Chicago Blues: Jambalaya and the Lady in Red

(Continued from Chicago Blues: Change of Venue)

Featured Photo: “Jambalaya at Buddy Guy’s Legends”  Chicago, Illinois—2025

Sensing the quiet reverie following our exchange with the young guy, who was there to see Melvin Taylor, Omar the bartender nudged two menus across the bar toward us and cheerily asked if we wanted some food.

We scanned the options and were intrigued by the jambalaya: a savory Louisiana dish with African, Spanish, and French roots that combines meat with onion, celery, bell pepper, and spices. It was advertised in all caps as “BUDDY’S PICK”, made more tempting by the disclaimer “while supplies last.” It was the only overpriced item on the menu, but that’s what we ordered. Omar said it was a great choice. We asked for another beer, the Goose Island Green Line Pale Ale, which he delivered promptly.

While waiting for our dinner to arrive, we enjoyed the music from Lil’ Red & the Rooster. My friend remarked, “They’re pretty good.” I told him they were passable. But I had to admit—to their credit—this modest blues pair kept us entertained throughout their show, which lasted a full two hours. And still, the night was young and the best was yet to come.

Fifteen minutes later, Omar set two steaming bowls of jambalaya on the bar in front of us—today’s Featured Photo—each served up with one ball of white rice and two triangles of buttermilk cornbread.

Behind me, a woman’s voice exclaimed, “Oh, that looks good!” I turned to see Greg (or Gary) guiding his newly arrived companion to the formerly empty stool beside me. Perhaps a couple of years older than I, she appeared both elegant and dignified, dressed to the nines in a ruby-red dress that shimmered with sequins, set off by a jet-black jeweled jacket.

As she sat down, I took a bite of the perfectly seasoned jambalaya and the slightly sweet cornbread, then turned toward her and answered back, “It tastes as good as it looks.” And without thinking how it might sound, I added, “That outfit is stunning!” She tossed off an easy laugh and replied, “When you reach 70, you do all you can.”

She glanced at my getup, and I must have looked to her like something the cat dragged in: dressed for a Chicago winter’s night in flannel-lined blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. I was a guest in the city that is home to both the Cubs—most Chicagoans preferred baseball team—and the White Sox—the favorite team of the new American Pope. But I’d chosen to wear my powder-blue retro hoodie, with the iconic swirled maroon “P” from the Philadelphia Phillies’ 1980 World Series season. I’d hoped it would not prove too provocative.

She fished in her purse and pulled out a card. Handing it to me, she introduced herself. “My name’s Cat.” I took a quick glance at her card, then did a double take, recognizing the famous Legends logo behind her in the photo.

“Hey…that’s you…on stage…in this club,” I sputtered.  She beamed and said, “Yeah, we got to play here in Buddy’s a couple years ago.”

Wide-eyed, I replied, “Wow! That’s fantastic! Well, hello. I’m Mark.” She took another look at my powder-blue hoodie and asked, “Mind if I call you Philly?” “Not at all,” I said. She suggested I check out the QR code on her card. My iPhone browser pulled up her website: The Cat Gaddis Project, described as, “an awesome Blues and R&B Band consisting of some of Chicago’s best musicians.”

We chatted a while longer about Chicago and Philadelphia, baseball and the Blues. I turned my attention back to my jambalaya, and she turned to talk with Greg (or Gary) while they looked at the dinner menu. Omar took their order and later placed a plate in front of Cat. She’d passed on the jambalaya, opting instead for the catfish tenders. I said to her, “Hope yours is a good as mine.” With a twinkle in her eye, she smiled again and replied, “We’re not here for the food. Not even for the music. Tonight, we’re on a mission!” Then she tucked into her catfish and fries.

Near the end of the opening act, I decided to revisit Mount Bluesmore…

…and check out the restroom. Returning to my seat, Cat and Greg (or Gary) were headed in the opposite direction. She grinned and said, “Hey Philly, don’t let anyone take our seats, ok? We’re gonna talk to Buddy. That’s why I’m back. I want to ask if we can play in his club again.” “Sure,” I answered. And that explained her classy clothing!

Sometime after the opening act had finished their set, Cat and Greg (or Gary) returned, and she thanked me for holding their places. But they didn’t sit down. They stood behind the stools, deep in conversation, debriefing from their talk with Buddy Guy. And that was the last I saw of the Lady in Red. My friend and I turned back toward the stage where we watched the opening duo pack up their equipment—guitars, amps, drum kit, washboard, and that pink-ish rubber chicken. I didn’t notice when Cat quietly slipped out.

Now, a year later, I’m wondering whether her mission was a success. A Google search leads me again to her website. I click on the “Schedule” tab and get my answer. She must have made a good impression: four months after our trip to Chicago, The Cat Gaddis Project did indeed play again at Buddy Guy’s Legends.

Turns out she and her band played seven other gigs in different venues during 2025, with a couple more already scheduled this year. Something else in my Google search catches my eye: a splash of color in a video thumbnail. She played at an Octoberfest, hosted by St. Luke’s Lutheran Church in Itasca, Illinois, and there’s a YouTube video link to her show.

I click the link and begin watching. The scene opens: her band playing outdoors in front of the church’s yellow brick wall. The video is a bit shaky, filmed from the second row, the view partially obstructed from time to time by heads in the front row and the photographer’s fingers. The band jams alone at first and then—12 minutes in—the guitarist and bassist stroll a dozen yards away to greet Cat Gaddis and escort her to the front of the group.

And there it is: she’s wearing that same dazzling red dress she wore the night we saw her at Buddy Guy’s in Chicago.

Cat belts out the Blues, with gravelly growls and sweet vibrato to suit the song. She slips easily into smooth jazz and soulful R&B. One year ago in Chicago, I’d only heard her speak. Watching her now in Itasca, I hear her sing. And she sounds real good!

(To be continued…)