny of my food budget. They were good kids. It helped them. They enjoyed it. And just like my mother taught me, when you remove the pressure and add nourishment, whether it’s laughter in a classroom or meatloaf around a table, people thrive.
That’s the recipe I learned from Mom.
Honey Lime Chicken Enchiladas Casserole
Serves 4-6.
1/3 cup honey
1/4 cup lime juice
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 garlic cloves, finely minced
1 pound chicken thighs, boneless, cooked and shredded
1 can green enchilada sauce
1/2 cup heavy cream
12 large corn or flour tortillas
1-2 cans pinto beans, drained and rinsed
2 cups Mexican Cheese Blend, shredded
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro to garnish
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. In a large bowl, place the honey, lime juice, chili powder and minced garlic or garlic powder. Whisk together thoroughly to combine.
3. Place the cooked and shredded chicken in the bowl, stir to combine and cover with plastic wrap. Allow to marinate 30 minutes or up to 1 hour, in the refrigerator.
4. Cook the tortillas and set aside.
5. In a medium bowl, combine the enchilada sauce and the heavy cream. Spread about 1/2 cup of the mixture in the bottom of a cast-iron skillet, a 10- to 12-inch size.
6. Place a tortilla down. Add a large spoonful of the chicken mixture all over the tortilla. Sprinkle with beans and a little sauce. Cover with cheese, then repeat with remaining layers.
7. On the last layer, end with a tortilla, sauce and cheese.
8. Bake the enchiladas for 30-35 minutes, until the cheese is melted and bubbly and starting to brown on top.
9. Serve with salsa, olives, sour cream or whatever flavors you like.
Pasta Fagioli al Forno
Photo by Monica Belton
Pasta Fagioli al Forno
Serves 6-8.
12 ounces penne pasta
1 can whole plum tomatoes
1 pound bulk Italian sausage
1 onion, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
1 celery rib, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 can (15 ounces) cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
1/2 cup minced fresh parsley, divided
2 cups shredded fontina or provolone cheese
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook pasta according to package directions for al dente and drain.
2. Drain tomatoes, reserving juices; coarsely chop tomatoes.
3. In a 6-quart stockpot, cook and crumble sausage with onion, carrot, celery and garlic over medium-high heat until no longer pink, 6-8 minutes and drain.
4. Stir in tomato paste, seasonings, chopped tomatoes and reserved juices; bring to a boil.
5. Reduce heat; simmer, uncovered, 10 minutes.
6. Stir in beans and 1/4 cup each Parmesan cheese and parsley. Stir in pasta.
7. Transfer to a greased 13-inch by 9-inch baking dish; sprinkle with fontina cheese and remaining Parmesan cheese.
8. Bake, covered, 20 minutes.
9. Uncover and bake until cheese is melted, 10-15 minutes. Sprinkle with remaining parsley.
