My husband is John Boutté’s piano tuner. He’s a darling, Boutté, and he pays well. Cash plus. Last time it was a pound of fresh shrimp that somebody had brought him that morning that he wasn’t going to cook. The shrimp were so fresh you could hang them by the whiskers. We enjoyed them Sunpie style. It’s become difficult for me to cook fresh shrimp any other way since Bruce “Sunpie” Barnes shared his recipe with me last year.

Look at those whiskers!

It’s limey and salty and a little bit smoky (if you do it right) and my kids eat them faster than I can peel them. My two-year-old actually swallows them whole. Our pediatrician said not to worry, but I do—there is flavor going to waste!

I love the trade and in-kind economy here in New Orleans. I enjoy the 11th hour phone call: “I just caught 43 fish. Want some?” The clock starts ticking. Better sharpen that knife, cover the table in newspaper, assemble the cutting board puzzle. We have friends who lived in a trailer in Empire before Katrina. Now they’re in a house in Belle Chasse. He’s an oyster fisherman. There have been times when Snjezana, his wife, has called and asked us if we want some oysters. We always say yes, but this comes with a certain amount of responsibility. Within hours, there’s a sack of oysters on our porch and we might not be able to locate our oyster knife or track down enough friends who can come over immediately. So far, we’ve done well. Nothing’s gone to waste. But we’re going to need another freezer. Very, very soon.