a&e features
Paradise lost: Remembering the popular Rehoboth men’s guest house
Beach town’s pioneering B&B welcomed gay clientele before arrival of AIDS
“What hath night to do with sleep?” John Milton, A Journey to Paradise
In February 1987, 30-something Bill Courville was at his Mt. Pleasant neighborhood home. He opened the new edition of the Washington Blade. As usual, he read it from beginning to end. With a Ph.D. in psychology, Bill enjoyed the classifieds. It lifted his spirits after reading obituaries of gay men and news of meager AIDS funding from the Reagan administration. Sandwiched between personals and escorts were real estate sales listings, including a one-inch ad about a B&B in downtown Rehoboth Beach, Del.
Bill thought about his youthful days living in New Orleans and working at the Maison De Ville, a small dusty red stucco painted guest house overlooking Toulouse Street. There Tennessee Williams had once lived while penning “A Street Car Named Desire” — when not sipping Sazarac cocktails in the garden courtyard.
He circled the ad and placed it on the kitchen counter for his lover, Bob, to read. The couple had met two years earlier crossing the P Street Bridge and had gradually merged their lives. After Bob looked at the ad, Bill suggested: “Let’s go look at this! We will have a business and an income — and a place to live!” Born in Minnesota, Bob Jerome, the more cautious of the pair, had grown up in California, attending college in Claremont and later working as a Senate staffer. Like Bill, he had a doctorate and traveled throughout the world before their P Street encounter. Unlike Bob, however, Bill never had been to Rehoboth. Nevertheless, Bill insisted this could be their next adventure or at least an excuse to visit the shore off-season.
“It’s a great seasonal resort,” Bob responded positively. “Everybody goes there. There’s gay life!”
The next weekend, they crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and drove to Paradise. Rehoboth was mostly shuttered. But the Renegade bar was open at the fringe of town as was the Blue Moon along the gaying Baltimore Avenue. Driving one street over, they arrived at 40 Maryland Ave.
John, the Realtor, whose lover “Dolly” performed at the Moon, met the couple at the 19th-century house. “It was pretty awful,” remembers Bill. The fatigued Paradise Guest House sign was washed-out and the wide front porch with its handcrafted trellis lusted for paint. The pipes were drained. There was no heat or electricity. There were slivers of mirrors glued on living room walls, a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, 1930s over-stuffed maroon chairs, and yard sale grade furniture facing an old TV. The scent of stale cigarette smoke lingered in the ceilings and walls.
As they wandered through the 28 rooms — most barely wide enough for a floor mattress with a thin plastic sheet and an occasional odd-fitting dresser — they eyed stacks of men’s magazines (Honcho, Mandate, Bound & Gagged), iconic videos like “Boys in the Sand,” “Stryker Force,” and “Pacific Coast Highway,” along with chests of dildos in every imaginable size. Off the living room, a narrow passageway at a left angle to the main corridor led to the first-floor bedrooms. At the end was a trap door. They didn’t venture down. “Seasonal resorts like the Paradise were kind of like bars,” Bill explains. “They look great at night but don’t look at them during the day.”
On their drive back, the couple chatted about the venture. “I told Bill that if we were going to invest, he needed to run it so we could learn the business.” Bob knew his income would cover their personal expenses as long as Bill was willing to do the day-to-day management. “We were youngish. I don’t think we thought about what a massive undertaking it was…. But it seemed right.”
After purchasing the property, they along with some friends had just a few months before the 10-week season began on Memorial Day weekend. “We’d drag them down there and make them work, saying, ‘Oh, you can go to the beach.’ But, of course they never did go as it was always cold and rainy.” Bill wondered, “Does the sun ever shine here?”
Those next weeks were frantic: discarding discolored mattresses and sex toys; tearing out faux bedroom walls to restore the original 14 rooms; buying new white wicker furniture; upgrading the bathrooms, deck, and kitchen. Everything was thoroughly cleaned. Fresh white paint glistened on the walls and gray-painted floors replaced piles of tattered, sandy rugs. A local lesbian contractor built sturdy outside showers replacing a rickety wooden stall connected by a water hose and lined with reflective aluminum foil — designed more for strutting than showering.
“It was a huge undertaking,” admits Bill. “Everything we had was sunk into it. It had to be open!” He remembers one man calling a few days before asking if he could change check-in to Wednesday. “No, you can’t,” Bill said flatly. “You can come Friday at 2 o’clock, but not one minute sooner!”
With little time to advertise in this pre-Internet era, they did their best to explain the changes to former guests, beginning with its new name: The Rehoboth Guest House. More importantly, it now was open to lesbians as well as straights and there was no smoking. “We had a mix of friends,” says Bill. “So it would be gay-owned and operated but pretty much open to whoever wanted to come…. We had been discriminated against for most of our lives. If you don’t want to come you don’t have to.”
Remembering Paradise
Reactions from Paradise veterans varied when Bill and Bob discarded the blue, white, and yellow “Paradise Guest House” sign and, more importantly, its ethos of male eros. One of the new owners’ early supporters was Charlie Allen, who worked in the Baltimore schools but summered in Rehoboth. “He was writing a book,” Bill reveals, “called ‘Summer Sisters’… they were sisters for the summer.” Bob interjects, “The other part of the title was ‘Some Are Not.’ So, it was ‘Summer Sisters [pronounced Some Are Sisters]: Some Are Not.’Charlie died before publishing his book—which has never been found.
Unlike Charlie, “some hardcore folks were upset,” Bob recalls. “This used to be a gay male oasis” where men could “be themselves: wearing dresses; walking around naked; having piercings everywhere. They could get out of their suits and live the lives they wanted with people like them.” In an understanding tone, Bob adds: “That’s hard to take away.” The Paradise was a safe spot not only for Philadelphia accountants, D.C. staffers, and Baltimore teachers, but college kids enjoying summer break, career embarking twinks, and closeted locals seeking safe harbor.
Charlie was best friends with the German-accented Paradise owner Herbert Koerber and his boyfriend, Alvarado Ortiz-Benavides, whom everyone called “Mami”— colloquial Spanish for sweetheart. A gregarious man with fading hair and a reddish beard, Charlie often helped Mami with housekeeping and other chores. Mostly, though, he just enjoyed the sexual freedom of Paradise and the camaraderie among male guests. Some returned each year for a week, others visited more frequently for long weekends, and a few stayed the entire summer. Most guests were younger than Charlie’s 40 odd years, but everyone seemed to get along.
Most of Koerber’s clientele came from word-of-mouth advertising, although there was a classified ad in summer issues of the Washington Blade: “friendly guesthouse, close to beaches and bars.” One of the very first media stories about gay Rehoboth appeared in the May 1980 issue of this iconic paper. It described Paradise as “utterly comfortable” and quoted 38-year-old Herbert: “Tell people I can put them up — maybe even give them a discount during the week — but on weekends, after the bars close, my lobby will be packed.”
Before Herbert opened Paradise, in 1979, there were no openly gay-owned or gay-friendly advertised guest houses in Rehoboth. The Sandcastle, a decrepit speakeasy-like rooming house owned briefly by several gay men, had burnt to the ground four years earlier. The grand Pleasant Inn Lodge, hosted by the reclusive, debonair bachelor Peck Pleasanton and his octogenarian mother, Bessie, welcomed an occasional well-behaved “single” gentleman.
During eight seasons, Paradise evolved as did Herbert and Mami. The two were an odd pair. Herbert, a “fussy queen” who swore like a sailor, was tall and thin with longish hair and a handlebar mustache. He was always tanned even though his forehead would get beet red given his German complexion. The much shorter Mami, whose family was from South America, was soft-spoken and very sweet. Compared to the larger-than-life Herbert, he was less memorable to guests. Bob describes Herbert as “the German businessman. Mami was the onetime boy-toy.” They wintered in Key West, operating a gift shop and hawking kitsch souvenirs like black velvet paintings and seashell coasters.
Herbert monetized every aspect of Paradise, creating a sexual Disneyland. With 28 “teensy rooms the size of bathhouse cubicles,” there could be upwards of 50 men checked-in along with their friends and friends of their friends, wandering in during the night. However, the number of bathrooms — two full baths and two halves — did not expand. “It was shabby and crowded, but we were young and didn’t care,” one Paradise regular muses. “It had a reputation. It was our party house.”
The second floor became clothing optional with men often walking around with towels during midnight hours. Plywood partitions were set between rooms with guests on one side having a window and the other windowless. Herbert’s “summer curtains” served instead of doors, which allowed air (and guests) to circulate. Those with bedroom windows overlooking the sundeck could easily extend an invitation to a coconut-lotioned twink or a weightlifting hunk. “Everything went on at the deck and in the windows and rooms behind it,” recalls a frequent guest. There were late Saturday afternoon happy hours and skit contests. Staging was festive, if not overly decorative, with a jerry-rigged backstage area for costume changing. A raucous backyard crowd cheered contestants.
Originally, there was a huge gabled attic bedroom that required ascending a steep stairway. Herbert slashed it into a tiny single air-conditioned room with the remaining space transformed into an after dark playground full of mattresses with an aroma of poppers and pot. “Herbert turned every square inch of that attic into a bed sleeping sex area. It was masterful,” Bob says in a praiseworthy tone. “Every inch was geared toward pleasure” And, as he and Bill later discovered, There was a leather sling in the “dungeon,” a 10 x 12 cinder block walled room accessed only from the first floor trap door.
Room rates were low and backyard camping was just $5 for those bringing tents. Campers, though, had to be late night partiers. Before dawn, visitors often entered from the alley along a little path leading to the unlocked side gate. Nocturnal grunts, gasps, and groans harmonized to sounds of crashing waves. Back then, as one Paradise regular stresses, “Sex wasn’t a taboo thing. It was like going to lunch! It was as common as going for a cocktail.”
During the day, Herbert was often found in his flip-flops, T-shirt, and khaki shorts, puttering in the garden or tending to his beloved lacecap hydrangeas gracing the front yard. Herbert was estranged from his German-speaking family so Paradise regulars became his family. Friendly, he knew everyone by their first name but don’t ask to reserve a specific room. One returning guest remembers phoning Herbert for a reservation and requesting a first-floor room with a door: “Oh, honey!” Herbert laughed. “It’s just first come, first served.”
Herbert did repairs only when absolutely necessary. But he’d always be painting, using just one color: white. The exception was the wrap-around front porch, lined with rocking chairs, which had a gray floor and ceiling along with knob and tube wiring. Throughout the house, guests used it to hang clothes since there were no closets.
In the early to mid 1980s, Paradise thrived as a money making machine — a bathhouse on the beach. As the number of gay-owned restaurants and bars multiplied along with accompanying media attention, more gay men vacationed at Rehoboth and visited Paradise. “There was a routine,” one recounts. “You’d get up late. Get yourself down to the gay beach. Do a day at the ocean, getting too much sun. Then there was happy hour at the Moon. You had to be there and have a nice look. Then you’d go back, take a nap, and then go to dinner. Then, onto the Renegade!”
Herbert provided a weekend shuttle to the Renegade. About 10 o’clock, he’d drive up in his light colored blue and white ’60s VW van, hop out and, as a regular recollects, “Scream down the hallways: ’Get your asses down here!’” He shuttled guests back-and-forth, with the last pick-up at 1. ”I remember Herbert telling people in his heavy accent, ‘If you miss the last bus, you have to walk the fuck home!” But his gruffness masked protectiveness. ”He’d warn them he was going and he would even count!” Another frequent visitor remembers Herbert “as the kind of guy you’d call at 3 o’clock in the morning to say, ‘I’m in jail.’ And he’d be there.”
Paradise Lost
In 1980, reports surfaced about clusters of young gay men contacting Pneumocystis pneumonia. Granted the majority of infections and deaths from this “gay cancer” were in New York City and San Francisco, but the Washington Blade published a landmark front-page story, “Rare, Fatal Pneumonia Hits Gay Men,” inJuly 1981.
Herbert began to worry. One guest, living in New York City and volunteering as an AIDS buddy, remembers porch conversations with Herbert. ”He was talking about buying a second one. Then he said, ’I’m concerned since so many people are getting AIDS, I’m not sure whether or not I’ll have a clientele.’”
For many gays, Paradise was a rare time to be themselves and to enjoy the camaraderie and support from other men at a beach resort. Sadly, for some, it was also a death sentence. Sexual desire and psychological denial coupled with governmental inaction and public apathy fueled the AIDS pandemic.
After the 1986 summer season, Herbert and Mami sojourned, as usual, to Key West; Herbert never returned. ”I can remember being surprised to hear that he was ill,” laments a longtime patron. ”He went quickly; we had no indications he was ill.”
Herbert died a week before Bill and Bob opened on Memorial Day weekend. Mami was with him until the end. Like Paradise, he disappeared into history and, along with Herbert and many of his guests, would be remembered by few.
James Sears’ latest book, “Behind the Boardwalk: Queering the History of Rehoboth Beach” will be published next year. Tom Kelch, manger of the Rehoboth Beach Guest House, contributed research to this article.
a&e features
He loves Annie’s and will until the end
Mano continues to bring infectious passion to his job at iconic restaurant
It’s rare for a restaurant to thrive for more than 75 years. Rarer still is a restaurant whose history is so deeply intertwined with the growth and resilience of a minority community. Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse in Washington, D.C.’s Dupont Circle is one of those exceptional places — a cornerstone not only for the city of Washington, but also for its vibrant queer community.
Several factors contribute to a restaurant like Annie’s becoming a foundational space of cultural and historical significance. Its welcoming atmosphere, fostered by a warm and inclusive staff goes beyond mere hospitality. The decor doesn’t just acknowledge Washington’s LGBTQ community — it proudly celebrates it. And, of course, the award-winning food and drinks leave a lasting impression, making Annie’s a true icon in the nation’s capital.
When walking down 17th Street, where Annie’s is located after 76 years (even after moving three blocks north of its original location on 17th in 1985), it becomes understandable how this stretch of street has always been the heart of the “gayborhood,” regardless of season or political administration. The rainbow flags on nearly every light pole and stickers in nearly every window signal this place is not only a safe space for the LGBTQ community, but a place where being queer is worth celebrating.
Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse has long been a beacon of unwavering support for the LGBTQ community, particularly during times when openly identifying as LGBTQ was met with societal stigma or worse. This dedication, which started back in 1948, has cemented Annie’s as more than just a restaurant — it’s a queer haven and cultural landmark.
Georgia Katinas, the general manager of Annie’s and granddaughter of Annie’s founder George Katinas, told the Blade supporting the D.C. LGBTQ community is a key part of running Annie’s.
“I see Annie’s as a pillar of the LGBTQ community, and it’s important to me to continue that legacy,” said Katinas. “Getting involved in our community in many different facets, supporting LGBTQ nonprofits and organizations, hosting kickball brunches, hiring LGBTQ/queer members of the community — all of that’s incredibly important to me, and it’s an honor. I take the family legacy very seriously, and I really am proud to continue it and to show up on behalf of my family and on behalf of the community and continue to be here.”
One of Annie’s unique legacies is its connection to the High Heel Drag Race, a beloved LGBTQ event on the Tuesday before Halloween. It started as a race between Annie’s and gay bar JR.’s in 1986, and has grown into a vibrant mini Pride celebration on 17th Street now managed by the mayor’s office.
Although it takes a collective effort to transform Annie’s into the James Beard Award-winning restaurant it is today, one server has stood out for decades. Since 1975, his infectious attitude and heartfelt care have made him a cornerstone of the Annie’s experience, drawing loyal customers back time and again.
Mano, with his instantly recognizable horseshoe mustache and ever-present smile, has been a key part of the institution that is Annie’s for as long as most regulars can remember. Hired as the first male staff member in 1975, Mano has remained a key face for the restaurant going back to when Annie herself served food on the dining room floor.
“We treat every customer like a member of our family,” Mano told the Blade during a recent interview discussing his lengthy career in the restaurant. “Ninety-nine percent of the people feel like regulars, and that 1 percent are on their way to becoming them.”
For 49 years, Mano has been a beloved fixture at Annie’s, his passion for the job evident to everyone around him — from coworkers behind the bar to guests in the booths. Known for gestures like cutting steaks for diners, Mano’s dedication once saw him working seven days a week, a testament to his love for being part of the Annie’s team.
“I feel every day better than the day before,” he said. “I love the people more than the day before. I look forward to loving them more. I can’t predict the future. The past is experience. Right now, at the moment, I am enjoying it.”
Despite his glowing appreciation for Annie’s, Mano has had to cut back from working at the restaurant as much as he once did. As he has grown older, Mano has slowly taken a day or two off from his work schedule.
Katinas became emotional when reflecting on Mano’s history with the restaurant.
“He wants the guests to have the perfect experience,” Katinas said. “He takes training very seriously. He has his own systems for how he counts money and uses the computer. He’s very particular but always so kind about it. When I watch him train new people now, I remember when he trained me. It’s very intentional and intense in moments because he cares so much.”
Mano’s presence and unwavering commitment to delivering impeccable service at Annie’s elevates him above many in the food service industry. His contributions also reinforce Annie’s cornerstone role in Washington’s queer history. When asked what sets his legacy—and by extension, Annie’s legacy within the LGBTQ community—apart from that of a server at any other restaurant, one word stood out in his response: respect.
“Give yourself some respect,” Mano said. “Give them [the customers] all the respect you want for yourself. If you cannot respect yourself, you cannot respect anyone else. I am a mirror reflecting you. When you are sitting at the table, I am a mirror reflecting you.”
Katinas explained Mano’s passion for Annie’s is infectious and has helped shape the culture of the restaurant. She also explained that his passion reflects how Annie ran the restaurant in years prior, with caring about people at its center.
“He takes young servers under his wing,” Katinas explained. “He takes busboys who don’t speak the shared language, and he treats them with such compassion and generosity. Annie was someone who would always sit and talk with you. She would put her hand on your shoulder and really listen. And Mano does that too.”
“We’re all busy, we’re all running around, but Mano really will sit and take the time to get to know you and to listen to your troubles or happy moments, anything,” Katinas added. “He makes sure, even if he’s across the restaurant and someone walks in the door, he’ll yell ‘Welcome in!’ The sense of hospitality is in his blood.”
Not only is he one of the most passionate people in Annie’s at any given moment, but Katinas also highlighted that he cares about the people and history of Annie’s in a truly unique way.
“He’s like the lighthouse captain,” she said, tearing up and smiling. “He has to be tethered to the building. He doesn’t get too far from it and is like, ‘No, no, I’m going to be at my post.’ He’s always there in the front, and everyone knows to expect him there.”
“He’s got a heart bigger than his entire body,” bar manager Scott Paxton chimed in. “He would do anything for just about anybody. He’s the first one to get here, he’s the last one to leave. He’s the most dedicated out of all of them. He’s always offering to help.”
“For a lot of us, he’s the first person that we met,” Paxton added. “This place has been here for a long time with a long legacy, but he is a big part of that legacy. And so you wander in here for the first time and he’s the person that you meet first.”
“You don’t know where to sit or who’s who, but you probably end up sitting with Mano in his section and so it sort of becomes like your home base,” he said. “There are hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people that come through here and that’s their first contact with anyone and people that request him. And 40 years later, they come in on Wednesday night and they want to see him.”
Mano’s final thoughts about the restaurant reflected what multiple staff and guests have made clear — he loves Annie’s and will until the end.
“I wish them the best success,” Mano said pointing to Katinas, Paxton, and other staff working at the bar. “And they’re going to have it thanks to everybody, all these years of support for this place.”
a&e features
Local LGBTQ chefs share favorite Thanksgiving recipes
Happy holidays from Jamie Leeds, Patrick O’Connell, Mr. Bake and more
Delightful dishes and cool cocktails are at least one guaranteed way to bring joy to Thanksgiving when the season may look challenging. This year, we asked prominent local LGBTQ chefs, mixologists, sommeliers, and restaurateurs to offer recipes and suggestions for Thanksgiving.
Jamie Leeds, Hank’s Oyster Bar
This recipe is the ultimate ode to Chesapeake Bay oysters, using both the oyster and its juice (known as the liquor) to season the stuffing. Leeds is a pioneer in the restaurant industry in Washington, D.C., and was also a a former Washington Blade Most Eligible Single.
Chesapeake Oyster Stuffing
(8 servings)
1 pint (approx. 24) Shucked Chesapeake oysters with liquor
1 cup Celery, small dice
1 cup Yellow onion, small dice
1 stick Butter
1 tsp Salt
1/2 tsp Old Bay seasoning
1/8 tsp Tarragon, fresh
1/8 tsp Thyme, fresh
1/2 tsp Lemon juice
4 Cups Bread, day old, 1”cubes
3 Tbsp Parsley, fresh, chopped
2 Each Eggs, beaten with 2 T water
Steps:
Strain oysters, reserving their liquid. Place oysters in a large mixing bowl with the cubed bread. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Coat the inside of a 2-quart (or slightly larger) baking dish with cooking spray.
In a 10-inch sauté pan, melt the butter and add celery and onions. Cook on medium heat until vegetables are tender, about five minutes. Add salt, thyme, tarragon and Old Bay seasoning, stir to incorporate. Add reserved oyster liquor and cook for 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature. Once cool pour over oysters and bread. Mix gently until moistened.
Gently fold in the eggs, lemon juice and parsley until fully incorporated. Transfer to the baking dish, cover and bake for about 30 minutes, then remove the foil and bake for another 10 to 15 minutes, until top is browned. Can be prepared 1-2 days in advance and kept refrigerated before baking. Tip: If you do not have day-old bread, place cubed bread on a baking sheet and put in a 350 degree oven for about 10-15 minutes until the bread is crusty on the outside. Let cool completely before adding oysters.
Mr. Bake’s Award-Winning Banana Pudding
Kareem “Mr. Bake” Queeman is famous for not only his fabulous presence on social media and reality TV, but also his Banana Pudding, which is the perfect addition to your holiday table. In this recipe, the James Beard semifinalist baker and owner of Mr. Bake Sweets shares his award-winning banana pudding recipe that helped Kareem win his first-ever competition as a baker (the first of many!), and showcase it on the “Kelly Clarkson Show” this past Easter. This is Kareem’s variation on a Southern family recipe passed down by his late aunt Janet Wills.
This holiday dessert is a delicious combination of easy to find and affordable grocery store ingredients, and even includes an option to use store-bought pudding mix if you’re in a time crunch (just make sure to save time to put your pudding in the fridge). Just keep in mind that you’ll need to chilled a bowl in advance and a standard mixer to make sure you get that perfect fluffy texture in the pudding. If you’re feeling extra ambitious, you can make a homemade whipped topping or spring for store-bought in a pinch to add as a final topping on your pudding. Serve in bowls or eat it straight out of the bowl (we won’t judge) this pudding is sure to impress all season long.
Technique Tip:
● Make sure you chill your bowl and mixer attachments before whipping your
heavy cream into cream. This helps ensure the heavy cream whips up nice
and high, and won’t take as much time.
● Make sure the bowl isn’t touching the water when placing your custard bowl
over the double boiler. You’re using just the steam to cook, dissolve and
double your custard in volume.
● Temper your eggs into the cream make sure you add about a cup of the hot
into the egg mixture. This helps make sure you don’t cook and scramble eggs.
Swap Option:
● You can use all heavy cream or whole milk for Half and Half. (Half and Half is
equal parts heavy cream and whole milk)
● You can use Cool Whip if you don’t have heavy cream to make whipped cream
(use about 3 to 4 cups of Cool Whip)
Serving Size: Serves 12 to 15 people
Yield: Makes about 5 to 6 cups of custard.
Prep Time: Custard 6-8 minutes for cook and prep, 2 hour- overnight for chilling
3-6 minutes to whip and blend in custard into the sweeten whipped cream
6-10 minutes to assemble
30 min chill time in the fridge once everything is layered
Cook Time: 6-8 minutes
Serve and keep chilled and enjoy.
Hand mixer/stand mixer
Banana Pudding Trifle (From Scratch)
● 8 large egg yolks
● ½ cup granulated sugar
● 6 tablespoons cornstarch
● ½ teaspoon kosher salt
● 3 cups half & half
● 2 tablespoons pure vanilla extract
● 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
● 14 oz can condensed milk
● 2 cups heavy cream
● 3 tablespoon confectioners sugar
● Vanilla wafer cookies 3 to 5 standard boxes (Nabisco preferred)
● 4-5 large bananas, sliced
● Optional: Whipped cream for topping
Preparation:
1. In a large heatproof bowl, whisk together egg yolks, sugar, cornstarch and
salt until well blended. The mixture will be thick and pale in color. Set aside.
2. In a medium saucepan, heat the half & half to a rolling boil (do not actually
boil). Remove pot from the heat.
3. Whisk 1 cup of the half and half into the egg-yolk mixture. Mix until
combined, then whisk in the rest of the half and half.
4. Set the bowl over a pot of simmering water (make sure the bottom of the
bowl doesn’t touch the water in the pot). Cook and whisk constantly, until the
mixture has thickened, 5 to 7 minutes.
5. Remove the bowl from the heat and whisk in vanilla until combined. Let the
mixture sit and cool, 2 to 3 minutes.
6. Whisk in the butter until it is melted and the pudding is smooth and silky.
7. Place a piece of plastic wrap directly on top of the pudding and let cool to
room temperature, about 30 minutes to an hour.
8. Whisk in the condensed milk and chill for 2 hours or overnight.
9. In the bowl of a standard mixer, use the whisk attachment to whip the heavy
cream on medium speed until it starts to thicken. Add the sugar and beat
until the cream holds stiff peaks. (Whipped cream should stand straight up
and stand in place when you remove your attachments.
10. Add the chilled pudding custard to the sweetened whipped cream, gently
folding it into each other.
11. To assemble the trifle, spoon 1/3 of the pudding into a glass trifle bowl. Top
with sliced bananas then wafer cookies. Repeat this process ending with
custard at the top, then add fresh sliced bananas, crushed wafer cookies and
fresh whipped cream (optional) as décor.
Executive Chef Harley Peet, Bas Rouge
As a longtime resident of the Eastern Shore and an avid waterman, seafood naturally takes center stage in Peet’s dishes. Holidays conjure warmth, and the very essence of comfort food is the pot pie. On the Eastern Shore, where salty air mingles with generations of watermen’s tales, the choice was clear. Sweet, tender lobster and delicate sea scallops elevate this timeless classic, where rustic tradition meets refined flavor and presentation in a dish that captures a sense of place.
Scallop and Lobster Pot Pie on a Scallop Shell
Yield: 4 servings
• 1 sheet puff pastry, cut into quarter-size circles
• 1 each egg
• 1 tablespoon milk
• 5 slices smokey bacon, cut into half-inch pieces
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1/2 cup celery, small diced
• 1/2 cup onion, small diced
• 1/2 cup carrots, small diced
• 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1 quart heavy whipping cream, cold
• To taste pepper, freshly ground
• To taste lemon, juiced
• 2 ounces Parmesan cheese, grated
• 1 each lemon, sliced into wedges
• Salt to taste
• 4 each large sea scallops, raw and sliced into quarters [ask for scallop shells]
• 2 each [2.5 lbs.] steamed lobster, diced into half inch pieces
• Parmesan cheese, grated, to taste
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. In a small mixing bowl, beat the egg and add the milk to create an egg wash. Place the quarter-size circles of puff pastry on a baking sheet and brush the puff pastry with the egg wash. Bake in the oven for 12-15 minutes, or until the pastry is puffed and golden brown. Set the puff pastry aside.
Brown the bacon in a heavy-bottom Dutch oven or saucepan, such as Le Creuset or Staub. Once the bacon is browned, remove it from the Dutch oven and set it aside. Do not discard the bacon fat. Add the butter to the bacon fat in the Dutch oven. Add the celery, onion, and carrot to the pot, and sweat out the vegetables until they are translucent and soft. Take the Dutch oven with the vegetables off of the heat and sprinkle the flour over the vegetables to make a roux. Return the Dutch oven with the roux to the stove over medium heat. Add the cold heavy whipping cream and whisk to remove roux balls. Season the mixture with freshly ground pepper, to taste, and a squeeze of lemon juice, to taste, for a bit of acidity. Simmer the mixture until it gets thick. Once the mixture has thickened, remove it from the heat. Fold in the scallops and lobster into the mixture. Grate the Parmesan cheese into the mixture and stir to incorporate all ingredients. Set the mixture aside, and let it cool in the refrigerator. To note – the mixture can be made up to a couple of days in advance and kept in the refrigerator. (Add the seafood after to extend the lifetime of the mixture or use it immediately.)
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Arrange the scallop shell on a flat baking tray. If needed, arrange with some salt or oven-safe ware to hold the shells upright, in order to keep them from tipping over and losing the topping mixture [they will not fall or warp]. Scoop a [generous] tablespoon of the cold mixture into a scallop shell and top it with a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese. Bake in the oven until the cheese is bubbling and golden brown, or approximately 6-8 minutes. Top each stuffed scallop shell with a pre-baked puff pastry round. Garnish with lemon wedges and serve.
Chef Patrick O’Connell, Inn at Little Washington
Chef Patrick O’Connell, renowned for his three Michelin stars at The Inn at Little Washington, is excited to share one of his beloved recipes for the holiday season.
For nearly four decades, a shot of this soup was served as the first course on The Inn at Little Washington’s tasting menu during the winter months. This beloved classic from Chef Patrick O’Connell found a new life at Patty O’s Café and has been touted as “The world’s most refined version of bean soup.” Pureeing the beans and adding a touch of cream makes for a delicate soup, but all the hearty flavors remain intact. The best of both worlds, and a perfect beginning for a fall or cold weather dinner.
White Bean Soup with Virginia Country Ham
Ingredients (serves 8)
• 1/2 pound dried Cannellini or Great Northern Beans
• 5 strips of bacon
• 2 medium onions, coarsely chopped
• 5 leeks, chopped and thoroughly cleaned
• 1 cup chopped celery
• 4 bay leaves
• 4 quarts chicken stock, preferably homemade
• 1 ham bone (optional)
• 2 cups heavy cream
• Salt and cayenne pepper to taste
• Optional garnishes: shaved country ham; fresh cream, whipped; cracked black pepper; minced chives
Directions:
1. In a medium saucepan, cover the beans with cool water and soak overnight.
2. In an 8 quart stock pot, cook the bacon over medium high heat until browned. Add the onion, leeks, celery, and bay leaves and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Drain and rinse the beans and add them to the stock pot along with the heated stock and ham bone (if using). Simmer until the beans are very soft, about 1 hour.
4. Remove the ham bone and bay leaves from the soup. Puree the soup in small batches in a blender or food processor and strain.
5. Return the soup to the heat and add the cream. If the soup is too thick, add more stock or cream. Season with salt and cayenne.
6. At Patty O’s Café, we pour the soup tableside over a bed of shaved local Virginia ham, and garnish with fresh cream whipped with cracked black pepper and fresh chives.
Jonathan Dearden, KNEAD Corporate Chef
KNEAD, one of the largest D.C.-based restaurant groups, is owned by gay couple Jason Berry and Michael Reginbogin.
Chef Dearden’s favorite recipe from the Succotash Prime menu that is perfect for Thanksgiving: “Gochujang Brussels Sprouts on our Succotash Prime menu is one of my favorite unique Thanksgiving sides. At the restaurant we fry in the deep fryer. This recipe has been adjusted to use an Air Fryer.”
Air Fried Gochujang Brussels Sprouts
Gochujang Vinaigrette
• 380g gochujang (hot)
• 150g orange juice
• 20g garlic, minced
• 30g ginger, minced
• 20g Fresno chilies, finely chopped
• 100g lime juice
• 100g rice wine vinegar
• 10g salt
• 750g canola or vegetable oil (approx. 1 quart)
In a blender or food processor, combine gochujang, orange juice, garlic, ginger, Fresno chilies, lime juice, rice wine vinegar, and salt. Blend until smooth.
With the blender running, slowly stream in the canola or vegetable oil to emulsify. Adjust seasoning if needed.
For Plate-Up
• 500g Brussels sprouts (about 1 pint)
• 50g gochujang vinaigrette
• 15g garlic chili crunch
• 3g sesame seeds (white and black, mixed)
• 3g scallions, sliced
• Salt and black pepper, to taste
Preheat air fryer to 400°F (200°C).
Toss the Brussels sprouts with a small amount of oil (just enough to lightly coat them) and season with a pinch of salt.
Place the Brussels sprouts in the air fryer basket in a single layer. Cook for 12-15 minutes, shaking the basket halfway through, until the sprouts are golden brown and crispy.
Transfer the air-fried Brussels sprouts to a large bowl. Drizzle with 50g of the gochujang vinaigrette, tossing lightly to coat but keeping them crispy. Season with salt and black pepper as needed.
Plate the Brussels sprouts in a serving bowl and garnish with garlic chili crunch, sesame seeds, and sliced scallions.
Anthony Aligo, Barkada Wine Bar
Aligo Aligo and business partners Nicholas Guglietta and Nathan Fisher, all gay men, founded their cozy wine bar in late 2020. They are offering two recipes this season: mushroom stuffing and a cranberry royale drink.
Mushroom Stuffing
This savory and earthy dish is perfect for Thanksgiving, featuring tender mushrooms, aromatic herbs, and hearty bread. It’s an excellent alternative or complement to traditional stuffing, especially for vegetarians or mushroom lovers. The dish balances rich flavors and comforting textures, making it a great side that pairs well with other Thanksgiving favorites like turkey, gravy, and cranberry sauce. With its umami depth and seasonal ingredients, this stuffing brings warmth and variety to the holiday table.
Mushroom Stuffing
Ingredients
• 12 cups of one-inch dried bread cubes or dried stuffing mix
• 1/2 cup salted butter
• 2 onions
•1 cup celery
•1 clove garlic
•1/2 lb of your favorite mushrooms
• 2 cups chicken or turkey broth
•1/3 cup fresh parsley
• 2 tsp fresh rosemary
Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add sliced mushrooms, onions, celery and minced garlic. Cook until tender. Pour in chicken/turkey stock. Add minced parsley and rosemary and salt and pepper to your liking. Let simmer for 1-2 minutes.
Add bread cubes to a large bowl. Pour the mixture in a bowl and mix. Stuffing should be moist but not mushy. If not moist enough, add water.
Grease a 2-quart baking dish. Add stuffing. Bake for 40-50 minutes at 375 until stuffing is slightly browned on top.
Cranberry Royale
This drink is a festive and refreshing cocktail, perfect for Thanksgiving celebrations. With a blend of tart cranberry juice, a hint of orange, and a splash of dry Lambrusco, it offers a beautiful balance of flavors and a light, sparkling finish. The cranberry brings a seasonal twist, while the Lambrusco adds effervescence, making it an ideal aperitif to start the holiday. Its bright red hue adds a festive touch to the Thanksgiving table, celebrating the flavors and colors of the season.
• 0.5 oz Vodka
• 0.5 oz Orange Juice
• 1.5 oz Cranberry Juice
• 3.0 oz Lambrusco (dry)
Shake the cranberry, orange, and vodka with ice, and strain into a flute or coupe. Top with Lambrusco and garnish with orange peel.
a&e features
Should gay snowbirds cancel Florida amid anti-LGBTQ attacks?
The ethics of soaking up the sun while DeSantis targets our own
The sunny state of Florida has long been a draw for many members of the LGBTQ community, particularly those from cold Northeast states who flock there in winter.
With temperatures cooling off, the annual migration is underway, despite Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis and his agenda attacking queer rights. Florida’s hostile environment has a long history, including the failed attempt by Anita Bryant to keep gay teachers out of the Miami school district some 40 years ago.
That homophobic tradition continues. In addition to the current administration’s draconian “Don’t Say Gay” law, and DeSantis’s threats to Disney World in Orlando, the LGBTQ section was recently removed from the Visit Florida website.
Travel is perhaps the most important industry for much of Florida, especially the Southeast and many gay couples decide to retire to the land of eternal summer permanently. Then there are those who flock to “winter” in the state.
Tony Adams is a journalist, editor, playwright, and former contributor to the South Florida Gay News. In 2016, he published a book, “Ending Anita: How Two Key West Bartenders Won Gay Marriage for Florida.” He and his husband spend time there every winter. But he finally had enough.
“I didn’t like paying taxes to the DeSantis administration,” he said. “I sold my place in Fort Lauderdale.”
But he cautions against an all out boycott of the state.
“If we desert Florida now, we are depriving our LGBTQ+ businesses of the revenue they need to stay alive,” he said. “For that reason, I still visit Florida whenever I can, especially Key West and stay at the Island House. … Florida has a long tradition of homophobia in politics. In my book I assembled timelines of hatred going back to the 1977 campaign of Anita Bryant against gay teachers in public schools. Floridians get angry and then come to their senses, but maybe it’s just the flatness of the Florida terrain that allows that pendulum to swing more violently than in other states.”
The Blade reached out to several gay snowbirds from the Northeast for comment for this story; all declined to comment.
Ed Salvato, a leader in LGBTQ marketing and education for the tourism and hospitality industry, weighed in on the deletion of the LGBTQ tourism page.
“The removal felt like erasure, it also felt gratuitous,” Salvato said. “What harm was that information doing to anyone? I speak to many tourism and hospitality professionals as well as frequent travelers, almost all of whom were dismayed and angered by these actions.”
Anecdotally, Salvato said he has heard from friends who are fed up and want to move out. Those who visit frequently are rethinking their upcoming visit to the Sunshine State, he said.
“Recently, I spoke to a woman in Florida very active in hospitality and the diversity, equity, and inclusion space who said she just heard from a large conference of mostly African Americans from Historic Black Colleges and Universities who are canceling their big annual conference there,” Salvato said. “Since they feel that these anti-LGBTQ actions as well as others feel racist. Like the attack on ‘critical race theory’ teaching and attacks on DEI create an unsafe environment for their constituents. This is not good for the economy or reputation of Visit Florida.” He added, this will “take a long time to repair.”
On those like Adams who sold their property but still visit, Salvato notes, “In fact that actually feels like a better reaction than friends who are boycotting the state entirely. To me that makes no sense. The folks in the capital will still draw their salary whether or not you visit your favorite gay guesthouse in Florida. However, the gay owners of that guesthouse or the queer staff will suffer so your boycott hurts the very community who you wish to protect.”
The sheer number of queer people, especially young gay men often escaping hostile families when they graduate high school or before, who find work in the nightlife industry is staggering. Each June, throngs of these young men arrive hoping to find a welcoming community, a job, and a sunny beach.
“In the instance you cite,” meaning snowbirds who may wish to sell property and visit long-term, “this shifts the benefits around the state so that’s better than a boycott but I think the best thing we can do is to go and support those destinations and suppliers that are daring to continue to reach out to LGBTQ travelers despite the signals sent out by the conservative state government.”
Nadine Smith, executive director of Equality Florida, took a similar stance as Salvato. How much money does the state earn from the “gay dollar?” She said “billions.”
“The state not only disrespects a significant contributor to its tourism economy but also sends a dangerous and exclusionary message,” Smith said. “This wasn’t just a petty move — it’s part of a calculated campaign to push LGBTQ people out of public life in Florida. When questioned about why they did this, Visit Florida officials confirmed that this removal was done to align with DeSantis’s hostile policies and rhetoric toward the LGBTQ community.”
Like Salvato, Smith and Equality Florida recommend spending your dollars at LGBTQ-friendly businesses.
“Residents and visitors can also channel their economic influence toward companies that align with their values, sending a strong message that equality and inclusivity matter to them,” Smith said. “Equality Florida is a proud partner of Open To All, a growing coalition of businesses large and small that pledge to be welcoming and inclusive. Customers can search ‘open to all’ businesses on YELP, empowering us to vote with our dollars and support businesses that prioritize and actively advocate for LGBTQ rights.
“In Fort Lauderdale,” she added, “VisitLauderdale.com launched a new social media campaign, “No End to the Rainbows,” to reaffirm their commitment to promoting a welcoming and inclusive environment for all.”
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