Lip Hair Legends

Enough time has lapsed in the 2006 Saints season for Chef to come straight. I'm a truth teller, after all.

The mustache is an appliqué.

Chef realizes this comes as a great shock to many in Café 641. And he appreciates the love he’s received from those who noticed the careful grooming and innovative coloring that goes into that swab of facial hair.

But Chef also believes that Who Dats deserve the truth. And the truth is, Chef hasn’t been able to grow large amounts of facial hair upwards of his upper lip since an unfortunate puberty-related incident that occurred when he was 13.

(Apparently, the product he used was not as seen on television and not intended for facial use.)

So here’s the truth: Chef’s 2006 mustache is courtesy of the fine costumers on Magazine Street near Napoleon, a few doors down from Ms. Mae’s.

This one don’t look like it’s got much life left in it, so Chef’s decided to request its enshrinement in the Who Dat Lip Hair Hall of Fame.

That means a new stache for the Carolina game and playoff run.

Chef welcomes styling suggestions for the new lip piece, and suggestions of other Saints’ mustaches of hall of fame caliber.

Notes from the North Pole

Chef got a text message from Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, asking for gift ideas for the kiddie set that sits in the Upper Terrace, Section 641. Seems that word got back to St. Nick that Chef and the Café 641 family were showing all kinds of seasonal spirit to the lil’ Who Dats sitting in our section during the Redskins game.

Chef appreciated the courtesy message, but didn’t know how to reply. Doesn’t S.C. know that those lil’ Who Dats already received the rare Golden Spoon award for their rowdy, non-stop “Deuce Upside Your Head” chants? I know it’s tough to buy for kids, Santa, but Chef thinks these lil’ Who Dats really just want a Super Bowl for Christmas.

Guess Santa got Chef’s text reply . . . Saints 30 Giants 7 . . . Eagles 23 Cowboys 7.

Thanks, Big Man.

A Place to Put Your Nuts

Another note from Chef’s Who Dat Christmas . . .

Chef thanks the family for what on first glance appeared to be a simple ceramic New Orleans Saints bowl. “Thanks, baby. Thanks, kids. I needed a . . . uh . . . another . . . er . . . bowl.”

“It ain’t a bowl, Chef,” the Mrs. corrected. “It’s a place to put your nuts.”

Let Me See Your Grill!

It’s been almost 16 months since Chef lost his custom Who Dat grill to the floodwaters of Katrina in his Lakeview home. After finding its remains in the muck of his back patio last October, Chef swore he’d never fire up a gas grill again.

Sous Chef lost his prized cooking station too, and he quickly swore off outdoor cooking for life.

Flash forward to Christmas morning 2006, and Mrs. Chef continues to amaze.

A joint gift to Chef and Sous Chef: the Weber Genesis Platinum series!

Chef doesn’t even know if he can handle the platinum – might be too much bling. But in the spirit of this very Who Dat Christmas, he pledges to give it a go, especially if Chef and family get back in the house for a Who Dat Super Bowl party in late January.

Shitshockey Mushrooms

When Mrs. Chef left the room just after the Manning-to-Burress-past-falling-Fred Thomas touchdown bomb on Sunday, Chef was baffled. Half-gasping, half-screaming, Chef beckoned the Mrs. back to the television to insure maximum Who Dat gris gris. Mrs. Chef replied, “Gotta cook. Gotta cook.”

Turns out, the Mrs. knows a thing or two about away game menus. About five minutes into the first quarter, she returned with a fresh baked pizza.

Chef muted the television for a proper explanation.

“This here is a Jeremy Shitshockey Mushroom Pizza. Enjoy, Chef.”

Now, Who Dats, the Mrs. does lots of things that turns the Chef on. But this stroke of culinary genius may take the cake. Shockey’s line: two catches, -4 yards.

AFTER:

Twas the Night before Who Dat . . .

Seasons greetings, Who Dats. This special message comes from our anonymous Upper Terrace relatives in Section 640. Much love from the Chef, 640. Ya'll warm Chef's heart.


Twas the night before WHO DAT when all through the south
Only screams could be heard from Eli Mannings’s mouth.

The Saints played superior and it was not fair.
A game that was perfect enough to frighten the Bears.

The Giants were beaten and now are in the red,
While visions of Super Bowl danced in Benson’s head.

Payton in his visor, and Gibbs in his white cap
Had just called a defense sure to produce a sack,

When out on the field there arose such a clatter
Fujita sprang from the bench to see what was the matter.

Straight to the quarterback, Will Smith flew like a flash
Right through the line and put ELI on his ass!

The ball came out and what do ya know?
It ends up in the hands of number ninety-fo!

Grant rumbled and stumbled into the End Zone
To help came on Carney for a point of his own.

A trip to the Super Bowl is better than a check from FEMA.
Finally everyone can try to forget Katrina!

Relocated, flooded, and put to shame
The Saints have recovered and brought back WHO DAT fame!

"It was Bush, and Colston, Horn, and Brees too.
And don’t forget that boy Devery who played at LSU!

The crowd came together with one big cheer from all…
“WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS!”

--- From the noisy Who Dats in the Upper Terrace, Section 640

FAITH!

It's been two days now since our Black and Gold's division-clinching loss. And Lil Reggie's been droopin' at home, walkin' slow to the carpool line, falling asleep in class, leavin' the dinner table before dessert is served.

What's Lil' Reggie lookin' for, you wonder? The boy is searching for his FAITH!

Awright, lil' man. Let Chef help you out. Put the specs down. Stand up. Raise your golden spoon. And follow along . . .

I believe that winning is an attitude. I have FAITH. I am the eternal optimist, a Saints fan, a Roof Banger, a Doam Foam drinkin' Who Dat.

WHO DAT RESPONSE: THE SAINTS ARE COMING. THE SAINTS ARE COMING.

I believe in the power of a Cool Brees. I drop to my knees when Deuce goes upside your head. I weep when Reggie runs right bayou.

WHO DAT RESPONSE: THE SAINTS ARE COMING. THE SAINTS ARE COMING.

I believe in playoff runs, home field advantage, frozen ticket prices, and $100 deposits on my season seats.

WHO DAT RESPONSE: THE SAINTS ARE COMING. THE SAINTS ARE COMING.

I believe in Santa Claus, a Who Dat Christmas, and the slim chance that even Mr. Benson's coal, coal heart will be warmed by a Super Bowl ring.

WHO DAT RESPONSE: THE SAINTS ARE COMING. THE SAINTS ARE COMING.

I believe in saving my gameday appetite for Cafe 641. I break bread with my Upper Terrace family. I feast on Birds, Cats, Pirates, Cowboys, Gold Diggers, and fat hunks of Cheese.

WHO DAT RESPONSE: THE SAINTS ARE COMING. THE SAINTS ARE COMING.

I believe in the spirit of the Who Dat. I profess my Who Dat faith. I will return to these roof-banging seats in 2007. I will wave my golden spoon. I will be loud. I will stay for 4 quarters.

WHO DAT RESPONSE: THE SAINTS ARE COMING. THE SAINTS ARE COMING.

From the Café 641 Recipe Book . . .

You've Got Mail

Like 80,000 other Who Dats across the Gulf Coast, Chef found a present in his mailbox yesterday. A letter from Ebeneezer Benson and St. Rita. Chef ain't gonna lie about what happened next . . .

"I cried like a baby. I kissed that letter, man. I held it close to my chest. I fell to my knees and lifted my arms to the sky. I about peed my pants, man."

Then reality sunk in. Do you call in first to make sure your playoff ticket order doesn't get lost in the return mail? If you call, do you tell the Saints front office to mail the tickets? Do you pick the tickets up on Airline Drive in Chef attire? Do you kiss the sales representative?

What about after the tickets are in your hands? Do you open a safety deposit box at Whitney National? Do you check behind you when you leave the ticket office, to make sure no one's tailing? Do you tell your family? Your best friend?

Does a playoff appearance count as a 1-week doctor's excuse from work? Or in our case, a 4-week excuse?

Important questions, Who Dats. Very important questions. Consider them carefully. But only after you have framed the invoice:

Bless Dem Boys

It's been almost 20 years since Pope John Paul II blessed the Black and Gold in person at the Superdome. Still, Chef notices lingering traces of that powerful blessing.

Take yesterday, for instance. Realizing it was an away date for the Saints, Chef readied his crew for Mass at St. Stephens. Sous Chef pulled on his green cooking trousers; lil' Reggie layered his 25 black & gold jersey with a smart, white lycra undershirt; SuperSaintsGirl went with a subtle 3/4 length Saints shirt; and Cafe Diva stretched on her baby-doll "A Woman's Place is in the Dome" shirt.

Chef and family arrived just after 10:30 a.m., participated at appropriate times during Mass, and waited for the ever-important Prayers of the Faithful:
* For those discouraged by the size and length of their personal trials, Who Dats, we pray: * For those who take up the burden of working for justice, Hollis Thomas, we pray: * For the personal and spiritual development of those who seek victory, Our Black and Gold, for all our sick, Joe Horn, Marques Colston, we pray:

And you know what happened then? Cafe Diva sort of winked at Chef, like as the good Catholic school girl she was that she knew something he didn't. Chef looked up at the stained glass windows at the top of the church and was blinded by the glorious sunlight flooding through . . . small fleur de lis panels.

Then, in a moment of divine intervention, Cafe Diva led the offspring down the aisle for the Eucharist, received the Host, and . . . BAM! . . . it happened. A spirit appeared before Cafe Diva, made direct eye contact, and mouthed the words of FAITH: "Whooooo Daaaattttt"

The result? Saints 42. Cowboys 17. Sorry Bill.

Today's Blue-Plate Special: Big Tuna with a side of Cowboys Couscous

Chef's Who Dat Home Cafe has a few leftovers for any Cafe 641 regulars who might still be hungry after last night's Prime Time feast on America's Team. (Who Dats know we don't need America; we've got the Gulf Coast and a Bush that gets results.) These three dishes are all that's left:

1. Big Tuna with a side of Cowboys Couscous (*** But if you ain't a fan of Chef's Burned Big Tuna dish, we'll plate this Tuna anyway you like . . . Blackened, Boiled, Burnt, Barbequed.)

2. Prime Rib Romo

3. Beat Down Souflee (with compliments to Dillyberto for recipe)

Chef hires a stand-in for away games so he can fully enjoy the TV experience. Yesterday, the culinary stylings of PK were on display at the Chef Who Dat Home Cafe. PK cooked up Creamed Cowboy Corn flapjacks, topped with jumbo shrimp.

Let's Go Crazy

Still don't know how to behave after Saints victories? Take a cue from Chef and these fine Who Dats to the left captured on the exit ramps somewhere near Gate D after our flattening of the 49ers.

Listen carefully and you'll hear the gentle rhythms of Prince's "Let's Go Crazy" rockin' the box. Then watch how Who Dats roll.

Take notice Cowboys, Redskins, Giants, Panthers. With the help of Cafe 641, inspiration from the Who Dat Darth Vader krewe, and inspiration from the only Green Wave fan I'll admit to being friends with . . . Chef Who Dat will introduce the latest Upper Terrace dance craze on December 17: The Cafe Sway.

Offspring Curse Broken

Chef does not believe in gris gris, mojo, or that sort of thing. That’s why . . .

. . . Chef did NOT buy a dozen roses the night before the LSU Tigers were denied a New Years Day Rose Bowl appearance.

. . . Chef does NOT wear the same white undershirt before every Saints home game.

. . . Chef’s children are NOT forced to wear eye black while watching away games on TV.

. . . Chef’s son was NOT told that he would never set foot in the Dome if he ever said he was rooting for San Francisco on a Saints-49ers gameday.

. . . Chef does NOT find one deserving Who Dat to give away a free beer to on his walk up the Dome ramp on home games.

. . . Chef did NOT consider leaving his youngest son at home for the 49ers game after the Saints two-game home losing streak coincided with Chef previously bringing his other son and daughter to the Dome.

Chef does NOT roll like that.

Still Chef feels a helluva lot better now that son Sous Chef (pictured above) got the monkey off his back by breaking that Offspring Curse on Sunday against the 49ers.

Baby Matrix Stops Time . . . Benson Freezes Tickets

Could it be that PawPaw Benson is hitting the sauce before home games? Or, like all Who Dats inside and outside the Dome on Sunday, did Benson freak out after Saint Reggie’s team record-tying fourth touchdown against the 49ers? In either case, the Bush that loves NOLA and the Bush that NOLA loves back must have had some magical effect on Tom Benson.

In what seemed to be a pre-planned publicity op, Grinch Benson broke from the script during a timeout public address speech to the fans. He took the mic from granddaughter Rita Benson LeBlanc (some in Café 641, by the way, have an unhealthy attraction to Ms. Rita) and told us the Saints are freezing season ticket prices for the 2007 season.

Section 641 Who Dats immediately made a sacred vow to renew tickets together, en masse. In Row 41, Chef overhead two Who Dats promising to name their next born kin Cool Brees, Deuce-Upside-Your-Head, or McKenzie.

In the photo above, witness two Who Dats caught in the Café 641 time warp that occurred when Reggie “Baby Matrix” Bush scored his fourth touchdown and Ebeneezer Benson froze ticket prices.

To renew season tickets for 2007, go to the Saints site. To make the sacred vow to renew in Cafe 641, see Chef Who Dat at the Redskins game.