My First Week Learning to Sew and Cooking New Orleans Red Beans and Rice
There’s something refreshing about being a beginner.
Not because it’s easy—it certainly isn’t—but because everything feels new. Every little accomplishment feels worth celebrating, and every day ends with the feeling that you’ve learned something you didn’t know when the morning began.
This week marked the beginning of my sewing journey.
After years of admiring beautiful handmade clothing, especially classic vintage dresses, I finally decided it was time to stop saying, “One day,” and simply begin.
One of the first things that surprised me wasn’t the sewing itself.
It was the people.
Over the past week, I visited a few sewing shops here in Huntsville, and I left each one encouraged. Complete strangers stopped what they were doing to help me find the tools on my growing shopping list. They shared stories about quilts they’d made, garments they’d sewn years ago, and projects they were still working on. One shop owner even recommended books and resources outside of her own store simply because she wanted to help.
In a world that often feels rushed, those small moments of kindness stayed with me.
This week also brought an unexpected treasure.
I found a beautiful sewing cabinet with a working vintage Singer sewing machine tucked inside. It’s the beautiful golden sewing machine in the featured photo of this post.
For now, though, I’m learning on a sewing machine that was generously given to me by a friend several years ago. It feels right somehow.
That vintage Singer will patiently wait until I’ve earned the confidence to sit down and sew on it one day.
Most of my week was spent doing things that experienced sewists probably don’t even think about anymore.
I learned how to wind my first bobbin.
I learned how to thread the machine.
I discovered what a throat plate is, what sewing notions actually are, and after a fair amount of trial and error, I stitched my very first lines of thread across a piece of fabric.
They weren’t perfectly straight. Some stitches were better than others. But I was so proud of myself.
There’s something deeply satisfying about making something with your own hands, even when it’s as simple as a first row of stitches.
The sewing room wasn’t the only place I worked with my hands to make something homemade.
One afternoon, I made a pot of New Orleans red beans and rice. It’s a recipe that’s engrained in my head. I remember many days that my grandmother would cook a pot of beans. I’ve heard many stories of my grandfather putting on a pot of beans in the morning before heading off to work at a mahoghany factory at 4 am.
Red beans are tradition and it was the perfect meal for a sewing kind of day.
Red Beans and Rice Recipe:
One pack of dried red beans that you will soak
Diced Onions, celery, bell pepper
Butter, vegetable oil
Pickled Pork ( not a must but so tasty)
Minced garlic, sage and thyme powder, any fresh herbs like oregano, parsley
Cajun seasoning, bay leaves
Water and vegetable broth to cover beans
Sauteed sausage toward the last hour or two of cooking to avoid mushiness ( Andouille or Conecah or whatever is on hand)
Cook for 6-8 hours on medium (adjust as needed) while stirring periodically to avoid any burning
Tip: If you ever do burn your beans, never scrape the bottom of the pot. Try to salvage the remaining beans on the top that have not burned.
As I looked back over the week, I realized I hadn’t really accomplished anything extraordinary.
I hadn’t cut out a pattern.
I hadn’t finished a dress.
I hadn’t mastered a new skill.
I hadn’t become an expert.
But perhaps that’s exactly the point.
For so many years, I’ve been focused on reaching the next milestone, finishing the next project, or moving on to whatever came next. This week reminded me that life isn’t lived only in the finished pieces. It’s lived while we’re learning, practicing, making mistakes, asking questions, and quietly becoming better than we were yesterday.
Maybe that’s why ordinary days can feel so meaningful if you allow them to be.
Not because they’re remarkable.
But because you’re finally slowing down enough to notice them.
Is there something you’ve been yearning to do or a hobby you wanted to have that would give you so much joy to learn or improve on?
I’m sure there’s something you’ve been wanting to do or try for a very long time now.
I’m looking forward to seeing where my interest in learning how to sew leads.
I plan to have so much fun in the meantime.
And I hope you do as well in whatever you decide to do.
