I once got Paul Prudhomme so upset that his large, round, bearded face turned as red as a kidney bean. It occurred while I was interviewing him, in his K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen in New Orleans, and mistakenly referred to a certain Cajun dish as Creole. Prudhomme chastised me with so booming a voice that his kitchen staffers froze in their tracks. His massive frame was propped on a stool and supported by a black, silver-handled cane, which he pounded on the floor as if to punctuate his outrage. I was... More >>>