Debra Voelker (photo by Renee Lapeyrolerie)
By Renee Lapeyrolerie
Debra Voelker is Jazz Fest, Mardi Gras, costumes, and mirliton. She has roots on St. Ann Street and Ursulines Avenue. Her dad grew mirliton on Orleans Avenue and her maw maw stuffed them on Canal Street. About six years ago, Debra got mirliton seed from a friend who’d shared on a social media post that she’d put them ‘out for the taking’ from her front porch. The supplier said that she had gotten seed from an elder whose vine survived Hurricane Katrina’s winds, although we have not been able to verify the source nor the location.
However nice that would be to know, Debra’s vine has produced multiple years and she was even gifted a crop in the Summer of 2021. Surely, a Louisiana heirloom due to its reliable production and physical characteristics. Debra made a sweet mirliton pie and a soup with her bonus crop. It’s the Fall yield though that brings back memories of her mirliton-filled youth. Her maternal grandmother, or maw maw, who lived on Canal Street just two miles from where Debra now lives, stuffed her mirliton mixture back into the shells for baking, some with ground meat and others with shrimp. Debra makes a traditional stuffing and has added mozzarella, an idea she picked up from a friend. Her father’s sister used to cut mirliton up into big chunks and pickle them that way, after all, mirliton was plentiful in the family.
Debra’s dad grew a vine on the hurricane fence of the home she was raised in on Orleans Avenue near North Carrolton Avenue. She remembers the vine growing all along the fence and sometimes over the garage. She has vivid memories of accompanying him up the street to put bags of mirliton on the neighbors’ stoops. “There would be Schwegmann’s bags of them,” she said, “it was wild!” That is a common unit of measure among mirliton growers during the century-long era of a popular supermarket chain in the New Orleans region.
As we swapped stories about caring for our respective vines she lamented, “I don’t remember my dad doing a damn thing to his vine.” But she does remember a time that a mirliton tendril grabbed onto her hair. When Debra retrieved the mirliton from her friend, they were off-the-vine. She had to wait for them to sprout, she potted them, and got the vine going. For two years the vine produced fruit until a jealous dog interrupted progress in year three. She made another raised bed across the backyard and now both vines have produced and are thriving. Like most growers in the path of Hurricane Ida, her vine support was toppled, but she left it in place because she had fruit.