Halfhourdinner

Luau!

Halfhourdinner — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 11:11:23 GMT

(...a Cajun Luau, that is.)

Louisiana is famous for its seafood, and rightly so. The Cajun Luau is more than seafood though. Get you stockpot out from its hiding place. You're gonna need it for this.

This is not an inexpensive dish, unless you're feeding relatives. It can be messy, it's eaten with the fingers and just serving it is a challenge. It works best on a picnic table, but you'll figure out a way to make it work inside -- after all, you're a woman.

Here we go:

Fill the stockpot 3/4 full of water. Get it started toward a boil.

Throw in one quarter bottle of Zataran's liquid crab boil.

Add potatos. Don't skin 'em. Those jackets will keep them warm.

Add a pair of peeled onions.

If you like mushrooms, add 'em.

Open a bottle (or a jug, if you've been paying attention to this blog) of cheap white wine. Spill some into your glass, then just a tiny splash into the stew.

If you've added enough potatos, etc. to feed the relatives or the neighbors, you should have a few (5 or 6) inches of water left at the top. So far, so good.

Keep boiling until the potatos are cooked.

Add fresh (or frozen) half-ears of corn on the cob. Add three tablespoons of Cajun seasoning.

Boil for three more minutes, turn off the fire, move the stockpot off of the burner if its an electric stove. Let it rest for five minues, then pour off the water.

The Adventure Begins

Cover the table, wherever it may be, with newspaper. Lots of newspaper, two or five pages deep.

Issue a few rolls of paper towels to your guests.

Turn the stockpot out onto the news paper.

Step back and tell your guests to eat with their fingers.

Accept the applause (again).

Tomorrow, I'm taking a day off. Today's my birthday (big deal) and I'm going to party tonight and sleep tomorrow!

-Chrissie

A Man's Major Food Groups...

Halfhourdinner — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 16:49:41 GMT

...include meat, red, beer and pizza. Forget the pizza and beer. Jambalaya is meat and red. It's spelled Jambalaya, but it's pronounced, "jumba-lie-uh." It's quick, filling and cheap.

Some folks call it "red rice." It is red. It is rice. The folks I know cook it on the stove top, then bake it. Of course, those folks would try to tell you how to improve on a beautiful sunset.

Jambalaya is rice, meat, fruit and vegetables. The meat can be anything, although most often, it's smoked sausage or, if you want to be party-fancy you could add shrimp or oysters to the mixture along with the smoked sausage.

It all starts with rice, of course, cooked in stock.

Now... it behooves me at this point to say that, if you want shrimp in this, boil the shrimp first. Here's how.

Use raw shrimp, still in the shell. Half a pound of "headed" shrimp (you just buy the tails) will feed four to six. Do not let the butcher/grocer steam them.

Get some 'shrimp boil.' Put the shrimp boil in a six quart pot of cold water and bring it to a boil. Don't add salt, no matter what the directions on the shrimp boil might say. Toss the shrimp (shells on) into the boiling water. Let them boil for three minutes, then take the pot off the burner. Then and only then, add two tablespoons of Cajun seasoning. Adding the Cajun seasoning (which is about 50% salt) at the last minute makes it easier to peel the shrimp.

You now have a pot full of shrimp stock. As you peel the shrimp, throw the shells back into the pot and keep it boiling until the shrimp are all peeled.

Peeling shrimp isn't an art, it's a science, and if you've successfully peeled shrimp, you know that. The easy way is to take a pair of kitchen shears, stick the point under the shell just a bit, and start cutting all the way to the tail, then peel the two half-shells off of Mr. Shrimp. If you use kitchen shears, the blade is wide enough to gouge into the back and remove what's called the sand vein - the shrimp's intestine, that black line. Otherwise, take a paring knife and split the back until you see the sand vein, the use the point of the knife to remove it.

Enough about peeling shrimp.

Strain the shrimp shells out of the stock, put the rice in - half a cup of dried rice per person per serving - and cook the rice like usual.

If you don't plan on adding shrimp, use chicken stock to cook the rice.

Along with the rice, add smoked sausage sliced into 1/4" thick round slices; a large onion, a stalk of celery and half a green pepper (or a mild jalapeno), diced, to the boiling stock. By the time the rice is done, the veggies will be, too.

Let the rice rest for a while after it's cooked. The longer, the better. This isn't absolutely necessary, but you can have another glass of that merlot.

Now, we make jambalaya.

Turn the heat back on under the pot of cooked rice, about medium low. Stir in half of a can (or a whole can, if want) of diced tomatos, and half a bottle of ketchup. Cook it covered, stirring occasionally, until most of the ketchup is absorbed by the rice. Add a shot or two of Worcestershire sauce, add a teaspoon of the Cajun seasoning, mix it well and slap it on the table with a nice Zinfandel or, if you're feeling adventurous, an Australian Shiraz.

Me-oh, My-oh, indeed.

Jambalaya is unique among Cajun foods, in that it will freeze well.

Gotta run; mine's boiling over. See ya' around the watercooler.

-Chrissie

Tomorrow: The Cajun Luau.

Dirty, Dirty, Dirty Rice

Halfhourdinner — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 08:29:47 GMT

This one's easier than the one from the box.

Chicken stock. Rice (three quarters of a cup of uncooked rice per person). Onion, Green Pepper, Celery (Remember the Holy Trinity of Cajun Cooking?).

A quarter pound of hamburger for each person.

Bring the stock to boiling, add the hamburger and boil for 5 minutes. Add the veggies and the rice. If you have any smoked sausage left, cut it up and throw it in. Bring it back to a boil.

Now make it dirty: add a teaspoon of black pepper, a half teaspoon of Cajun Seasoning and a tablespoon of parsley.

When it has boiled for 10 minutes, turn it down to low, cover it, let it think about the many ways it wants to be consumed by your love -- of good food.

When the stock is soaked up, when the beef is done, when the veggies are sighing as if they've discovered chocolate for the first time, it's ready. Serve it with French bread and a merlot.

Sorry it was so late in the day; Her Majesty the Cat was on for the vet today and it proved a struggle. I won, I think, but I'm certain she thinks she won. I won't argue; she'd win.

Tomorrow: Jambalaya and a history lesson

See ya' round the watercooler.

-Chrissie

Better Than Sex on a Plate

Halfhourdinner — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 23:22:08 GMT

This takes an hour or fifteen minutes, is not for children or the faint-hearted and is better than sex. It's Fried Pecan Pie.

I "borrowed" this recipe from the Camellia Grill on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans. It is neither low-cal or low cholesterol and should be eaten in small slices -- cut it for eight or ten slices to a pie.

If you want it to be quick, buy a pecan pie. It might seem extravegant to say that, but you're trading time for money. Also, eight or ten slices for a pie means it will last four or five days, particularly since it will be served only to the adult members of your tribe (you and your mate, silly!)

You can also cook your own. The recipe's on the Karo syrup bottle.

He served me fried pecan pie and proposed. I said no. Ten years and twenty pounds later, he's still proposing and I'm still saying no -- in between bites of fried pecan pie. - The girlfriend of a friend of mine.

Okay, you've got a pecan pie, sliced into eight or ten slices.

Take a large skillet (cast iron is best, but any skillet will do), turn the burner on medium and add one-half of a stick of butter and a small handful of pecans. Melt the butter. Put the pie in the skillet, crust side up. Fry for seven minutes. Turn the pie over. Some pecans will fall out, which they should. Fry the crust side for seven minutes or until it just begins to brown. Remove the pie to a large (dinner) plate.

This is where it goes from pie to foreplay

Put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of the slice of pie. Pour the butter and loose pecans from the pan, over the pie and ice cream.

Serve with strong coffee and candlelight.

See ya' around the watercooler.

-Chrissie

Oh, yeah, tomorrow: Dirty Rice.

Don't Gag! It's Just Protein!

Halfhourdinner — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 03:14:49 GMT

Red beans and rice. It sounds simple, but it's the home of complex flavors, a complete protein and one of the great literary puns.

Red beans, Anne Rice. I saw this on a t-shirt in New Orleans; for the full impact, it had to be said aloud and it brought my Cajun roots into direct contact with my home on Toulouse Street in the New Orleans French Quarter.

Cajun Comfort Food. $7.40 For 4, Plus a Doggie Bag for 2 More.

Red beans and rice is a comfort food for most of Southern Louisiana. Today's recession-proof recipe won't take a full thirty minutes, or it might take a few lazy hours, depending on how your day has been and how much wine is left in the box/jug.

A Cajun will get out of bed and start cooking a pot of rice even before pouring the first cup of coffee. Ask them what they're going to make, and they might have no idea, but the rice'll be ready...

Break out the chicken stock and rice and start the rice cooking, 1-1/2 cups stock for each 3/4 cup of rice. That'll keep you occupied for two minutes.

I'm sitting here in Tennessee, snow on the ground, and remembering what it was like at home, years ago. Cajuns just have to start the day by cooking rice. Customarily, red beans and rice is served on Monday night, perhaps to ease the shock of the change from weekend to work week, perhaps to ease the shock of the weekend. Perhaps it just depends on whether you start the week with the job you had on Friday.

Get out a large pot, turn the burner on "high" and put a few drops (5 or 6) of oil into the pot. Chop a large onion, half a green pepper and one stalk of celery. Put the veggies in the pot and stir them quickly for a few seconds.

For the next few days, be prepared: chop up the onions, two or three green peppers and two or three stalks of celery. In southern Louisiana, celery, onion and green pepper are called "The Holy Trinity," and appear in nearly every recipe.

Cut up some smoked sausage; this recipe will use about half a pound, or whatever you've got left from last night's gumbo.

When the onions start to turn translucent, add the sausage. Keep cooking for about one minute, without stirring anything in the pot. If it looks like it might burn a little bit, well, don't stir it cause it's just going to add part of the flavor.

Five minutes have passed. Are you stirring? Well, stop!

Human beings don't develop all at once. Their tastebuds aren't even fully developed and don't even begin to work right until they're about 20 years old. If their tastebuds don't work right by the time they're 25, they become food critics.

Pour three cups of water into the pot. Add two tablespoons of Cajun seasoning, half a teaspoon each of celery salt and onion powder. Open the eight cans of light red beans you bought at the supermaket (did I forget to mention you need to shop?). Pour six of them into the pot.

Run the remaining two cans through the food processor, blender or mash them with a potato masher. Put the result into the pot.

Now you have a decision to make: how much time do you have to cook? If you don't have time, keep the fire stoked and when the beans have boiled for five minutes, turn the burner off, cover the pot and wait ten or fifteen minutes before serving.

If, on the other hand, you have some time, cook the bean mixture for a while on medium low -- the longer the better. Stir every half-hour, add water to keep the beans, sausage and vegs covered. Drink another glass of that cheap white wine you're going to serve with this.

Breathe. Your part in this culinary drama is done, except for that occasional, gentle stir. It's taken about twenty minutes to produce one of the great comfort foods of America.

Tomorrow it'll be an adventure in low-cal deserts: Fried Pecan Pie, just like the Camelia Grill in New Orleans.

See ya' around the watercooler.

-Chrissie

Hard Times Cookin'

Halfhourdinner — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 06:32:19 GMT

Growing up in LaFourche Parish, Louisiana, meant two things: you're gonna learn to cook in lean times, and you're gonna learn about boats.

When people think about Cajun cooking, the first two things that come to their mind are gumbo and red beans and rice. They've never heard of hot dog spaghetti and they sure don't know how to make sausage from rice.

For you, dear Reader, that changes this week with seven easy, quick dishes that will keep your money in your pocket while keeping your tribe well fed.

The Cajuns learned long ago that, when times get hard and money for food gets scare (today, maybe?), buy rice. Rice is a staple in southern Louisiana, partly because it's inexpensive, partly because it's so versitile.

Show a Cajun a rice paddy and he can tell you exactly how much gravy it'll take to cover it.

Gumbo takes forever, right? And you've got to be an expert to keep from burning that...whadda ya call it...that roux? Restaurants (and most Cajuns) want you to think that. Here's a recipe, though, that makes a rustic chicken and sausage gumbo on the cheap in half an hour.

You've still got the chicken stock from the last post, and the cajun seasoning, right? Okay, put some stock in a pot and get the rice cooking. Use one quarter cup of uncooked rice per person and one half cup stock per quarter cup of rice. It should boil in two minutes or less, then turn the heat down to low and cover it.

Two minutes are gone. Only twenty-eight to go.

Put two tablespoons of oil into a medium-sized sauce pan and turn the burner up to medium high. When the oil gets hot enough to run easily, add two tablespoons of whole wheat flour and stir until the flour is broken up and mixed in.

Keep stirring, but watch: when the flour begins to bubble, stop stirring. Add one half teaspoon of Kitchen Bouquet or other browning sauce and stir only until the browning sauce is thoroughly mixed in. Then add some coarsely chopped medium onion, some coarsely chopped green pepper and some coarsely chopped celery (the kids can pick it out if they don't like it). Add one teaspoon of onion powder, one half teaspoon of celery salt. Cook, stirring slowly, for five minutes on medium high.

Stir until the veggies are covered with the flour mixture. Twelve minutes, so far.

Pour in twelve ounces (1-1/2 cup) of chicken stock. Stir until the flour is blended into the stock; it should be thin and dark. Add a tablespoon of that Cajun Seasoning.

Turn the burner up to high. You're gonna need it hot for what's next.

Use scissors to cut up a pound of smoked sausage (summer sausage; there's a dozen brands.) into 1/4 inch thick pieces, at an angle so that they look like slightly elongated cookies. Scissors are easier to manage than a knife and not as dangerous (they can be used for most veggies, too). Add the sausage to the pot which, by now, should be boiling.

Add one chicken thigh for each person. Leave the bone in if you want a rustic gumbo, or remove it if not. Leave it on high, boiling away until the chicken turns white on the outside. Then reduce the heat to medium until the chicken is cooked all the way through, about 15-18 minutes.

Gumbo is a thin soup. Add chicken stock to keep it that way.

A creole gumbo (like you get in New Orleans) is almost the same; the chicken is boned and it will likely have diced tomatos mixed in. Since "gumbo" is a West African word for okra, it may have sliced okra, too.

Hank Williams fans may wonder what "file" gumbo is. File (pronounced "fee-lay") is ground sassafras leaves. If you can find file, sprinkle a tablespoon over the top of the gumbo five minutes after you add the chicken.

Serve the gumbo over the rice, with french bread on the side.

Step back and listen to the applause.

Portion control: one quarter onion per person. One chicken thigh per person (remember yesterday's post?). About two or three inches of smoked sausage per person.

Use one green pepper no matter how many people are eating and use one stalk of celery: celery and green pepper give off their essential taste easily, so having more people eating doesn't mean adding more (expensive) veggies; it just means you cut them into smaller pieces.

That's all for now. See ya' around the watercooler!

-Chrissie

Tomorrow: Red Beans, Anne Rice.