A gold star on my forehead. There was nothing I treasured more than that sticky foil star, smack dab between my eyes. I intended to wear it the entire day, as a trophy, a distinction. Unfortunately, within the hour my forehead was glistening with perspiration and the star lost its grip. Such is life in New Orleans where the weather is either balmy, hot, or ooh-wee chile’ scorching. What had I done to receive such a high honor? I cleaned my plate. Almost to the point of licking. I was at K-Paul’s, Paul Prudhomme’s restaurant, experiencing blackening seasoning for the first time. On redfish, I recall. Redfish seasoned and seared…