Few knew this, but on August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina swept Pierre LeBlanc away from New Orleans on a wave of destruction and despair. Today, more than a decade later, the entire city and, via television sometime later, the entire country, would witness his hometown return amid a flood of bayou-styled fanfare, good wishes and well-deserved praise. It was the Fourth of July weekend, but the festivities felt more like February’s Mardi Gras. Drinks steadily flowed. Good times rolled. After experiencing unprecedented success at a Houston-based restaurant called New Orleans, Pierre had finally followed his mentor’s advice and opened up his own space. With its innovative take on traditional cuisine, his restaurant, Easy Creole Cuisine, was poised to become the new jewel in the crown of New Orleans’s famed French Quarter district. Along with being a new restaurant owner, the onetime shy, almost invisible outcast was now an internationally recognized Chow Channel star and a popular energy drink spokesperson who at the moment was seated on the back of a Rolls-Royce convertible offering slow, easy waves to the throngs of zealous fans welcoming him home.

“Pierre! Over here!”

“Hey, Easy!”

The nickname was one of only a few items that had followed him to Houston. The hometown crowd instantly matched Pierre’s laid-back demeanor with the word that appeared on his restaurant’s marquee.

“Glad you’re back, Easy!”

“Welcome home, Pierre!”

Pierre nodded, waved and offered up his megawatt smile to the fans and photographers shouting his name. Designer shades covered deep hazel eyes, hiding the merest hint of a longtime hurt that never quite went away. Eyes continually surveying, searching, slightly saddened... His sister, Lisette, would meet him at the restaurant. She’d be the only family member on hand to celebrate the big occasion. The other woman who was once in his life, the one that for years he’d searched for online and in the faces of every crowd, had been achingly absent during more than a decade of his life experiences and achieved milestones. His mother, Alana. The woman who’d put her fifteen-year-old son and eleven-year-old daughter on a bus bound for Houston, Texas, promised to meet them there in a week, and disappeared.

The two-car caravan, followed by a small but energetic brass band, reached the restaurant. It was a totally renovated and hugely transformed building originally erected in 1879. The word Easy was scrawled across the side and continued upward into the sky in big cursive letters that would light up at night, with the rest of the name, Creole Cuisine, in block letters beneath. That sign and the group of people standing beneath it brought out Pierre’s first genuine smile all morning. Hard to believe that the dream he’d held since becoming a line cook and peeling more shrimp than he thought

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