Truth be told, Jesse Hampton would rather not relive the nightmare he survived in New Orleans. But Hampton, who moved to Des Moines after Hurricane Katrina left him homeless and landed a job as a cook at the Des Moines Embassy Club, will recount his experiences, because he’s found that Iowans are genuinely interested.

Hampton, 42, was living in coastal St. Bernard Parish, one of the areas hardest hit when Katrina battered the Gulf Coast on Aug. 29. He stayed behind because he didn’t have transportation out of the city and he didn’t want to leave Ramo, a Rottweiler who saved his life by jumping on the bed and waking him when the record storm surge swamped the nearby Lower 9th Ward. After the dog prodded him from slumber, Hampton scrambled up the attic ladder he’d hastily pulled down, dragging the dog behind him as he stayed just ahead of the rising waters.

“The next thing I knew, the house came off the foundation,” Hampton said. “I was in water up to my chin.”

He needed to find higher ground. He kicked a hole in the roof, then scarred his hands as he pulled himself through the opening. He tethered himself to the chimney with an extension cord he’d found in the attic, a lifeline in case he drifted off to sleep in the two and one-half days he was marooned atop the roof of his home without food or water. Death was in the air as bodies floated by. Ramo had drowned in the attic. “He saved my life, but I couldn’t save his,” Hampton said, his dark eyes welling with tears.

“I did a lot of praying,” he said. “I thought I was all alone.”

Finally, the cavalry arrived, so to speak. More accurately a Coast Guard helicopter flew over and plucked him from the rooftop. He spent a few days at a shelter in Baton Rouge, then in a shelter in Gonzalez, La., where the Rev. Ray Lewis, a Baptist minister, asked refugees if anyone wanted to go to Des Moines, where they’d be put up at the Embassy Suites on the River until they found permanent housing. After sleeping on the floor with only a thin blanket to cover him, Hampton made the decision to make the journey within 45 seconds.

Michael LaValle, the Embassy Club’s general manager and culinary director, heard a WOI radio interview featuring Hampton, who has a degree from the Culinary Institute of New Orleans and had worked as a baker at the Orleans Café, and got in contact with him. LaValle and his staff had been talking about ways to help the hurricane victims, as well as solve a more local problem of ensuring an adequate staff for the club’s upcoming busy season. Both goals were met when Hampton took the job at the club, which he calls “a class act.”

“I didn’t make this position up,” LaValle said. “We had the work for him. He wasn’t asking for a handout; he wanted a hand up. He wanted to work his way out of the dilemma, and was willing to work hard to do so.”

LaValle has “a twinge of insight” into what Hampton was going through. “I’ve had nothing before in my life,” he said.

In 1993, to be exact. He lost his restaurant on South Union Street when the Raccoon and Des Moines rivers flooded downtown.

Last week, the renowned Cajun and Creole flavors that define New Orleans’ cuisine began showing up on the club’s buffet table. Hampton prepared gumbo the New Orleans way, with filé (ground sassafras), and also a Cajun pasta.

Hampton, who also is building a catering business, has been humbled by the generosity of Iowans. One person bought him a set of culinary knives. “Where I come from, if you don’t have your own knives, you aren’t working,” he said. “Knives are expensive.” Someone else paid for his uniforms. He showed off both when he cooked an eight-course meal for American Red Cross volunteers as a thank-you for their assistance. “They saved my life,” he said.

Surrounded by good will at every turn, he considers Iowa his home now. “I’m never going back,” he said. The trauma he endured to survive the hurricane is part of the reason, but he’s also looking at what’s best for his career. “In New Orleans, I have a lot of competition,” he said. “Cajun and Creole chefs are everywhere.”