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It took only one average dinner at a rather expensive cottage bistro that opened in the Crescent City last year to remind me: New Orleans isn’t New York, where restaurants open at such a fevered pace that serious eaters race between the latest luminaries for bragging rights.
Sarah Kajani had just started her freshman year of high school when the terrorist-hijacked planes struck the Twin Towers. As if adolescence were not agonizing enough for a Muslim girl in Peachtree City. “Suddenly all eyes were on us, so for a couple of years, my Indian family and I kept the outward signs of our religion—our prayers, our customary dress, henna tattoos—low-key,” she says. “There was this feeling in the air that we all should apologize. My cousin
Steve Santhuff adopted his first turtle when he was five years old. It had taken up residence in his yard, in a dollhouse that his grandfather had made. As a child, Santhuff collected richly patterned common map turtles, and he grew obsessed with the beautiful, exotic species and their kin. More than thirty years later, his day job is management at a transportation company, but Santhuff’s passion is still turtles. At one point, he had more than 500, kept in some thirty five-foot-wide