Baton Rouge: A Home for a Time

A Home for a Time

Reveling in the Red Stick's Open Arms

By Kristina Pepelko

When my husband David and I crossed over the Mississippi state line in the spring of 2019, we had no connections to Louisiana—no friend, family member, or acquaintance we could rely on as we settled in. We were traveling from Michigan, the state where we were both born and raised. David secured a job in Baton Rouge and I was coming along for the ride. We also had little to no understanding of the local area and its culture—and whether we would be a good fit for it, or not. Knowing nothing for certain, I did somehow feel confident telling my Michigan friends that Louisiana would not be a forever place. At that time, I couldn’t imagine our move being more than a brief stop-over. And indeed, on paper, that may be exactly what it looks like as I write this from Michigan, two years later.

Courtesy of the author

But Louisiana was so much more. Our two years in the Pelican State were marked by the freedom to grow, explore, and flourish on our own terms. While I may not be able to pronounce most Creole-French words to save my life (I still say “lagniappe” as “la-gin-a-pay” in my head), Louisiana, for at least a little while, became home.

Embracing Local

To get acclimated to the area, we tried to get out as much as we could. I searched for a full-time local job, eventually landing one at Kids’ Orchestra, a nonprofit organization serving East Baton Rouge Parish. At my work and David’s, coworkers turned into friends with plenty of good times shared over happy hours at Cocha, Happy’s Irish Pub, Hayride Scandal, and The Vintage.

We joined Forum 225, a young professionals’ organization, which provided ample opportunities to meet Baton Rouge natives and transplants like ourselves. Near our apartment, BR Krav Maga became our gym, where we were warmly welcomed by owner Destin Thibodeaux and many fellow members. For me especially, BR Krav Maga proved to be a valuable place, as it set the cadence for a routine early on—one that I continued throughout our two years in the city, even as workouts went virtual during the early stages of the pandemic. Soon after arriving in Baton Rouge, I also signed up as an Adoption Matchmaker Volunteer at Cat Haven, a no-kill cat shelter. The gig provided a sense of comfort and purpose in an unfamiliar place—where I could help locals discover their forever friends and find my own ease among the many furry companions.

Other spaces that became important during our newness were the local markets—especially MidCity Makers Market and Red Stick Farmers Market, operated by Big River Economic and Agricultural Development Alliance (BREADA). As I attended these events week after week, month after month, familiarity set in as some vendors started to greet me with a wave and a warm smile; I was proud to be recognized as a regular. At MidCity Makers Market, I discovered a wonderful array of hard-working creatives, many of whose products now reside in my Michigan home, including: a handmade mug decorated with a gray cat sitting atop a camper from Ghada Henagan Ceramics; a colorful set of ceramic tumblers from Pollumination; an array of therapeutic, hand-poured candles with intentional names like “Awaken” and “Surrender” from a Sacred Space co.; and relaxing, all-natural bath salts from August.Sunshine Shop. At Red Stick Farmers Market, I fell in love with the amazing array of fresh produce on offer, including new-to-me foods like radish microgreens from Micro Pharms, Japanese eggplant from Fullness Farm, and zipper peas from Chenier Farms. The Farmers Market in particular became a special haven for me during the early summer of 2020, as the most challenging days of the pandemic unfurled. The drive-thru market experience that BREADA created was a consistent bright spot. It provided me with the opportunity to get out safely, support my favorite farmers, and gather healthful, local produce and products to bring home, including a sweet treat or two from The Sugar Mill Confections.

Hunting for Veggie Eats

Speaking of food, I’m a vegetarian—a challenge for a person living in a place like South Louisiana. As a newcomer, though, I enjoyed the chance to hunt for delicious veggie meals. Upon first moving and asking about plant-based options in the area, responses would range from “Good luck” to “So, you can have the chicken, right?” Over time, I learned to scour menus and made a list of places to try, which I checked off as we went and still keep on my phone for future visits.

For homemade vegan chocolate chips cookies, I’d look no farther than Plant Based Sweets by Lotus. For a hug in a bowl, try the June Noodles from Chow Yum Phat or Vegan Shoyu from Bōru Ramen. For amazing veggie-friendly pizza, go for the Margherita or Pesto from Rocca Pizzeria (make it vegan by subbing vegan cheese) and the Farmerita from Istrouma Brewing at Sugar Farms (out in St. Gabriel). For brunch or lunch, check out MJ’s Café for a full vegan menu (I recommend any of the soups and salads, the French Toast, the Game Changer, the Black Bean Torta, and the Cauliflower Wrap). For twists on breakfast classics, enjoy the goat cheese-filled Skinny Omelette from Another Broken Egg Café or the fried green tomato benedict called One Tomato, Two Tomato from The Ruby Slipper Café.

For more eclectic eats, head over to BLDG 5 for the Veggie Plate and to Cocha for any number of dishes, from the Criollo with jackfruit to the veggie-forward risottos. For a taste of Southern, soulful cooking, be sure to pay a visit to Vegan Friendly Foods—their oyster mushroom poboy is a dream come true and their vegan mac and cheese is one of my favorites. And, of course, for a healthy dose of sugar, head over to The Vintage for beignet bites or to Coffee Call, a seasoned stand-by, for pillowy full-sized beignets and beignet fingers.

While Baton Rouge may look like a meat-and-seafood heaven on the surface, there are plenty of vegetarian eats waiting to be discovered across the city. Eating my way through Baton Rouge’s under-the-radar veggie scene was a way to get to know the city more intimately—and to feel like I was carving out a space where I belonged.

Courtesy of the author

Finding Home

During our first year in Baton Rouge, “Where are you from?” was a question we heard often—our accents and mannerisms being wholly Midwestern. Our answers were usually some version of “We live in Baton Rouge, but we’re from Michigan.” As we eased into our second year, this answer felt less solid. When we traveled outside the city, even to New Orleans, our answer moved away from a jumbled explanation toward a simplified version of just “Baton Rouge.” It was easier to conjure this up in a quick chat, but also felt closer to something with depth and meaning behind it. While we may no longer have regular visits to Red Stick Farmers Market or happy hours downtown ahead of us, I know that there will always be a feeling of home waiting in Baton Rouge, thanks to all the wonderful, vibrant people and places we met along the way.