Cajun Cuisine and More Volume 1: Great Recipes, Inspiring Stories

Transcription

Copyright
Copyright 2012
by Paul Raphael and D&M Publishing
Author and Chef Paul
website:
www.Paul-Raphael.com
Published by D&M Publishing
Raphael's
www.D-MPublishing.com
All rights reserved. This eCookbook
is protected by the copyright laws of the
United States of America. This book
may not be copied or reprinted for
commercial gain or profit. Recipe
copying or printing for personal use is
permitted and encouraged.
Cover photo and some of the recipe
photos were contributed by Mike Pabst
Photography, Tyler, Texas.
Other Photos: The author contributed
most of the recipe photos. D-M
Publishing also contributed other photos
to complete the project.
D-M Publishing: We used our full
suite of publishing services in the
creation of this eCookbook: Cover
Design, Formatting, Editing, Proof
Reading,
Photo
Editing,
HTML
Conversion for Kindle Upload, Kindle
Listing Enhancement, Author's Website
and
Advanced
Search
Engine
Optimization for the Entire Project.
All photos and cover art are
copyrighted by Paul L. Raphael and DM Publishing.
Cajun Cuisine and More Volume 1,
Kindle eBook
ISBN 978-0-9857052-0-6
Introduction
The author's interest in native
cuisines is one of hands-on discovery.
Born to Louisiana's unique natural
resources, he was reared among the
savory gumbos and jambalayas of
Creole and Cajun kitchens. And as an
adult, he circled the globe, taking from
varied cultures the arts of their ancient
hearths.
This versatile cookbook and the other
cookbooks in this series that will
follow, are a handy addition to the wellrounded repertoire of the modern cook.
Whether for family, for friends, or for a
memorable
departure
from
the
predictable, one may choose among
appetizers, sauces, sides, entrees and
desserts; many of which were included
for the more discriminating to assemble
as courses.
But this is much more than a manual
for Cajun cuisine; it is a collection of
Cajun humor, an assortment of native
history, an inspiring variety of bedtime
stories, and a dash of colorful lives and
unique events thrown in for seasoning. In
short, it's an aid to the kitchen, amenable
to the recliner, informative to the
curious, and comforting to the suffering
insomniac.
The reader will find the Table of
Contents immediately helpful: all the
recipes are featured in their own
category to set them apart from
dissimilar content. And many recipes
relate, by inference, to others that use
like ingredients - the cook's aid for
economy.
And, as any good art form demands,
this series of Cajun cookbooks is a work
in progress, awaiting the readers'
critiques and valued suggestions.
You are reading from volume 1 of
this cookbook series. You can preview
the Sampler Edition of Cajun Cuisine
and More by clicking here.
Please visit our website at www.PaulRaphael.com
Prologue
Louisiana cuisine is exquisitely
unique - much loved, seldom surpassed the result of an historic melding of
cultures, traditions, and a vast array of
unparalleled natural resources: crabs,
shrimp, oysters, flounder, red snapper,
and many other meats, seafood and
vegetables native to its productive lands
and waters.
The early colonists - known as
Creoles - came from France in the early
1700's, bringing their customs and
language with them. They were followed
by settlers from Spain, Germany, Italy,
Africa and Great Britain.
The Creoles, who first settled near
the present Mobile, and then later near
the future New Orleans, came from the
wealthiest families of France, as well as
other European cultural centers. The
Creole ladies endeavored to modify
their homeland cuisines to the resources
available in the local swamplands and
coastal waters, but these native
resources differed from many of the
ingredients needed to concoct the
delicately
seasoned
dishes
and
delectably light sauces of their
Motherlands.
Fearing conflict, if the colony's
French soldiers fraternized with the
local Indians, Governor Bienville
arranged for the transport of twenty-four
unmarried French ladies to the colony.
Discontented, the ladies demanded
Governor Bienville to somehow make
available the supplies they needed for
the foods they remembered from
home...or, they would leave. In
response, the Governor persuaded his
own housekeeper to address their
discontent - whereupon, she founded
what may well have been the New
World's first culinary institute. Teaching
the ladies cooking secrets she had
learned from the local Indians, they soon
began
employing
the
regional
vegetables, seafood and spices, applying
their European culinary skills in the
preparation.
While the Creoles were establishing
New Orleans, the Acadians, or Cajuns
as they came to be called, began settling
the swamps and bayous to the south and
west of the city. Migrating from Canada,
they were a hardier group, adapting
quickly to their new environment. The
cuisine of the Creole and Cajun, though
employing
mutually
available
ingredients, differed somewhat due to
the diversity of their heritage: the
aristocratic Creoles often enjoying seven
or more courses, the selections
reminiscent of dishes from Europe;
while the Cajuns, living close to the
land, relied on meals consisting of
whatever they could cook in one pot.
Over two centuries, the two styles have
slowly merged, including influences
from other immigrating cultures. As an
example, one may enjoy, in a New
Orleans eatery, an appetizer of oysters
Bienville and an entrée of jambalaya the appetizer Creole, the entrée Cajun.
Today, the two styles are interrelated by
generations of cultural coexistence and
the commonality of local ingredients.
Many Louisiana foods are
unequivocally of Creole and Cajun
origin and their incorporation from other
immigrants: okra, for example, a
vegetable introduced with slaves from
Africa. In fact, "gumbo" was the African
word for okra, and when okra gained
popularity as a natural thickener for the
Cajun stews, the stews became known as
gumbo. When okra was out of season,
cooks resorted to the native Choctaw use
of ground, dried sassafras leaves,
otherwise known as gumbo filé, a
product still employed as an alternative
to okra. The roux of a gumbo came about
by the amalgamation of original French
sauces by both Creole and Cajun cooks.
In France, roux was a combination of
butter and flour, but along with many
other adaptations, the settlers began
making roux with lard, due to a scarcity
of dairy products. Today, more often
than not, a Cajun recipe will begin with
a roux.
French cuisine is considered the
primary influence in Louisiana dishes,
but honorable mention should also be
given the Spanish for developing the
spicy nature of most Cajun and Creole
dishes with the introduction of red
pepper. While French bouillabaisse was
the precursor of gumbo, Spanish paella
developed into jambalaya. German
settlers brought with them the art of
sausage making, but that art includes
French and Italian immigrants as well,
such renderings as andouille, boudin and
tasso among the many variations in
Creole/Cajun cuisine. Today, we credit
all of these sources for the expansive
evolution
of
Louisiana's
world
renowned cuisine.
Louisiana, as it appeared in 1856
Reviews
A most unique and delightful book.
Full of short stories to warm the heart
and recipes to satisfy the most
discriminating tastes. Mouth-watering
photos make it impossible not to hurry to
the kitchen to get started!
M. E. P. , Southwest Louisiana, Wife,
Mother, Business Owner
Clever, captivating, delicious... three
words that describe this fantastic story
book of recipes! Technically this is a
cookbook, but in reality it is a unique
book of recipes brought to life through
stories laced with rich Louisiana history;
using romance as the spice, sweetened
with humor, sautéed in home spun
settings and enriched with spiritual
leaven.
This is a must read for those who delight
in cooking. From Seafood Gumbo to
French Bread Pudding with Whisky
Sauce, this book of recipes covers it all
in great detail, but don't forget the most
important ingredient. Once the cake or
pie is in the oven or the étouffée is
simmering on the stove, take the time to
settle in to your favorite chair and read
the accompanying story. It is sure to
make your dish more delicious than
ever.
Bon Appetit! - Prebble B. - Orlando,
Florida area
Wife, Mother, Artist, Designer, Business
Owner, Television Actress
Cajun Cooking at its Finest
Wow. I have been around the south
Louisiana cooking scene for 35 years
now and this is by far the best book I
have found on the market. The recipies
are a unique take on a classic cultures
cuisine. The humor alone was enough to
keep me enthralled. 6 stars
By J-RoD
This review is from: Cajun Cuisine and
More Sampler: Great Recipes, Inspiring
Stories and Cajun Humor (Kindle
Edition)
A cookbook with stories? Wonderfully
unique!
In reading through this cookbook, I not
only found mouthwatering recipes (a few
I have tried already with great
success)such as the most delicious Dirty
Rice I have ever had...and the Concord
Cake...Lordy, but dat was GOOD! I was
most fascinated with the stories. Some
were humorous and some tugged at my
heart, but each story was uniquely tied to
a recipe. This is a book that will make a
great gift and I can't wait to share it!
By Warren Bonett
This review is from: Cajun Cuisine and
More Sampler: Great Recipes, Inspiring
Stories and Cajun Humor (Kindle
Edition)
Publisher's Notes
One of the highlights of being a
publisher is the great writers that we
have the privilege of working with. Paul
Raphael is one of those rare and gifted
writers. He is not only a very creative
writer, but he is also a talented chef.
This combination has allowed us to
work together to create a unique and
extraordinary eCookbook. We are
confident that you will enjoy using and
reading volume 1 of Cajun Cuisine and
More as much as we enjoyed creating it.
The volume 1 contains 54 great Cajun
recipes with accompanying photos and
complete step by step instructions. It
also contains history and facts about
Louisiana
and
New
Orleans.
Additionally, there are inspiring stories
with connections to a specific recipe.
Great Cajun humor is scattered
throughout, and you will find over 60
beautiful photos of the recipes as well as
native points of interest. We made it
very easy to find what you are looking
for by using the Table of Contents
(TOC). The TOC has clickable links to
each recipe and each category of
recipes. We also linked all of the
Inspiring Stories and Articles of Interest
to enhance your enjoyment. Cajun
Cuisine and More was created for your
culinary delight, your enlightenment and
entertainment.
The Sampler Edition is a true cross
section of the full version of volume 1 of
Cajun Cuisine and More. The Sampler
contains 11 great Cajun recipes with
accompanying photos and complete step
by step instructions. Interspersed with
Cajun humor, native history, and facts
about New Orleans and Louisiana, as
well as several representative stories
relating to recipes, it is sure to whet
your appetite for more.
Free preview of the Sampler Edition of
Cajun Cuisine and More
by clicking here.
Copyright
Introduction Prologue
Reviews
Publisher's Notes
Cajun Appetizers & Snacks
Cajun Side Dishes
Sauces, Stocks, Spices, Stuffing,
Etc.
Cajun Gumbos, Stews & Boils
Cajun Entrées
Cajun Breakfast Dishes
Cajun Desserts
Inspiring Stories
Articles of Interest
NOTE: Click on Category Heading
to
jump to that Recipe
Category.
Beignets & Café au lait
Maque Choux with Crawfish
Tails
Oysters Bienville
Southern Cornbread
Cornbread and Milk
Quick Shrimp Appetizer
Bayou Banana Bread
Cajun Crab Cakes
Fried Alligator
Shrimp and Corn Chowder
Stuffed Crabs
Cajun Deviled Eggs
Cajun Dirty Rice
Louisiana Sweet Potato
Casserole
Cajun Fried Okra
Cajun Potato Salad
Three Cheese Grits
Cajun Shrimp Stock
Absinthe Recipe
Cajun Cornbread Stuffing
Remoulade Sauce
Sauce Piquant
Cajun Seasoning Recipe
Cocktail Sauce
Mother Sauces Article
Roux Sauces
Shrimp and Okra Gumbos
Oyster Stew
Stove Top Crawfish Boil
N‘awlins Red Beans and Rice
Cajun Shrimp Étouffée
Cajun Crawfish Quiche
Sauce Piquant with Fish
Savory Baby Vidalia Onion Tart
Shrimp and Andouilee
Jambalaya
Cajun Fried Shrimp
Smothered Pork Chops
Maque Choux with Crawfish
Tails
Shrimp Creole
Fried Catfish Filets
Creole Red Snapper
Blackened Catfish
Fried Crawfish Po‘Boy
Cajun Shrimp Fettuccini
Cajun Grits with Shrimp and
Bacon
Cajun Rice and Eggs
Bayou Banana Bread
Three Cheese Grits
French Bread Pudding
Pecan Pralines
Sweet Potato-Molasses Pie
Bayou Banana Bread
Peach Ice Cream
Peach Cobbler
Italian Cream Cake
Pecan Sandies
Gingerbread with Whipped
Cream
Millionaire Pie
Bananas Foster
Pecan Pie
A Glass of Milk
Bread of Belief
Dreams
Faith, Hope, Love...these
three...
Cajun Fishing Story
Commandment Cornbread
A Claim to Fame
Miracle Gumbo
Red Beans and Ricely Yours
Love Étouffée
A Bicycle Built for Two
The Anniversary
Candles for Charles
Swan Song?
Mr. Lost and Mr. Found
Providential Pudding
Peace Pralines
Hand Churned Peach Ice Cream
Concord Cake
The Compassionate Judge
St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson
Square
Observations of a New Orleans
Native
Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de
Bienville
New Orleans Jazz and Heritage
Festival
Cities of the Dead
Opelousas, Home to Jam and
Yam
Mother Sauces
Marie LeVeau, Voodoo
Priestess
Crowley International Rice
Festival
The Breaux Bridge Crawfish
Festival
Acadiana and Avery Island
New Orleans Garden District
Louisiana Hayride
The Sallier Oak
Origin of the Po’Boy
You Are My Sunshine
Senator Dudley J. LeBlanc
Hadacol a National Nostrum
Louisiana Peaches
Baton Rouge
Origin of Gingerbread
Origin of Bananas Foster
One Liners
Cajun Humor can be found throughout
this cookbook.
Recipe Category
Maque Choux with Crawfish Tails
Oysters Bienville
Southern Cornbread
Cornbread and Milk
Bayou Banana Bread
Cajun Crab Cakes
Fried Alligator
Stuffed Crabs
St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson
Square
Founded in 1718, by Sieur de
Bienville, New Orleans was originally
nothing more than a trading camp on a
curve in the Mississippi. Later, the
settlement was organized into a fortified
community, which exists today as the
French Quarter, or the Vieux Carre (the
Old Square).
Named for French royalty and
nobility, the streets of the Quarter still
honor its history. Canal Street was once
billed as the widest street in the world:
named for a canal that was to be dug in
the median, but never accomplished.
Today, the total length of canals in New
Orleans exceeds that of Venice.
As the settlement expanded, it
followed the curve in the Mississippi,
the resultant shape gaining it the title,
"the Crescent City." Established as the
capitol of the French colony, it was
twice the capital of Louisiana: moved
from New Orleans, in 1825, to
Donaldsonville, in 1846, to Baton
Rouge, in 1864, back to New Orleans,
and in 1879, once again to Baton Rouge.
In greater New Orleans, there are
countless historic buildings, cemeteries,
gardens, museums, heritage attractions
and ethnic restaurants; but within the
Quarter, a few rank paramount, among
them, St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson
Square.
Also known as the Basilica of St.
Louis, King of France, the St Louis
Cathedral is the seat of the Roman
Catholic Archdiocese of New Orleans.
It has the distinction of being the oldest
continuously operating cathedral in the
United States, its first structure dating
from 1718. It is located next to Jackson
Square and faces the Mississippi river.
For more than fifty years, painters
and portrait artists have been working
and displaying their art on the iron fence
that encloses Jackson Square. This
colony of artists is the spontaneous
outgrowth of a thriving tourist economy
in the French Quarter. Although some
records suggest that artists sold their
work from the fence as far back as the
late 1800's, the current custom dates
from the end of World War II. The
present colony started nearby in Pirate
Alley, and has since occupied the
sidewalk that defines the perimeter of
Jackson Square. At times, Jackson
Square has seen more than three hundred
artists take up every section of fence,
much of Pirate Alley, and the Cathedral
fence on Royal Street.
By 1970, the City ruled that the area
around Jackson Square should be a
pedestrian mall, and the streets were
closed off to motorized traffic.
Replacing the streets and sidewalks with
a flagstone surface, from the fence to the
surrounding buildings, artists and
visitors were no longer crowded into the
space of a narrow sidewalk. New
Orleans residents patronize the square,
bringing their children or grandchildren
for a portrait, or to find a painting for
their homes or offices. Tourists visit the
Square, as well, to purchase souvenirs,
to stand and watch the artists at work, or
just to admire the colorful array of
creativity on display. Of note is the
appetizing aroma, perpetually wafting
over the square, from another famous
landmark nearby, Café du Monde, the
respite where residents and tourists
alike gather to savor a sugar-dusted
plate of fresh beignets and a strong,
steaming cup of café au lait.
The French Quarter is certainly a notto-be-missed attraction, a kind of living
museum of Old World architecture,
historic sites, Cajun and Creole foods,
and a plethora of music, shopping and
hotels. A rare place indeed, where
visitors can park the family car, check in
to a period-furnished hotel, then literally
walk to the enjoyment of myriad
discoveries.
Beignets and Café au lait
Beignet Recipe
The word beignet (pronounced beyYAY) comes from the Celtic word
bigne, which means "to raise". Beignet
is also the French word for "fritter."
Beignets are raised pieces of yeast
dough, usually about two inches square.
After being fried, they are traditionally
sprinkled with confectioner's sugar.
Although a New Orleans staple, beignets
have been associated with Mardi Gras
in France since as early as the sixteenth
century.
Ingredients:
1 ½ cups warm water (110° to 115° F)
½ cup granulated sugar
1 envelope active dry yeast
2 large eggs
1 tsp salt
1 cup evaporated milk
7 cups bread flour
¼ cup vegetable shortening
1 quart vegetable oil for deep-frying
2 ½ cups confectioner's sugar
Instructions:
In a large bowl, mix warm water,
granulated sugar and yeast. Set aside for
about ten minutes.
In another bowl, beat together the eggs,
salt and evaporated milk.
Stir into the yeast mixture. Add one half
of the bread flour and stir to combine.
Fold in the shortening and remaining
flour.
Remove dough from bowl and place on
lightly floured surface to knead.
Knead until well mixed and smooth.
Place dough in a large bowl that has
been dusted with flour.
Cover with a clean, damp dish towel
and place in a warm place for at least
two hours (to allow yeast to rise).
Preheat vegetable oil to 350° F (use
deep fryer, if available).
Pour confectioner's sugar into paper or
plastic bag. Set aside.
Roll dough out, on lightly floured
surface, to a thickness of about ¼".
Cut into 1½" squares and drop into oil,
flipping periodically, frying until
beignets are a golden brown.
(If beignets do not pop up, oil is not hot
enough.)
Drain on paper towels, then place into
bag containing confectioner's sugar.
Holding bag closed, toss beignets to coat
with sugar.
Serve immediately.
Note: Although traditionally served
with Café au lait, strong, black coffee is
a suitable option.
Café au lait
Pronounced: kah-fey oh lay, it is the
beignet's dearest companion.
Café au lait is the French variation on
the Italian drink, Caffé Latte. In French,
lait means milk, and it's the milk flavor
that is dominant in a good cup of Café au
lait. The drink is comparatively simple
to make:
Using a ratio of 1 to 1, if mixing with
regular coffee, or 2 to 1, if mixing with
espresso, warm milk until hot, but not
boiling, then stir into hot, black coffee or
espresso.
Sugar may be added, if a sweet drink is
preferred.
Goin' De Wrong Way
One day Hebert was driving on the
interstate when he heard an urgent
announcement on his radio:
"Beware all travelers on interstate 10. A
pickup is going the wrong way between
exits 35 and 41. The state police are
headed that way now."
Mais, dey in for a surprise, Hebert
thought, dodging traffic left and right,
der's dozens of 'em goin' de wrong way!
Maque Choux
With Crawfish Tails
Yield: 4 servings
Maque choux - pronounced: mock shoe
- is a frequently served traditional dish
in Acadiana. Believed to be an amalgam
of Cajun and American Indian foods, the
name is probably derived from the Cajun
interpretation of the Indian name. The
dish is usually served as a side, but can
also be served as an entrée, as this
recipe directs, with additions of bitesized chicken, shrimp or crawfish.
Ingredients:
3 tbsp unsalted butter
1 cup chopped onions
½ cup chopped red bell pepper
½ cup chopped celery
1 ½ tsp minced garlic
4 tsp Cajun Seasoning, divided
4 cups fresh sweet corn kernels
1 ½ cup Cajun Shrimp Stock or chicken
stock, divided
½ lb cooked crawfish tails
¾ cup heavy cream
4 cups steamed rice for serving
Chopped chives and diced tomatoes for
garnish
Instructions:
In a large skillet, melt butter over
medium-high heat.
Add onions, bell pepper and celery.
Cook 3 minutes, stirring often.
Add garlic and 2 tsp Cajun seasoning.
Cook 1 minute, stirring.
Add corn kernels.
Cook 4 to 5 minutes, stirring often, until
corn turns golden.
Add ½ of the stock.
Cook 3
minutes,
or
until
almost
evaporated.
Add the remaining stock.
Cook 2 minutes,
evaporated.
or
until
almost
Add the crawfish and 2 tsp Cajun Spice.
Cook 1 minute, stirring.
Add heavy cream.
Bring to a boil and cook, stirring
occasionally, 4 minutes, or until sauce is
thickened.
Remove from heat and serve over
steamed rice.
Garnish with chopped chives and diced
tomatoes.
Observations of a New Orleans
Native:
No one worries about calories here.
Fried Batter is actually a menu item.
Most streets are impossible
pronounce...unless you're a Cajun.
to
If the levee gives way, everyone will
die; but no one seems worried.
There are 365 days in the year and 414
parties or festivals.
The West Bank is actually east of the
city. (It would take too long to explain!)
If this is all true, why does no one
leave?
Oysters Bienville
Yield: 4 servings of 6 oysters
Ingredients:
24 oysters in the shell
Enough rock salt to line four shallow
pans
½ cup chopped green onions
1 tbsp minced garlic
3 tbsp butter
1/3 cup flour
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp white pepper
¼ tsp red pepper
1 cup Cajun Shrimp Stock
½ cup heavy cream
3 egg yokes, beaten
½ lb. cooked shrimp, chopped
¾ cup finely chopped fresh mushrooms
2 tbsp dry sherry
¼ cup grated Cheddar or Parmesan
cheese
3 tbsp dry bread crumbs
¼ tsp paprika
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 400° F.
Shuck oysters and wash the deep half of
each shell.
Discard the shallow halves. Place
oysters in deep halves and arrange shells
in rock salt, 6 to a pan.
Place a large sauté pan over medium
heat and cook onions, garlic and butter
for about 5 minutes, or until onions are
tender.
Stir in flour, salt, white and red peppers.
Add shrimp stock and cream, stirring
until blended.
Cook until thick and bubbly, stirring
often.
Reduce heat and gradually stir about
one-third of the mixture into beaten egg
yolks.
Return egg mixture to pan and bring to a
gentle boil. Cook about 2 minutes more,
stirring often.
Stir in shrimp, mushrooms and sherry.
Bring back to temperature, then remove
from heat.
Spoon the mixture evenly over the
oysters in the 24 shells.
Combine the Cheddar or Parmesan
cheese, bread crumbs and paprika.
Sprinkle over the oysters and bake in
oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or until
golden brown and oysters begin to curl
at the edges.
Serve immediately with cocktail forks.
Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville
Father of New Orleans
Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville
(February 23, 1680 to March 7, 1767)
was appointed governor of French
Louisiana four times. Historically, he is
also known as Sieur de Bienville. As the
younger brother of explorer, Pierre Le
Moyne d’Iberville, he aided in the
expedition to establish the colony of
Louisiana.
The brothers ventured along the coast
of what is now Mississippi and
Louisiana, and up the Mississippi River
to the site of present day Baton Rouge.
Together, they established the first
settlement of the Louisiana colony, Fort
Maurepas, or Old Biloxi.
Iberville appointed his younger
brother Lieutenant of the new settlement,
while he returned to France. And upon
hearing of Sieur de Bienville’s
encounter with the British, on an
expedition up the Mississippi, he
instructed him to establish another
settlement on the river, an order he
dutifully accomplished in 1699.
In 1701, Sieur de Bienville ascended
to the governorship of the new territory
for the first of four terms (he was
governor for a total of 30 years); but by
then, only 180 settlers remained, the rest
having died from malnutrition and
various
diseases.
On
the
recommendations of his brother,
Governor Bienville resettled most of the
survivors in what is now Mobile,
Alabama, gaining a deep water port on
nearby Dauphin Island.
Eventually, the Governor arranged
for the importation of twenty-four young
French ladies, in part to keep the
soldiers from fraternizing with the
natives. The ladies were lodged in the
Governor’s home, and were under the
care of his housekeeper, Madame
Langlois. Madame Langlois shared with
the ladies her acquired knowledge of the
native
produce
and
cooking
methodology, to which the ladies added
their own skills in the French culinary
arts. It is this coincidence that most
historians credit with the birth of Creole
cooking.
Food Humor
A restaurant was famous for being able
to prepare anything a patron might order.
A gentleman of leisure dined there
frequently, and decided to test this
claim. After giving it much thought, he
believed he had come up with an order
that would stump the chef.
"Have you decided, Sir?" the waiter
asked pleasantly.
"Oh, have I!" the gentleman responded
pompously, "I'll have an elephant ear
sandwich."
"And would you like an iced tea with
that?" the waiter suggested, displaying
no distress at the order.
"Nooo," the gentleman replied, deflated
by his apparent misjudgment. "Water
will do."
A moment later, the waiter was back
with a sparkling tumbler of ice water.
"Sir," he began apologetically, "I fear
you have stumped the chef...we're out of
those big buns."
Fake noodle - An impasta
Sign in Café: Eat Now - Pay Waiter
Overweight is something that just snacks
up on you.
This coffee taste like mud! Why
shouldn't it? It was ground just moments
ago.
Little cafe owned by the wife of a
nuclear physicist: The Fission Chips
An irate mother stormed into the bakery
and said, "I sent my son in for two
pounds of cookies this morning, but
when he brought them home, I weighed
them and they came to one pound. I
suggest you check your scales."
The baker regarded her for a moment,
and then replied, "Ma'am, I suggest you
weigh your son."
What do you get if you divide the
circumference of a pumpkin by its
diameter? Pumpkin pie!
You discard the outside and cook the
inside. Then you eat the outside and
discard the inside. What did you eat?
Corn on the cob.
Two things you should never eat before
Breakfast: Lunch and Dinner.
What do you call cheese on someone
else's plate? Nacho cheese.
Southern Cornbread
Serve with honey butter
Yield: 8 servings
This recipe can be served as a side,
or used for cornbread dressing
(stuffing). As a side, the addition of one
small, well drained can of Mexican corn
makes for zesty and colorful servings.
Regardless of use, one of the steps to a
perfect cornbread is a well greased,
preheated iron skillet. This insures that
the cornbread will have a crisp, brown
crust.
Ingredients:
1¼ cups all-purpose flour
¾ cup stone ground cornmeal
3 tbsp sugar
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 cup skim milk
¼ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup sour cream (not fat free)
1 egg (or two egg whites)
Serve with Honey Butter * (see below)
Instructions:
Grease a medium iron skillet with
vegetable shortening, or with two tbsp
oil, and place it in the hot oven to reach
cooking temperature.
In a separate bowl, stir together the
flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder
and salt.
Using an electric mixer, blend the milk,
oil, sour cream and choice of egg until
well mixed.
Fold the dry mix into the blended liquids
until incorporated.
Carefully remove the hot skillet and pour
the blended batter into the skillet.
Place in the oven and bake for 20
minutes, or, until the top of the
cornbread is beginning to brown (do not
over bake or the cornbread will become
dry).
Remove and let cool for 10 minutes
before serving.
Cut into 8 slices and serve with honey
butter.
*Honey Butter
Mix thoroughly 1 stick of butter (at room
temperature), 3 tbsp honey, 1/8 tsp
cinnamon and dash of salt.
Chill slightly before serving.
A Glass of Milk
It was a gray and drizzling Saturday
afternoon along the languid Bayou
Teche, but Frank and Julia were
oblivious to the dreariness, happy just to
be together. Enchanted in front of the
Birdseye maple console, the two were
dancing, arm-in-arm, to the romantic
trombone of Tommy Dorsey. Lost in an
overstuffed chair, their firstborn,
Frankie, looked on with the innocence of
a four-year-old, content just to be
somewhere new.
Frankie had been here many times,
but today was different, Julia's parents
offering the young family their home,
while away for a long weekend. If only I
felt better, Frankie mused, I could go out
on the porch and listen to the frogs
croaking. But he didn't feel well, and his
little throat was becoming dry: "Papa,"
he asked, between tunes, "may I have a
glass of milk?"
Of course, my son," Frank replied,
loosing his arms from around his wife to
go look in his in-laws' kitchen...only to
discover that there was no milk - the
reality of their current poverty suddenly
dispelling the charm of the afternoon.
"Julia," Frank called from the kitchen,
"honey, do you have enough change in
your purse for a quart of milk?"
"No," she answered, following him
into the kitchen, "Momma must not have
noticed, or she would have bought-"
"Don't say anymore," Frank
interrupted, nonplussed by his recent
lack of employment, "you know I've
been looking for work-"
And don't you say anymore, either,"
Julia said hurriedly, hushing his lips
with a kiss. "God blessed us with each
other, and our son, and I'm confident
He'll provide for our needs, as well."
"No milk?" little Frankie asked,
joining his parents before the cold and
unsympathetic ice box, "just one little
glass?"
Distraught at the lack of his own
resourcefulness, Frank reached out to
pull his son to his side. "No milk," he
repeated, stroking the lad's shock of
unruly curls, adding, with the suddenness
of inspiration, "but-but you could ask
Jesus to give you a glass of milk!"
Julia looked at her husband in
stunned surprise...and even more so as
Frankie knelt to pray: "Dear Jesus," he
asked sweetly, "would you please send
me a glass of milk?" And with that, it
was as though the milk had already been
enjoyed, the moment passed, the tension
gone, Frankie off on another thirst - a
thirst for knowledge. "Tell me why
Frogs croak, Papa, please, please," he
begged, pulling his father back to the
sofa and overstuffed chairs that
surrounded the Birdseye console.
"Tell me, too," Julia quipped
playfully, turning the radio off and
joining her husband and son on the sofa.
"Well, if you really must know,"
Frank began, giving Julia a knowing
wink, "it's the papa frog that makes all
the noise. He croaks to attract the mama
frog...'cause the mama frog thinks it's
romantic!"
"Is that true?" Julia asked, apparently
enjoying the family time as much as
Frankie...and forgetting the lack of milk
in the pleasure.
"It's true, Mama, or Papa wouldn't
have told us," Frankie asserted, his faith
still simple and large in his untried
world...as
several
hurried
raps
summoned them all to the door. Stepping
briskly, Julia reached the front door
first, opening it quickly to allow
entrance from the now pouring rain.
"We're leaving for a little vacation,"
a neighbor explained, wiping the rain
from his eyes and extending a quart of
milk for Julia to take. "Your mother told
us you folks would be here, and my wife
and I thought you might be able to use
this...it would be spoiled by the time we
return."
"Thank...th-thank you," was all Julia
could manage, a strange reverence in her
quiet tone as she stared at the rectangular
glass jug - Frank stepping forward to
extend his hand for an awkward shake as
the neighbor turned to leave.
"Let's all have some milk, Mama,"
Frankie suggested, tugging his papa back
towards the kitchen. "And thank you,
Jesus, for always hearing our prayers."
And He does, a rapturous Julia
conceded to herself, if only we could
learn to accept His offered help with the
simple faith of a child!
"Oh, and cornbread, too!" Frankie
went
on
excitedly,
"Grandma's
cornbread is in a covered pan on the
table...we can have cornbread and
milk!"
"Why not...seems like the perfect
celebration before starting a new job,"
Frank said approvingly, a new light in
his eyes - one Julia knew would find its
mark come Monday.
Cornbread and Milk
Cornbread and milk has been a
traditional southern snack for at least
two centuries. Sam Rayburn, speaker of
the US House of Representatives for
seventeen years, considered it one of his
favorite dishes. And many southerners
consume it with weekly regularity. It is a
quick and simple treat to prepare,
assuming the cornbread is readily
available. Some prefer buttermilk,
others whole milk. Some add pepper,
some add sugar. Below, we include the
widely accepted mix of crumbled
cornbread, sugar and cold whole milk.
Crumble cornbread into a large glass
to about three-fourths full. Top with one
teaspoon of sugar, and pour cold whole
milk over the contents, filling the glass.
Enjoy with a long-handled spoon, such
as an ice tea spoon. Beware, it may
become a habit!
Boudreaux and Thibodeaux
Assorted Cajun Humor
Boudreaux's
cousin,
visiting
from
Alabama, decided to wash his favorite
sweatshirt. Stepping into the laundry
room, his cousin called back loudly:
"What setting do I use on the washing
machine?"
"Depends," Boudreaux replied, cagily,
"wat it say on de shirt?"
"University of Alabama," his cousin
yelled back.
An avid fan of Louisiana
University, Boudreaux yelled:
State
"Hot water...six cups bleach!" then
whispering, as a mischievous grin
spread across his face, "Go Tigers!"
Thibodeaux was riding past Boudreaux's
place and saw him standing out in his
cow pasture. Thibodeaux pulled over,
got out of his pick-um-up truck, and
found Boudreaux still standing in the
same spot, not moving.
"Boudreaux,
what
you
doin'?"
Thibodeaux shouted across the field.
"Tryin ta win de Nobel Prize, my fren,"
Boudreaux called back.
"How ya gonna do dat?" Thibodeaux
cried.
"De TV man says all ya gotta do is be
out standin' in yo field!" Boudreaux
explained.
Boudreaux's wife, Clotille, came into
their house, announcing excitedly, "Yo
sister-in-law jist had twins - a girl an' a
boy!"
"Wad she name de girl?" Boudreaux
asked.
"Denice," Clotille replied.
"An de boy?" queried Boudreaux.
"Denephew," answered Clotille.
Serve with French Bread
Ingredients:
1 lb butter
3 cloves garlic, minced
¼ cup Worcestershire
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tbsp Tabasco
2 tbsp ground peppercorns
2 tsp kosher salt
2 bay leaves
5 pounds medium unpeeled shrimp
3 small or 2 large lemons, thinly sliced
Fresh baked French bread
Instructions:
In large stockpot, melt butter with
minced garlic.
Let simmer for 3 minutes.
Add all other ingredients, except shrimp
and lemon slices, and simmer an
additional 6 minutes.
Add shrimp and simmer, covered, until
shrimp or firm and pink (over cooking
will toughen shrimp).
Remove bay leaves, and divide contents
into bowls or plates.
Top with lemon slices and serve with
French bread.
Bread of Belief
Adapted from the author's novel,
Lord Byron's Ring
Nestling amiably within reach of an
apprehensive hand smiled the pillowworn face of a teddy bear, happy in its
duty of bartering sleep for a little girl's
innocent trust. Her champion in a forest
of fancy, he was guide through her
kingdom of dreams; her father, as keeper
of keys, unlatching by stories the magical
gate to the realm of their fictional
scenes.
And tonight was of a charming hue,
save a new little creature of scheme: a
frog that was silver, but wished to be
green, leaping madly in search of his
due. Through fronds with dew dripping,
and on lily pads perching, the froggy felt
frightened by all - by all, and himself,
until meeting a goldfish who answered
him well at his call:
Tis good to be different, the little one
learned, so the mother of Nature ordains;
for if all were the same, there could be
no adventure, no wishing, no trying, no
gains.
But in sleep she was plying, her little
heart trying, to find what the froggy
might need; and fright had there caught
her, while slipping in water, forgetting
the moral to heed.
Papa! She sobbed, Papa! Papa! To
awaken in trustworthy arms; for it was
there he had shown her a rock for her
refuge, a shelter for times yet to be.
Asked if frogs could be silver, or fish
could be gold, he had answered her very
forthrightly:
If, little one, you believe...then no
explanation is needed. If not...then no
explanation will do.
And Teddy, knowing well what her
choice had to be, reached out for the
small hand expected, his smile stretching
wider, his cheeks feeling softer, with
each little hug he accepted.
As wafting from the warmth of the
kitchen below came aromas of forgotten
cares: banana bread baking, belief in the
making...and the patter of feet on the
stairs.
Bayou Banana Bread
Bread of Belief
Ingredients:
4 sticks butter at room temperature
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup light brown sugar
6 over-ripe bananas
4 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2½ cups cake flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ cup finely chopped dates
½ cup chopped walnuts
½ cup chopped pecans
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350° F. Spray two loaf
pans.
Using an electric mixer, cream butter
and sugars until light and fluffy.
Add mashed bananas, eggs and vanilla.
Stir in all remaining ingredients, except
nuts, using mixer sparingly.
Stir in nuts and divide batter evenly
between two loaf pans.
Bake for 50 minutes, or until a knife
inserted in center comes out clean.
Serve warm or cold. Store covered in
refrigerator.
Vanishing Ice Cubes
Boudreaux came home one day to find
his wife, Marie, in tears. "Mais, Cher,
wad de matter?" he asked, with genuine
concern.
Through her tears, Marie tried to
explain: "I was takin' de last of de ice
cubes from de freezer to make ya some
tea, an' I dropped dem on de floor. So, I
picked dem up careful like, an' rinsed
dem off in hot water, an' now I can't find
em!"
Cajun Crab Cakes
Ingredients:
1 cup finely chopped onion
½ cup finely chopped celery stalk
½ cup finely chopped red bell pepper
1 lb. lump crabmeat, shells or cartilage
removed
3 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley
3 tbsp Dijon mustard
4 tbsp fresh lemon juice
½ tsp salt
½ cup real mayonnaise
¼ tsp black pepper
¼ tsp cayenne
½ tbsp Worcestershire sauce
½ tbsp Tabasco sauce
1 ½ tbsp minced garlic
1 ¼ cups unseasoned bread crumbs
1/3 cup flour
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
¼ cup chopped chives
Cajun Seasoning , to taste
2 eggs
1 tbsp water
1/3 cup vegetable oil
Instructions:
In a small sauté pan, melt butter over
medium heat.
Add the onions, celery, bell pepper, salt,
cayenne and black pepper and continue
to sauté for 4 minutes, stirring often.
Add the garlic and sauté and sauté
another 3 minutes, stirring often.
Remove from heat.
In a mixing bowl, combine the crabmeat,
chives, Parmesan, parsley, mustard and
lemon juice.
In another bowl, combine the
mayonnaise, Worcestershire Sauce and
Tabasco sauce.
Combine the sautéed vegetables with
crab mixture.
Stir in the mayonnaise mixture and½ of
the bread crumbs.
Make 8 equal portions from the crab
mixture and hand-form into round cakes
approximately 1" thick.
In a shallow bowl, combine the flour
and season with Cajun seasoning.
In another bowl, whisk the water and
eggs together.
Pour the remaining bread crumbs into
another bowl, and season with Cajun
seasoning.
Arrange the three bowls thusly: (1)
seasoned flour (2) egg-wash (3)
seasoned bread crumbs.
Dredge the crab cakes in seasoned flour,
tapping them to remove excess flour,
then dip in egg-wash, allowing any
excess to drip off, then dredge the cakes
in the seasoned bread crumbs, making
sure all surfaces are covered evenly.
Heat the vegetable oil in a large sauté
pan.
Depending on the sauté pan's capacity,
place from 2 to 4 crab cakes at a time in
the hot oil, and fry over medium-high
heat until lightly golden, turning each
crab cake to evenly brown both sides.
Drain crab cakes on paper towels before
serving.
Garnish with prepared Hollandaise or
tarter sauce, Cajun seasoning and
chopped green onions.
Extra Insurance Money
Boudreaux took a vacation to
Hawaii, spoiling himself at a four-star
hotel. Relaxing by the pool, a man took a
lounge chair next to him, prompting the
ever garrulous Boudreaux to start a
conversation.
"Hey, how ya doing? My name's
Boudreaux and I'm here on vacation. My
house caught itself on fire an' I got a
little extra from de insurance company,
don't ya know."
"Well, isn't that a coincidence,"
responded the stranger. "I'm here from
Mississippi, and my house flooded. I,
too, used the extra insurance money for
this vacation."
"Mais, dats good," said Boudreaux,
"but let me axe you one ting: how de
heck ya start a flood?"
Fried Alligator
Yield: 4 servings
Traditionally served as an appetizer
Ingredients:
1 lb alligator meat (preferably not from
tail or leg), cut into 1" pieces
(If alligator is unavailable, cubed, fresh
chicken breast may be substituted)
2 cups Italian dressing
2 cups vegetable oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 tbsp Cajun Seasoning
Flour for dredging
1 cup hot sauce (Louisiana or Tabasco
recommended)
1 cup Bulgarian buttermilk
Instructions:
In a large bowl, submerge alligator
pieces in Italian dressing and cover.
Place in refrigerator for at least 2 hours.
In a large frying pan, heat oil to 350° F.
Remove alligator from refrigerator and
drain on paper towels.
Season with salt and pepper.
Pour flour into a shallow bowl and mix
with Cajun seasoning.
Mix hot sauce and buttermilk in a
separate shallow bowl.
Dredge alligator pieces in flour, then dip
in buttermilk and hot sauce mix, then
dredge in flour a second time.
Place coated pieces in hot oil and fry
until golden brown - approximately 2
minutes.
Drain on fresh paper towels.
(Do not overload frying pan. Depending
on size, it may require several batches)
Serve alligator hot with tarter sauce and
or cocktail sauce.
Note:
Another excellent dip for this appetizer
is spicy, garlic aioli:
Instructions:
Mix 1 cup real mayonnaise, 1 tbsp fresh
minced garlic, 2 tbsp fresh lemon juice,
1 tbsp fresh chopped parsley and ½ tsp
Cajun seasoning.
Dreams
Lord Byron's Ring
Sailing swiftly under great clipper
clouds, the sun disappeared over a
turquoise rim, leaving dusk in its wake
to muster shadows about the corners of
the kitchen - a changing of the guard
going all unnoticed as Marie, lounging
comfortably on a kitchen stool, thumped
the eraser of a number two on the island
bar:
"A three-strand diamond and
sapphire necklace, Myrtle...and at a cost
of over fifty thousand dollars. Wow!
What a price for love!"
"Your mother-in-law didn't tell ya
what it costed, did she?" the old
housekeeper asked, her question
couched in a puzzled look.
"No, but I overheard her on the phone
with her son today," Marie admitted
sheepishly. "I think my husband would
blow a fortune just to enjoy my
surprise."
"Now, Marie...ya know better'n that,"
Myrtle admonished, her amiable reproof
bringing a smile. "But you deserve the
very best," she added quickly, "and if the
best costed that much...then so be it!"
"I agree with your opinion of my
inestimable
worth,"
Marie
said
playfully, lodging the pencil over her
ear, "but it's Justin I'm concerned about.
For the more he falls in love, the greater
his hazard of debt." Goading her goodnaturedly, it was a form of entertainment
they both enjoyed, her teasing retorts not
infrequently draped in endearments.
"Well, I don't know much bout
borrowin' greenbacks from banks and
such, but I know a pot full bout
borrowin' happiness from this sad ol'
world," Myrtle declared, her voice
straining with her back as she bent to
check a skillet of cornbread in the oven.
"There jist isn't enough to go round
anymore. And when a woman can snatch
a few good years outta Father Time's hip
pocket...why, yessiree...she can count
herself luckier than most."
"And have you ever felt like that,
Myrtle?" Marie asked suddenly,
"intensely happy, I mean?"
"Child! I never advise...'cept from
experience," she said; her disarming
humility, like her plump presence, a
comforting accouterment, a kind of
indirect lighting to warm the room - for
of her physical beauty there remained
but a melancholy reminder, but from her
spirit there glowed an unwavering flame
- her short bulk disappearing in search
of potatoes behind the pantry doors.
"Want to tell me about him?" Marie
called after her.
"D'ya want my tears in your shrimp
chowder?" Myrtle quipped, reentering
the kitchen to drop a ten pound bag of
potatoes on the counter. "Memories can
be like clouds, ya know: they're pretty
enough so long's they're a'floatin' bout
the edges of your mind; but give 'em your
attention and-and fore ya know it...'fore
ya know it, they're plum full o'rain."
Holding a peeler motionless against the
dry skin of an Idaho russet, she looked
as though the eloquence of a thought had
startled her. "And what 'bout yourself,
darlin'? Have ya never felt those funny
sinkin' feelin's in the pit o' your
stomach? Or the hot rush o' your blood
a'fillin' out your veins till ya thought ya
might burst from excitement?" Turning
back to the sink to peel the potato, she
cagily put her back to Marie,
understanding that to look at a form
without eyes allowed her an ease of
response.
"I'm going to surprise you, Myrtle.
I'm going to admit that I have. And more
than that," she continued, a mild
abashment flushing her cheeks - the little
flush when honesty is at the heart of
confession, "With Justin, I've...I've felt
the rush of the poets' inspiration."
"Poetry, did ya say?" Quiet for a
while, she feigned an interest in
scrubbing the eyes off another spud.
"Child, I believe ya have," she said at
last, turning to face her. "And if it was
beautiful, then ya looked in the face of
God - if ya know what I mean."
"I do," she said tersely, the memory
of a recent spat with Justin still a wound
in her heart.
But Myrtle's simple sincerity was
healing - like peroxide in an open cut Marie accepting her queries as
beneficial, even though she felt the sting.
For all the events of the past few days
seemed like bandages now, the whole
business of her hurt over a little
argument with her husband but a
surrogate for something else she
would've rather lived for.
"Was it a week ago?" Myrtle asked,
the rhythm of her practiced hand peeling
in long, even strokes, "...the pretty poem,
I'm a'talkin' 'bout."
Frightened by the truth of her question
- and even more by her own experience -
she felt chained by frailties: Myrtle
letting her backstage in her life, only to
find there faults like her own. She'd been
hoping for a respite, some distraction to
see her through - and now, despite all
her kind intent, Myrtle was proving that
hope fragile.
"It was a week ago," she answered
wistfully, "and...and a lifetime ago. But
why do you ask?"
"'Cause love has an odd way of
feedin' ya its mysterious vittles till ya
can't eat ordinary food for awhile; and
you've been purt near starvin' yourself
up till this mornin'." Giving her a glance
that was somehow connected to her
throat, she felt it tighten when Myrtle
looked at her. "I noticed even 'fore your
husband did," she added proudly.
Marie wanted to hug her, to
acknowledge the poignancy of a shared
inner world; but she felt strangely old perhaps too old - and she wondered if
there was anything left for Myrtle; if she
still clung to the wreck of her hopes.
"Then...then, you knew?" she asked,
less from curiosity than an infinite
sadness, "you knew, because you've
tasted of this manna before?"
She washed one last potato.
"...I knew, darlin'."
And as the sun sank deep into the
dark earth, Marie felt the pangs of an
aching friendship; a fellowship with
abjection. Pitying Myrtle, she imagined
she'd been reduced to a kind of
permanent perplexity, a bewilderment
with life - left trapped in that eerie time
of morning when it's too early to get up
and too late to go back to sleep; a time
for reflection: a remembered past, a
feared future. Probably, for her, it was
not so much death that she minded
anymore as it was the long agony of
dying.
"Does it ever go away?" She didn't
know what else to say.
"Oh! Sweet Jesus!" Myrtle cried,
"how did we git ourselves so lost?" It
was almost a prayer, the tears in her eye
as though she were elbow-deep in
Spanish onions - Marie wondering if
they were tears of despair.
But then again, she thought, there could
not be despair where hope had never
thrived. She didn't know.
A southerner to the very wind-driven
grit in her big gray eyes, Myrtle was far
enough removed from the blue blood of
gentry that mint julep was a woman's
name. Reared in the stress of poverty,
she was more accustomed to what she
had heard Marie's mother-in-law call,
"an opposition atmosphere", a life that
fought back, Marie absorbing enough of
her earthiness to stir up a cloud of dust
when she thought she needed a
distraction. In a way, she was proud of
her; Myrtle acting as if old age was
something she'd never heard of. And
when she was alone with her, in more
jovial moments, she could make
everything seem so natural that pretense
just blurred away - though, for the
moment, she was holding herself
together with just that.
"Myrtle?' She spoke her name as a
question - the kind that no matter the
answer, it was right. "Myrtle? What do
you know about our little argument the
other day?"
"Hmmm," she reflected, fidgeting
audibly, filling a two quart boiler with
steaming tap water, "...can't say that I
know much, 'cept that Justin must be
worried sick about it."
"No more than I am," Marie muttered.
"Wha'd'ya say?" Myrtle asked, setting
the potatoes to boil, "I didn't hear ya."
"I said...I said you're right. He's
worried sick. In fact, that's why he's
spent the better part of his boat fund on
me."
"Well! That durn speed boat would'a
been too dangerous, anyway!" she
exclaimed, her natural wit chasing after
a passing gloom - Myrtle eying her
lovingly, sympathetically, searching for
words that could soften. "But...but we
would've all enjoyed the thrill, I 'spose."
Idle now, she had no props to manage
her attention, turning to look at Marie
with a motherly affection, thinking how
she had the kind of golden flecks in her
alert green eyes that moonlight might
bring out. She was definitely the kind of
young lady that men would notice - good
and bad.
"Myrtle, I'm going to accept his
gift...let him see how much I adore
it...no, how much I adore him!" she
added emphatically, getting up from the
stool to pace about the darkening
kitchen. "And then I'm going to march
right down to the jewelers and demand a
refund."
"But ya can't, darlin'" Myrtle said
with a start, her big gray eyes widening,
"at least, I don't think ya can...can ya?" a
smile twitching the corners of her mouth.
"And then I'm going to buy Justin the
very boat he worked so hard to acquire,"
Marie went on dreamily, her attention on
things invisible to Myrtle. "And
then...yes...and then I'm going to take him
away...."
"Away back in time...maybe...maybe
'bout a week ago?" Myrtle asked,
stepping forward to take Marie in her
arms. "Darlin' you don't need a rope full
of sparklin' gems, or-or a shiny new
speedboat to catch that kind of
dream...no-sir-ee, it's as near as two
longin' hearts, sweetie...as near as two
longin' and willin' hearts, it is."
"And the joy is as though we were
already there!" Marie cried, hugging
Myrtle with a gentleness that only a
remembered love could feel.
Couple Laconian black-figure kylix,
590-550 BC.
"kylix" In ancient Greece, a shallow
two-handled cup, often with a footed
stem.
Yield: 10 servings
Ingredients:
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 cup finely chopped onions
½ cup finely chopped carrots
½ cup finely chopped celery
1 cup finely chopped red bell peppers
3 ½ cup fresh corn kernels
¼ cup flour 6 cups Cajun Shrimp Stock,
or chicken stock
2 cups cubed russet potatoes (cubed
very small)
2 tsp Cajun Seasoning
1 tsp salt
1 tsp Tabasco sauce
1 tsp dried thyme
1 ½ lbs peeled / deveined med shrimp
½ cup heavy cream
3 tbsp chopped fresh chives
Chopped fresh parsley for garnish
Instructions:
Place a large pot over medium heat and
add the vegetable oil.
Add the onions, carrots and celery and
sauté
for
5
minutes,
stirring
occasionally.
Add the garlic, bell peppers and corn
kernels, and cook for 10 minutes, stirring
often.
Sift the flour over the vegetables mix
and continue to cook for 2 minutes,
stirring constantly.
Pour the shrimp stock into the pot and
stir to combine.
Add the potatoes, Cajun spice, salt,
Tabasco and thyme, and bring to a boil.
Reduce to a simmer and continue to cook
for 20 minutes, or until potatoes are
tender.
Add the shrimp and heavy cream, and
stir to incorporate.
Continue to simmer for 8 minutes, or
until the shrimp is pink through
(whichever is first).
Add the chives and adjust the seasoning
to taste.
Serve in bowls, garnished with parsley.
One afternoon Boudreaux was driving
with his wife, Clotille, and his mother-
in-law. Every few seconds, the two
women would take turns giving him
driving
instructions:
"Slow
down!...Watch the center line!...There's
a curve ahead!...Watch that other car!"
Having enough of this, Boudreaux
slammed the brake pedal to the
floorboard and pulled onto the shoulder.
Turning to Clotille, he shouted, "OK,
who's drivin' here...you, or your
Momma?"
It was a typical Acadian July afternoon one hundred degrees and one hundred
percent humidity. Hot and sweating,
Boudreaux came home, exhausted from a
long day of fishing...only to find Clotille
painting the kitchen. Amazed, Boudreaux
stood in the doorway, observing his
wife's attire, Clotille outfitted in not one,
but two heavy coats.
"Clotille," he asked, shaking his head,
"Cher, dis got t'be one of de hottest day
dis year, an you be dressed like dat?"
"Mais, Boudreaux," she replied,
mopping the sweat from her eyes with
the sleeve of the outer jacket, "jis look
on de can der...it say for best result, put
on two coats'...so dat's wad I dun."
Boudreaux was chastening his son for
his poor grades in school: "Son, when
Abe Lincoln was your age, he was
studyin' all nite by de lite o'de candle."
To which his boy retorted: "Yeh? And
when he was your age, he was
President!"
Stuffed Crab
Yield: six appetizers
Ingredients:
½ finely chopped onion
2 tbsp finely chopped red bell pepper
2 tbsp finely chopped celery
2 bay leaves
1 lb lump crabmeat, picked over
3 tbsp finely chopped parsley leaves
4 tbsp finely chopped green onions
1 large egg, beaten
¾ cup fine bread crumbs
1/3 cup heavy cream
6 pats of butter
6 lemon wedges
Instructions:
Place six cleaned crab shells on baking
sheet.
In a large skillet heat the 4 tbsp butter
over medium heat.
Add the onion, bell pepper and celery.
Cook 3 minutes.
Add the garlic, Cajun spice and bay
leaves and cook for 2 more minutes.
Remove from heat.
Fold in the crabmeat, parsley, green
onions, beaten egg, ½ cup of the bread
crumbs and the heavy cream.
Stir to combine.
Remove bay leaves.
Spoon the mixture evenly into the crab
shells.
Sprinkle an equal portion of the
remaining bread crumbs over the six
servings and top each with a pat of
butter.
Bake for 20 minutes, or until bread
crumbs are golden brown.
Serve immediately, with lemon wedges.
Festival
Festival is held on the last weekend in
April and the first weekend in May, and
attracts artists and visitors from all over
the world. Among New Orleans’ many
attractions, this is an event not to be
missed. An annual celebration of music
and culture so exquisitely enjoyed in the
Crescent City, the festivities also feature
a diversity of local vendors. Typically,
native food offerings include beignets,
po’boys (of almost infinite variety),
boiled crawfish, soft-shell crabs, and
many other signature dishes.
Recipe Category
Cajun Deviled Eggs
Cajun Dirty Rice
Louisiana Sweet Potato Casserole
Cajun Fried Okra
Cajun Potato Salad
Three Cheese Grits
Faith, Hope, Love...these three...
Lord Byron's Ring
Death had come calling far too soon,
his wife but twenty-nine. And though he
had not held her long - sweet love, in
that tender embrace - he was forever
enticed to her pursuit. He would run to
the altar of her every ideal; for family;
for friend; for her...if only because he
believed:
Run true, run fleet, on Mercury's feet;
Fly fast, fly arrow straight:
For I am target, pinioned defeat,
Pierced heart at timid gate.
Set sure your sight, quit quick your
quiver,
Tug taut your bending bow;
For I am chance, fleet fortune giver,
That seed but once you sow.
Be stout, be strong, be faith's own fate,
Taste boldly of desire;
For I am flash, the lightning spate,
The trial of men by fire.
Take hold, take hard, take nothing
untoward,
Take all and give it more;
For I cut clean, Excalibur sword,
Of knights' Arthurian lore.
Sleep well, sleep deep, know peace in
your sleep,
Know one held ever there:
For I am love - I'm your keeper's keep And yours for taking care.
Cajun Deviled Eggs
For appetizer or entrée sides
Yield: 16 servings
Ingredients:
8 large eggs, hard boiled and peeled
4 tbsp mayonnaise
3 tbsp sweet pickle relish
1½ tsp Creole mustard
1 tsp sugar
½ tsp Tabasco
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp black pepper
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
Paprika, for garnishing
1 tbsp fresh chopped parsley, for
garnishing
Instructions:
Place eggs in a medium sauce pan and
cover with cold water.
Bring to a boil over high heat, then
immediately remove from heat and
cover.
Let stand for 10 to 12 minutes.
Remove and peel.
Halve eggs lengthwise.
Remove yolks and place in a small
bowl.
Using a fork, mash the yolks while
incorporating the mayonnaise, pickle
relish, Creoloe mustard, sugar, Tabasco,
salt and peppers.
Fill egg whites evenly with yolk mixture.
Garnish with paprika and store in
refrigerator, covered, until serving.
Garnish with fresh chopped parsley just
before serving.
Variations:
Add 2 tbsp finely chopped smoked ham
or Tasso (spicy cured pork cut into
strips).
Add 2 tbsp finely sliced pimento stuffed
green olives.
Cities of the Dead
Louisiana's above-ground tombs
Often referred to as, "cities of the
dead", the above-ground tombs in
Louisiana's
cemeteries
are
both
intriguing and historically informative.
The city of New Orleans is home to
forty-two of these eerie necropolises,
the older ones by far the more ornate and
fascinating. Upon entering the gates, the
visitor has an immediate impression of a
miniature city - vaults arranged in rows,
like little houses on neighborhood
streets; crosses and statues, atop
marbled roofs, casting enigmatic
shadows at every turn; the wrought iron
fences engendering scenes from bygone
eras: the clatter and clang of cottage
industry, the comforting scent of wood
burning kitchens, the laughter of children
on shaded verandas, the billowing
smoke of the paddlewheel steamers
slow-plying the great Mississippi...the
broad flowered hats and funereal black
in solemn procession behind the polish
of a horse-drawn hearse, halting before
the sun-glinted tomb of the departed.
There is a hard-learned reason for
these edifices to the dead: the elevation
of New Orleans ranges from 6½ feet
below sea level, to 20 feet above sea
level, and with an annual rainfall of 62
inches (more than an inch per week), the
water table quickly fills an underground
grave. Caskets will literally float, or
pop out of the ground, after a heavy
rainfall. Failing their attempts to keep a
good man down, the settlers adapted the
Spanish custom of entombing the
departed above ground. And excepting
the occasional duress of a hurricane
overflowing the levees, the deceased,
since then, have generally rested in
peace.
There is another benefit to such
practices. A city ordinance allows an
additional burial within the same crypt,
after the previous occupant has resided
there for a minimum of two years. Upon
completion of the requisite term, the
remains of the previous occupant are
sealed in a burial bag and placed to the
side, or back, of the vault. The coffin is
then destroyed, and the vault is made
ready for the newly deceased. If a family
member dies within the two year
restriction, most cemeteries offer
temporary holding vaults until the
previously deceased has fulfilled the
term. And you thought death would
eliminate waiting lines!
Among the older and more weathered
cemeteries are St. Louis Nos. 1, 2 and 3,
their twisting paths and crumbling tombs
melding the macabre milieu, framing
inscriptions in memorable auras of
mystery. Voodoo queens and perilous
pirates dwell next the honorably
endowed, their fugitive ghosts but a
furtive
glimpse
away.
Several
companies offer guided tours of these
Cities of the Dead, their fees well worth
the experience - especially, if one reads
up on the tales of those who "live" there.
Cajun Dirty Rice
Don't be misled, it's only a name!
Dirty rice isn't actually dirty, it's called
that because the chicken livers and pork
sausage it's made with lend it a brown or
"dirty" color. Most common in regions
of Louisiana, it's similar to rice pilaf in
its use of bell pepper, celery and onion.
But when meat is added, it becomes
"dirty" rice.
Ingredients:
1 lb pork sausage
1 pound chopped chicken livers
1 cup chopped onion
½ cup chopped green bell pepper
4 cups steamed rice
1/3 cup fresh chopped parsley
1 tsp Tabasco or to taste
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Instructions:
In a large skillet, cook the pork sausage
and chicken livers until browned, using
a spatula to separate both into bite-sized
pieces.
Do not drain the pork fat.
Add the vegetables and sauté until soft.
Gently fold in the rice and parsley.
Season with Tabasco, salt and pepper,
to taste.
Opelousas, Home to Yam and Jam
Sweet Potatoes and Zydeco
The sweet potato has been something
to celebrate since 1760, when the French
established the first settlement in what is
now the city of Opelousas. The
indigenous Indians were already
cultivating the tasty, nourishing sweet
potato, and it soon became the favorite
food of the French and Spanish settlers,
who established a trading post near
Opelousas. Eventually, the French,
Spanish and Acadians, who later
migrated from Canada, made the "golden
yam" a primary crop.
Opelousas (located approximately 65
miles west of the capital, Baton Rouge,
and 25 miles north of Lafayette) is in the
heart of Acadiana. It is here that the
Golden Yam is celebrated in an annual
Yambilee Festival.
The festivities begin on the
Wednesday of the last full weekend of
October, and continue throughout the
weekend. And, of course, a festival
would not be complete without a parade
and the election of a queen.
Despite the Festival's title, it is
actually the sweet potato that the natives
so enjoy, not the yam. The true yam is
the tuber of a tropical vine, and not even
distantly related to the sweet potato.
Usually sweeter than the sweet potato, it
can grow to over seven feet in length.
Yams are brown or black skinned,
resembling tree bark; and depending on
the variety, can be red, purple, or offwhite inside.
Sweet potatoes are tubers, with
tapering ends, and are yellow or orangeskinned. The yellow-skinned sweet
potato has a pale yellow flesh, which is
not sweet and has a dry texture similar to
a baking potato. The darker-skinned
sweet potato (the variety most often
called "yam") has a thicker, orange to
reddish skin, with an orange, sweet
flesh, and a much smoother texture.
When baked, this variety is moist.
Opelousas is Louisiana's 3rd oldest
city, and is the center of zydeco music,
as well. Zydeco, by definition, is usually
fast tempo and played by the button
accordion, a fiddle, and a washboard
known as a "rub-board". Zydeco
evolved from house dances, where
Acadians gathered for good times.
Zydeco is a blend of Cajun melodies and
blues, with Caribbean influences
Opelousas also has an illustrious
association with the Kingfish, Huey P.
Long. During the tenure of Sheriff Cat
Doucet from 1936-1940 and 1952-1968
Opelousas was considered a haven of
gambling and prostitution. Rumor
suggests that Governor Earl K. Long
(Huey's brother) allowed the Sheriff to
permit brothels and casinos to operate
within the city, and to guarantee the
sheriff a take of the proceeds. True or
not, the city has not been "catty" for
many years, now!
Louisiana Sweet Potato Casserole
Yield: 6 to 8 servings
Ingredients:
Pecan Topping:
1 cup light brown sugar
1/3 cup all purpose flour
1 ¼ cup pecan pieces
½ cup unsalted butter (melted)
1 cup mini marshmallows
Sweet Potato mix:
3 cups mashed sweet potatoes, baked
and peeled (if using canned, drain well)
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup crushed pineapple (very well
drained)
1 teaspoon good bourbon (can substitute
½ tsp vanilla)
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp cinnamon
2 large eggs, well beaten
¼ cup unsalted butter, melted
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350° F
Combine light brown sugar, flour, pecan
pieces and melted butter in separate
bowl. Set aside.
Combine baked and peeled, mashed
sweet potatoes (or canned), sugar,
pineapple, bourbon, salt, cinnamon,
beaten eggs and melted butter.
Mix thoroughly, making certain the
beaten eggs are well incorporated.
Pour mixture into buttered casserole dish
and bake for 30 minutes.
Remove casserole and add the topping
mix
(excluding
marshmallows),
spreading evenly.
Return to oven and bake an additional 10
minutes.
Remove from oven, add marshmallows,
and bake until marshmallows are melting
and beginning to brown.
Remove from oven and allow to cool
slightly before serving.
Note: This casserole may be assembled
in advance and frozen (minus the
topping) for several weeks.
When needed, let thaw in refrigerator
overnight, then set out for one hour, then
follow two-step baking instructions
above.
Fishin' and Huntin'
Boudreaux and Thibodeaux were
preparing to go fishing, when Boudreaux
noticed Thibodeaux holding his long
cane pole upright, trying to reach the top
with a yardstick. After a moment's
amusement,
Boudreaux
asked,
"Thidodeaux, wha-ya tryin' t'do, hey?"
"I'm tryin' t'measure my pole," an
exasperated Thibodeaux replied, still
stretching upward with the yardstick.
"Lem-me had dat," Boudreaux said at
last, laughing at his friend. Taking the
cane pole and yardstick, he placed the
pole on the ground and measured from
the slender end down to the thicker
bottom. "Fo-teen feets," he announced
proudly, "fo-teen feets long."
Agitated, Thidodeaux grabbed the yard
stick and held his cane pole upright once
more. "I don' care how long de pole is,"
he growled, "I wanna knowed how high
it is!"
Boudreaux was going bear hunting, when
he came to a fork in the road with a sign,
which read:
"BEAR LEFT&quot
Greatly disappointed, he turned his pickum-up truck around and went home.
Thibodeaux was relating to Boudreaux
what bad luck he'd had on his last deer
hunt. "I seen jis one deer," he said, "but
he was too far in de woods."
"How big was dis deer?" Boudreaux
asked, lamenting his friend's loss.
"Bout dis big," Thibodeaux replied,
holding his thumb and index finger up to
illustrate a height of about two inches.
"An dats all ya seen?" Boudreaux
prodded.
"Nah, dat lil deer came up closer, after a
while," Thibodeaux went on.
"An how big was dis deer din?"
Boudreaux asked, gaining interest.
"Mais, de deer was maybe two feets tall,
din," Thibodeaux said, "an...when de
deer gots bout 75 yards from de blind, it
was purt near full size."
"Dat's close, Thibodeaux," Boudreaux
exclaimed, looking as though he were
about to aim his own gun at the imagined
prey, "why'd ya no shoot de rascal,
hey?"
"I-I jis couldn't do it, my fren,"
Thibodeaux stammered, holding up his
thumb and index finger again, "I'd
knowed dat lil deer since he was dis
big."
Cajun Fried Okra
A Louisiana Staple
Yield: 8 - 10 servings
Ingredients:
1 quart vegetable oil for frying
½ cup cornmeal
1 cup flour
1 tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
¼ tsp garlic powder
1 tbs Cajun Seasoning
2 lbs fresh okra, sliced ½ inch thick
(substitute frozen, sliced okra, if fresh is
unavailable)
1 cup Bulgarian buttermilk
Instructions:
In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet, heat
oil to 350° F.
In a medium bowl, combine cornmeal,
flour, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and
Cajun spice.
In batches sufficient to fill skillet with a
single layer, dip sliced okra in
buttermilk, then dredge in seasoned
cornmeal-flour mixture.
Coat pieces well, then carefully add to
the hot oil.
Fry each batch until golden brown.
Remove from oil to drain on paper
towels, placing a clean dry cloth over
the cooked batches to keep them warm.
When all batches are fried, serve
immediately.
Trouble sleeping at night
Boudreaux was having trouble sleeping
at night...and he knew why. Writing a
letter to the Internal Revenue Service, he
explained:
Dear IRS, For da tax year 2010 I cheat
on my tax and ain't been able t' sleep.
Dis here's a check for $200.00. Signed,
Boudreaux.
Thinking over what he had written, and
the check he'd enclosed, he added:
Mais, P.S. If I don't sleep sum good
tonight, I'm sho 'nuf gonna mail ya da
rest.
Cajun Potato Salad
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients:
3 lbs red potatoes, scrubbed and cubed
¾ cup real mayonnaise
½ cup Creole mustard
2 tbsp sweet pickle relish
1 tsp paprika
1 sweet onion, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
1 tbsp parsley
Salt and pepper, to taste
Instructions:
Place the cubed potatoes in a large pot.
Add 2 tbsp salt and fill with cold water.
Bring to a boil and cook until they are
tender.
Drain and let cool.
Stir together the Mayonnaise, mustard,
relish, garlic and paprika.
When the potatoes are cool, place in a
large bowl and add the onions, celery
and parsley.
Pour the Mayonnaise mixture over the
potatoes and mix well.
Salt and pepper to taste.
Note: Cajuns frequently place a scoop
of chilled potato salad on top of hot rice
and gumbo.
Apparently, the pleasure of a cold bite
of potato salad, after a soup spoon of
steaming gumbo, is gratifying and
perhaps cleansing to the palate.
As the saying goes, don't knock it till
you've tried it!
Fontenot called his doctor, screaming
frantically, "Doc, my wife she havin'
labor bad! De contraction, dey only two
minute apart, yeh!"
"Is this her first child?" the doctor asked
calmly.
"No, ye couillon, dis her husband!"
(pronounced: coo-yawn - Cajun for
idiot)
Thibodeaux was walking along the
bayou one day when he ran into
Boudreaux carrying a burlap bag over
his shoulder. "Boudreaux," he said,
eyeing the bag, "wha-ya gots in de bag,
hey?"
"Chicken," Boudreaux replied, shifting
the bag to his other shoulder.
"If I dun guess how many chicken ya gots
in de bag, can I gits one?" Thibodeaux
asked.
"Mais, yah," said Boudreaux, "If ya
guess right, I'll giv' ya bofe of 'em!"
Three Cheese Grits
A good "morning after" dish to use
leftover portions of the cheeses required
in the recipe for Cajun Crawfish
Quiche. Serve as a side dish, or as a
breakfast base for eggs.
Ingredients:
2 cups water
2 cups whole milk
1 tsp salt
1 cup grits (not instant or quick)
½ tsp black pepper
½ stick unsalted butter (4 tbsp)
¼ cup shredded medium cheddar
¼ cup shredded white cheddar
1 tbsp grated parmesan
Instructions:
In a heavy-bottomed pot, bring water,
milk and salt to a rolling boil.
Gradually add the grits, whisking
constantly until all of the grits have been
incorporated.
Decrease the heat to simmer and cover.
Simmer for 20 - 25 minutes, removing
lid several times to whisk if there are
lumps, and, during the last few minutes
of cooking time, to see if a little more
water is needed.
If so, use hot tap water and whisk in.
Remove from heat, add pepper and
butter, and whisk to combine.
When butter is melted, add three cheeses
and whisk until incorporated.
Serve immediately.
Recipe Category
Cajun Shrimp Stock
Absinthe Recipe
Remoulade Suace
Sauce Piquant
Cajun Seasoning Recipe
Cocktail Sauce
Roux Sauces
Cajun Fishing Story
"Beat de sunset," cracked Boudreaux,
tossing his oar back into his flatbottomed pirogue and climbing gingerly
onto the narrow wharf protruding from
his stilted house, "could'a been swattin'
moustique (mosquitos) til de moon sat
fat on de boscoyo (cypress knee)."
"Where's dem big bass fish," queried his
good friend, Thibodeaux, tending the
cast iron pot beginning to smoke over a
butane burner.
"Why ya aks dat?" quipped Boudreaux.
"... I got de wowarons (bullfrogs)."
"Wowarons!" shouted Thibodeaux, in
amazement.
"Mais, yeh," retorted Boudreaux,
pointing back at his pirogue. "I been
fish'n all day, an dun run outta crawlers.
Dat's when I seen dis snake wif a big
wowaron in his mouf...and I knowed
dem big bass fish like dem wowarons.
Well, dat snake, he be a cotton mouth
water moccasin, so I hadda be real
careful not to git bit."
"Wha'd ya do?" asked Thibodeaux,
eagerly, helping Boudreaux extricate his
bait can from the pirogue.
"Mais, I snuk up behin' dat water
moccasin snake and catched him by de
head, and den he wrap hisself roun my
arm try'n to git hisself outta my hand. But
I had a real good hold, yeh."
"Den what?" Thibodeaux prompted
impatiently.
"Den, I pry his mouf open and take de
wowaron, an' I puts it in my bait can,
dat's what," Boudreaux said proudly.
"Den what?" Thibodeaux asked
apprehensively, eyeing the pail with
suspicion.
"Now, I knows dat I cain't let go or dat
water moccasin's gonna bite me one
good. So, I reach in de back pocket of
my overalls and pulls out my pint o'
moonshine. Then, I pours somma de
likker in de snake's mouf. Well, dat
snake's eyeballs kinda roll back in his
head, and his body go real limp. Wit dat,
I toss dat snake back in de swamp. But
jis when I goes back to fishin', I dun feel
sumpin' tappin' on my barefoot toe. I
looks down, and der's dat water
moccasin wif two more wowarons!"
Cajun Shrimp Stock
Many Cajun/Creole recipes call for a
shrimp or seafood stock. This recipe is
suitable for most applications. However,
should the reader desire a "seafood"
stock, the addition of rinsed crawfish
shells, or rinsed crab shells, or rinsed
fish bones, will create a tasty
alternative.
Note: the addition of any of these items
should be balanced with a like
subtraction of rinsed shrimp shells
(example: instead of 2½ lbs shrimp
shells, use 1¼ lbs shrimp shells and 1¼
lbs of one of the other options).
Ingredients:
2 ½ lbs shrimp shells (include heads, if
available)
2 2/3 quarts cold water
1 cup chopped onion
½ cup chopped carrots
1½ tbsp chopped garlic
½ tsp sea salt
Sachet of 2 bay leaves, 1tsp chopped
parsley, ½tsp dried thyme and ½tsp
crushed peppercorns
Instructions:
Rinse shrimp shells (and heads, if
available) under cold running water,
then place in a one gallon, or larger,
stockpot.
Add the remaining ingredients.
Bring to a boil, and then lower to
simmer.
Cook for one hour, skimming the foam
from the top, as needed.
When the stock is done, strain into
another container.
Any remainder, not used in the
preparations at hand, may be
refrigerated or frozen for future use.
You Might be a Cajun If...
You start an angel food cake with a roux;
You have a spoon of 5 alarm chili, then
reach for the Tabasco;
You think the four seasons are: Duck,
Rabbit, Deer and Squirrel;
You tell your wife each morning, "I've
put the rice on...so what's for dinner?"
Absinthe
Lord Byron's Ring
("la fée verte" - the "green fairy" in
French)
Ubiquitous in the French Quarter for
many years, French absinthe (ab-sinthe)
was a drink that contained a high level
of alcohol (typically 120 to 140 proof).
Made famous by renowned personalities
such as Vincent van Gogh, ToulouseLautrec, Charles Baudelaire, Oscar
Wilde, Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway
and Aleister Crowley, the drink was
eventually banned for fear of the
chemical thujone, a toxin (one
considered harmless enough, today,
unless consumed in large quantities),
and, until recently, was not available in
America. Thujone is said to be
responsible for absinthe´s mysterious
effects. Herbal ingredients include
wormwood, star anise, anise seed,
fennel, coriander, hyssop, angelica root,
lemon balm and licorice root. Not
surprisingly, absinthe is most often
described as having a licorice flavor.
Here´s to la fée verte:
A drink of absinth – “la fée verte” – is
typically prepared by pouring cold
water over a sugar cube resting on a
slotted
spoon.
This
application
dissolves the sugar, dilutes the green
absinthe, and, as the cold water mixes
with the absinthe, it clouds, an effect
called the “louche” (pronounced
“loosh.”) The mix ratio is usually 4 to 5
parts water to 1 part absinthe.
Commandment Cornbread
Moon Water
October, it was, and already the
Christmas lights circling the porch
colonnades were at play across the
shimmering bayou, its surface alive in
crab-rippled eddies of red and blue, in
water-bug circles of green and gold, the
whole playing out in the dance of the
little boy's eyes:
"Strung 'em a little early dis year,
kiddo," his great-grandpa said. "Didn't
want de gators a-baskin' up 'ere on de
veranda while yo' great grandma was
a'doin' her cookin'. Stole a hot yam pie
last year, some cornbread stuffin', an' de
whole stuffed turkey, yep, two of de
biggin's jist swaggered up an' swiped
dem right off de table, hot grease an' all.
Had a heck-of-a fight right der in de
kitchen, de one a-wrestlin' de other for
de last of de cornbread stuffin'."
"De boy don't believe yuh no more,"
the old lady's loving glance, at her mate
of fifty-plus years, melting his heart and
his yarn, "goin' on 'leven, ya know."
"But, I do! I do!" cried their visiting
Yankee great-grandson, turning his back
to the bayou's colors, "besides, the Bible
tells me to. Moses and the Ten
Commandments, the one about honoring
your father and mother...but you know
that one, don't you, great-grandpa...and
you pray, too, don't you?" this, with
impassioned concern.
"Most ev'ry day, sonny-boy...an yo'
great-gran'ma, too," he replied - the old
lady's rocker resuming a rhythm of
comfort. "Or maybe...maybe we don't
talk so much as we listen," he amended,
giving his wife a wink. "Ya see, yo'
great-gran'ma 'n me, we hear God atalkin' all 'round us...like in de who-oosh
of a pelican's wing, or-or de cry of de
great blue heron; an' de spa-lash of de
gar in de bayou, der, an' de
breathin'...yeh...de steady breathin' of de
cypress swamp. Betcha don't know 'bout
de bald cypress, huh? Betcha don't know
dey breath tru der knees. Why, some of
dem knobby knees out der 'bout as old as
Moses 'imself, an' a-heck-of-a-lot
smarter, too. Twelve hundred years old,
some of dem cypress, and so full of resin
dat de bugs jist leave dem alone. Won't
rot fer de same reason."
"Now, t' yo' great-gran'ma 'n me, dat's
de good Lord a-provin' He's got
ever'ting under control, dat He don't
need our help...dat He don't need a pile
o' stones bein' trown t' make us
understand what we s'posed t' do.
Why, even de Injuns..." here, a long
pause to light his pipe, "...yep, even de
Injuns knowed better'n der bein' a God
so cruel as dat. Come t' tink of it, we
still call de swamp by de name dey giv
it. 'Atchafalaya'. Betcha didn't knew dat,
too. Yep, Atchafalaya's de Injun word
fer 'wood eternal'. Now, if dat ain't
referrin' t' God - de eternal part, I mean den I ain't a-listenin' right!" three rings
of cherry pipe smoke signaling his
satisfaction, his simple pleasure in the
peace such truths afforded.
For stuffing hens, turkeys or bell
peppers
Ingredients:
1 cup chopped onion
2 cups chopped cooked pork sausage
1 cup chopped green onions
½ cup chopped bell pepper
4 cups crumbled cornbread
3 cups chicken stock
Cajun Seasoning to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions:
In a large skillet, heat oil over high heat.
Add the onion and cooked pork sausage
pieces and sauté for 2 minutes.
Add the green onions, celery, bell
pepper and garlic, sauté 2 more minutes.
Stir in the crumbled cornbread, chicken
stock and Cajun seasoning and cook,
stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes.
Remove from heat.
Salt and pepper to taste.
Fill the rinsed cavity of a prepared hen
or turkey, and follow baking directions.
If stuffing bell peppers, place stuffed
peppers in a greased baking dish and
bake 20 minutes.
Place any remaining portions into a
greased baking dish and cover with foil.
Bake for 25 minutes.
Fontenot and Thibodeaux had directed
their pirough to an area of swamp
peopled by a host of cypress knees,
when Fontenot withdrew from his
overalls a shiny, round flask.
Unscrewing the lid, which doubled as a
cup, he poured himself a steaming brew
of strong Community coffee. Thibodeaux
was instantly envious, asking Fontenot,
"Wad's dat ting ya got der?"
Grinning imperiously, Fontenot replied,
"Dis here's a termos, Thibodeaux, I got
at Walmart dis mornin'"
"Wad it do?" queried Thibodeaux
incredulously, eyeing the mysterious
object.
"A termos keeps cold tings cold and hot
tings hot," Fontenot explained, his coffee
sweetened by the mild disdain he felt for
Thibodeaux's ignorance.
The next day, the two Cajuns were again
among the cypress knees, preparing to
cast their lines, when Thibodeaux
suddenly, and with great show, brought
forth from the expanse of his overalls a
thermos even larger than the one
Fontenot had enjoyed the previous day.
Fontenot, not to be outdone, withdrew
his own thermos to pour his morning
drink. "Wads in de termos, Thibodeaux,"
he asked, pleased to see he had educated
his fishing buddy, "...coffee?"
"Nah," Thibodeaux answered proudly, "I
dun better'n dat. Me, I got ice cream and
gumbo...like ya tol' me...dis here termos
keeps de ice cream cold, and de gumbo
hot!"
One afternoon Fontenot's phone rang.
"Yah," he growled, listening intently for
a moment, "I-I dunno, me, dat ting too far
to see from here," and with that he
slammed the receiver down.
"Who dat call?" his wife asked, noting
Fontenot's exasperation.
"Mais, some couillon tought dis was de
weather bureau. Axed if da coast was
clear."
Boudreau's banker called him in to
express his concern over the dismal
shape of his finances. "Your checking
account is overdrawn and your loan is
overdue," he said with dismay.
"Yeh, I know," said Boudreaux, ruefully,
"it's my wife, she spends more den I
make."
"Then, why on earth don't you talk to her
about it?" the banker asked, shaking his
head in consternation.
"Mais,
to
tell
de
trut,"
replied
Boudreaux quietly, fidgeting his hands in
his lap, "I'd...I'd radder argue wid you
than wid her!"
Remoulade Sauce
Yield: 14 ounces
Ingredients:
¼ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup chopped onion
¼ cup chopped green onion
1/8 cup chopped celery
4 tbsp mayonnaise
2 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp prepared horseradish
1 tbsp yellow mustard
3 tsp chopped parsley leaves
1 tsp ketchup
½ tsp salt
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/8 tsp black pepper
Instructions:
Combine all ingredients in a food
processor and process for 45 seconds.
Cover unused portion and store in
refrigerator for up to three days.
Remoulade Sauce (pronounced: raymuh-LAHD), is traditionally a chilled,
flavored mayonnaise used in French
cuisine.
The mixture includes mayonnaise,
anchovies (or anchovy paste), mustard,
capers, and chopped pickles, served as a
dressing for cold cuts, poultry or
seafood.
The above recipe is a Cajun adaptation
of the original, and is more akin to what
is served in Acadian restaurants.
I Would've Married Ya No Matter
One evening Boudreaux and his wife,
Clotille, were sitting on the front porch
swing. Relaxed and contemplative,
Boudreaux asked Clotille, "Cher, would
ya've married me if my papa hadn't left
me all dat money?"
Clotille was quick to reply, "Boudreaux,
how can ya ax dat? I would've married
ya no matter who left ya all dat money!"
A Claim to Fame
Louisiana has had its share of famous
natives. Among them are Louis
Armstrong - jazz musician, Elizabeth
Ashley - actress, Terry Bradshaw quarterback, sports announcer, Trace
Adkins - singer, Geoffrey Beene fashion designer, Truman Capote author, James Carville - political
consultant, Van Cliburn - concert pianist,
Harry Connick Jr. - actor, musician - Dr.
Michael DeBakey - heart surgeon, Fats
Domino - rock and roll singer, Buddy
Guy - blues musician, Peyton Manning quarterback, Britney Spears - singer,
Reese Witherspoon - actress; just to
name a few.
But fame would not be the same
without some of the infamous characters
that used their wiles to gain the stage.
Dudley J Leblanc and his patent
medicine, Hadacol, is showcased
elsewhere in this book, as is Marie
Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New
Orleans. And Kingfish (Huey P Long)
must be given credit, too, for making
Louisiana a byword of his day. But no
political shenanigans, nor colorful
personalities, can compare to the
mystery of the Ax-man.
In early 1919 the city of New Orleans
was on edge. An ax-wielding serial
killer was attacking people in their
homes, killing them in their sleep. In
March of that year, a person claiming to
be the killer wrote to the local
newspaper, promising another attack on
the 19th of that month. Oddly, the author
claimed to be a jazz enthusiast and wrote
that he would spare any home where jazz
was playing that night. Needless to say,
the sounds of jazz streamed from homes
across the city that night, and no one was
killed.
Most of the attacks attributed to the
Ax-man occurred in the wee hours of the
morning. The killer would chisel into the
door lock mechanism, quietly gain entry,
then slaughter the sleeping inhabitants.
Robbery was never a motive, but most
of the victims were of Italian descent
and lived in rooms adjoining their
corner stores. This fact led to suspicions
of Mafia involvement, but a detective on
the case argued that the Mafia would
never kill a woman (the Ax-man's
victims included women and a young
girl).
The Ax-man was never apprehended,
and the attacks ended abruptly when a
grocer was slain in October of that year.
At least six people had been hacked to
death while the spree lasted, and the
prevailing theory at the time was that the
killer was a respectable citizen with a
violent alter ego.
And then there is Mardi Gras, one of
the most famous festivals in all of
America. Mardi Gras - French for Fat
Tuesday - is a series of celebrations
beginning on or after Epiphany and
culminating on the day before Ash
Wednesday. Fat Tuesday refers to the
practice of eating rich, fatty foods before
the fasting of the Lent season begins, and
what better place to observe that custom
than New Orleans!
Sauce Piquant
With or without fish
pronounced: ’pê-kant
Ingredients:
Optional:
1 lb fresh catfish or red snapper, cut into
1" cubes
(Or, 1 lb small to medium peeled and
deveined shrimp)
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup flour
2 cups Cajun Shrimp Stock, or chicken
broth
1 ½ cup chopped onions
1 cup chopped green pepper
1 cup chopped celery
2 10 oz cans tomatoes and green chili
pepper
2 8 oz cans tomato sauce
½ tsp kosher salt
4 cups steamed rice
Instructions:
If using fish in the recipe, prepare fish as
described above.
Place 4 quart pot over medium-high
heat.
Add oil and flour and cook for 5
minutes, stirring constantly.
Reduce heat to medium and cook and stir
an additional 10 minutes, or, until the
roux becomes the color of peanut butter.
Stir in onions, bell pepper, celery and
garlic. Cook and stir for 8 minutes.
In a blender, blend the tomatoes and
green chili peppers, tomato sauce and
stock or broth.
Pour the mix into the pot and add Cajun
spice and salt.
Simmer covered for 1 hour, or until
sauce is thickened.
If using fish, stir in pieces and cook
another 5 minutes, or until fish will flake
with a fork.
Serve over steamed rice.
Thibodeaux's Parrot
One
afternoon
Boudreaux
saw
Thibodeaux filling his pick-um-up truck
at the local gas station. Boudreaux
wheeled in and rolled down his
window:
"Thibodeaux," he shouted, "did Hebert
ever give ya dat Parrot I sent ya?"
"Mais, yah, Thibodeaux responded,
topping his tank and resetting the nozzle,
"an me, I appreciate dat all over myself.
Dat bird made the bes' sauce piquant I
ever did cook."
"Don't tell me ya cooked dat parrot!"
Boudreaux yelled, "dat ting talk in ten
languages, yeh!"
Thibodeaux was dumbstruck. "Mais, if
he was dat smart...he shoulda said
sumting!"
Chef Raphael's
Cajun Seasoning
Ingredients:
2 tbsp salt
2 tbsp paprika
2 tbsp garlic powder
1 tbsp cayenne pepper
1 tbsp black pepper
1 tbsp onion powder
1 tbsp dried thyme
1 tbsp dried marjoram
Chef Paul Raphael’s
"Cajun Cookin' with an Attitude"
Thibodeaux joined Boudreaux to watch
a football game. Over the noise of the
TV, Thibodeaux asked "What's de score,
Boudreaux?" "Ten to seven," Boudreaux
replied.
"Who's winnin?" asked Thibodeaux,
claiming a chair next to Boudreaux's
recliner.
Mumbling, Boudreaux pushed
recliner back, "...De ten."
his
One night Boudreaux and Thibodeaux
were watching TV. A commercial about
a new, blockbuster movie was aired, the
announcer ending with, "Coming soon to
a theater near you."
Perplexed, Thibodeaux turned to
Boudreaux, "Mais, Boudreaux, how dey
know where we live?"
Boudreaux was dining at his favorite
bayou cafe, and Thibodeaux was his
waiter.
As
Thibodeaux
brought
Boudreaux's big crab cake, he had his
thumb pressed across the middle of the
crispy cake. Boudreaux noticed, and
asked, "Thibodeaux, why ya touchin' my
crab cake, hey?"
Thibodeaux replied, with surprise,
"Mais, ya wants it to fall on de floor
again?
Cocktail Sauce
Ingredients:
1 cup ketchup
2 tbsp fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
2 tbsp prepared horseradish, drained
1 tsp Louisiana or Tabasco hot sauce
½ tsp black pepper
½ tsp salt
Whisk ingredients until well combined.
Serve in condiment dishes or shot
glasses.
Mother Sauces, also called Grand
Sauces, are the five most basic sauces
that every cook should seek to master.
The father of French Grande Cuisine,
Antonin Careme, developed the
methodology in the early 1800's, his
methods allowing literally hundreds of
sauces to be categorized under the basic
five, with infinite possibilities for
variations. Sauces are one of the
fundamentals of cooking, and a working
familiarity with them allows a cook to
create any number of derivatives. The
above-average cook must be able to
prepare the basic five in large batches
for use as a foundation for making
smaller versions that are seasoned and
flavored separately, but all using one of
the Mother Sauces as their base.
The five Mother Sauces are:
Bechamel Sauce (white) - sauces
that are made with milk and pale roux.
Common sauces in this group include
Crème, Mornay and Soubise.
Veloute Sauce (blond) - sauces that
are made with white stock and roux.
Common sauces in this group include,
Allemande, Ravigote, Suprème, and
White Bordelaise.
Brown (demi-glace) or Espagnole
Sauce - sauces that are brown stockbased. Common sauces in this group
include
Bordelaise,
Chasseur,
Chateaubriand, Diable, Diane, Estragon,
Lyonnaise,
Madère,
Madeira,
Moscovite, Mushroom, Piquante, Porto,
Robert, Romaine, Tarragon, and
Zingara.
Hollandaise Sauce (butter) - sauces
that are emulsified such as Hollandaise
or Mayonnaise.
Tomato Sauce (red) - tomato based
sauces. Common sauces in this category
include Spaghetti sauce, Marinara sauce
and a wide variety of tomato sauces.
Roux Sauces
Basic Roux is made by melting butter, or
heating oil, and stirring in flour to let it
brown, to varying degrees, depending on
its use.
It is the beginning of many French
sauces.
White Sauce (Sauce Blanche) is a Roux
combined with water or stock.
Bechamel Sauce is a Roux combined
with milk, used in many recipes,
including lasagna.
Mornay Sauce is a Bechamel Sauce
made with cheese, often served over
steamed vegetables and fish.
Sauce Soubise is a Bechamel Suace
incorporating onions. This sauce is
excellent with grilled meats.
Recipe Category
Shrimp and Okra Gumbos
Oyster Stew
MIRACLE GUMBO
A hurricane's fury had blown away
everything but the weathered old
shrimper himself: two of his helpers, his
stilted house, his shrimp boat, and even,
it seemed of late, his will to live.
Trudging what was left of his native
beach, he felt helpless, lonely and
confused; the refuse of catastrophe
strewn haphazardly across the eroded
sands. Here and there he could see
children at play, seemingly oblivious to
the recent disaster, their attentive adults
at watch under sunshades and oil.
From a distance, he could see a lad
diligently employing his toy shovel,
happily erecting a sand castle, his
innocent imagination replete with ladies
and knights. As the old man drew nearer,
he was taken by the form and intricacy of
the small boy's creation, his castle
complete with gates and draws made of
refuse from the flood's retreat.
Everything has its purpose, the shrimper
thought: a piece of wood from a shutter
becomes a draw for a castle; a killer
storm litters the beach for the blameless
employ of a child.
Approaching the ingenious formation,
he praised the boy for his crafting skills,
asking, as if to test his cleverness, "How
will you fill the mote?" The lad, still
busy about the parapets, answering
politely, "I don't have to worry with that,
mister...the Gulf will fill it for me." And
so it will, thought the old man,
continuing his meandering stroll.
Returning to the benevolence of a
friend's shelter, he could not forget the
child's remarks, a simple faith in the
laws of nature abetting a boy at play.
The lad was too young to understand, he
thought...he just knew it would come. He
had played there before. Still marveling
at the innocence of youth in the face of
calamity, he wished, suddenly, he could
be like the boy: unfettered, unhurried,
happiness but a wish away.
"We had a visitor while you were
out," his friend announced, dispelling the
old man's reverie. "Left money and a
request...wants you to make a pot of your
shrimp and okra gumbo...has family
visiting from up north...says yours is the
best...says his kinfolk are very, very
rich, but is sure they've never had the
best of the best when it comes to Cajun
gumbo. Quite the compliment, I'd say."
Wishing he had been blessed with
'rich kinfolk', the old shrimper headed
out for his ingredients, pleased just to be
in someone's consideration.
But amazed was he, when the
morning brought with it a gift equal to
his needs: monies sufficient for another
boat and a new abode. His gumbo had
awakened the rich kinfolks' appetite for
the best, including the ineffable joy of
giving!
It was then that he understood the boy
at the beach, his faith for unlimited
supply; for in truth, without forethought
or effort on either one's part, the same
great gulf that had given of its depths for
the little one's mote, had given to him its
offering of shrimp for his gumbo...his
Miracle Gumbo.
Shrimp and Okra Gumbo
Yield: approx eight servings
Ingredients:
3 lbs fresh or frozen shrimp, peeled
7 pints water
3 pints fresh or frozen sliced okra (if
fresh, omit tops and tips, cutting ½"
slices)
¾ cup vegetable oil
¾ cup all purpose flour
1 cup chopped bell pepper
2 cups chopped onions
1 16oz can stewed tomatoes
½ tbsp chopped garlic
3 bay leaves
1 tbsp salt *
½ tsp black pepper *
½ tsp white pepper *
¼ tsp cayenne pepper *
¼ tsp Louisiana hot sauce *
2 quarts steamed rice
*Or to taste
Instructions:
Peel and devein the shrimp. Place in
large container and keep covered in
refrigerator.
Rinse the shrimp shells and place in a
large stock pot with 7 pints of water.
Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and
simmer for one hour to make the stock.
Strain, discard the shells, and set aside.
In an iron skillet, heat 3 tbsp of
vegetable oil, add the okra and sauté,
over medium heat, for about 15 minutes,
or, until the stickiness disappears. Set
aside.
Place ¾ cup vegetable oil in an 8 quart,
or larger, heavy, non-reactive pot.
Add the flour and stir, over medium high
heat, with a long wooden spoon.
Continue stirring until the mixture (roux)
becomes dark brown in color.
(Be careful not to burn the roux, as this
will prevent it from incorporating
properly with the stock.)
Add the celery, bell peppers and onions
and sauté, stirring frequently, until
tender.
Next, add stewed tomatoes, bay leaves,
salt, peppers and hot sauce.
Continue cooking for about 12 to 15
minutes, stirring frequently to prevent the
vegetables from sticking to the bottom.
Add the sautéed okra and chopped garlic
and cook another 10 minutes.
Add most of the stock (reserving about
one pint) and bring the pot to a boil,
stirring constantly.
Lower the heat and simmer for thirty
minutes, partially covered, stirring
occasionally.
After thirty minutes, if the gumbo seems
too thick, adjust with pours from the
reserved stock.
Now add the peeled shrimp and return to
a boil.
Reduce the heat and simmer for about 5
minutes, or until the shrimp turn pink and
firm.
Remove the pot from heat.
Serve in large bowls over steamed rice.
Marie Laveau
Voodoo Priestess
Born in 1794, died in 1881...and
again in 1897! Marie Laveau,
historically the most famous Voodoo
priestess in America. Marie was, in fact,
two women: a mother (1794-1881) and
her look-alike daughter, of the same
name (1827-1897).
Born in Santo Domingo, the capital
city of the Dominican Republic,
sometime around 1794, Marie was of
white, black and Indian mix, the daughter
of a wealthy Creole planter, Charles
Laveau, and his mistress Marguerite
Darcantel. Moved to New Orleans in her
youth, she was raised a Catholic under
the ministry of Pere Antoine, the
chaplain at St. Louis Cathedral - the
same Pere who, in 1819, officiated at
her marriage to Jacques Paris, also from
Santo Domingo. Marie was beautiful,
tall and statuesque, with curly black
hair, flashing bright eyes, and light skin,
and already mysterious; for shortly after
her marriage, Paris disappeared. Three
years later, his death certificate was
filed with no record of internment.
Marie then began using the title of
"Veuvee Paris" (Widow Paris).
Commensurate with widowhood,
Marie became an accomplished
hairdresser, her clientele the elite of
New Orleans, her craft gaining her not
only money, but the most intimate secrets
of her clients: details about their
husbands, their affairs, their businesses,
their fears of ridicule in high society information she would later use to
advantage.
In 1826, Marie became the mistress
of Captain Louis Glapion. Although
never married, they had 15 children, the
first of whom was a daughter, Marie,
born in 1827. Glapion died in 1855 and
was buried in the Laveau family tomb in
St. Louis Cemetery No 1.
By 1826, Marie was secretly training
with New Orleans Voodoo doctor, Jean
Montaigne (Doctor John), and learned
from him how to make potent charms,
potions and gris-gris (amulets). She also
gained an extensive knowledge of herbs
and natural healing remedies. Laveau's
hairdressing skills took her into the
homes of the wealthy, where she also
told fortunes, gave advice on love
affairs and prepared gris-gris for cures
or charms. Eventually, she gave up
hairdressing to become the Voodoo
Queen of New Orleans.
At this time, Creole plantation
owners from the West Indies were
migrating with their slaves to develop
plantations. Many of the slaves brought
with them the practice of Voodoo, and
New Orleans was beginning to rock to
the beat of the drums on Congo Square,
where they danced, sang, and worshiped
their gods. Congo Square soon became a
popular place of risqué amusement for
whites and their visitors.
With Congo Square the main
attraction, Marie began her rise to
power on the shores of Lake
Pontchartrain, where she bought a
cottage, Maison Blanche, to begin
employing the secrets gained in the
boudoirs of New Orleans. She invited
the elite to take part in orgiastic dancing,
drinking and lovemaking. Shortly, the
wealthy were paying her for help with
their illicit affairs and business and
domestic issues. Politicians paid for her
help to win elections, and the police and
media secretly exchanged services.
On Sundays, Marie began fascinating
crowds on Congo Square with her snake,
Zombi, inviting the media, police and
other thrill-seekers to attend her goingson at Maison Blanche. Charging
admission, Voodoo soon became a very
profitable business for Marie.
Marie incorporated Catholicism in
her rituals, including baptism, holy
water, incense, chants, prayers, candles
and crosses. She even gained the
approval of the priest at St. Louis
Cathedral by encouraging her followers
to attend mass, and by providing freely
for the needs of the poor and suffering.
On the shores of Lake Ponchartrain,
Marie presided over the annual ritual of
St. John's Eve, dancing with her snake,
Zombi, wrapped around her. The night
ritual included drinking, singing, nude
dancing, bonfires and animal sacrifices,
in which offerings were made to
ancestral spirits for protection. Some of
the dancers would fall into trances,
performing cures and giving advice to
onlookers. Hundreds attended, making
admission fees sizable.
Marie continued her Voodoo practice
throughout the mid 1800's, providing
intimate liaisons at risqué parties in her
own home, and in the homes of the
wealthy. In 1875, at the age of 81, Marie
made her last appearance at the Congo
Square dances. Aging, and unable to
look after herself, she moved into a back
room of her home. There, under the care
of her daughter, Marie Laveau II, she lay
bedridden until she died, on the 15th of
June, 1881.
One of the most enduring legends is
that of Marie Laveaus's perpetual youth.
In 1875, when she retired from public
appearances, the common people never
noticed
her
disappearance.
She
continued to preside over the Congo
Square dances, yet she seemed younger
and full of vigor. It was her look-alike
daughter, Marie Laveau II, who now
began to appear in her mother's place.
Like her mother, Marie Laveau II
started out as a hairdresser, but then ran
a bar and brothel on Bourbon Street,
which proved a good training ground for
when she eventually took over her
mother's position as the Voodoo Queen
of New Orleans. Like her mother, she
also made special arrangements with the
police and media, who never raided her
premises without prior notice, and then
only for appearances sake.
Some reports suggest Marie II
drowned during a storm on Lake
Ponchartrain, while others claim she
died of a heart attack during one of her
infamous orgies at Maison Blanche.
Nevertheless,
controversy
still
surrounds the burial sites of both
Maries. The tomb of Marie Laveau I is
thought to be in St. Louis Cemetery No 1
on Basin Street, in the vault of "Famille
Veuvee Paris nee Laveau". The tomb of
Marie Laveau II was thought to be in St.
Louis Cemetery No 2 on Iberville Street,
in the vault of the Desdunes family.
Historians now place her in a different
tomb a few feet away, under the name
Mrs. Charles Laveau - the enigma
continues.
Shrimp and Corn Chowder Recipe
Crowley International Rice Festival
Crowley, located between the cities
of Lake Charles and Lafayette in south
Louisiana, is home to the International
Rice Festival, an annual event held
during the third weekend in October.
The Festival is Louisiana‘s oldest
agricultural festival, and will mark its
seventy-fifth year in October of 2012.
Since its beginning, over seven million
people have attended.
Marked by two parades, there is also
a farmers‘ banquet, a Queen‘s Ball, rice
cooking contest, and, what would
naturally follow, a rice eating contest.
Live entertainment is almost continuous,
going from early morning to midnight
throughout the Festival.
Other than a good time for all, the
point of the Festival is to celebrate the
life achievements of Salmon Lusk
Wright, a rice farmer and scientist who,
during his lifetime, revolutionized the
industry with scientific
farming
techniques; benefits he unabashedly
shared with any who were willing to
learn. Although Mr. Wright died in
1929, his advances in rice farming are
what gave the area renown in grain
quality and production.
Rice Facts:
Rice first came to Louisiana with the
Acadian settlers, some of them bringing
the grain with them from the Carolinas.
Originally sewn in areas that couldn‘t be
plowed, settlers tossed the seed into the
wetlands near bayous and ponds. These
early
harvestings
were
called
"Providence Rice" by the grateful
harvesters. It wasn‘t until after the
1850‘s that commercial production
began, spurred by the introduction of
railroads which transported the crops to
New Orleans for shipment elsewhere.
Southwest Lousisiana now ranks third in
national production.
Probably the most well-known
distinction among varieties of rice is
long-grain, medium-grain and short-
grain. The long-grain varieties tend to
remain intact after cooking, while the
mediun-grain becomes a little sticky.
That feature makes medium-grain more
adaptable to sweet dishes, while shortgrain is favored for molded dishes and
puddings.
Rice is usually cooked by boiling or
steaming, either method allowing for
water absorption while cooking. Instant
rice differs from parboiled rice in that it
is fully cooked, then dried, rendering a
noticeable degradation in taste and
texture. Parboiled, a process now
employed by about half of the world‘s
producers, is rice that has been partially
boiled in the husk. It is a three step
process: soaking, steaming and drying.
These three steps make the rice easier to
process, increase its nutritional value,
and change its texture for the better.
Worthy of note is that cooked rice
can contain spores which produce a
toxin when left at temperatures over 39°
F. Therefore, when storing unused
cooked rice, it is advisable to cover the
rice and store it in the refrigerator.
Reheating contaminated rice kills the
bacteria, but does not destroy the toxin
already present.
Oyster Stew
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients:
2 tbsp butter
1 tbsp flour
½ cup chopped onion
¼ cup chopped celery
1 pint half-and-half
1 pint whole milk
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp black pepper
1/8 tsp cayenne
12 ounces fresh raw oysters, undrained
2 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
2 green onions, chopped for garnish
Crackers, for serving
Instructions:
In a large sauté pan, melt butter. Add
flour, stirring constantly, and cook for 3
or 4 minutes.
Add the onion and celery and cook,
stirring constantly, for another 2 minutes.
Stir in the oyster liquid, half-and-half
and milk. Bring back to temperature.
Add salt, black pepper, cayenne and
garlic. Stir well.
Add oysters and parsley and cook over
low heat until the oysters begin to curl
on the edges
(make sure mixture does not boil during
this process).
Remove from heat.
Serve with crackers and garnish with
green onions.
Note:
Fresh oysters, in the shell, are
unavailable in many areas. Canned
oysters may be substituted, although the
flavor and texture will be somewhat
inferior. Also, since canned oysters are
pasteurized, and usually smaller, the
cooking time, after adding the oysters,
may have to be shortened to avoid
toughening.
Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival
Breaux Bridge, Louisiana,
(pronounced: Bro Bridge), located just
east of Lafayette and south of I-10, is
known for one of the top ten annual food
events in all of America, the Breaux
Bridge Crawfish Festival. Although
crab, shrimp and crawfish boils are
prevalent across southern Louisiana, it is
the crawfish boil that is most popular
within the region know as Acadiana.
One reason for its popularity may be its
cost, relative to crab and shrimp. In the
height of the season (early spring), live
crawfish are sometimes as inexpensive
as $1.00 per pound, while shrimp are as
much as six to eight times that for the
larger variety, popular in cocktails.
The centerpiece for many a backyard
gathering, a crawfish boil is usually
accomplished in a very large pot (15 to
25 gallon capacity) equipped with a
strainer, and heated by a propane burner.
Seasonings vary, but frequently include
Cajun seasoning packets, available
locally. In the same water, the addition
of ears of corn, new potatoes, onions
and garlic are traditionally included.
Once accomplished, the contents are
removed, drained, and placed on a
newspaper covered outdoor table.
Various hot sauces, sliced lemons and
hot butter are the usual accouterments to
a boil, as well as a generous serving of
horseradish-infused cocktail sauce. In an
adaptation of a famous movie title, it
seems that "ALL like it hot!"
The annual Breaux Bridge Festival is
usually enjoyed during the first three-day
weekend of May. Events include
gatherings of famous Zydeco and Swamp
Pop musicians, with dozens of bands
showcased over the three day spree;
Cajun heritage displays, with live
demonstrations of Cajun cooking; and, of
course, the consumption of the Festival‘s
namesake, crawfish, in some of its
infinite presentations, such as boiled or
fried, or as a pie, bisque, gumbo,
etouffee, jambalaya or boudin, to name
just a few.
Not to be outdone by the chefs, some
lucky crawfish participate in a crawfish
race, over an eight-foot circular target.
There are Cajun dances, cook-offs, arts
and crafts shows, carnival rides, a
parade with its requisite election of a
queen, and even a crawfish eating
contest, if one is so inclined. All-in-all,
there is truly something exciting for
participants of every age.
Area attractions include nearby
Lafayette, with its array of excellent
Cajun restaurants, and a few minutes to
the south, New Iberia and Avery Island,
the home of Tabasco products (Avery
Island is in a featured article - see Table
of Contents)
Crawfish, also called crayfish or
crawdads, are closely related to the
lobster. More than two hundred and fifty
species live in various parts of North
America, particularly along the Great
Mississippi basin. Crawfish have a
joined head and midsection and a
segmented body. The head is
pronounced by a sharp snout, and the
eyes are on movable stalks. Average
length of an adult is about three inches.
The eyes alone would tend to preclude
the crawfish from creature beauty
contests!
Shrimp may be substituted for crawfish
Requires 5 gal stock pot - Yield: 6
servings
Ingredients:
½ cup course salt
3 packages crab boil (3 oz size)
2 tbsp black pepper
3 bay leaves
5 med lemons, halved
1 lb red bliss potatoes
3 garlic bulbs, cut in half from top to
bottom
3 med onions, peeled and halved
3 lbs live crawfish (or 3 lbs med shrimp
unshelled)
1 lb andouille sausage, thickly sliced
4 ears shucked corn, cut into shorter
lengths
6 ramekins of melted butter, for serving
Instructions:
Fill a 5-gallon stockpot with 3 gallons of
water.
Add salt, crab seasonings, pepper and
bay leaves.
Squeeze the lemon juice into the pot and
add the lemon rinds.
Cover and bring to a boil, over high
heat, for 10 minutes.
Uncover and add the potatoes, garlic and
onions. Cover and bring mix back to a
boil for another 10 minutes.
Uncover and add the live crawfish (or
shrimp), andouille (a spicy, heavily
smoked sausage made from pork
chitterlings and tripe) slices and corn
sections.
Cover and bring to a boil for another 6
minutes.
Remove from heat and allow the mix to
rest, covered, for another 15 minutes.
(Best served out-of-doors) Spread a
table with layers of newspaper or large
plastic bags.
Using a large strainer, lift the mix out of
the stockpot, allowing the liquid to drain
back into the pot.
Pour the mix onto the prepared table and
serve with the melted butter. (Remove
the bay leaves before eating)
Recipe Category
See next page for a list of the
recipes for this Recipe Category
Shrimp and Andouilee Jambalaya
Cajun Fried Shrimp
Shrimp Creole
NOTE: More recipes on next page.
Creole Red Snapper
Blackened Catfish
Red Beans and Ricely Yours
Red beans and rice, little Amelia
mused, the aroma pungent throughout the
house. She knew it was washday,
because as sure as the Sabbath brought
smoked ham, Monday found the remnants
in red beans and rice. It had always been
that way, Amelia‘s mother had
explained; because the pot could be left
unattended, while housewives went
about the weekly chore of doing their
families‘ wash.
But for Amelia, today was different.
School was out for the summer, and her
mother had rewarded her for a week of
washing the supper dishes without
complaint. "Obedience is better than
sacrifice, said the Lord," her devout
mother had remarked; and today, she
would enjoy the rewards of both: for
obediently sacrificing a daily hour
before the dusk that darkened the
kitchen‘s window.
Brushing through the curls of her
short auburn hair, Amelia regarded her
reflection in the mirror, considering her
mother‘s rouge - perhaps a little lipstick
- to abet her imagination. Applying the
blush to her cheeks, she thought better of
the lipstick, abandoning the mirror to go
ask for her Mother‘s blessings. Amused,
her mother continued to feed the old
ringer machine: "And just who are you
getting pretty for?"
Embarrassed, Amelia wiped the
color from her cheeks - though a schoolmate came quickly to mind. "Just
playing," she said sheepishly; helping
her mother feed towels through the
wringer.
Being the wiser, her mother advised,
"When you go to the park to play, why
don‘t you ask your friend, Joey, to have
supper with us tonight...and tell him to
ask his father to come, since his -"
"I-I know, mother, I know," Amelia
sputtered, wondering how a parent could
be so all-knowing as to connect a little
powder to a boy, "Joey doesn‘t have a
mother anymore." Recalling her
freedom, she ran for the gate, exchanging
the scrutiny for a swing and a merry-goround.
"Make‘s me think of my wife," Joey‘s
father remarked, accepting the steaming
plate of red beans and rice. "One of her
best dishes," he added, a remembered
adoration aglow in the deep of his eyes.
"And my favorite, too!" piped Joey,
unmindful of Amelia‘s furtive glances.
"Used to dance with her, in front of
the radio, to the jazz of Louis
Armstrong," Joey‘s father added, leaning
over his plate to inhale the rich aroma the wistful remark causing Amelia‘s
parents to exchange a knowing look, then
a nod, her mother arising to bring back a
silver-framed photo of the trumpeter.
"In memory of your wife," she said,
presenting it to Joey‘s father, "Satchmo
used to play with my brother in the
Quarter; and knowing my love for
Satchmo, my brother got this for me.
See?" she said, pointing at the
inscription scrawled across the bottom,
"It‘s signed, Red Beans and Ricely
Yours, Louis Armstrong."
Deeply moved, Joey‘s father set the
silver frame in front of his plate. "If
only...oh, if only she could see this," he
sighed, his dark eyes misting with tears.
"But she does, Papa," Joey cried,
"she does! Why, how many times have
you said, Mama‘s always looking over
my shoulder!"
Yield: approx. 8 servings
This dish ranks high among the
favorites of Louisiana natives, and is
considered a required staple of even the
more elegant eateries. The preceding
story told truthfully the accepted origin
of the dish: the Monday washday onepot supper; which is why many
Louisiana restaurants still make it
Monday‘s entrée du jour.
A relatively easy dish to prepare excepting the occasional addition of
water and the requisite stir now-andthen - it is sure to be a second-helping
kind of meal, an exceptional treat for
family and guests alike.
Ingredients:
1 cup chopped onions
½ cup chopped green bell peppers
1 tsp salt
1 tsp Tabasco
½ tsp cayenne pepper (if using
andouille, reduce cayenne to ¼ tsp)
¼ tsp black pepper
1 tsp dried thyme
1½ lbs smoked ham (or 1 lb andouille),
cut into ½" pieces
3 bay leaves
1 lb dried red beans, rinsed, soaked
overnight, and drained
4 tbsp chopped garlic
10 cups water
2 quarts steamed rice, to serve
¼ cup fresh chopped parsley, to garnish
Instructions:
In a large saucepan, heat the vegetable
oil over med-high heat.
Sauté the onions, peppers, celery, salt,
Tabasco, cayenne, black pepper and
thyme for about 4 minutes.
Add the smoked ham (or andouille)
pieces and sauté another 6 minutes.
Add the bay leaves, the soaked and
drained beans, the garlic and 10 cups of
water .
Bring to a boil and reduce heat to
medium.
Simmer, uncovered, for 3½ to 4 hours,
stirring occasionally, and adding a little
water if mixture becomes too thick or
dry.
About halfway through the cooking
process, use a wooden spoon to mash
some of the mixture against the sides of
the pot, then stir the mashed portion back
into the body of the simmering
remainder.
This will make the mixture creamy and
blend the spices more efficiently.
Once the beans are sufficiently soft,
remove the three bay leaves and serve
over steamed rice.
Garnish with fresh, chopped parsley, if
desired.
Love Étouffée
Adrift on Lake Ponchartrain, the
young fisherman allowed the ebbing tide
to draw his small craft further from the
trestles of the long train bridge. He was
pleased with his troll of flounder, but his
thoughts were elsewhere, desultory,
gloomy and dark - like the threatening
sky. I had better come to my senses and
get back to shore, he thought, the lake‘s
surface beginning to chop with the
blustering wind. Just because a fellow‘s
lost his gal, is no call to volunteer for
the obituaries, he mused, giving the
outboard motor a quick pull of the rope.
Despite his fight with the mounting
waves, he was cheered just to have a
purpose, an aim, the marina growing
larger on the shore‘s horizon. All I did
was give her the freedom every good
wife deserves, he shouted to the
cacophony of gulls circling overhead, I
was trying to express the depth of my
love, my total trust...and she mistook it
for a lack of devotion...thought I was
suggesting she was bothersome...no,
smothering, that‘s it, thought I meant she
was smothering me with love. Wow!
Love étouffée, that‘s what it is...étouffée,
Cajun for smothered...Love Smothered!
Just wait till I tell that counselor what
happened. He asked me how much I
loved her, and I told him I loved her
more than any man could love a
woman...and he actually said that wasn‘t
enough! No, to love her more, I had to
surrender her, to give her up to her
highest good...Love Smothered...
The thought was almost amusing, still
on his mind, as he neared the safety of
the wharf...so engaging that he didn‘t
notice his wife waving on the wharf, not
until he was near enough to toss her the
rope. And even then the sight of her was
the vision of an angel...except, she was
crying...no, she was laughing...no, she
was crying and laughing, he noted with
amazement.
"Oh, Darling!" she cried, securing the
rope so he could leap to the wharf and
take her up in his willing arms, "all my
life I have searched for a love like
yours, a love so complete it could give
away what it cherished most...and now I
realize I have found it...and having found
it, I will never resist it again. Take me!"
she whispered, kissing him, "keep me
always in that heavenly freedom you
give...for I am yours, eternally!"
And that night, after a candlelit dinner
of shrimp étouffée, they went to a
window and stood, arm-in-arm, peering
up at the clearing sky, where stars shown
here and there through breaking clouds.
And they knew, unspoken between them,
that the same love keeping the stars in
their courses was holding them safe in
forever - forever one.
Yield: 8 servings
Ingredients:
3 pints Cajun Shrimp Stock
1 stick butter
¾ cup flour
2 cups chopped celery
2 cups chopped red bell peppers
4 cups chopped onions
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes, drained
3 bay leaves
1 tbsp salt
3 ½ lbs fresh or frozen medium shrimp,
peeled and deveined
¼ cup chopped parsley
Instructions:
Over medium heat, melt butter in large,
heavy pot. Add flour and stir
continuously to make a roux (should take
7 to 10 minutes to brown to a color
slightly darker than peanut butter).
Add the garlic, celery, bell peppers and
onions, continuing to cook and stir for an
additional 10 minutes.
Add the chili powder, tomatoe sauce,
diced tomatoes, bay leaves, salt and
Cajun seasoning, cooking and stirring
another 3 minutes.
Stir in the Shrimp Stock and bring the
mixture to a boil. Reduce to a simmer
and cook for another 45 minutes, stirring
occasionally.
Add peeled and deveined shrimp,
stirring to incorporate.
Cook another 6 to 7 minutes, or until
they are pink and firm.
Add chopped
incorporate.
parsley,
stirring
to
Serve immediately over cooked white
rice.
Acadiana and Avery Island
In 1971 the Louisiana State
Legislature officially recognized 22
Louisiana parishes for their "strong
French Acadian cultural aspects" (House
Concurrent Resolution No. 496, June 6,
1971), and made The Heart of Acadiana
the official name of the region. Despite
the Resolution, the name has never been
embraced by the public. Instead, the one-
word place name Acadiana references
the region.
Acadiana, as defined by the
Louisiana legislature, refers to the area
from just west of New Orleans to the
Texas border along the Gulf of Mexico,
and about 100 miles inland to
Marksville. This includes the 22
parishes
of Acadia, Ascension,
Assumption, Avoyelles, Calcasieu,
Cameron, Evangeline, Iberia, Iberville,
Jeff Davis, Lafayette, Lafourche, Pointe
Coupee, St. Charles, St. James, St. John
The Baptist, St. Landry, St. Martin, St.
Mary, Terrebonne, Vermilion, and West
Baton Rouge.
Although Cajuns are most often
associated with swamplands and
bayous, Acadiana consists of low gentle
hills in the north, and dry land prairies,
with marshes and bayous in the south,
nearer the Gulf of Mexico. The wetlands
are more numerous in and around the
Calcasieu River, Atchafalaya Basin, and
the Mississippi Basin. Acadiana is
known for its native fish, but it is also
cultivated with fields of rice and
sugarcane.
Many of the recipes in this cook book
call for Tabasco Sauce, so here‘s the
story behind it!
One of the jewels of Acadiana lies
just south of Lafayette, in Iberia Parish Avery Island, internationally known as
the home of Tabasco sauce. The tiny
island is actually a salt dome,
surrounded by bayous, and is about three
miles inland from Vermillion Bay,
which in turn opens onto the Gulf.
American Indians first used the island
to extract salt; but when the Avery
family settled there in the early 1800‘s,
it was cultivated as a sugar plantation.
The salt mines were not utilized
commercially until the Civil War, when
a mine of pure rock salt produced over
twenty-two million pounds for the
Confederacy.
Prior to the Civil War, Edmund
McIlhenny became part of the Avery
family by marriage. And in 1868,
Edmund founded McIlhenny Company to
manufacture Tabasco pepper sauce.
Today, it is still manufactured by the
process patented in 1870, and the
product is marketed world-wide.
Avery Island is also a bird paradise,
the result of another McIlhenny,
affectionately referred to as "Mr. Ned".
In the late 1890"s, when hunters killed
egrets by the thousands in order to
harvest feathers for the ladies‘ hat
industry, Mr. Ned (Edward Avery
McIlhenny) gathered a few young egrets
and raised them in captivity on the
island. He released them in the fall to
migrate across the Gulf; but when the
next spring arrived, the birds returned to
the island, bringing others with them. It
is a migration that continues to this day,
and, in season, visitors can see the birds
in their natural habitat.
With Savory Crust
Crust Ingredients:
1 ½ cups all purpose flour
1 ½ tsp thyme leaves
½ tsp cayenne
½ tsp salt
4 tbsp butter (½ stick)
4 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp plain yogurt
Crust Instructions:
Spray a 9" or 10" tart pan with cooking
spray, or grease with butter.
In a food processor, pulse flour, thyme,
cayenne and salt until combined.
Add the butter, 1 tbsp at a time, pulsing
until incorporated.
Add the olive
combined.
oil,
pulsing
until
Add the yogurt, pulsing until combined.
Press dough into prepared pan,
spreading evenly across the bottom, up
the sides, and over the rim to form a
crust.
Note:
If dough is too moist, the crust and sides
may slide down during baking. To
prevent this, place a slightly smaller pan
inside the larger one, trapping the
unbaked crust in between, allowing the
initial 15 minutes of baking to firm the
shell in readiness for the filling.
Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes, place
in oven until set, but not browned
(approx 15 minutes).
Let cool on wire rack. Increase oven
temp to 375° F.
Crawfish Quiche Ingredients:
½ cup diced purple onion
¼ cup diced red bell pepper
1/8 cup diced green bell pepper
2 tsp chopped garlic
½ tsp salt
½ lb crawfish tails (peeled)
1 cup heavy cream
2 large eggs
¼ tsp black pepper
¼ tsp Worcestershire sauce
¼ tsp Tabasco sauce
¼ tbsp chopped chives
¼ cup grated parmesan
1 cup shredded white cheddar
A few green onions (for garnish)
S e e Three Cheese Grits recipe to use
any leftover cheese.
Instructions:
Melt butter in a medium sauté pan over
medium heat.
Add the onions, red and green bell
peppers, garlic, salt and cayenne, and
sauté 2 minutes.
Add crawfish and sauté another 2
minutes. Remove from heat and let cool.
Whisk together the cream, eggs, black
pepper,
Worcestershire,
Tabasco,
chives, parmesan and Cajun Seasoning.
Pour the crawfish and sautéed
ingredients into the tart shell, spreading
the mixture evenly.
Pour the whisked mixture over the
crawfish and sautéed vegetables.
Toss cheddar loosely over whisked
cream and eggs, pressing it softly into
the mix. Be sure the cheese is submerged
sufficiently, or the cheese will brown
too quickly.
Bake at 375° F for about 35 minutes, or
until center is set and the top is lightly
browned.
Remove from the oven and cool at least
10 minutes before slicing.
Garnish each slice with green onions, if
desired.
Note:
This dish is excellent as a left-over.
Keep in refrigerator for up to three days,
then microwave briefly. Caution,
microwaving too long may dry the crust
and cheeses. If time allows, results are
better if microwaved about 30 seconds,
then finished in 375° F oven for 8 - 10
minutes, or until crust is crisp and
flakey.
Boudreaux Went to the Bayou Bar
Boudreaux went to the bayou bar and
ordered three beers, consuming them
quietly before going home. The next
evening, he returned, repeating his order
of three beers at once. This continued for
several more nights, causing the
bartender and the regulars to whisper
among themselves about the normally
lively and chatty Boudreaux‘s quiet
behavior. Finally, the bartender‘s
curiosity got the better of him:
"Boudreaux, I don‘t mean to be nosey,"
he said, "but everybody around here is
wondering why you always order three
beers at one time, then go sit by yourself
in the corner?"
"Mais, dats easy," Boudreaux explained.
"I gots two brother. One went t‘ Texas
an‘ de udder one t‘ Mississip‘. We
promise each udder dat we‘d order an
extra two beer t‘ keep up de Boudreaux
bond."
As the word spread, every Cajun on the
bayou was impressed with Boudreaux‘s
explanation, and Boudreaux became the
talk of the bayou...until the evening he
ordered two beers instead of three.
With a worried look, the bartender
served him the two beers. And it didn‘t
take long for the word to spread up and
down the bayou. Even some prayers
were offered for the soul of one of the
Boudreaux brothers.
The next evening, as the bartender
served Boudreaux his two beers, he
said, in a low voice, "Boudreaux, your
friends on the bayou want to offer their
condolences for the death of one of your
brothers. You know...the two beers...."
Boudreaux thought for a moment, then
looked up with a grin, "You‘ll be happy
t‘ know dat my two brothers are alive
and well. It‘s jis dat me, myself, has
decided t‘ give up drinkin‘ for Lent."
pronounced: ’pê-kant
Sauce Piquant is indisputably a Cajun
delicacy. One of the easier sauces to
make, it begins with the requisite Cajun
roux, which is then adulterated with
tomatoes and tomato paste. To this, one
may add any number of meats, fish,
shellfish or game. Common in Louisiana
are rabbit, duck, alligator, venison,
various fish and shellfish, and even
nutria. We suggest you have a little fun
with our basic recipe and make an entrée
with your choice of one of the above!
Sauce Piquant with Fish Recipe
New Orleans Garden District
The Garden District is a
neighborhood of the city of New
Orleans, situated within the boundaries
of St. Charles Avenue to the north, 1st
Street to the east, Magazine Street to the
south and Toledano Street to the west.
Developed between 1832 and 1900, it
ranks among the best preserved
collections of historic southern mansions
in the United States, its origins
illustrating the opulent structures
afforded the prosperous in that era.
The area was once home to
plantations, but was later sold off in
parcels to the wealthy who did not want
to live within the Quarter with working-
class Creoles.
Originally developed with only a
couple of mansions per block, each
mansion was surrounded by gardens hence, the name "Garden District".
Today, the district is known more for its
delightful architecture than its gardens.
Area landmarks include the George
Washington Cable House, one of the
city‘s most famous restaurants named
Commander‘s
Palace,
Lafayette
Cemetery No. 1, numerous antebellum
mansions, and The Rink, a 10th century
skating rink enclosure that now houses a
small shopping mall.
As depicted below, The Garden
District is not far from the French
Quarter, and is certain to be enjoyed by
everyone.
Crust Ingredients:
1 ½ cups all purpose flour
1 ½ tsp thyme leaves
½ tsp salt
¼ cup plain yogurt
Crust Instructions:
Spray a 9" or 10" tart pan with cooking
spray, or grease with butter.
In a food processor, pulse flour, thyme
and salt until combined.
Add the butter, 1 tbsp at a time, pulsing
until incorporated. Add the vegetable
oil, pulsing until combined.
Add the yogurt, pulsing until combined.
Press dough into prepared pan,
spreading evenly across the bottom and
up the sides to form a crust.
Bake in oven until set, but not browned
(approx 15 minutes).
Let cool on wire rack.
Tart Ingredients:
2 lbs baby Vidalia onions, thinly sliced
3 large eggs
1 cup sour cream (not fat-free)
¼ tsp Tabasco
½ tsp white pepper
¼ tsp salt
1 cup grated Swiss cheese, or grated
parmesan (or a combination of both)
Tart Instructions:
Preheat over to 400° F
In large sauce pan, melt butter over
medium heat. Add oil, and reduce to
medium low.
Add sliced onions and sauté until golden
brown and soft (about 50 minutes),
stirring occasionally to lift the savory
brown parts from the bottom and sides.
Whisk together the eggs and sour cream.
Add to the sautéed onions.
Season with Tabasco, white pepper and
salt.
Pour mixture into prepared tart shell and
spread evenly.
Bake at 400° F for 20 minutes.
Remove tart from oven and top with
grated cheese(s).
Return to oven, and reduce temp to 350°
F.
Bake another 20 minutes, or until cheese
melts and browns slightly.
Remove from oven and cool at least 15
minutes before serving.
Cut into 6 - 8 pieces and garnish with
fresh parsley, if desired.
Also excellent with cold fruit, such as
sliced crisp apples or seedless grapes.
Louisiana Hayride
The city of Shreveport, in northwest
Louisiana, was home to the nationally
broadcast weekly radio show, Louisiana
Hayride, from its inception in 1948 to
the end of its primary run in 1960. The
show was broadcast from the Shreveport
Municipal Memorial Auditorium, and
during its heyday, helped to launch the
careers of some of America‘s greatest
signing stars. Elvis Presley performed
on the radio program in 1954, and made
his first Television appearance on the
show‘s TV version in March of 1955.
The show‘s name was the same as a
then popular book describing a political
scandal of the time that sent to prison
such notables as the Louisiana State
University president and a Louisiana
building superintendent. Not long after
its debut, Louisiana Hayride‘s growing
popularity expanded its listening
audience over a twenty-five station
network. The show‘s renown even
spawned a Broadway production of the
same name, and a TV network produced
its own version, titled, Midwestern
Hayride.
Early on, Louisiana Hayride ranked
second only to Nashville‘s Grand Ole
Opry. But where the Grand Ole Opry
showcased successful stars, Louisiana
Hayride interspersed virtual unknowns,
giving future luminaries a large listening
audience they may not have otherwise
enjoyed. Country music greats such as
Jimmie Davis, Johnny Horton, Jim
Reeves, George Jones, Hank Williams,
Faron Young, Johnny Cash, Tex Ritter
and Kitty Wells performed on the show.
When Elvis Presley first appeared on
the radio show, he performed one of his
first cuts at Sun Records, "That‘s All
Right Mama", and soon after he was
signed to a one-year contract with the
show. His new kind of music, called
rockabilly, was actually instrumental in
the decline of the show, since its main
venue, until the advent of Presley, had
been strictly country. Eventually, rock
and roll became the dominant venue on
the radio music scene, and on August 27,
1960, Louisiana Hayride aired its last
primary broadcast. In 2009, the original
Louisiana Hayride show (1948 - 1960)
was inducted into the Louisiana Music
Hall of Fame. And just one year earlier
(October 7, 2008), the Shreveport
Municipal Auditorium, pictured below,
was designated a National Historic
Landmark.
Early on, the show was popularized
by the country music it promoted, and
although country music is still popular
statewide, Louisiana claims - and more
specifically, the twenty-two parishes
that comprise Acadiana - Zydeco as its
native sound.
Shreveport Municipal Auditorium
Check de Boat Trailer Lights
Going
fishing,
Boudreaux
and
Thibodeaux decided to check the boat
trailer lights. "How dey do?" asked
Boudreaux, pressing the brake.
"Dey work," replied Thibodeaux, eyeing
the bright red lights.
Boudreaux toggled the right blinker.
"How de rite one do?" he asked.
"It do...it don‘t...it do...it don‘t... it do...it
don‘t," Thibodeaux stuttered.
Shrimp and Andouille Jambalaya
Ingredients:
16 medium shrimp, peeled, deveined
and cut into three pieces each
¼ cup chopped celery
¼ cup chopped onion
¼ cup chopped red bell pepper
2/3 cup chopped tomatoes
3 bay leaves
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp Tabasco sauce
&frac34 cup parboiled rice
3 cups chicken stock
½ lb Andouille, thinly sliced or cut into
small chunks
½ tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
Instructions:
Place cut shrimp in a large bowl and
season well with Cajun seasoning. Set
aside.
Heat vegetable oil, in a large saucepan,
over medium-high heat.
Add celery, onion and bell pepper and
sauté 2 minutes.
Add garlic, tomatoes, bay leaves,
Worcestershire and Tabasco sauces, and
sauté another 2 minutes.
Add parboiled rice and stir in chicken
stock.
Reduce heat to medium and cook about
15 minutes, stirring mixture occasionally
to be sure rice absorbs chicken stock.
Add seasoned shrimp and sliced or
chunked Andouille. Cook another 10
minutes, or until shrimp are pink.
Add salt and pepper and stir to combine
seasoning.
Add more Cajun seasoning, to taste.
Serve hot. A tasty and colorful
compliment is hot, buttered sweet cornon-the-cob.
Braggin’ on Their Husbands
Two Cajun wives were bragging on
their husbands, The first wife said, "my
man was nuttin‘ when I married ’im, but
I seen de potential, and now I‘ve made
’im a firs‘ class cook, yeh."
"Well," said the second wife, "I‘ve
made my man a millionaire!"
"Wad ’e was before?" the first wife
asked with amazement.
"A billionaire," said the second wife
The Sallier Oak
The red-running rays of old mother
sun were puncturing the placenta mist,
the first green growth of Resurrection
Fern springing to life from the limbs of
the sprawling oak. From under the tree‘s
protection, Catherine watched as the
nearby lake emerged from the vanishing
vapor, the deliverance of day slowcoaxed from the birthing sky. At any
moment now, the dew-laden masts of the
dread corsair might appear, flying the
colors of morning - Jean Lafitte, the
pirate of her heart.
Fondling her brooch, Catherine
mused on the golden gift that Jean had
last bestowed, its worth beyond all her
imagining. And with what daring she
wore it, too, for her husband would be
after the brash buccaneer should he learn
of the pirate‘s present. But he was a
day‘s horse ride away, a matter of
commerce freeing her latent longing.
As the mist cleared, and the great
burning orb shot heat through the arms of
the oak, Catherine turned from the barren
lake to maunder about her garden, each
budding plant a mockery of new
beginnings. Her husband, Charles
Anselm Sallier, had moved to the lake
after her immigrant parents had arrived
from Bordeaux. A new country - old
memories - a dashing young man...it had
all been a blur along the promenade of
romance, until Jean had brightened the
lake - the lake that bore her husband‘s
name: Charlie‘s Lake. But by the flame
of dreams, she saw her life in chains, a
commitment to Charles that adventure
could not erase. Oh! If only the morning
had spared her its gold, its spreading
light, its gift of promise and hope, she
could return to the sedative of
semblance, could rely on the prop of
propriety.
Lost in thought, the pounding of a fast
approaching horse summoned her to the
moment, to the unexpected appearance of
her husband, Charles. Halting before
her, he did not dismount, a glint of
sunlight catching her eyes, her sudden
fear, his pistol drawn and pointing, the
powder flash a fleeting thought before
she fell. And then he was gone, never to
return, certain he had slain his wife. But
no, the brooch had saved her, deflecting
the shot to thud harmlessly into the arms
of the Sallier Oak.
Among the many legends of Jean
Lafitte is the story related above. What
is fact remains: Lake Charles, Louisiana,
is named after Charles Sallier, and the
Sallier Oak is still extant, holding its
own through hurricanes and history for
more than 300 years...and perhaps a
gunshot or two! Another legend claims
that Lafitte buried treasure in a nearby
bayou. The lure of wealth has sparked
many an attempt to find it. And the
legend persists, Contraband Bayou, by
its very name, preserving a puzzling
past.
The city of Lake Charles celebrates
Contraband Days as an annual twelve
day festival. It is among the larger
celebrations in the state, with attendance
of over 200,000. The pageantry includes
Lafitte‘s arrest of the city mayor
(whereupon the mayor is made to walk
the plank!), a sailing regatta and a
nationally sanctioned speed boat race,
fireworks over the lake, the ubiquitous
Cajun cuisine, and many family oriented
competitions, including bathtub races
and crawfish races. The Festival is held
during the first two weeks of May.
Cajun Fried Shrimp
Yield: 8 servings
Ingredients:
2 cups whole milk
2 cups buttermilk (preferably not low
fat)
1 cup hot sauce (Louisiana or Tabasco)
3 cups all purpose flour
1 ½ cups cornmeal
3 tbsp black pepper
4 tbsp salt
4 lbs medium shrimp, peeled and
deveined, tails on
Vegetable oil for frying
Instructions:
Preheat oil to 375° F.
Line a tray or pizza pan with paper
towels and set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk milk, buttermilk
and hot sauce until combined.
In another large bowl, stir together flour,
cornmeal, pepper, salt and Cajun
seasoning.
Pat shrimp dry, then dredge in dry mix
first, then wet mix, and then dry mix
again, shaking off excess between each
dredging.
Fry in batches for about two minutes, or
until golden brown.
Use a slotted spoon or spatula to remove
shrimp from oil, and place on paper
towels to drain.
Serve warm with tarter sauce and or
cocktail sauce
Surprise Anniversary Gift
Boudreaux decided to get his wife a real
surprise for their anniversary, something
she had never had, and definitely
something that wasn‘t offered along the
bayou: a milk bath. Giving it some
thought, he came up with a plan.
"I wanna give de wife a milk bath for
our anniversary," he told his friend,
Fontenot, "an‘ seein‘ as how ya gots de
milk cow, der, I tought ya might be
willin‘ to help me wid da milk."
"Sure ting, Boudreaux," Fontenot agreed,
"but wad milk ya wanna put in da
battub...pasteurize?"
"Nah, jis so it cover her belly, dat‘s all I
want," Boudreaux replied.
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients:
4 thick bone-in center-cut pork chops
1 tsp Kosher salt
&frac34 cup flour
1 ½ cups chopped onion
½ tbsp fresh marjoram
½ tbsp fresh thyme
1 ½ cups chicken broth (low-sodium)
&frac34 cup Bulgarian buttermilk
2 cups steamed white rice
Instructions:
Rub the pork chops with the salt and
Cajun seasoning.
Pour the flour into a shallow dish.
Dredge both sides of the seasoned chops
in the flour and tap to remove any
excess.
Reserve the remaining flour.
In a large iron skillet, heat the vegetable
oil over medium heat.
Add the pork chops and cook until
browned, about 3 minutes per side.
Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Add the butter, onion, marjoram, thyme
and a pinch of salt to the hot skillet.
Cook, stirring occasionally, until the
chopped onion is golden brown, 6 to 8
minutes.
Add 3 tablespoons of the reserved flour
and stir continuously for 1 minute.
Add the chicken broth and bring to a
boil.
Cook until reduced by one-third, about 3
minutes.
Add the buttermilk and the browned
chops.
Bring the sauce to a near boil, then
reduce to a simmer and cook until the
sauce is thickened and the chops are
cooked through, about 8 minutes.
Serve hot with steamed white rice,
cornbread and honey butter*
* Honey Butter
Mix thoroughly 1 stick of butter (at room
temperature), 3 tbsp honey, 1/8 tsp
cinnamon and dash of salt. Chill slightly
before serving.
Caught Fire to My House
One Saturday afternoon Hebert was on
his back patio barbequing some yard
bird (dat's chicken 'case y'all Yankees
don't knowed dat), and he allowed the
fire in the pit to get out of hand. Before
he knew what was happening, the eave
of his house was ablaze. Instantly in
action, he grabbed his cell phone from
the top of his beer chest and called the
fire department:
"Hey Chief, dis here's Hebert. I dun
caught fire to my house , yeh. Can y'all
git here fast?"
Chief
Thibodeaux
answered
immediately, "OK, Hebert, but how we
git der?"
Hebert was stunned, but recovering
quickly, he yelled, "Mais, Chief, y'all
ain't got dat big red truck no more?"
Maque Choux
with Crawfish Tails
Maque Choux - pronounced: mock shoe
- is an oft-served traditional dish in
Acadiana. Usually a side, it can also
command entrée status (as our recipe
directs) with additions of bite-sized
shellfish, fish filets or chicken. Note: the
recipe photo depicts crawfish tails, the
most prevalent of the various choices.
Recipe
A Bicycle Built for Two
The wizened old lady sat quietly on
her vine-shaded porch, the chatter of
children, on their way home from
school, but a pleasant prod to her
memories. How long had it been, she
mused, not so very long, really...like the
Bible story of Jacob, toiling seven years
in the fields to earn the hand of his
beloved Rachel, his wife-to-be...the
story telling how just the thought of her
made the years seem as days.
Ahhh...how true...how love seemed to
smooth the edges, erase the scars, stretch
the promise of tomorrow exquisitely
across the years....
"Hello, Mrs. Prejean...are you faring
well today?" The pleasant voice seemed
far away, then nearer, as she slowly
came back to the moment, to the cheerful
presence of her new neighbor, young and
busy with little ones. "I saw you sitting
there, while I was watching for my boys,
and I thought I'd offer you a plate of
shrimp creole for your dinner."
"Oh! How kind of you...how kind,
indeed. Why, that was my Joseph's
favorite dinner," Mrs. Prejean replied,
sharing a bit of herself with the young
mother, "I had shrimp creole waiting for
my husband every Friday night, when he
came in from work. And it was our son's
favorite, too."
"I didn't know you had a son," the
young mother said, turning to look down
the street for the approach of her
schoolboys, "I thought you were
childless...I knew you were a widow, of
course; but that's nice to know - you
have a son to visit you once in awhile."
Mrs. Prejean turned in her old wicker
rocker to gaze in the direction her
neighbor was looking, espying the two
young lads running towards their mother,
the excitement of the moment negating
the need of reply. "I'll send one of the
boys over later with your dinner," the
young lady called over her shoulder,
greeting her boys with a hug, "when my
husband's home," she added, following
her boys next door.
How well do I remember those wellspent days, Mrs. Prejean reflected, the
joy of a little one coming home to share
his lessons, the peace of family when
Joseph was in for the evening...and then
it was over - and with such a suddenness
- first, the passing of our little one, and
then my Joseph...my Joseph.
The grandfather clock was striking
six when Mrs. Prejean heard the timid
knock. "Come in, my dear," she said, a
motherly pat on the youngster's shoulder
putting him at ease, "I was telling your
mother...." Looking at the boy - smiling
demurely as he extended the covered
dish - made any explanation of her
partiality to shrimp creole unnecessary;
after all, what could a child know of
death? Even her son had not the time to
consider. It had happened too
quickly...before
his
seventh
birthday...never knew of his present, the
red Schwinn bicycle hidden away in the
garage loft...even Joseph avoiding its
removal for fear of a fresh flow of tears.
"I don't think I've ever seen you on a
bicycle," she said, accepting the dish the suddenness of her observation a
surprise to both of them.
"No ma'am, you haven't...not here,
anyway," his smile disappearing, his
voice trailing off as though reminded of
some recent wrong. "My brother has
one, but mine was stolen just before we
moved here. Daddy says I'll get a new
one for my birthday," he appended,
smiling anew.
"And that is?" Mrs. Prejean asked,
turning to place her dinner on a lamp
table by the door.
"Oh, my birthday is this summer July, when school's out," he explained,
the joy of expectancy dancing in his
bright blue eyes.
"July!" Mrs. Prejean exclaimed, "at
your age, that's a long time to wait. Tell
you what," she said, pausing a moment to
find the right way to phrase her thought,
"ask your mother to stop by here
tomorrow...I'll have her dinner plate
washed and-and maybe even a few
pecan sandies for you and your brother,"
"Wow!" he answered eagerly, the
word explicit with gratitude.
The next afternoon seemed a
continuum of days-gone-by, the old
wicker rocker, with its gray-haired
occupant, still-framed between vinecovered
lattice.
"Hello,
Mrs.
Prejean...are you faring well today?"
This time she was ready, expecting, her
imaginative plan all aglow.
"Your shrimp creole was divine,"
Mrs. Prejean replied, getting up from her
rocker, "and your little messenger, an
angel. I have your plate just inside," she
went on, "and I've wrapped some pecan
sandies for the boys."
"They were hoping you wouldn't
forget," the neighbor said, "that's all they
could talk about when they left for
school this morning. 'Don't forget to go
get your plate', they told me, meaning
something else entirely, of course."
"And how could I forget," Mrs.
Prejean responded, the glisten of tears in
her eyes, "I would be remiss if I didn't
remember to tell you to send your
husband over this evening. I have a
brand new Schwinn, still in its box up
over the garage, just waiting for a boy's
adventure."
"Mrs. Prejean! I...well...I can't let you
do that," the young mother protested,
noting the tears in the old ladies eyes.
"Or...or, perhaps I should," she added,
placing the cookies on the rocker and
reaching to give her a hug.
"Someday...someday I'll tell you
why,"
Mrs.
Prejean whispered,
embarrassed by her own tears,
"someday, while we watch the lad ride,"
she added, looking off into the distance
as though the thought were a current
event.
Classic Red Schwinn
Shrimp Creole
Yield: 8 servings
Ingredients:
½ cup chopped onions
½ cup chopped red pepper
1 tsp chili powder
2 bay leaves
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 28 oz can diced tomatoes
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp Tabasco sauce
1 tsp sugar
Salt and pepper to taste
1½ lbs peeled and deveined shrimp
4 cups steamed rice for serving
Chopped chives for garnish
Instructions:
Place a large pot, with the vegetable oil,
Add onions, celery and red pepper.
Cook 3 minutes, or until softened.
Add chili powder. Stir well and cook
another 3 minutes.
Add Cajun spice, bay leaves, tomato
sauce, tomatoes, Worcestershire sauce,
Tabasco sauce, sugar, salt and pepper.
Stir to combine and bring to the
beginning of a boil.
Reduce to simmer and cook, covered,
for 1 hour, stirring occasionally to
scrape the caramelization from the
bottom of the pan.
Add shrimp and cook another 3 minutes,
or until shrimp or pink and firm.
Remove from heat.
Remove bay leaves and serve over
steamed rice.
Garnish with chopped chives.
Billy Dee Becomes a Catholic
A few years back a Texan named Billy
Dee moved to the Acadian town of St
Martinville, a mostly Catholic settlement
with the picturesque Bayou Teche
meandering through its corporate limits.
As one might expect, with the town
being predominantly Catholic, the Holy
Days of Lent were strictly observed,
limiting Fridays to the consumption of
seafood.
As any good Texan knows, everyday is a
good day for bar-b-que, and with that in
mind, Billy Dee proceeded to establish
his pit in the center of his backyard,
where, everyday after work - including
Fridays - he fired up a rack of succulent
pork ribs that tantalized and tempted the
good Catholics in the whole of his
neighborhood. In fact, it was such a
disturbing temptation that the good
people of St Martinville decided to
speak with their parish Priest about the
Texan's blatant disregard for their
cherished religious tradition.
The Priest promised to intervene, and
paid Billy Dee a visit. Wishing to
placate his neighbors, Billy Dee, a
lifelong Baptist, agreed to become a
Catholic. After much study and
instruction, Billy Dee attended mass, and
as the priest sprinkled holy water over
him, Billy Dee heard him say, "You
were born a Baptist, raised a Baptist,
but now you are a Catholic."
When the news spread that Billy Dee
had been seen at mass, the neighborhood
was much relieved...until the next Friday
evening came around. There Billy Dee
was again, grilling and basting a big
rack of ribs, his aromatic bar-b-que
sauce wafting as Satan's wand over the
souls of the drooling sufferers.
The Priest was called immediately, and
as he rushed to the Texan's back yard,
clutching a rosary and preparing to
scold, he stopped in amazement at the
sight of Billy Dee, sprinkling a small
bottle of holy water over the ribs, and
reciting, "you were born a pig, raised a
pig, but now you are a Catholic!"
Yield: 4 Servings
Pictured: Fried catfish filets, tarter
sauce, coleslaw, fried okra, sweet
potato fries and hushpuppies
Ingredients:
4 fresh catfish filets (6 to 8 ounces)
2 tbsp Cajun Seasoning - divided
1/3 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 tsp Tabasco sauce
4 tbsp chopped parsley - divided
1/3 cup flour
1 cup cornmeal
1 tsp salt
1 ½ cup vegetable oil
Chopped parsley for garnish
Lemon wedges and tarter sauce for
serving
Instructions:
Place the catfish filets in a shallow dish.
Season with 1 tbsp of Cajun spice, and
add lemon juice, Tabasco sauce, 2 tbsp
parsley and garlic.
Flip the filets several times to coat
evenly.
Leave in dish and allow filets to stand at
room temperature for five to ten minutes.
Meanwhile,
combine
the
flour,
cornmeal, salt and 1 tbsp Cajun spice in
a shallow dish.
Remove the filets from the lemon juice
mixture and dredge both sides in the
flour mix. Set aside.
Heat the oil in a large cast iron skillet
When the oil has reached 350° F, add
the filets, 2 at a time, and fry until golden
brown, turning once (about 3½ minutes
per side).
Remove filets from the skillet and drain
on paper towels.
Garnish with remaining parsley and
serve with lemon wedges and tarter
sauce.
The Anniversary
Professor Matthew Beauregard was
not one to be melancholy, his memories
fairly brimming with scenes of connubial
bliss, parental pride and university
accolades. But today, all of the best
could not sum to the total of his
despondency. It was the first anniversary
without the cynosure of his life‘s
celebration, his helpmate of sixty-three
years gone on to await his arrival.
Wiping a tear from his cheek, he
reached for the dark-framed photo of the
smiling girl so flawlessly beautiful in the
white of her wedding gown. I shouldn‘t
have, he thought, blinking more tears
from his worshipping eyes, I should call
one of the children, inquire of the
grandkids...anything to get my mind
around the morning...but my heart...my
heart is elsewhere...missing the peace of
a mutual trust that never once has
failed...not will it ever, he mused, the
eternality of our oneness bound in silver
threads of days and nights, of months and
years well-spent.
Gazing wistfully at her image, he
noticed something he had never seen
before: the faded tip of a piece of paper
protruding from behind the photograph.
Removing the back of the frame, he
pulled the paper out from between the
photo and its matting.
Cautiously, so as not to tear the
mysterious message at its folds, he
opened it to read:
Matthew, should you linger at my
passing, may your recollections be as
Lord Byron penned, his verse a seal to
all that was, and all that still shall be;
for love can not be severed...not even
by death!
Your Faithful Wife,
Madelaine
And as he read the verse which she
had treasured, his tears were dried, his
hope renewed, his day refreshed with
the nourishment of love‘s continuing:
O talk not to me of a name great in story:
The days of our youth are the days of our
glory;
And myrtle and ivy of sweet two-andtwenty
Are worth all your laurels, though ever
so plenty.
What are garlands and crowns to the
brow that is wrinkled?
Tis but a dead flower with May-dew
besprinkled:
Then away with all such from the head
that is hoaryWhat care I for the wreaths that can only
give glory?
O fame---if I e‘er took delight in thy
praises,
Twas less for the sake of thy highsounding phrases,
Than to see the bright eyes of the dear
one discover
She thought that I was not unworthy to
love her.
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I
found thee,
Her glance was the best of the rays that
surround thee;
When it sparkled o‘er aught that was
bright in my story,
I knew it was love, and I felt it was
glory.
Creole Red Snapper
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients:
3 purple onions, thinly sliced
2 tbsp tomato paste
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp Tabasco sauce
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp sugar
2 tbsp unsalted butter for sautéing fish
4 fresh red snapper filets
4 tbsp fresh chopped parsley for garnish
Instructions:
Prepare onions and set aside.
Stir together garlic, tomato paste, olive
oil, Tabasco and Worcestershire sauces,
Cajun spice and sugar.
Pour ½ of the mixture over the filets.
Top with ½ of the sliced onions.
Cover and chill in refrigerator for 5
hours.
Cover remaining sliced onions and keep
in refrigerator for use when cooking
filets.
Add butter to large sauté pan and melt
over medium high heat.
Remove filets from chilled mixture, and
cook, along with remaining sliced
onions, for about 6 minutes, or until flesh
is cooked through, turning once.
In a separate pan, warm remaining
ingredient mixture and serve over
cooked filets.
Top with sautéd onions and fresh
parsley.
Candles for Charles
"Have you ever suffered the insanity
of laughter, perhaps the muted broadcast
of a television comedy, the characters
unheard, only the laughter erupting in
rhythmic bursts of tumultuous, mirthless
nonsense - akin to the lonely torture of
the deaf, the movement and expression
of humankind in silent mystery played?"
"What kind of question is that?" Amelia
asked, the sulfurous smell of her striking
match causing Charles to hold his breath.
"Detached...separated...repulsed...like
the acrid smell of your match, the very
strike that would set the candle aflame
becoming the veil that hides it," Charles
continued, extemporizing flaccidly.
"That‘s how I feel now. Just hours ago, I
was a part of it all: the azure sky at the
set of sun, the temperate breeze that
cooled the last of the workday cares even you, Amelia, no...especially
you...that little catch in your breath when
I entered the house, your sudden smile,
the drop of your eyes that caressed me
like a prayer...and then...then you
reminded me."
The candle fluttered, growing to a
waltzing flame that shadowed the walls
with imaginings. "It wasn‘t intentional,"
Amelia offered docilely, leaving the
table to retrieve the pitcher of sunbrewed tea she hoped would restore
their cheer. "It was coincidence, a
candlelight dinner-"
"Stop!" Charles interrupted,
brandishing his hands as though to ward
off attack. "It‘s forgotten now. Oh, and
look what you have there, just what a
tired husband needs to revive his
spirits," the warm tea cracking the ice in
his glass as she poured.
The candlelit dinner behind them,
Charles took his wife by the hand,
leading her out to the back screened
porch to sit in the light of the stars.
"You‘re an angel, Amelia," he said, his
wondering gaze fixed on the rising
moon, large and yellow through the
pines, "just your nearness puts me at
rest. I‘ll never understand it, nor need I,
darling. All I am certain of is that I am
the most fortunate man alive to know
such peace."
His words were comforting, timely,
an unseen tear warming Amelia‘s cheek.
It was true, she loved her man, and not
only did she love him, she prayed
incessantly for another child, another
chance to see the pride in her husband‘s
eyes.
A month had passed and still the
memory of that candlelight dinner
haunted her thoughts. How could she not
have foreseen what it would do to
Charles, bringing to mind that little
casket, the sickening sweet of wreaths
and sprays...the flickering candles akin
to the fragility of life, the finality of
death.
But tonight was redeeming: three
candles in an arrangement of fresh
snipped baby‘s breath - the flower of
happiness - the table set with their best
china and cutlery, and on his plate, an
exquisitely inscribed card announcing
her pregnancy.
Should she wait at the door? No, she
would light the candles as he entered the
room in search of her...he would be
calling her name...calling her...his
beloved...his wife, mother of his
child...her child...their child - and he
was there, staring in amazement,
knowing, by her radiance, that their lives
had been blessed beyond their wildest
imaginings.
Cajun Blackened Catfish
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients:
4 6oz catfish filets
4 tbsp butter, melted
1 tsp paprika
½ tsp garlic powder
½ tsp onion powder
½ tsp black pepper
½ tsp red pepper
½ tsp red pepper
½ tsp dried thyme
½ tsp dried marjoram
¼ tsp salt
Instructions:
In a shallow dish, combine the spices to
make a rub.
Brush both sides of filets with the melted
butter and coat both sides with the spice
rub.
Set a large iron skillet over high heat
and place filets in unoiled skillet.
Drizzle remaining butter over filets.
Depending on thickness of filets, cook
over high heat, uncovered, for 2-3
minutes per side, or, until blackened and
fish flakes with a fork.
Serve with tarter sauce.
Boudreaux‘s Short Term Memory
Loss
Clotille
had
been
complaining
of
Boudreaux‘s short term memory loss.
She would send him to the store for
bread and he would gas up the pickup,
instead. The problem had to be
addressed, so she made him an
appointment to see the doctor...and
drove him there in case he forgot where
he was going.
"Mais, wad de problem, Doc?" he
asked, after a physical and thorough
consultation.
"We‘ll have to do some tests to be sure,
but you have two problems: it appears
you have a rare form of cancer,
Boudreaux, and the early stages of
Alzheimer‘s, as well," the doctor
replied sadly.
"Whew!" Boudreaux said with relief, "it
could be worse, Doc...me, I could have
cancer!"
Origin of the Po‘Boy
The po‘boy is universally known as a
sandwich from Louisiana, more
specifically, New Orleans. It is served
on a baguette with a crisp crust and
fluffy center, and traditionally enfolds
fried fish, shrimp, crawfish, oysters,
chicken, or meat of some kind. Fully
dressed, a po‘boy will have lettuce,
tomato, mayonnaise, pickles and onions,
as well as one or more seafood or meat
choices, and the French bread will be
toasted. Made to order, the sandwich is
almost always served hot.
There are many claims as to the
origin of the po‘boy, but the prevailing
one is that the sandwich evolved from a
restaurant owned by Benny and Clovis
Martin, brothers who had previously
been New Orleans‘ streetcar conductors.
As the story goes, the brothers gave free
food to their former co-workers on the
streetcar line when those workers were
on strike. The year was 1929, and by the
end of the four month strike, the Martin
Brothers‘ restaurant crew was referring
to the strikers as "Poor boys",
referencing their lack of income as well
as their dependence on the benevolently
dispensed sandwiches. It was the
Louisiana dialect that shortened the term
to "Po‘boys".
New Orleans enjoys world renown
for its grand cuisine, but it is the po‘boy
that has the greatest impact on the local
diet, and that, amazingly, in the era of
fast foods. In fact, in New Orleans,
po‘boys are eaten for lunch more than
any other single dish.
New Orleans Po‘Boy:
To build an authentic po‘boy, the
bread must be a baguette of French
bread, sliced lengthwise and toasted.
Beyond this, the variations are infinite.
Included in this cookbook edition are
recipes for fried shrimp, fried catfish
and fried alligator (or chicken nuggets).
Other popular fillers are fried crawfish
and fried oysters. And thinly sliced roast
beef and ham are two other choices,
although the roast beef versions usually
include a little hot beef gravy over the
meat slices.
Whatever you select, the sandwich is
tasty and filling, the toasted baguette
setting the stage for perfection!
Yield: 4 Po‘Boys
For the Crawfish
Ingredients:
¼ cup whole milk
¼ cups buttermilk
2 tbsp hot sauce (Louisiana or Tabasco)
6 tbsp all purpose flour
3 tbsp cornmeal
1 tsp black pepper
½ tsp salt
½ lb crawfish tails
Vegetable oil for frying
Instructions:
Preheat oil to 375 degrees F.
Line a tray or pizza pan with paper
towels and set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk milk, buttermilk
and hot sauce until combined.
In another large bowl, stir together flour,
cornmeal, pepper, salt and Cajun
Seasoning.
Dredge crawfish tails in dry mix first,
then wet mix, then dry mix again.
Fry for about two minutes, or until
golden brown. Use a slotted spoon or
spatula to remove crawfish tails from
oil, and place on paper towels to drain.
For the Po‘Boys
Ingredients:
2 baguettes, 12" long, sliced lengthwise,
then cut in half to form 4 Po‘Boys
½ pound fried crawfish
2/3 cup Remoulade Sauce
Sliced tomatoes to suit
Lettuce to suit
Cajun Seasoning to taste
Potato chips
Instructions:
Place sliced baguette halves on baking
tray and bake until slightly browned.
Spread Remoulade Sauce evenly over
four bottom slices of baguette.
Arrange fried crawfish over Remoulade
Sauce.
Arrange lettuce pieces over crawfish
and sprinkle with Cajun Seasoning, to
taste.
Arrange lettuce leaves over tomato
slices.
Cover with remaining toasted baguette
slices and serve with potato chips,
pickle, or side of your choice.
Boudreaux and Thibodeaux are walking
along the bayou, when Boudreaux
notices a compact in the grass. He picks
it up, opens it and looks in the mirror:
"Hmm, dis fella look familiar," he says.
Thibodeaux replies, "Boudreaux, let me
see dat." Thibodeaux takes the compact,
looks in the mirror and laughs, "Wad-a
dummy, Boudreaux, of course dis fella‘s
familiar, it‘s me!"
After Hurrican Katrina‘s devastation,
Hebert drove his pick-um-up truck to
New Orleans and offered his expertise
on rebuilding the city: "Me, I tink de
firs‘ ting we need to do here is to put up
a hurricane fence!"
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients:
1 lb fettuccini
4 tbsp salt
1 cup finely chopped onion
1 tbsp diced jalapeno peppers
12 oz heavy cream
8 oz diced tomatoes, drained
8 tbsp water from pasta pot
2 lbs medium shrimp, shelled and
deveined
1 cup chopped chives
¼ cup grated Parmesan
3 tbsp chopped fresh parlsey
Instructions:
Bring water to boil in a large pot
(follow instructions on fettuccini
package).
Add salt and fetticinni, cooking until
pasta reaches al dente stage (still a little
stiff, but almost cooked through).
Using a large sauté pan, set over
medium-high heat, melt butter and sauté
the onions and jalapeno peppers 4
minutes, or until the onions are slightly
caramelized.
Add the minced garlic and sauté an
additional 1 minute. Add the cream and
2 tsp Cajun spice and cook 3 minutes, or
until the cream is reduced by half.
Add the tomatoes, fettuccini, 8 tbsp
pasta water, remaining 2 tsp Cajun
spice, and the shrimp.
Cook 5 minutes, or until the shrimp are
pink and firm, stirring to combine.
Remove from heat and add the chives,
Parmesan and parsley, tossing to blend.
Serve immediately.
Swan Song?
Adapted from the author’s novel,
Twice Melvin
Young Vincent had tried,
unsuccessfully, to direct his thoughts to
matters large at hand: his university
studies, his part-time employment with
the Daily News, his future...but that‘s
where he digressed every time, his
future burning bright by another‘s lamp the lamp of love. And so, today he
would pay the Daily News to print his
verse, his heart‘s refrain to make the
world his choral cry. If she read his plea
with like affection, his life would bloom
with promise yet to be; if not...well, such
were the shames of the dark unknown.
And so he wrote, dismantling his
heart for all to see, for all to know his
fait accompli:
You are unto yourself what you would
be;
But unto me that which you are.
Pray bright may burn your guiding star
To lead you to that end that ends with
me.
Pray Great One who from naught
envisioned all,
May all be seen in nothing me.
Pray precious one by love to see
My naught loom large in matters great
and small.
Pray too that ever I adornment be,
Gold clasp to hold the vestment true;
Pray then that I in answer to
The why of we, make plain: twas meant
to be.
You are unto yourself what you would
be;
But unto me that which you are.
Pray look beyond your neither, nor;
Past rule‘s exception to discover - me!
Recipe Category
Cajun Grits with Shrimp and
Bacon
Cajun Rice and Eggs
Bayou Banana Bread
Three Cheese Grits
You Are My Sunshine
"You Are My Sunshine" is a wellremembered song first recorded in 1939,
and since declared one of the state songs
of Louisiana as a result of its association
with former state governor and country
music singer Jimmie Davis.
James Houston Davis (September 11,
1899 - November 5, 2000), better
known as Jimmie Davis, was a noted
singer of both sacred and popular songs.
He served two nonconsecutive terms as
the 47th Governor of Louisiana (19441948 and 1960-1964). Davis was a
nationally known popular singer from
the 1930‘s, and into the 1960‘s,
occasionally recording and performing
as late as the 1990‘s. He is a member of
the Country Music Hall of Fame and The
Louisiana Music Hall of Fame.
Jimmie Davis was a singer of rural
music before he entered politics. His
early work mimicked the already
successful Jimmie Rodgers, and he was
known for recording rhythmic and
raunchy tunes like "Red Nightgown
Blues". During his first run for governor,
opponents reprinted the lyrics of some of
these songs in order to discredit Davis‘s
campaign. At one event, Davis‘s
opponents played some of the records
over an outdoor speaker system, but
later relented when the crowds began
dancing, enjoying the music and ignoring
the ambiguous lyrics.
Jimmie Davis became known as the
"singing governor", often singing to the
crowds during his campaign stops.
While governor, he had a No. 1 hit
single with "There‘s a New Moon Over
My Shoulder". Davis recorded for
Decca Records and released over 40
albums. A member of the Baptist faith,
he also recorded Southern gospel
albums, and in 1967 served as president
of the Gospel Music Association. A
close friend of the band leader
Lawrence Welk, Gov. Davis was
frequently mentioned on the nationally
televised program, Mr. Welk making his
viewers repeatedly aware of the
friendship the two men shared.
Jimmie Davis died on November 5,
2000. He was 101 years and 55 days
old, which made him, at the time of his
death, the longest-lived of all U.S.
governors. He held this record until
March 18, 2011, when former Gov.
Albert Rosellini, of Washington State,
achieved a greater lifespan of 101 years
and 56 days, outliving Gov. Davis by
just one day.
Louisianans remember Governor
Davis for riding his horse, Sunshine, up
the marble steps of the capital building
in Baton Rouge. An irony, indeed, since
Jimmie Davis introduced, in his first
term as governor, the Louisiana state
law that requires drivers to be licensed
in order to operate a motor vehicle!
And, with the state of Louisiana
receiving an annual rainfall of over 60",
what better legacy could The Singing
Governor leave his constituents than:
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when the skies are
grey - .
Cajun Grits
with
Shrimp and Bacon
Ingredients:
1 pint shrimp stock and 1 pint water (see
first recipe in this cookbook), or 1 quart
water*
1 cup stone-ground grits (not quick or
instant)
½ tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
4 tbsp butter
2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
5 slices smoked bacon, chopped
1 pound med shrimp, peeled and
deveined
1 cup thinly sliced scallions
1 minced garlic clove
1/3 tsp Tabasco
3 tbsp fresh chopped parsley, divided
Juice of one large lemon
Note: If using water only, add ¼ tsp
ground thyme when sautéing shrimp mix.
Instructions:
Bring stock (or water) to a boil.
Stir in grits, salt and pepper, being sure
there are no lumps.
Simmer, covered, for 20-25 minutes, or
until all liquid is absorbed.
Remove from heat and stir in butter and
cheese.
While grits are cooking, peel and devein
shrimp. Rinse and pat dry.
Fry bacon until crisp. Reserve bacon
drippings in skillet.
Pat cooked bacon dry, then cut or
crumble into small pieces.
Place shrimp in bacon drippings and
cook over med heat until just beginning
to turn pink.
Add scallions, garlic, Tabasco and ½ of
the chopped parsley.
Sauté for another 3 minutes or until
shrimp are firm and entirely pink.
Pour shrimp mixture over cooked grits.
Squeeze lemon juice over shrimp mix
and garnish with bacon pieces and
remaining parsley.
Serve immediately.
Mr. Lost and Mr. Found
"We should change our name to Mr.
and Mrs. Lost," Calvin remarked, a
growing dreariness flattening his tone.
"First, I lost my job, then you lost your
car, and now we may lose our house.
After that, what‘s left to lose but each
other?" he asked his wife, Hannah, as
she divided the skillet of hot rice and
egg.
"Before we lose each other, Calvin,
we would have to lose our faith," she
retorted with the ring of reproach, "and
I‘m not going to do that...not now, not
ever!" she added dramatically, plopping
his half-filled plate of steaming rice and
egg on the barren table. "Why don‘t we
make a list?" she suggested, taking her
place at the table and slowly shoving her
half-serving in his direction.
"That‘s what I was doing," Calvin
replied morosely, unaware of her slowmotion gift.
"No, I mean a list of our blessings,"
she corrected, getting up for a pad and
pen. "Here...you eat, I‘ll write," she said
briskly, sitting down with her weapons
of choice. "First on the list is our belief
that God makes everything work for our
good," she began, writing His Will
across the top of the page.
"Okay," Calvin agreed reluctantly,
"but to be realists, let‘s list our
problems, as well."
Dutifully, she wrote Previous Job on
the left and Better Job on the right.
"There," she said, pushing the pad
across the table for his perusal, "will
that do?"
"Characteristic Hannah," he muttered,
shoving the pad back. "Lost job becomes
previous job? Okay, I‘ll accept that,
since the whole incident was more
complex than one man‘s job; a national
construction firm going bankrupt forced
thousands out of work. But how can you
note replacement job as better job?" he
asked grumpily, reaching for her rice
and egg with apparent ignorance of its
origin.
"Because we began with His Will,"
she explained, with a look of incredulity.
"How could it be otherwise?"
"Dunno," Calvin mumbled,
mindlessly consuming the second small
serving of breakfast.
"Well, if that‘s our premise, then
what follows is a certainty," she
continued, her sudden smile having its
effect. "I find a happy expectancy just in
listing the good things to come," she
quipped, writing better house in bold
script.
His interest piqued, Calvin
forward to read her words.
happened to Second Car," he
"and what do you mean by
House?"
leaned
"What
asked,
Better
"Maybe we don‘t really need a
second car," Hannah explained, "maybe
the better job will come with a car...or
truck...and any house that‘s paid for is a
better house, whether it‘s
house or another one.
extemporized, "let‘s add
phone, a probable requisite
employment."
our current
And," she
your cell
of your next
Her fervor was contagious, Calvin
leaning back in his chair with the
semblance of a smile. "To quote Saint
Paul‘s Agrippa, almost thou persuadest
me, my darling."
"To which Saint Paul replied, I
would to God that thou...were almost
and altogether such as I am, except these
bonds," she replied, laughing, "and I am
doing my utmost to free you of your
bonds!"
"That you are, Hannah, and I love you
for it," he affirmed, the truth of his claim
apparent in his regard, his attention now
acute. "But, back to your list...why the
cell phone?"
"Because, until a better media is
invented - and I believe it will be, if
only because it will be better" she added
with a chuckle, "we need connection to
our world, a means of receiving what
may be sent our way."
"What may be sent our way?" he said
quizzically, "I‘m not getting your-" the
ring of his cell phone interrupting the
matters-at-hand, his hearty "Hello"
inaugurating an awakening of his entire
being: first, a light across his
countenance, then an excitement in his
frame, Calvin erupting from his chair to
pace the floor with a cheerful animation
Hannah hadn‘t witnessed in weeks. And
when at last the conversation was at end,
he couldn‘t sit down, his excitement
garbling his attempt to explain:
"One of my ex-employer‘s
customers...wants
me
to
oversee...expanding
franchise
stores...guarantees me more than
twice...more than...more...Oh, Hannah!"
he cried, grabbing her up in his arms,
"how could you know...how, my sweet,
darling
wife...my
bonds...they‘re
gone...I‘m free! I‘m Free!" he shouted,
holding her out at arm‘s length to better
display his joy.
"I didn‘t know anything, Calvin," she
demurred, glowing in his arms, "I just
knew that our Father would supply our
needs, whatever they may be. But now,"
she added, laughing merrily, "now that
we consider the supply, the immensity of
our need amazes me!"
"Lord, thank you!" he said, laughing
with her, "and before I forget," he
continued, "there‘s a bonus...a-n-n-nd...a company vehicle!"
"But of course!" she cried, "and now,
for the grand finale!" Taking both of her
husband‘s hands, she knelt, pulling him
down to join her. "Dear Father," she
began, lifting her eyes to gaze beyond the
visible, "Calvin and I begin this new
journey by humbling ourselves in the
admission that we can do nothing
without You; all that we are, all that we
have, all that we may accomplish, is a
gift of your Providence. By this
acknowledgment, may we return your
blessings to be multiplied for the benefit
of others, and to the glory of your Name.
Amen."
"Amen," Calvin repeated, wiping
tears from his upturned face, "and thank
you, Father, for the angel you have given
me for a wife."
"Now," Hannah said, after a moment
of mutual reflection, "where were
we...oh, I remember...we were listing
our blessings...the blessings of Mr. and
Mrs. Found!"
Cajun Rice and Eggs
A Cajun Breakfast Tradition
With rice served most everyday, it
follows that Acadians would discover
ways to use yesterday‘s leftover rice at
breakfast. The recipe below is a
simplification deduced from the
amalgam of many variations. The recipe
is one remembered from childhood: the
enticing aromas of frying bacon, slowdripping chicory coffee, and not
infrequently, the welcoming scent of
oven toasted leftover French bread
lathered with garlic and sweet cream
butter.
What you will need to serve four:
8 to 10 slices of smoked bacon
½ cup chopped red bell pepper
½ cup chopped green bell pepper
Approximately 4 cups of cooked,
leftover white rice
6 whole eggs
1/3 cup heavy cream
1 tsp Tabasco sauce or Louisiana hot
sauce
2 tsp Cajun seasoning
Salt and black pepper
½ cup chopped green onions
Instructions:
In a large iron skillet, fry bacon until
crisp enough to crumble into small bits.
Set crumbled bacon aside and drain
most of the bacon fat from the pan,
leaving approximately three tablespoons
to sauté peppers.
Sauté red and green bell peppers in
bacon fat for two minutes.
Remove from heat.
In a large bowl, whisk together eggs,
cream, your choice of hot sauce and
Cajun seasoning.
Add rice and crumbled bacon bits,
stirring until rice is separated and evenly
coated by the egg mix.
Pour mix into iron skillet, stirring to
incorporate peppers, and cook over
medium heat, stirring frequently and
scraping mixture from bottom of pan to
prevent burning.
When mixture begins to dry (begins to
glaze like soft-scrambled eggs), add salt
and pepper to taste.
Remove from heat and
immediately on breakfast plates.
serve
Garnish with chopped green onions and
include your choice of toasted muffins or
bread, hot coffee, and/or cold milk.
C'est si bon! (It‘s so good!)
Make Noise Like a Frog
Boudreaux's little boy asked his daddy,
"Poppa, can you make a noise like a
frog?"
Boudreaux replied, thoughtfully, "Mais,
yah...but why ya wants me t'make noise
like a frog?"
"Cause Momma tol' me dat soon as you
croaks, we goin' to Disneyland!"
Bayou Banana Bread
Be sure to read Bread of Belief Story
A compliment to breakfast or tea time
snack, Banana Bread is a perennial
southern favorite. Our recipe calls for
chopped dates and a good mix of
walnuts and pecans, the latter giving it
the Cajun seal of approval. Try it warm,
with a pat of unsalted, sweet cream
butter...and breakfast will be a sweet
memory for the rest of your day.
Bayou Banana Bread Recipe
An elderly Boudreaux returned home
from a round of golf, and his wife,
Clotille, asked him how his game went.
"Mais, I was hittin‘ de ball good, but my
old eyes, dey gone bad on me. I couldn‘t
see where de ball went."
"Next time, take your fren Thibodeuax
wid ya," Clotille advised, pouring her
man a tall glass of tea.
"Hmmm, but Clotille," he mused aloud,
"Thibodeaux is older dan me."
"Mais, yeh," Clotille replied, "but his
eyes, dey a lot better dan yours. He can
watch where de ball goes, an‘ tell ya."
"Yeh," Boudreaux agreed, "good tought.
I‘ll take him wid me next time."
And so it was that, as Boudreaux hit his
best tee shot in years, he turned with
confidence to his good fren Thibodeaux.
"See dat, my fren?" he asked, secretly
thinking of Clotille and her sound
advice.
"Mais, yeh," Thibodeaux replied, "dat
was one good shot, yeh."
"Glad ya tink dat, Thibodeaux,"
Boudreaux said proudly, "now, tell me
where it went."
"I forgot," Thibodeaux mumbled.
Boudreaux, Thibodeaux and Hebert
were boasting how they were the boss at
their respective homes. As Thibodeaux
and
Hebert
continued
bragging,
Boudreaux became quiet, a sheepish
look giving him away.
"Wad de matter, Boudreaux," Hebert
asked, "ye dun run outta tings to tell?
"Mais, no, my frens, me, I jist bein‘
quiet," Boudreaux replied, folding his
hands and looking at the floor.
"Nah, dat ain‘t like you, Boudreaux,"
Thibodeaux prodded, "When‘s de last
time you de boss?"
"Let me tol y‘all," Boudreaux
responded, Thibodeaux raising his ire,
"de utter nite, Clotille, she came to me
on her hands and knees, yeh."
"An‘ wad she say?" Hebert queried,
joining in the fun.
"Mais, dat‘s when she tol me, ‘git out
from under dat bed, you coward, an‘
come out here an‘ fight wid me like a
man!‘"
Three Cheese Grits
Three Cheese Grits is an attempt to
convert a great dish into a superb one,
and we think the addition of three
popular cheeses to the southern breakfast
requisite of hot, steaming grits does just
that. If you have sampled grits before
with a degree of apathy, be prepared for
a surprise: this dish has attentiongrabbing flavor!
Three Cheese Grits Recipe
Texan & His Sprawling Ranch
Boudreaux was sitting on his front porch
when a pickup drove up his drive and a
man stepped out. The stranger
introduced himself to Boudreaux, adding
that he was from Texas, and that he was
gathering information about land along
the bayou.
The Texan asked, "Mr. Boudreaux, how
much land do you have here?"
Boudreaux answered, proudly, "Mais, I
gots about two acres here."
The Texan smiled sympathetically.
"That's not much land, Mr. Boudreaux,"
he replied, "why, back at my spread in
Texas, it takes me all day just to drive
my truck down the drive from my house
and out to the county road that runs along
my sprawling ranch."
Boudreaux thought a moment, then
quipped, "Yeah, I had a truck like dat
one time, but I traded it for a better one,
yeh."
Clotille Was Going Deaf
In the privacy of the bedroom,
Boudreaux phoned his doctor to tell him
that Clotille was going deaf.
"Well Boudreaux, how bad is it?" the
doctor asked.
"Mais, Doc, I don't know, but she don't
seem to hear me at all. Wads de best
way to find out?"
"Boudreaux," the Doc instructed, "go
stand about 20 feet behind her and say
something in your regular tone of voice.
If she doesn't respond, then move up 10
feet and try again. If she still doesn't
respond, move 5 feet closer and try
again. If you still don't get a response,
move right up behind her and try."
So Boudreaux walked towards the
kitchen where his wife was washing
dishes. Standing in the doorway, he
judged he was about 20 feet behind her.
"Wad we havin' for dinner?" he asked,
speaking normally.
He heard no response, so he moved up
10 feet and asked again. Still no
response, so he moved up to within 5
feet of her and asked again, "Wad we
havin' for dinner?" Nothing! "Huh, it
worse dan I tought," Boudreaux said to
himself.
Moving right up behind her now, he put
his arms around her and asked a fourth
time, "Wad we havin' for dinner?"
His wife turned around in his arms and
said, "Boudreaux, for de fourth time, I
said we's havin' chicken gumbo!"
Be sure to read Article about St. Louis
Cathedral and Jackson Square
Most French Quarter visitors have
fallen prey to the bewitching aroma of
hot beignets and café au lait, leaving
with that haunting wish to recreate the
"moment". The moment has arrived! Try
our recipe for breakfast or afternoon
pick-me-up - either event an epicurean
delight. And, we might add, an event to
be shared.
Beignets & Café au lait Recipes
Boudreaux and The Game Warden
Boudreaux was stopped by a game
warden in the Atchafalaya basin. The
game warden asked, "Do you have a
license to catch those buckets of Bass
you have there?"
"No, sir!" Boudreaux replied, "dese here
my pet fish."
"Pet fish?" the warden asked, smiling.
"You betcha." Answered Boudreaux.
"Ebery night I take dese fish here down
to da lake and let dem swim for a while.
Den, I whistle and dey jump back into de
buckets and I take dem home."
"That‘s baloney. Fish can‘t do that," said
the warden, suspecting Boudreaux had
been drinking, as well.
"Well den, I guess I has to show you,"
Boudreaux replied, with an expression
of great disbelief.
"Okay. I‘ve got to see this!" the game
warden answered amusedly, imagining
Boudreaux‘s face contorting with pain
when he gave him a big fine. Going back
to the lake, Boudreaux poured the fish
into the water and stood waiting. After
several minutes, the game warden turned
to Boudreaux and said, "Well?"
"Well what?" responded Boudreaux.
"When are you going to call the fish
back?"
"...What fish?" queried Boudreaux,
innocently, "I-I don‘t see no fish!"
Cajun Crawfish Quiche is not your
average crust-encased cheese omelet.
This one is different, that difference
spelled: CAJUN! Great as an entrée, it
works for breakfast, too; a herb-hopped
dish that pairs well with a strong cup of
coffee. Hot or cold, the crawfish flavor
is unmistakable, leaving the flakey crust
and creamy cheese to play supporting
roles.
Cajun Crawfish Quiche Recipe
Recipe Category
See next page for a list of the
recipes for this Recipe Category
French Bread Pudding
Pecan Pralines
Bayou Banana Bread
Peach Ice Cream
Peach Cobbler
Italian Cream Cake
Pecan Sandies
Gingerbread with Whipped Creme
Millionaire Pie
Bananas Foster
Pecan Pie
Senator Dudley J. LeBlanc
Dudley Joseph LeBlanc, Sr.
(colloquially known as Coozan Dud
LeBlanc), August 16, 1894 - October 22,
1971, was a colorful Cajun member of
the Louisiana State Senate whose
entrepreneurial talents netted him
millions through the national marketing
of his patent medicine, Hadacol. Born
poor, he earned his way through college,
becoming a high-powered salesman of
tobacco, shoes, crude oil, and patent
medicines.
Dudley Leblanc spent most of his life
in Abbeville, the seat of Vermilion
Parish, where he enjoyed a large,
comfortable home. In 1940, he was
elected to the first of his four
nonconsecutive terms in the state Senate.
LeBlanc often campaigned in French
when he made appearances in Acadiana.
In his Cajun tongue, he extolled his
merits as a politician who deserved the
support of his fellow Cajuns, attacking
his rivals in a language that most of his
opponents could not understand.
Legend has it that he once addressed
a political gathering in which a Public
Service Commissioner, who did not
speak French, was in attendance. A
practical joker, LeBlanc had some fun
with the Commissioner and his political
cohorts, assailing the Commissioner and
Huey P and Earl K Long. Not
comprehending the Cajun tongue, the
Commissioner was on the platform with
LeBlanc, applauding, as LeBlanc called
him "a crook!" Only in Louisiana, it was
said, could such politicking occur. Just
for the record, on more than one
occasion Earl K Long called LeBlanc "a
crook."
Sen. LeBlanc was always a staunch
defender of Cajun culture in Louisiana.
He served as president of the
Association of Louisiana Acadians, and
in the late 1960s, he, along with U.S.
Representative James R. Domengeaux of
Lafayette, worked to establish the
Council for the Development of French
in Louisiana. LeBlanc is credited with
helping to make Louisiana the only
English-French bilingual state in the
nation.
In 1957, while he was not in public
office, LeBlanc was indicted for
fraudulently filing his federal income tax
for the year 1951. The indictment was
thrown out, however, when his attorneys
filed a motion that LeBlanc could not
properly defend himself because a U.S.
District Court in New York had
destroyed the records of his company
after a 1952 bankruptcy hearing.
LeBlanc died of a massive stroke
suffered at Abbeville General Hospital,
where he had been admitted for
emergency surgery for a gastric ulcer
three days earlier. At his death, he had
about seven months left to serve of his
final term in office.
Be sure to read Article about St. Louis
Cathedral and Jackson Square
Most French Quarter visitors have
fallen prey to the bewitching aroma of
hot beignets and café au lait, leaving
with that haunting wish to recreate the
"moment". The moment has arrived! Try
our recipe as a dessert or afternoon
pick-me-up - either event an epicurean
delight. And, we might add, an event to
be shared.
Beignets & Café au lait Recipes
Providential Pudding
Many years ago, in the city of New
Orleans, a young mother was weeping
distraughtly under the rain-swept canopy
of a corner grocery. A passing
grandmother
stopped
to
offer
consolation. "What brings such tears, my
dear," the kind old woman asked, noting
a sodden bag at her feet. "Is there
anything I may help you with?"
"Ooooh," moaned the tearful mother,
"I fear not. You see, my husband has lost
his job, and I've just dropped what our
last little money could provide. The milk
has spilled on the French bread, the eggs
have broken in the carton, and-"
"Now, now," interjected the
grandmother soothingly, shaking the
water from her umbrella, "it can't be as
bad as all that."
"But you don't understand," wailed
the young mother, "there's nothing left in
the house to eat - nothing, except maybe
a shot of whisky, half a coconut and a
little sugar - and its all my fault."
"Oh dear," answered the old lady, a
twinkle in her caring eyes, "do you
author life's unfolding?" she queried, "is
ill-fortune self wrought? I think not," she
counseled kindly, "life is larger than
ourselves."
"What do you mean," sniveled the
mother, grateful for a compassionate ear.
"See that mud puddle over there?" the
grandmother asked, pointing her folded
umbrella, "do you think the little drops
of water could free themselves by
struggling? No, they would only disturb
the bottom, become more laden with
mud. The only way they can be free is to
wait, wait for the sun; and then, by
surrendering to its warmth, they will be
drawn upward to the clouds, leaving the
silt and sludge far behind."
"I-I think I understand," replied the
young mother, calming to the
grandmother's gentleness, "but how does
that relate to my sodden bag, my milksoaked bread and my broken eggs?"
Fumbling in her purse, the old lady
withdrew a nubby pencil and a narrow,
wire-hinged pad. "Go home to your
family and follow the instructions on this
note. You will soon see how surrender
to a power greater than yourself can
multiply your good," and so saying, she
wrote briskly, the young mother
accepting the torn paper note.
Months later, the grandmother was
again at the corner grocery. She was not
surprised to see an advertisement in the
window
hawking
"Providential
Pudding"; nor, was she taken aback by
the grocer's happy account of a
neighborhood
mom
who
was
successfully peddling the dessert.
"Claims she was given the recipe by an
angel...right outside my door...says the
recipe called for milk-soaked bread and
eggs...won't tell what else is in it... my
customers line up for it every
day...rumor has it she's expanding, too."
Pausing outside, the grandmother
gazed whimsically up at a cloudless sky,
musing, "that lucky old sun, it just rolls
around heaven all day!"
French Bread Pudding with Whisky
Sauce
Yield: approximately sixteen servings
Ingredients:
Eight cups of hand-torn, dry, crusty
French bread pieces
4 cups of whole milk
1 cup of chopped, pitted dates
1 20 oz can of well-drained crushed
pineapple
6 beaten eggs
½ cup natural, grated coconut
(unsweetened)
2 cups sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) melted unsalted butter
2 tbsp vanilla
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon of ground nutmeg
Instructions:
Combine bread, milk and dates, and let
stand 20 minutes, stirring occasionally to
soak bread evenly.
After soaking, add well-drained crushed
pineapple to bread mixture.
Using an electric mixer, beat eggs, then
add coconut, sugar, melted butter,
vanilla and cinnamon.
Pour mix into soaked bread and combine
ingredients with large spoon.
Pour into a greased 9 x 13 baking dish
and bake for approximately 50 minutes,
or, until a knife inserted in the center
comes out clean.
Dust sparingly with ground nutmeg and
garnish with mint leaves, if desired.
Whisky Sauce:
In a sauté or small sauce pan, melt ½ cup
butter.
Stir in 1 cup sugar, 2 egg yolks and 4
tbsp of water.
Stir over medium-low heat for 6
minutes, or, until sugar dissolves and
mixture thickens.
Turn off heat and stir in 5 tbsp bourbon.
Spoon over warm pudding cuts and
serve immediately.
Peace Pralines
With the attention of ardor and dint of
devotion, the salt of her tears burned hot
on her cheeks as she watched her man
walk away. "If there‘s nothing worth
dying for," she had told him softly, "then
there‘s nothing worth living for, either -"
his response, an empty shuffle of leaves
as he trudged from the shade of pecan
trees. If only I had her faith, he
pondered, kicking a paper shell pecan
with sullen indifference as he turned to
climb up the levee.
Beneath him, the churn of the muddy
Mississippi was as riotous as his roiling
thoughts - and just as dark. He had never
imagined it would come to this: this
choice between a lady and a lion. Oh
yes, he reasoned, that‘s what it is: my
intractable will that she calls a lion, a
hungry hunt for the vanishing sate of a
dollar. Why can‘t she see it my way? A
man should provide for his wife. But,
no...she thinks the best will just
announce itself with no struggle, no fight
to attain - with just a belief that it will
be.
"Look around you," a voice spoke
quietly from somewhere deep within,
"consider the power of the moving river.
Nothing can stand in the way of its
mission to pour of its plenty into the
great, green, goblet of the Gulf. And
from where did this power come...this
force that will not be denied?"
I know, he answered silently, looking
back to gaze through the distance at his
wife, still sitting beneath the protecting
trees. I know...its source is a little
Minnesota lake, Lake Itasca, a lake that
draws its name from the Latin "veritas"
(truth) and "caput" (head) - the "head of
truth".
Standing there, the morning sun
seemed to burn as a lamp on his
memory: all those sleepless nights in
college, those tomes piled high atop his
desk. Was a degree the ship upon which
he hung his escutcheon, and if so, to
what avail? It was the unseen wind that
drove him hard across the horizon, a
reliance on a heavenly force. What had
she said, this loving wife of his, so ever
in step with truth...with the Way, the
Truth, and the Life? "Lean not unto thine
own understanding. In all thy ways
acknowledge Him, and He shall direct
thy paths." That was what she had been
telling him this
morning:
the
acknowledgement, the direction...the
source of the wind in his sails, the peace
of a total reliance.
Turning, the sun seemed less on his
memory, now, and more on the gold in
her hair. "Truth!" he shouted, hurrying
down from the levee and sprinting for
the copse of pecans, their tremulous
leaves appearing to dance with joy at his
coming. "I‘ve found it!" he cried,
dropping to his knees before his wife,
"I‘ve found it...that thing worth dying
for!"
With all the ease of a forgiving smile,
she withdrew, from the picnic basket
that had first prompted them to the trees,
a warm pecan praline. "Here, darling,"
she whispered rapturously, "have a little
taste of life...for death has just lost its
sting!"
And as an eastern breeze but briefly
tousled a tress of golden hair, he kissed
away the tears that had sought so long to
fill his cup of bliss.
Pecan Pralines
Yield: approx 24 pralines
Ingredients:
2 cups light brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup heavy cream
8 tbsp (1 stick) unsalted butter
4 tbsp good bourbon (can substitute 3 ½
tbsp water and 1 tsp vanilla)
¼ tsp cinnamon
3 cups pecan halves (use 1 cup less if
you prefer a ratio of more candy to
pecans)
Instructions:
Mix the sugars, cream, butter, 3 tbsp of
the bourbon and cinnamon.
Place in a heavy-bottomed saucepan
over medium-high heat and stir
constantly until temperature reaches
240°
(a candy thermometer is imperative for
this recipe).
Depending on your pan and heat source,
it may take a few minutes for the entire
surface to reach a boil.
Remove from heat and quickly stir in
remaining 1 tbsp of bourbon.
Add pecans halves and continue to stir
vigorously, about 3 minutes, until the
candy cools
(the pecans should not settle once the
candy has sufficiently cooled).
Using a large spoon, or wooden spoon,
measure the pralines onto an aluminum
foil-covered baking sheet, and let cool
completely.
Be sure that pecan halves are measured
evenly with each spoonful, as the candy
will not incorporate them properly if you
try to press them back in as the pralines
continue to cool on the foil.
Isador, Fontenot and Thibodeaux
Isador was the proprietor of the bayou
town saloon. One evening, Fontenot
entered the empty saloon and lazily took
his regular barstool. Isador was some
happy to have a customer, asking
pleasantly, "De usual, Fontenot?"
"Wad de dif-frence, Isador...de usual or
de su-prise?" he asked casually, sighing
like the tired fisherman he wanted Isador
to suppose he was.
"Mais, ya wan' me t' su-prise ya?"
Isador queried, reaching for a bottle of
cold Texas beer.
"Nah...jis make it de usual, Isador," he
responded, watching Isador withdraw
his arm from the cooler. "A col' Jax beer
and som' talk wid a fren, yeh...now dats
wha' I need."
"Som-tin dun git ya, Fontenot?" Isador
asked with real concern, sliding a Jax
beer down the bar. "Can I hep ya, fren?"
he added kindly.
"Maybe," Isador replied, taking a sip of
his Jax and rummaging in his overalls
for a tin of his favorite chew. "I been
tryin' t' 'member how many doors ye got
here, an' I tinks maybe ya got four."
"I seeee," said Isador under his breath,
thinking his friend may have a problem
beyond his ability to solve. "Fontenot,"
he asked, after some thought, "how many
years ya been comin' here, huh?"
"I dunno...maybe twenty...maybe more,"
Fontenot answered, "an' dats wha' gots
me. I keep countin' fore doors. Fact is,
I'll bet ya fifty dolla ya got dem four. "
"Maybe I can hep ya," quipped Isador,
coming alive to the easy challenge,
"cause I dun been here longer din you,
Fontenot. I knows I gots two doors, an'
dats dat," he said with a self-satisfied
smile.
"Okay, wha' dat?" Fontenot asked,
pointing at the entrance to the old saloon.
"Fontenot, ya knows wha' dat is," Isador
retorted, shaking his head, "dat der's de
front door."
"Okay, dat's one...now, wha'dat der?"
Fontenot asked, pointing at the rear exit.
"Dats de behine door, Fontenot," Isador
replied sadly, concerned for his
beleaguered friend.
"An wha' yo' name?" Fontenot retorted,
enjoying his chew.
"I got ya, Fontenot," Isador replied, his
smile returning, "...Isador."
"Dat's tree," said Fontenot, turning to
employ the small spittoon Isador had
placed on the bar for customers' use.
"An' does ya knows wha' t' call dis
here?" Fontenot asked, pointing at the
spittoon, "dis here's a cuspidor," he
finished proudly. "Now, gib me de fifty."
Finishing his beer, Fontenot bid his
friend good night and departed,
chuckling...and fifty dollars richer. A
few minutes later, Thibodeaux entered,
taking the barstool Fontenot had just
vacated.
"Hep ya?" Isador asked, still befuddled
over his loss.
"De usual," Thibodeaux replied, shoving
the spittoon down the bar a little and
accepting his cold Jax beer.
"Saaaay, my fren," Isador drawled, a
sudden idea brightening his eyes, "how
many doors ya tink I got here?"
"Mais, Isador," answered Thibodeaux,
"ebery Cajun along dis bayou knows ya
gots two doors, yeh."
"Tink so, huh?" Isador baited, "if dat's
rite, den I dun bet ya fifty dolla's I gots
four!"
Regarding Isador with suspicion,
Thibodeaux slowly came to the
conclusion that this wasn't a bet he could
lose. "It's a bet, Isador," he said, pushing
his stool back to enjoy how this played
out. "Show me, my fren."
"Wha dat der?" Isador replied, pointing
at the entrance.
"Dat der's de front door," answered
Thibodeaux, grinning widely.
"An' dat der?" Isador continued, pointing
at the rear exit.
"Dat's de behine door, my silly fren,"
Thibodeaux remarked, eyeing Isador
mirthfully.
"An' wha dey call me?" Isador asked
proudly, pounding his chest.
"Aaaah, I gits it," Thibodeaux replied,
bringing his stool back close to the bar,
"but dat's jis tree, Isador...dat's jis tree,
yeh."
Stepping closer to his customer, Isador
was all smiles, thinking how he had
regained the fifty he had lost to Fontenot.
Pointing at the spittoon, he asked with
gleeful confidence, "An jis wha ya call
dat, Thibodeaux, jis wha ya call dat?"
Thibodeaux looked at Isador blankly,
shaking his head. "I-I dunno, Isador...I
dunno. Wanna tell me?" he asked, unsure
of what Isador was trying to do.
Isador scratched his head, still pointing
at the spittoon, color rising in his cheeks.
And after a tense silence, he began to
shout: "Dat tig-a-ma-jiggy spittoon der
dun cos' me a hundred dolla's today. A
hundred dolla's, yeh!"
Ingredients:
1 ½ lbs mashed sweet potatoes (approx
3 medium sweet potatoes)
½ cup packed light brown sugar
½ cup unfiltered molasses
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp ground ginger
1/8 tsp ground cloves
¼ tsp salt
3 medium eggs, beaten
1 cup whole milk
(1) 9" pie shell
Instructions:
Pre heat oven to 375° F
Boil or bake sweet potatoes until tender.
Cool slightly and peel.
Combine all ingredients in a mixing
bowl and mix well, stopping
occasionally to remove sweet potato
"strings" that may appear around the
beaters.
Pour mixture into 9" pie shell and cover
pie crust with foil or aluminum crust
protectors.
Bake for 20 minutes.
Remove foil or crust protectors and bake
an additional 30 to 40 minutes, or until a
knife inserted in center comes out clean.
Cool before serving.
Serve with whipped cream, if desired.
To store, cover and chill.
Hadacol, a National Nostrum
See article about Senator Dudley J.
LeBlanc
Senator Dudley J. LeBlanc invented
the dietary supplement, Hadacol, after
absconding with a bottle of liquid
vitamins from his doctor‘s office and
basing his Hadacol on the ingredients he
found in that bottle. He derived the name
Hadacol from the first two letters of
each name in his Happy Day Company,
adding an "L" at the end for his surname,
LeBlanc.
By his own account, he had a pain in
his big toe in 1943 and it spread to his
arms, legs and neck. Hospitalized, three
doctors failed to relieve the pain. On his
way out of the hospital, another doctor
told him that he looked like walking
death, adding, that he had something that
might give him some relief. The
medicine worked, and LeBlanc sneaked
a bottle of the medicine out of the
doctor‘s office so he could examine the
label. The modified contents of that
bottle would later become his dietary
supplement, Hadacol.
Hadacol boasted an alcohol content
of 12 percent; a fact that made it popular
as an ingredient in cocktails sold in the
French Quarter. Because of its high
alcohol content, Hadacol was only sold
in liquor stores in Northbrook, Illinois, a
suburb of Chicago. Presumably due to its
alcohol, customers who had holes in
their shoes were buying Hadacol for
$3.50 a bottle, a tidy sum in the early
1950‘s. Hadacol sales rocketed as
testimonials credited its recuperative
powers. Meanwhile, an Illinois official
warned that teenagers could get
plastered on Hadacol.
In 1950, Hadacol grossed $20
million over a twenty-two state sales
area. The 1950 Hadacol Caravan
claimed such luminaries as Connie
Boswell, Carmen Miranda, Roy Acuff,
Bob Hope, Jack Benny, Lucille Ball,
Minnie Pearl, Mickey Rooney, Chico
Marx, George Burns, and Gracie Allen,
all of whom travelled, at one time or
another, with LeBlanc‘s caravan. One of
these caravans traveled to the west
coast, stopping in Los Angeles for a
month. Groucho Marx and Judy Garland
headlined this caravan.
In 1952 the Senator sold his Hadacol
company for eight million dollars, a
grand sum at that time. But it wasn‘t long
before the Yankee buyers were reporting
that LeBlanc had sold them a company
that wasn‘t as financially solvent as he
had claimed. In addition, he was
$650,000 behind in his federal tax
payments. The new owners would have
to declare bankruptcy. It seemed
LeBlanc had sold out just in time. When
asked, by Groucho Marx, what Hadacol
was good for, the Senator showed he
was capable, on occasion, of an honest
answer: "It was good," the senator
replied, "for five and a half million for
me last year."
Coozan LeBlanc may have been a
flamboyant state senator, but he will be
best remembered as the Hadacol
pitchman who parlayed a stolen bottle of
dubious remedies into a multi-million
dollar empire.
Bayou Banana Bread
Be sure to read Bread of Belief Story
A compliment as a dessert or tea time
snack, Banana Bread is a perennial
southern favorite. Our recipe calls for
chopped dates and a good mix of
walnuts and pecans, the latter giving it
the Cajun seal of approval. Try it warm,
with a pat of unsalted, sweet cream
butter...and breakfast will be a sweet
memory for the rest of your day.
Bayou Banana Bread Recipe
Who Dis Mary Lou
One day, while doing the laundry,
Boudreaux‘s wife found a piece of paper
in Boudreaux‘s pocket that read "Mary
Lou". Instantly angry, she stormed into
the room where Boudreaux was
watching a fishing show. "Boudreaux, ya
better splain t‘ me who dis Mary Lou is,
rite now!"
"Mais, don‘t ya go worryin‘,"
Boudreaux said, "I went t‘ de race track
an‘ dat‘s de horse dat I bet on!"
"Okay, but don‘t ya ever let me find out
dat ya been messin‘ ‘round," Mrs.
Boudreaux said emphatically.
The next day, the phone rang, and Mrs.
Boudreaux answered it. A tense moment
passed while she replaced the phone
with a skillet. Finding Boudreaux in the
next room, she whopped him a good one.
"Mais, wad ya done dat for?" Boudreaux
cried.
"Your horse just
Boudreaux retorted.
called!"
Mrs.
Hand Churned Peach Ice Cream
In an Acadian bayou town, there
lived two widows, each suffering the
loss of a husband to the rigors of the
Korean War. As neighbors, they often
talked of happier days, and of the
daunting task of raising fatherless
children. One widow was a good
Catholic, as Cajuns often are, and she
shared her faith frequently in an attempt
to assuage the other widow‘s doubts and
despair. But eventually, these wellmeaning encouragements led to the
faithless widow‘s disavowal of any
belief at all; and, if for no other reason
than to engage in a good argument, she
began to erect the façade of an atheist.
One sultry afternoon, the unbelieving
neighbor overheard her Catholic friend
next door praying quietly, as she hung
her children‘s laundry out to dry, "Dear
Father, You know we have nothing to eat
tonight,
and
my
children...your
children...are going to be hungry. Please,
Father... supply our needs."
Unbelieving though she claimed to
be, the next-door neighbor could not
abide her dear friend‘s trouble.
Grabbing her handbag, she sped off to
the village grocer to assemble the
needed supplies. With the happy intent
of surprising her friend upon her return,
she suddenly had a mischievous idea:
Placing a trio of paper bags on her
neighbor‘s front porch, she knocked
loudly, and then scampered off the porch
and around to the side of the house to
await the expected answer. "Oh,
Father!" she heard her friend exclaim,
"You answered my prayer...and so
quickly, too! Thank you, God...Thank
you!" she cried, hot tears beginning to
dampen her cheeks as she gathered up
the bags.
"Not so fast, there, deary," her
grinning benefactor said, appearing from
the side of the house. "It wasn‘t God
who gave you those groceries...I put
them there, see!" And with that, she held
out the grocer‘s receipt to prove her
claim.
Slowly, and ever so carefully, the
tearful recipient placed the bags of food
just inside her porch screen door. Then,
turning back to her neighbor, she
accepted the offered receipt. Studying it
for a moment, a look of peaceful
contentment began to brighten her eyes.
"No," she said quietly, looking up and
beyond her generous neighbor, "no...it
was God who provided what we
needed...He just made the Devil pay for
it!" And with that, they shared a laugh.
Later that evening, when the children
were still happily eating their handchurned peach ice cream, the neighborly
widows perched side-by-side on the
back porch swing, enjoying their
sweating glasses of brewed iced tea in
the soft summer breeze. "I must
ask...how did you know we needed help
tonight?" the good Catholic inquired,
still holding to her heaven-sent miracle.
"I was blessed with the ears of God,"
the pseudo-atheist replied, reaching out
to pat her neighbor‘s hand. "I‘ve given it
some thought tonight, and I‘ve come to
the conclusion that there is a God...for it
was God‘s love in my heart that
responded to a believer‘s faith."
Tears reappeared in the Catholic
widow‘s eyes. "That‘s just what the
good book teaches," she answered
gently, "Tribulation worketh patience;
and
patience,
experience;
and
experience, hope: and hope maketh not
ashamed; because the love of God is
shed abroad in our hearts!"
Peach Ice Cream
Makes approximately 3 quarts
Ingredients:
6 cups ripe peaches (divided), peeled
and cut into small pieces*
6 eggs at room temperature, beaten
2 tbsp flour
1 tbsp vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract
½ tsp salt
1 ½ quarts whole milk
2 ½ cups heavy cream
*If fresh peaches are unavailable, freshfrozen slices may be used
Instructions:
Using a blender, purée 3 cups of the
peaches and mash the remaining 3 cups,
keeping the two portions separated.
Temporarily
refrigerator.
store
covered,
in
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and add
the sugar, flour, vanilla and almond
extracts and salt.
Whisk until blended.
In a large saucepan heat the milk and
cream over low heat, until it begins to
steam (do not bring to a boil).
Pour about one-fifth of the warm milk
and cream into the bowl of egg mix and
stir until combined.
Pour the egg mix back into the saucepan
and continue to cook over low heat,
stirring constantly, until the mix is
thickened, but not boiling.
Remove from heat and refrigerate for
several hours.
After refrigeration, add the cold puréed
peaches to the mix and stir well.
Pour mix into a prepared 5-quart ice
cream freezer container and churn for 5
minutes.
Then, remove the top of the container,
and the dasher, and add the cold mashed
peaches.
Replace the dasher and the container top
and continue churning until well set.
For optimum results, cover the top of the
ice cream churn with a thick, wet towel,
and allow the ice cream to set for
another half-hour before serving.
Any remainder may be frozen in separate
containers.
Louisiana Peaches
The rolling farmlands of North
Louisiana are renowned for peaches.
Juicy and oh-so-sweet, they are an
annual staple of the month of June - so
much so that the town of Ruston (located
between Monroe and Shreveport) is host
to a Peach Festival to celebrate the
ripening harvest. For more than sixty
years this North Louisiana town has
dedicated the fourth weekend of June to
honor the fuzzy fruit.
The Festival is a favorite of families,
with activities for youngsters and adults
such as a fishing tournament, a rodeo,
pony rides and a parade, as well as artsand-crafts and antique car shows,
sidewalk sales and a native food bazaar,
including, of course, peach pies and
cobblers, and a once-a-year offering of
peach ice cream.
Because of its labor intensive
process, this is the only time farm-fresh
peach ice cream is commercially
available, and the locals and tourists
alike find the delicacy to be the perfect
way to cool off on a warm June day.
Peach Cobbler
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients:
2 cups fresh peach slices, or one 13 oz
can sliced peaches, well drained
1 stick unsalted butter
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into small
pieces
¾ cup granulated sugar, plus 2 tbsp
¼ cup light brown sugar
½ tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp grated nutmeg
¼ tsp almond extract
½ cup unseasoned bread crumbs
1 package refrigerated pie dough (for 2
crust pie)
1/8 cup flour
Vanilla ice cream for serving with warm
cobbler
Instructions:
In a large saucepan, add peaches, 1 stick
of butter, ¾ cup granulated sugar, light
brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and
almond extract.
Bring to a simmer.
Add bread crumbs and stir.
Sprinkle the flour over a dry surface and
roll out both pie crusts.
Spray a 10-inch square baking pan with
oil and place 1 layer of the dough into
the pan.
Place one-half of the butter pieces on the
bottom crust.
Pour the peach mixture into the baking
pan.
Cut the remaining layer of dough into
strips and arrange them in a lattice
pattern over the peach mix.
Top with the remaining butter pieces and
dust with two tbsp granulated sugar.
Bake for 25 minutes, or until the crust is
brown and the peaches are bubbling.
Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.
UFO Landing
Fontenot and Boudreaux were on a
weekend hunt when they stumbled across
a UFO landing. Watching the little
creatures descend from the craft,
Fontenot whispered, "Mais, what‘s dat,
Boudreaux?"
"I don‘t know, me," Boudreaux
answered quietly, as he aimed his gun,
"but you better go back to de camp and
put de rice on, yeh."
Concord Cake
Italian Cream Cake
Fournier and Forte worked side-byside at the French Quarter Fish Market,
monotonously weighing and wrapping
each morning's catch for a squawking
line of customers: French, Italian,
Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, German,
Moors, Chinese, Creole, Irish and
English, all uniting in a ceaseless
babble. In fact, the diversity of origins
was the reason Fournier and Forte were
known by their surnames instead of their
given ones. That way, the petty bias of
each nationality could instantly be
erected if advantage were thought to be
gained
But today was different - at least for
Fournier, a Frenchman, and Forte, an
Italian - for Mrs. Fournier had heard
enough of her husband's harangues about
his Italian coworker. And being a baker
by trade ("baker" the literal meaning of
Fournier), she decided to put feet to her
prayers for peace: she would bake a
cake as a gift to the Forte family.
Bearing the gift in a covered basket,
Fournier could hardly wait for the day to
end, the delight of giving infecting his
bias until he was actually noting Forte's
strong points ("strong" the literal
meaning of Forte). "Here, Forte," he
announced proudly, holding the clothcovered basket out for Forte's grasp,
"it's a gift from my family to yours."
Forte was surprised, and suddenly
softened by the gesture.
"Hope your wife is short on spaghetti
tonight," Fournier teased, "cause when
you see what my wife has baked for you,
you'll appreciate a little appetite left to
accommodate your craving."
Forte laughed, and Fournier laughed,
a disarming exchange between two
proud men.
The next day was Sunday, the only
day the two men didn't greet the orange
of dawn at the Market. But Mrs.
Fournier was not surprised at the gentle
rap at the door - she was expecting the
visitor, though perhaps not so early as
sunrise. "Come in, Mrs. Forte," she said
pleasantly, acquainting herself with her
visitor - though they had never met
before, "I had the most delicious feeling
you might come by this fine Sunday
morn."
"It's the least I could do," gushed
Mrs. Forte, entering the gas-lit room and
handing Mrs. Fournier her basket. "It
was as though you had cast a spell on my
husband last night...all he could do was
rave about Mr. Fournier - or, Fournier,
as he calls him - when before, there
were only snide remarks. Our supper has
never been more pleasant, nor the
dessert more enticing. And, by-the-way,
where did you learn to bake such a
cake?" she asked, Mrs. Fournier
oscillating the cloth-covered basket
slowly, a blush about her cheeks:
"A cake of peace..Concord Cake..the
recipe just came to me from out of the
blue..I-I don't know."
"I do," replied Mrs. Forte, reaching
out to pat Mrs. Fournier's basket, "it
came from the same heavenly source as
my gift to you - Cajun Crab
Cakes...although, I'd rather call them
Convivial Crab Cakes!"
The next day, Fournier and Forte
were seen perched on the seawall,
sharing, like two schoolboys, the best of
their love-packed lunch-pails.
Italian Cream Cake
Cake Ingredients:
½ cup shortening, room temperature
1 stick butter, room temperature
2 cups sugar
5 eggs, separated, room temperature
4 tbsp coconut milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ teaspoon almond extract
2 cups, plus 4 tbsp, cake flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk, room temperature (not
low fat)
1¾
cups
shredded
coconut
(unsweetened, if available)
1 cup finely chopped walnuts
Cake Instructions:
Preheat oven to 325° F and grease and
flour 3 (9 inch) cake pans.
Using an electric mixer, beat the egg
whites until stiff.
Set aside momentarily.
In a separate mixing bowl, cream the
shortening, butter and sugar until fluffy.
Add the egg yolks, one at a time, beating
after each addition.
Add the coconut milk, vanilla and
almond extracts.
Sift together the cake flour, baking soda
and salt.
Blend with the previous ingredients in
mixer, alternating the dry additions with
the buttermilk.
Remove the mixing bowl from the mixer.
Add the coconut and walnuts, and gently
fold into batter.
Add the beaten egg whites, and gently
fold into batter.
Fill the 3 prepared cake pans evenly
with the batter, and bake for
approximately 25 minutes, or until a
knife comes out clean when inserted into
the middle of each cake.
Allow the cakes to cool in the pans for
about 7 minutes before turning them out
to cool on a wire rack.
Upon reaching room temperature, apply
frosting between layers, then frost the
entire cake.
Decorate with walnuts halves, as
depicted, immediately after frosting the
cake (the frosting will still be "sticky"
enough for the walnut halves to adhere in
place).
Frosting Ingredients:
1 8oz package cream cheese, room
temperature
½ stick butter, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ teaspoon almond extract
1 lb box of confectioner's sugar
1 cup finely chopped pecans
36 walnut halves (for decorating)
Frosting Instructions:
Using an electric mixer, beat the cream
cheese and butter until thoroughly
blended
(no particles of cream cheese showing in
the blend).
Add the vanilla and almond extracts, and
the pecans then blend 1 minute.
Add half of the confectioner's sugar and
blend until incorporated.
Add remaining confectioner's sugar and
blend until incorporated, scraping down
the sides, as necessary.
NOTE: If frosting seems too stiff to
apply, transfer to a microwavable bowl
and microwave for 10 second intervals,
checking after each interval to see if
frosting is soft enough to apply.
Baton Rouge
Capital of Louisiana
The founding father of Baton Rouge,
Pierre Le Moyne, Sieur d‘Iberville, gave
the city its name, as well as Lakes
Pontchartrain and Maurepas. The city
dates to 1719 for its founding, but the
general area had already been inhabited
for many thousands of years by
indigenous peoples. Based on artifacts
found in ancient settlements along the
Mississippi, and lesser rivers in the
area,
archaeologists
have
dated
habitation as early as 8000 B.C.. In fact,
there are three earthen mounds extant
within modern day Baton Rouge that
date to 5000 B.C..
Modern history dates to 1699, when
Sieur d‘Iberville, leading an exploratory
party up the Mississippi, encountered a
blood-stained cypress pole adorned with
dead animals and fish, the marker
serving as the boundary between the
hunting grounds of local tribes. The
exploration party called the landmark le
baton rouge (the red stick), that name
continuing to the present day. And when
permanent settlement began in 1719,
with the erection of a fort, Baton Rouge
became one of the region‘s prominent
settlements.
When the British expelled the
Acadians in 1755, many went to France
first, then resettled in Louisiana, some
occupying the area around Baton Rouge.
Eventually, the Acadian settlers would
be known as Cajuns, distinct from the
Anglo-American Prostestants, bringing
with them their food, music, style of
dress, and their Catholic faith.
After defeat in the Seven Years‘ War,
France ceded its territory east of the
Mississippi to Britain, with the
exception of New Orleans, which went
to Spain. Under a new flag, Baton Rouge
began attracting European settlers, and
when the thirteen colonies rebelled in
1776, the newer settlements, including
Baton Rouge, remained loyal to the
British.
By the end of the decade, both France
and Spain had declared war on Britain Mobile, Pensacola and Baton Rouge all
falling into the hands of the Spanish,
effectively
ending
the
British
strongholds along the Gulf. Not long
thereafter, a colony of Pennsylvania
German farmers settled around the city,
choosing a long line of bluffs that formed
a barrier to the Mississippi floodplain.
These settlers named roads after cities in
Germany, such as today‘s Essen and
Siegen lanes, building supply roads for
the cotton plantations.
With the 1803 Louisiana Purchase,
Spanish West Florida was veritably
surrounded by the United States and its
possessions, making Baton Rouge the
only non U.S. post along the Mississippi.
Eventually, President James Madison
ordered Baton Rouge to be seized and
annexed to the Territory of Orleans,
using the premise that Baton Rouge had
always been a part of the U.S., which,
according to the terms of the Louisiana
Purchase, would make such an
annexation legal. Since many of the
inhabitants were already "Americans",
there was little resistance to the raising
of the stars and stripes on December 10,
1810. This marked the first time that all
of the land, that would ultimately
comprise the State of Louisiana, lay
within U.S. borders; and shortly
thereafter (1812), Louisiana was
admitted to the Union.
The Marquis de Lafayette visited
Baton Rouge in 1825, and the town feted
him with a banquet and ball, changing
the name of Second Street to Lafayette
Street in his honor. And Mark Twain
wrote of the city that: "it was clothed in
flowers, like a bride - no, much more so;
like a greenhouse. The magnolia
trees...were lovely and fragrant, with
their dense rich foliage and huge
snowball blossoms...here the sugar
region begins, and the plantations were
in view."
The city grew, as a result of river
trade, until, by the outbreak of the Civil
War, its population was over 5,000. The
state voted for secession in 1861, but, by
May of 1862 the city was occupied by
Union troops and suffered little damage
compared to cities to the east. Today,
there are many structures extant that
predate the Civil War.
In 1932, Governor Huey P Long
directed the construction of a new State
Capitol building. It was a public works
project that symbolized the growth of
government and related amenities in the
city. By the 1970‘s, the city profited
from yet another expansion in the
petrochemical industry, and in the
1990‘s, a building boom began that
continues to this day. The 2000 census
recorded a city population of 225,000,
ranking it ahead of sister cites such as
Montgomery and Mobile, Alabama.
Currently, Baton Rouge is one of the
fastest growing metropolitan areas with
a population under 1 million, boasting an
estimated 750,000 in 2008. The city is
about an hours drive to the north of New
Orleans.
Pecan Sandies
Yield: 18 cookies
Ingredients:
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room
temperature
½ cup packed light brown sugar
1 ½ tsp pure vanilla extract
½ tsp maple extract
1/3 tsp salt
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup pecans, coarsely chopped
Instructions:
Using an electric mixer, beat butter and
sugar until light and fluffy
Add vanilla and maple extracts and salt
- mix until incorporated
Add flour, one-third cup at a time,
mixing just until incorporated
Fold in chopped pecans
Roll dough into 1 ½" balls and arrange
on two oil-sprayed cookie sheets
With the bottom of a cup or glass, flatten
balls to about one-half of their original
thickness
Bake until golden brown (about 15
minutes), rotating once about midway
through
Remove from oven and let cool 5
minutes, then transfer to wire racks
(cookies may crumble if transferred
while they are still oven temperature)
Can be stored in an airtight container for
several days
National Pecan Sandie Day
June 23rd is recognized as National
Pecan Sandie Day, perhaps more
passionately in the pecan-rich state of
Louisiana. History notes cookies, or
more generally, "cakes", as far back as
the primitives who baked on hot stones;
but man had to progress to the sweet
meat of pecans to evolve the modern
delicacy of Pecan Sandies. In many
countries, what we refer to as a "cookie"
is called a "biscuit", our choice of
description apparently of Dutch descent,
the Dutch word "koekje" interpreting as
"little cake."
Although the evolution of Pecan
Sandies is uncertain, it is thought that
nuts were once symbols of prosperity,
even fertility, the ever popular "wedding
cookie", employing most of the
ingredients in the pecan sandie,
indicative of this supposition. But
whatever the celebration, the Pecan
Sandie is enjoyed by all, a truly delicate,
exquisite little "biscuit"!
Origin of Gingerbread
"And I had but one penny in the world,
thou should'st have it to buy
gingerbread."
William Shakespeare, "Love's
Labor's Lost"
Early forms of ginger bread were
employed for ceremonial rites by the
ancient Egyptians and Greeks. But
ginger's introduction to Europe came
with the eleventh century crusaders who
brought the spice back from the Middle
East. At the time, only the wealthy could
enjoy it; but, as it became more
affordable, the common people made it
very popular. Early recipes called for
ground almonds, stale breadcrumbs,
rosewater, sugar and, of course, ginger.
This paste-like mix was then pressed
into molds artfully carved from wood.
And it was these molds, or "story
boards", from which people garnered
important news, the molds bearing the
likeness of new emperors, queens, or
religious symbols. The baked cookies
were often decorated with a kind of flat,
white icing to better reveal the details of
the molds' intent.
It wasn't until the 1500's that the
English replaced the stale breadcrumbs
with flour, along with the game-changing
addition of eggs and sweeteners, the
whole resulting in a much lighter
offering. The first gingerbread man in
England is credited to Queen Elizabeth I.
History tells of the Queen presenting
visiting dignitaries with gingerbread
men which bore their likenesses.
Ever popular with the masses,
gingerbread became a staple at medieval
fairs, and as a token of love - a token
that remains to be noted in the delightful
aroma pervading the home when
gingerbread is still hot from the oven!
Ginger Bread with Whipped Cream
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients:
1 cup unsalted butter (2 sticks)
¾ cup unsulphured molasses
¾ cup honey
½ cup water
1 cup tightly packed dark brown sugar
3 cups all-purpose flour
1½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp allspice
1/8 tsp ground clove
1/8 tsp nutmeg
3 large eggs
½ cup 2% milk
2 tbsp grated fresh ginger root
Instructions:
Lightly spray a 9 x 13 x 2-inch baking
pan, and line with parchment paper to
facilitate removal of cake.
In a medium sauce pan, add butter,
molasses, honey, water and brown
sugar.
Place over low heat and stir frequently,
heating until butter is entirely melted and
all ingredients are blended.
Pour into a large mixing bowl to cool,
and set aside.
Sift the flour into a medium bowl. Add
the baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon,
allspice, cloves and nutmeg, and stir to
combine.
Set aside.
When the molasses mixture has cooled
to near room temperature, begin adding
the eggs, one at a time, beating well to
incorporate each egg.
Add the milk and mix to combine.
Stir in the dry ingredients in four or five
batches, using long strokes
(do not use electric mixer to
incorporate).
Stir in grated fresh ginger, being sure to
disperse evenly throughout the batter.
Pour the batter into the prepared baking
pan and bake for 50 minutes, or until a
knife inserted in the center comes out
clean.
Allow to cool for 20 minutes, then,
employing the edges of the parchment
paper, lift out of the pan and cool
completely on a wire rack.
Serve room temperature, with sweetened
whipped cream.
The cake may be covered and stored at
room temperature for up to 3 days;
stored in the refrigerator, well wrapped,
for up to one week; or frozen for up to
three months, then allowed to thaw
overnight in the refrigerator for
immediate use.
Boudreaux, Thibodeaux and Hebert
were enjoying a crawfish boil,
discussing mortality, when thoughts of
their eternal absence evoked a
disquieting silence. After a ponderous
moment, Boudreaux asked, "Wad de
tings ya want yo‘ frens t‘ say ‘bout ya
afta ya dead?"
Thibodeaux answered first. "Me, if I
could hear wad dey say while I be layin‘
der, I tinks I would want to hear dat I
was a good husband, a good father and a
durn good fisherman, too."
"Dat‘s good," replied Hebert. "Me, I
tink‘s I would want to hear dat I was a
great teacher...dat I made a difference in
de lives of hundreds of chil‘ren."
"Hmmm, dat‘s good, yeh," said
Boudreaux, pensively. "But me, I tinks I
would jis want to hear one ting."
"Waddat?" asked Thibodeaux, skimming
the foam from the top of the boiling pot.
"Mais, I would want to hear one of my
fren‘s say, ‘Hey, git over here! He‘s
movin‘, yeh!"
Boudreaux encountered Hebert at the
local gas station. "Hebert, talk to me," he
shouted, "say anyting ya wants to."
Hebert looked as his friend intently, a
worried frown wrinkling his brow.
"Wad‘s wrong wid you?" he asked, "I
talk t‘ya all de time."
Acting as though Hebert had said
nothing, Boudreaux continued his strange
behavior. "Hebert," he yelled, "I jis got
me a new hearing aid, and I want to
check it out. It‘s de best dat money can
buy. Costed me five hunderd dollars, it
did." Understanding, now, Boudreaux‘s
excitement, Hebert thought he‘d
compliment his friend. "Mais, dat‘s nice,
Boudreaux...wad kind is it?"
"Ten-thirty!" Boudreaux
beaming his biggest smile.
exclaimed,
Boudreaux was surprised to see Hebert
in the doctor‘s office. "Wad you doin‘
here?" he asked.
"Mais, me, I‘m gittin‘ one of dem
circumcisions, Hebert replied.
"Dat goin‘ t‘ hurt, yeh!" Boudreaux
exclaimed.
"How you know dat, Boudreaux?"
Hebert asked, alarmed by his friend‘s
assertion.
"Let me put it dis way," Boudreaux
explained, "I had me one of dem
circumcisions when I was a baby, and I
couldn‘t walk for a year!"
Millionaire Pie
A Regional Favorite
Yield: 2 pies (12 slices)
Ingredients:
1 egg white
2 graham cracker pie crusts, baked
2 cups sifted powdered sugar
1 stick unsalted butter, room temperature
2 large eggs*
1/8 tsp salt
¼ tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp almond extract
1 cup heavy cream
¼ tsp vanilla extract
¼ cup sifted powdered sugar
4 oz original Cool Whip
1 cup canned crushed pineapple, well
drained
½ cup chopped pecans
½ cup toasted shredded coconut
Instructions:
With a pastry brush, brush 1 egg white
on two graham cracker pie shells
(reserve clear plastic tops to cover
completed pies).
Bake 5 minutes, or until shells are firm
and slightly browned.
Remove from oven and allow to reach
room temperature.
Using an electric mixer, cream 2 cups
powdered sugar and butter until light and
fluffy.
Add two eggs, salt, vanilla and almond
extracts.
Mix until combined.
Divide mixture and spread into bottoms
of cooled pie crusts.
Cover and place in refrigerator to chill
for 2 hours.
Using an electric mixer, whip cream
until almost stiff.
Add ¼ tsp vanilla extract and ¼ cup
powdered sugar and whip until
combined and stiff.
Add Cool
combined.
Whip
and
whip
until
Fold in drained pineapple and pecans.
Divide topping and mound on both pies.
Garnish pies with equal amounts of
toasted coconut.
Cover and chill until serving.
*Note: If the use of raw eggs is a
concern, eggbeaters may be substituted.
Origin of Bananas Foster
Originally served at Brennan‘s
Restaurant in New Orleans, the dessert
was named after Richard Foster, who
was then the New Orleans Crime
Commission Chairman, and a friend of
the dessert‘s creator, Paul Blangé.
More than sixty years have passed
since its introduction, but its popularity
continues unabated. It is served at many
fine New Orleans restaurants, as well as
many elegant restaurants around the
world. Some things are just too good to
become dated!
Bananas Foster Recipe
Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients:
4 medium ripe bananas
Fresh lemon juice (optional)
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
2 tbsp banana liqueur
3 tbsp spiced rum
4 scoops of vanilla bean ice cream
Instructions:
Peel bananas and cut in half lengthwise,
then cut in half crosswise to produce 4
sections per banana.
Brush with lemon juice, to prevent
darkening, if the dessert is not to be
made immediately.
In a shallow pan, over medium heat, stir
the brown sugar and butter until butter is
melted and the two are well combined.
Add the bananas to the pan and cook,
uncovered, for about 3 minutes, turning
once.
Remove from heat and sprinkle with
cinnamon and drizzle the banana liqueur
over the mix.
In a small saucepan heat the rum until
just warm.
Using a long igniter, ignite the rum,
being careful not to spill while aflame.
Pour the rum over the banana mixture
and stir slightly to blend flavors.
Scoop ice cream into four dessert bowls
or suitable stemware.
Spoon banana mixture evenly over ice
cream and serve immediately.
The Compassionate Judge
Anne was much distressed, the events
of the morning not boding well for the
trip she had planned so many months
before. At first, she had given the slight
misadventure of a traffic ticket no
thought. A one hundred dollar speeding
violation was something she could
manage, a decision to forego a few
nonessentials putting her at ease. And so
she had been, until the rush to work had
garnered a second violation, one more
onerous than the first. And this time, if
she could not persuade the court to
lower her fine, the much needed
vacation would have to be forfeited.
Awaiting her name to be called, the
fear of the dread result flushed her
cheeks with the rush of apprehension.
This is so unfair, she thought, clearing
her throat nervously, I was just being a
good employee - a good citizen, even trying to make it to work on time. But the
rationale gave her no peace, the
discomfort of guilt exacerbating the
fatigue of waiting.
"Anne Fenley," the clerk of court
announced harshly, disturbing what was
left of her composure, "please
stand...raise your right hand...."
For all her lack of poise, it could
have been a firing squad; the stern words
of the judge, her mumbled responses, all
falling short of her memory - only the
fine, like screeching chalk across her
attention: five hundred dollars...five
hundred dollars...five hun--: "Miss
Fenley, would you please proceed to the
clerk‘s window downstairs." It was the
Judge, standing to go to his chambers.
What could this mean? she wondered,
lacking immediate funds to pay such an
amount. I‘ve heard of throwing yourself
on the mercy of the court...and how do I
need that, now - mercy.
"Anne?" the judge spoke her name
like a question, his robe gone, a
gentleness in his eyes she had missed
before, his demeanor, standing before
the window, one of benevolence, of
compassion as he turned to speak to the
clerk:
"I want you to meet Anne Fenley," he
said, reaching into the breast pocket of
his suit coat, "Anne is my daughter, you
see, and because my regard for her is
immeasurably high, I am doing what any
loving father would do...I‘m helping my
child!" And withdrawing his checkbook,
the judge became a father, reducing the
mountain of his speechless daughter‘s
burden to the flourish of a pen. With an
arm around her lightened shoulders, he
added, "You are free to go, now,
Anne...and may this moment go with you,
a gentle reminder of the mercy we all
live under."
"I know," she whispered, stretching
to give him a kiss on his cheek, "you
taught me well...remember?"
For a moment, the judge was silent,
looking into the depths of her dark
brown eyes, "I do...Lamentations 3:2223...It is of the Lord‘s mercies that we
are not consumed, because his
compassions fail not. They are new
every morning: great is thy faithfulness."
Pecan Pie
Yield: 6 to 8 slices
The Cajuns did not invent pecan pie,
but they were savvy enough to make
good use of this natural resource,
incorporating the nuts into many of their
dishes. Native Americans had long
employed pecans as a food source and a
kind of fermented drink, but the first
colonial pecan planting was on Long
Island, NY, in 1772. From there, it
spread rapidly down the Atlantic
Seaboard, George Washington and
Thomas Jefferson having trees planted in
their gardens within the same decade. It
wasn‘t long before New Orleans gained
importance in the marketing of pecans,
its distribution to other parts of the
continent, and the world, giving it a
natural advantage due to its location at
the mouth of the Mississippi and the
Gulf.
Pie Crust Ingredients:
1 ¼ cup all purpose flour
1 tbsp sugar
¼ tsp salt
1/8 tsp cinnamon
½ cup butter, cold, cut into thin slices
1 large egg
Extra flour for rolling dough
Instructions for Pie Crust:
Using a food processor fitted with a
blade, pulse together the flour, sugar,
salt and cinnamon.
Add the butter and pulse until the mix is
in pea-sized bits.
Add the egg and pulse several times,
being careful not to let the dough become
a ball in the processor.
Add a tsp or two of water if the dough is
too dry.
Remove the dough and press into a disk.
Wrap with plastic wrap and refrigerate
at least one hour.
Once chilled, prepare a flat surface with
a sprinkling of flour and roll the dough
into a 12" circle about 1/8" thick.
Transfer to a 9" pie pan and tuck the
overhanging dough underneath itself to
form a thick perimeter even with the rim
of the pie pan.
Using the tines of a fork, imprint the
edge, or flute as desired.
Before baking, place the prepared crust
in the freezer for 30 minutes.
Pie Filling Ingredients:
1 cup packed light brown sugar
½ cup light corn syrup
¼ cup dark corn syrup
½ tsp salt
2 ¼ cups chopped pecans, toasted
2 tbsp good bourbon
2 tsp vanilla extract
3 large eggs, beaten
Pie Filling Instructions:
Preheat oven to 400° F (Make the filling
while the crust is baking)
Place foil over pie shell and fill with pie
weights or dried beans.
Bake on center rack for 20 minutes.
Remove from oven and lift off foil and
pie weights (or beans).
Return to oven and continue baking
another 10 minutes, or until golden
brown.
Using a baking sheet, toast the chopped
pecans until savory, being careful not to
over brown.
Reduce the oven temperature to 350° F.
In a medium pan, combine the butter,
brown sugar, corn syrup and salt.
Bring to a boil over medium heat,
stirring constantly. Boil 1 minute and
remove from heat.
Stir in the toasted pecans, bourbon and
vanilla. Set aside 5 minutes to cool.
Whisk the beaten eggs into the mixture
and pour the mix into the warm pie crust.
Place pie on a sheet pan and bake for 40
to 45 minutes, or until the edges are set
but the center is still springy to the touch.
Cool before cutting. Serve warm or at
room temperature.
Pecan Pie with Ice Cream
One Liners
A clean counter is the sign of a cluttered
drawer.
All I ask for is a chance to prove that
money can‘t make me happy.
Did you hear that boomerangs are
coming back?
Two can live as cheaply as one...for half
as long.
Warning: contents may have settled out
of court.
Birthdays are healthy; the more you
have, the longer you live.
Half the people in the world are below
average.
A conclusion is the place where you
tired of thinking.
If you think no one cares, try missing a
payment.
Is there another word for synonym?
Me and my recliner - we go WAY back.
If man evolved from apes, why do we
still have apes?
Be modest...and proud of it!
Help stamp out, abolish and eliminate
redundancy!
I couldn‘t care less about apathy.

Cajun Cuisine and More Volume 1: Great Recipes, Inspiring Stories

Transcription

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