Cajun & Creole

Editor's note: This recipe is part of a special Thanksgiving menu created by chefs Allison Vines-Rushing and Slade Rushing of MiLa restaurant in New Orleans. While traditional beignets are on the must-have list of every New Orleans tourist, we personally think flavor-wise they can be a bit one note. This version, however, is sweet and savory with a spicy dipping sauce. The addition on coconut and shrimp honor the Carribean persuasions of New Orleans cuisine.

Editor's note: This recipe is part of a special Thanksgiving menu created by chefs Allison Vines-Rushing and Slade Rushing of MiLa restaurant in New Orleans. The licorice root is optional, but if used, will add a slightly sweet, woody flavor to this fall soup. If you can't find it locally, the chefs recommend Gourmet Spice Company as an online source. We have yet to come across a person who does not like butternut squash soup. Even staunch vegetable haters fall for it. (Maybe its sweet richness makes them think that it can't be healthy.) When it is on the menu at the restaurant, probably eighty percent of our customers order it, leaving the cooks to complain about how much they have to make. And if you peek through the kitchen doors, you will undoubtedly see one of us with a steaming hot bowl of it in our own grubby hands.

Get juicy shrimp by gently steaming them in an herb-and-lemon infused broth.

If you have difficulty finding buster crabs or small soft shells, you can use large soft shell crabs, quartered, and they'll still make a great dish.

The spice rub can be stored in an airtight plastic container for up to 1 month.

Unlike many other stews, this one is quick enough for a weeknight. By the time instant brown rice finishes cooking, the stew is just about ready, too.

Use this spicy mix in Zesty Oven-Fried Potatoes (page 250) and any other recipes that call for Creole or Cajun seasoning blends.

Crushed pineapple is the standout ingredient in this pleasant slaw. It provides a good balance to spicy or bold dishes. I like it with Southwestern fare like Tortilla Casserole (page 104), but my favorite dish to serve it with is Pasta Jambalaya (page 123).

Here’s one of my favorite uses for a terrific product, Tofurky sausage. The bold flavor is used to full advantage in this hearty Creole-flavored pasta dish. If you have more time, make a pan of vegan corn bread, it’s a wonderful addition to this meal.

The journey of French rémoulade sauce, a classic mustardy mayonnaise with herbs, capers, and gherkins, across the Atlantic Ocean to Acadia (now eastern Quebec), the Maritime provinces, parts of New England, and eventually on to the American South is a culinary story worth telling. In the early 1600s, the first French arrived in Acadia and took up a life of farming crops and raising livestock. A century and a half later, many descendants of those early Acadians were forced from their northern homes by the British, eventually winding up in South Carolina, Georgia, and Louisiana. Those who settled in Louisiana soon came to be called Cajuns, as did their language, a lilting patois unique to the area but universally understood in their joyous music. And rémoulade? Unfortunately, there is no accessible literature that describes how the sauce was interpreted on Acadian tables. However, as it wended its way to Louisiana, via the American Northeast and the French Indies, it underwent a gastronomic evolution, becoming more spirited with additions of minced bell pepper and celery, tomato paste, sometimes Worcestershire sauce, horseradish, and especially Louisiana’s own feisty Tabasco sauce. Here is my interpretation of that well-traveled sauce, now a Cajun rémoulade, served on a New Orleans plate with crab cakes and Creole sausage.

In the early eighteenth century, Spanish colonists brought a paprika-and-cayenne-seasoned sausage to Louisiana, where they added fresh red chiles and a dash of vinegar to create what is now known as Creole sausage. It is an assertive sausage that rings out “Let the good times roll!” It dances sprightly in gumbo with shrimp and oysters (page 21) and lends vivacity to a New Orleans plate with crab cakes and Cajun rémoulade (page 128). It is also delicious formed into appetizer-size balls, sautéed, and served with rémoulade for dipping.

Sausage in a gumbo usually means smoked sausage. Sometimes Louisiana smoked ham, called tasso, is also added or is used in place of the sausage. A roux (a mixture of flour and fat) is the traditional thickener, usually augmented with filé powder (ground dried sassafras leaves) or okra. In keeping with today’s taste for lighter fare, I swap the smoked sausage and/or ham for my homemade sausage and eliminate the roux. The okra alone does the thickening, and the step of soaking the okra pods in a salt-and-vinegar bath before adding them to the pot ensures they won’t be overly viscous. It is important to use dried herbs and canned tomatoes to produce the distinguishing flavors of this dish from a cuisine built around preserved goods. Make sure the okra is fresh, however. I like to use shrimp in the shell because they enrich the broth. That does make for somewhat messy eating, however. If you want to save your guests the trouble of peeling their own shrimp, remove the shells and simmer them in 1 cup of the broth, then strain the liquid into the pot when adding the remainder of the broth. Shell-on shrimp are easy enough to devein, if it’s necessary to do so, by simply cutting through the shell along the back of each shrimp with a sharp paring knife.

This is the lusty cousin of our All-Purpose Red Rub (see page 167). It’ll make whatever you rub it into earthy, spicy, and complex. But don’t use it only on meat destined for barbecue; sprinkle it on anything you’re grillin’, including veggies. Mix it into bread crumbs before coating food, or stir it into a casserole. It’s a great flavor-boostin’ agent.

This is our most popular “vegetable of the day.” It shows up on the menu every Monday. It’s damn simple and packed with flavor. When you can make it with fresh corn in season, it’s even better.

We make this salad every Sunday at the restaurant. I like to cook the potatoes til they’re soft so the dressing can penetrate deeply. But the true secret to our potato salad is the Zatarain’s mustard we have shipped up from New Orleans (see Resources, page 175). Sure, you can use another coarse-grain mustard, but once you’ve had a real Creole mustard, nothing else will give you satisfaction.

It doesn’t get much easier than this—or tastier. That wonderful Zatarain’s Creole Mustard (see Resources, page 175) is hard at work for you, makin’ an easy sweet and savory sauce that brings out the best in pork.