Opinion: From New Orleans to Asheville, a passion for food, family and sense of place

In 1979, a bright spot sprung up on the boarded-up streets of downtown Asheville. Ridiculous to think that such a fine dining, European-styled restaurant, The Market Place, could survive one minute. But passion fueled the forward push. One heart surgeon, Dr. Charles Keller (my father), one owner of a gourmet food shop, Arch Wood, and one very gifted young chef, Mark Rosenstein, went into the mix. I often think of the chance encounters, the pathwayscrossed, that kindled the magic at 10 N. Market St., and delight in my parents' role, especially my mother’s, setting it all in motion.

When Nancy and Charlie Keller came to Asheville from New Orleans in 1967, they brought with them four young children and a passion for food. This was especially true of my generations-deep New Orleanian father. New Orleanians are inordinately obsessed with food. My mother, on the other hand, grew up in Wharton, Texas, a ranching and farming community 50 miles inland from the gulf. Nancy Jean Hudgins spent her childhood outdoors, marching the town square with the high school band and riding rodeo. Her inculcation into a food-centric culture would begin only in 1955 when she enrolled at Tulane University.

Tulane’s annual yearbook is named after an iconic New Orleans rice-based dish, Jambalaya. When my parents met during Mom’s second year at Tulane, she had just been elected to the Jambalaya Beauty Court. Dad was living across Audubon Park with his family, enrolled at Louisiana State University School of Medicine. LSU’s yearbook is named after another iconic Louisiana dish, one my father frequently made and loved to discuss, Gumbo.

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Throughout our childhood, both my parents cooked, Dad on Sundays when not at the hospital, Mom most every day. Our home life revolved around the kitchen. In the earliest years, Mom’s focus was on feeding her voracious family. Of course, we ate red beans and rice every week of our lives, a New Orleans tradition unbroken. And while my mother relied heavily on her "Better Homes and Garden Cookbook," she also regularly served up Louisiana specialties. When guests came, my parents cooked together, often from the "Brennan’s New Orleans Cookbook." Dad loved to make eggs, eggs Benedict, eggs Hussarde, anything with hollandaise sauce on it, and oysters Rockefeller. Mom baked French onion soup and our favorites, caramel cup custard, praline parfait, and bananas Foster, a Brennan’s family creation.

Dad had grown up with the Brennan boys, played basketball with Pip Brennan in high school, Dick Brennan at Tulane. Pip’s father had founded the famed Brennan’s restaurant in the 1940s, and Dick, the equally renowned Commander’s Palace in the 1970s. The Brennan family arrived in New Orleans from Ireland in the 1840s, just as myfather’s family had, at the height of the potato famine. On an inspirational visit to New Orleans mid 1970s, my parents walked the Garden District with Dick Brennan to the newly opened Commander’s Palace, for an evening of delectable food, unsurpassed hospitality and celebration.

Back in Asheville in 1978, my mother signed up for a cooking class at a gourmet shop in Biltmore Village. There she met high energy food enthusiast Mark Rosenstein. At 26 years old, Mark had already achieved acclaim as a co-owner/chef of a successful restaurant in Highlands, North Carolina. Mark was dreaming of opening anotherrestaurant in Highlands. And then it happened, something unexpected, my innately cautious, circumspect mother sparked the flame. Nancy introduced Mark to Charlie. Charlie talked Mark into Asheville.

Like Mark, my father was a dreamer, a visionary. He used to drive young medical recruits through downtown Asheville, tell them to ignore those boarded up shops. Look beyond. I have a feeling about this place, look what we have here.

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In the beginning, Dad’s singular focus was on creating a medical community that would support hisvision of bringing heart medicine to Western North Carolina, something many thought an impossible task, yet, not entirely unlike opening a fine restaurant in the heart of a dying downtown, just as businesses were being siphoned off to the nearby mall.

The original Market Place opened in 1979 in an old brick building just steps off Pack Square, where pawn shops ruled the day, and, oh yes, there was that adult movie theater just across the way. There was a synergy between Mark and Dad, and with Nancy’s support, they spun gold. They never looked back, never considered failure. They had a feeling about this place.

Leslie Ann Keller is an artist and writer from Asheville, currently writing the story of her family’s journey from Texas to New Orleans to Asheville. 

This article originally appeared on Asheville Citizen Times: Opinion: From New Orleans to Asheville, a passion for food