I just got a call from the lady coordinating the shelter program at church. I'm off the hook for tonight, since the guy who was going to stay there found a niece to take him in instead. So I get one more night to sleep in my own bed before the power goes out (which will almost certainly happen sometime on Monday).

Recent computer models show Gustav moving ever more to the west and south of us (see http://www.wunderground.com for more), which is good, although it means that people in the coastal parishes (Cameron, Vermilion) are probably in for more destruction. These are low-lying agricultural areas that got whomped by Rita in '05 and are just now on the rebound.

 Anyway matters unfold, we're going to get lots of wind and lots of rain. People in Louisiana quickly segue to matters of food when hurricane preparations are mentioned--everyone I know has a lot of cooking they're planning on doing. I have a hunk of London broil I'm planning on turning into roast beef po boys tomorrow, for instance. My friend Steve recommends Pernod for sipping purposes during the inevitable power outage. You fill the glass with lots of ice, add a jigger or so of Pernod (an anise-flavored liqueur favored by elderly Frenchmen), then add water to fill the glass, admiring the cloudiness that results, and sip. After every few sips you add more water. Steve claims that when the heat and lack of electricity gets you down, his Pernod cure keeps it from bothering you too much. 

Our focus on food and drink in the face of the hurricane is not entirely frivolous and self-centered. It's a way of reminding ourselves that the rites of hospitality and the connections brought about by cooking, eating and  drinking are one of the most powerful tools we have in pulling it all back together. Soon some people will lack the facilities to pour a glass or Pernod, or a place to enjoy a messy New Orleans po boy. These are the ones we must remember to invite to our table and claim as neighbors.