Chelsea Brasted is a New Orleans native, born and raised in Algiers before graduating from Ben Franklin High School and earning her journalism degree, cum laude, from LSU. She began her journalism career at The Times-Picayune, where, for nearly seven years, she worked in a variety of newsroom roles, including arts and entertainment reporter, lead reporter, breaking news editor, and metro columnist. Her reporting has taken her from Mardi Gras celebrations and music festivals to breaking news and stories about the people and traditions that make Louisiana unique — work that’s earned her multiple New Orleans Press Club awards, including for her coverage of Hurricane Ida for The New York Times.
Her work has appeared in some of the country’s most respected publications, including The New York Times, National Geographic, The Wall Street Journal, Bon Appétit, Food & Wine, and Southern Living. Along the way, she has written about everything from Cajun French and Mardi Gras to the women carrying Cajun cooking forward. She has also served as a judge for the James Beard Foundation.
Her reporting often looks at the people, traditions, communities, and changing cultural landscape behind food. In one of her stories for Food & Wine, for example, she examined the women helping shape the future of Cajun cuisine while also exploring how the national story of Cajun food has rarely captures its full depth.
Today, Chelsea co-writes the Axios New Orleans newsletter, bringing readers stories about the city five days a week. She also continues to write about food, culture, travel, and life in New Orleans while adding a new title to her already impressive list: author.
Her new book, New Orleans Food Story: Bars, Restaurants, Shops, and Other Purveyors, published by Reedy Press (2026), explores the food city we think we know while looking at the many stories that have traditionally received less attention. The book recognizes the importance of the Cajun and Creole traditions that helped establish New Orleans’ culinary reputation, while also exploring the chefs, restaurants, markets, makers, bartenders, and newer food communities helping shape what New Orleans eats today.
{Chelsea Brasted X account}
What’s your earliest memory of red beans and rice?
It’s hard to say because red beans and rice are such a mainstay of growing up in New Orleans! My first batch was probably at a family gathering for Mardi Gras.
Was red beans and rice a regular thing in your house growing up—or something special? Who made it?
It was regular, though not always on Mondays. My mom would make it, letting the beans simmer on the stovetop all afternoon while her binder full of recipes torn out from The Times-Picayune sat nearby on the counter.
Do you still eat red beans on Mondays? Why or why not?
I don’t. It wasn’t a hard-and-fast tradition for me growing up, so it’s not something I’ve had baked into me to continue. My parents aren’t from New Orleans; they moved here in 1983, so while I was born here, they were (and are!) still learning about New Orleanian cooking while I grew up.
What makes a perfect pot of red beans in your opinion?
I think the beans have to be just about broken down. They should still have some integrity so you’re not just eating mush, but there’s something really pleasant about the starchy beans making their way into the potlikker so they almost become a porridge consistency.
Red beans and rice means different things to different people—comfort food, community, tradition. What does it mean to you?
It means community. Anytime I can remember making red beans, it’s because someone left a pot simmering low on the stove during a Mardi Gras parade, or there’s a massive batch served in catering trays during a wedding, or lunch ladies were scooping it out on a Monday at school. Red beans mean you’re getting together with people to celebrate or mourn, but you’re doing it together.
You’ve spent much of your career listening to New Orleanians tell their stories. What do you think red beans and rice tells us about New Orleans that we might miss if we’re only looking at it as a dish?
So much of New Orleans food is served communally, and that’s really the best part of this place. This is a city full of people who know how to look out for each other, and how much of our food is eaten is representative of that.
Is there a person, place, or particular kitchen you always think about when you smell a pot of red beans simmering?
There isn’t, and I think that’s because red beans have been such a staple at gatherings for me. It’s not the memory of one pot, it’s the memory of them always being in the background that stands out for me.
Your new book, New Orleans Food Story, looks at the city’s food culture beyond some of the familiar stories we’re used to telling about New Orleans. After spending so much time reporting and researching food here, what do you think people outside New Orleans most misunderstand about the city’s food culture?
People love New Orleans food, but New Orleans food means so much more than that these days! You can get incredible cuisine representative of so many different cultures here today that you could eat well for a month and never tuck into a poboy or etouffe.
When you were working on New Orleans Food Story, did you encounter a food, restaurant, cook, neighborhood, or story that changed the way you think about New Orleans?
By writing about JusTini’s, I got to learn more about the Black women-owned bars in the city. I already knew Black women have an incredible legacy of entrepreneurship in New Orleans (like those who sold coffee or calas during earlier generations), so it was really neat to see another thread of that through today’s businesses.
After all your years writing about New Orleans—and now writing a book about its food story—what do you think red beans and rice still gets right about this city?
Red beans and rice is about warmth and friendship and not putting on airs to make sure you’re well fed to have a good time.
What’s something you wish someone who has never lived in New Orleans understood before they sit down to eat the food?
If you’re sitting down to eat red beans, then you’re sitting down to be cared for by someone, and that’s a beautiful thing, whether they’re in someone’s home or at a party or in a restaurant.
To stay up to date with Chelsea Brasted, follow her online:
- website: https://www.chelseabrasted.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cabrasted
- Axios New Orleans: https://www.axios.com/authors/cbrasted
- Reedy Press: https://reedypress.com/author/brasted/chelsea-brasted/
- Thrillist: https://www.thrillist.com/authors/chelsea-brasted
Eric Olsson is the food blogger of RedBeansAndEric.com. He publishes new recipes and interviews weekly. He has developed recipes and written articles for the famous Camellia brand in New Orleans, Louisiana. He has been mentioned in Louisiana Cookin‘ magazine and has had recipes featured in Taste of Home magazine – with his Creole Turkey recipe being runner up in their annual Thanksgiving recipe contest. He lives outside of Detroit, Michigan, with his wife and four children.
Ken Mask
Great share
Red Beans and Eric
Thank you, Ken!