Cajun & Creole

Think there’s no way to improve upon perfectly roasted chicken? Think again. At Herbsaint we would have to appoint someone to guard the pans while these birds cooled, or they would all end up wingless! In this recipe, the addition of rosemary, garlic, lemon, and olives perfumes the meat and suggests a world of accompaniments: steamed artichokes, just-cooked angel hair pasta, fluffy couscous, a salad of pungent greens with crusty bread for sopping up the juices. When it comes to wine, consider serving a rosé or a white from the Rhone valley.

A simple smear of Creole mustard (which gets added heat from horseradish) and a little extra seasoning gives a chicken breast new sass. Here, the chicken is paired with a speedy version of maque choux, a Louisiana sauté of beans and corn. You’d be hard-pressed to find a simpler, more satisfying weekday supper. For this dish the chicken breasts can be broiled, grilled, or pan-seared.

This is what I call a “close your eyes and sigh” dish—one of those fragrant and comforting meals that remind us what makes eating such a soul-satisfying experience. It can be served as a vegetarian entrée or as a side dish with chicken, veal, or lamb. Polenta provides the creamy base that melds alternating layers of cheese and vegetables. During baking, the flavors intermingle, and the fontina and roasted garlic provide a pleasing gooey texture. A simple tomato basil sauce brightens up the mellow flavor of the polenta. The result: a perfect confluence of luscious Italian flavors. If you have never had real Val d’Aosta fontina cheese, this is an excellent time to try it. The difference is noticeable: Val d’Aosta is firm and has a savory, slightly grassy flavor. If you are short on time, forgo the sauce; this polenta is delicious without it.

Shrimp and okra go together like oysters and artichokes (which is to say, they’re made for each other). And to my mind it’s no coincidence that corn and tomatoes are at their peak around the same time as the okra. In this recipe, they all find themselves swimming happily in a broth scented with allspice and thyme, and zippy with fresh jalapeños. If you are leery of that much spice in the broth, leave out the jalapeños and just serve some chopped up alongside, for the daring ones among you.

I’m not sure what the connection is between this old New Orleans favorite and the French politician—perhaps it was created when he visited the city—but whatever the reason, it is an enduring part of the Creole repertoire. The potatoes are most often deep-fried to a light golden brown (a preparation known as “brabant potatoes”) before joining the other ingredients in the pan, but it works just as well to blanch them in water, then crisp them. This makes a tasty complete meal when paired with a ripe tomato salad or a platter of crudités.

One of the great things about living in Louisiana is the plethora of sunny citrus fruits available during winter. When my grapefruit tree started producing more than I could use at home, I developed this recipe to serve at Bayona. Fresh basil is commonly partnered with lemon or orange, but I love how the faint anise flavor of the herb plays off the bright, tart-sweet punch of grapefruit (and since it rarely freezes in New Orleans, we can typically grow basil all year round as well). Citrus and fish is such a great match—this sauce is delicious with pompano, amberjack, or just about any fish.

Although I had never tasted it myself, I decided to try my hand at bouillabaisse after listening to my dad reminiscing for years about the one he’d had in Marseilles, in a café overlooking the bustling port. Eventually, after much research, I felt I knew what it should taste like, but I was still overwhelmed when I had my first bowl in Nice many years later—it was even more complex and deeply flavored than Dad’s memories had suggested. This is one dish where a paticularly flavorful version of Fish Fumet (p. 205) is essential. Because we don’t have the same fish as they do in France (such as rascasse, the bony fish that makes a true bouillabaisse), I use Gulf fish and shellfish in the stock. I put in a mix of flounder, snapper, and trout bones along with shrimp shells (and heads, if available), and a couple of gumbo crabs for good measure. Make enough so that you can freeze a batch for the next time you make this stew. My one concession: mussels. We don’t get them in the Gulf, but it’s just not bouillabaisse without ’em. Roasted Red Pepper Rouille (p. 184) and thin slices of toasted baguette are the essential condiments for this soup.

This is a dish I make often, especially for informal parties. It is delicious, easy, and pretty, and makes a great buffet item, especially when paired with all those other Mediterranean dishes I love to cook and eat, such as Eggplant Caviar and Black Olive Tapenade (p. 191), Artichoke Dolmades with Lemon Sauce (p. 20), and Simple Orzo Salad with Black Olives and Feta (p. 115). The tomato sauce is also a good base for moussaka or baked stuffed eggplant, or just tossed with noodles and some sharp Greek cheese, such as kasseri. The dish can be completed up to the final baking point and kept refrigerated for several hours or even overnight. Bring it to room temperature before baking, or it will overcook.

It’s not hard to imagine eating this dish at a table on the coast in Portofino, Italy. Warm spices, garlic, fresh thyme, and sunny citrus flavors create an irresistible marinade for sweet shrimp. I prefer to pour the marinated crustaceans right onto a baking sheet and roast them (a great no-fuss technique for dinner parties) until they’re just cooked. However, you could certainly sear the shrimp in a hot skillet as well. Crispy Risotto Cakes are the perfect starch to serve alongside the shrimp. Drag a forkful of the flavorful rice through the marinade and you’ll understand why this dish has been one of my entertaining staples for years. For an extra swath of color (and flavor), serve this dish with Butternut Squash Puree (p. 189).

There is something particularly irresistible about food that’s wrapped up like a parcel in an edible casing—especially when there’s a little something inside that you’re not expecting. For me, the subtle, slightly briny flavor of grape leaves represents the best of the Mediterranean. In this dish, there’s an appealing exchange between the fish, grape leaves, and couscous that results in a moist, aromatic, and savory package enhanced by a tangy olive vinaigrette and roasted red pepper garnish. The feta cheese is a tasty addition and a pretty garnish, but it’s not necessary. When it comes to choosing fish, a thick, super-fresh fillet of mahi mahi, grouper, amberjack, or snapper would be ideal.

I always envied folks who grew up in corn country and got to taste those gold and silver ears cooked fresh from the field, just exploding with sweetness. I had a friend whose mother used to say, “Go run and get the corn, and if you drop any on the way back, don’t stop to pick it up!” I love the urgency of it. So, when we get a case of really sweet corn at the restaurant, I like to use it two ways: I make this sweet Corn Cream, which goes beautifully with big, juicy sea scallops, and I serve it with the maque choux, so you also get the crisp crunch from the corn kernels in addition to the creamy sauce. If corn isn’t in season and you’re just dying to make this, use frozen sweet corn.

One of my first memories of New Orleans was gathering the pecans off the ground at the naval base where my father was stationed, then sitting around a table with my family at night, watching Adventures in Paradise and shelling the seemingly bottomless pile. We had nutpicks, silver utensils with curved sharp tips, for digging out the tiny pieces of shell trapped in the crevices of each nut meat—talk about tedious! But I was always proud to have the cleanest and choicest halves to offer up for my mom’s approval. I was surprised when I went to France to cook at the jazz festival in Nice and learned that I had to bring my own pecans to make pecan pie (the nuts are not indigenous there)! It followed, then, that I would use local nuts to create this New Orleans rendition of the more classic Trout Amandine.

One day while cooking a pot of red beans, I noticed that the juice had a beautiful, silky sheen. It occurred to me that the beans might make a good sauce if pureed really smoothly with their cooking liquid. An idea was born—really: that’s all it takes! I played around with seasonings and decided I liked the warm hint of cinnamon married with the spicy flavors of poblano and chipotle. Adding fresh lime juice at the end of the process brightens up the earthiness of the puree. The light coating of cornmeal gives the fish a nice crunch to contrast with the creamy sauce (which, incidentally, is wonderful with grilled fish of any kind—trout, redfish, or snapper are particularly good). A side of Green Rice (p. 309) is a perfect accompaniment.

These sweet, sour, and slightly spicy onion slices add zest and color to just about any salad or sandwich. They are also a great accompaniment to a roasted meat, paté, or terrine, and they’re delicious piled atop quesadillas!

These are great on quesadillas, black beans, and in Cornmeal-crusted Oyster and Black-eyed Pea Salad with Jalapeño Dressing (p. 123).

Pungent and concentrated in flavor, preserved lemons are popular in Moroccan and Middle Eastern cooking. To use them, pull the lemon flesh away from the rind and discard. Give the rind a brief rinse in cold water, then dice or chop and add to a dish at the end of cooking. I use preserved lemons in my Artichoke Dolmades with Lemon Sauce (p. 20). They also add a distinct flavor to couscous and cracked wheat salads. You’ll want to use them sparingly (a tablespoon or two is typically enough) so they don’t overpower other flavors. This recipe doubles or triples easily.

I call this recipe “confit” because, like the French method for preserving meat, it involves slow-cooking the garlic cloves in oil and other liquids. Poaching garlic on the stovetop is an alternative to roasting garlic in the oven. I actually prefer poaching because there is less waste—when the cooking process is complete, you are left with the whole cloves as opposed to squeezing sticky partial cloves out of a softened bulb. As with roasting, this method replaces the sharp heat of raw garlic with a flavor that’s deep and sweet. I usually poach at least two bulbs so I have plenty on hand for antipasto platters, White Bean Hummus (p. 172), pastas, vinaigrettes, or even for slathering on a piece of toast for a snack.

I serve this unexpected puree (cauliflower as sauce, who knew?) with seared or grilled scallops, beef, or salmon. Simply place the warm fish or meat atop a pool of the cream.

When I first opened Bayona I never had time to eat, so I survived that first year on these two delicious dips. I’d duck into the pantry and dip crispy croutons into the smoky eggplant puree or the pungent olive spread (or both), and the flavors sustained me through my shift. I still crave them. Eggplant caviar comes from many parts of the Mediterranean, including France, Italy, Turkey, and the Middle East. It’s flavored simply, with fresh tomato, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil. The secret to developing a deep, smoky flavor is to char the skin until it’s black and rather scary looking. The tapenade, or olive puree, is a pretty classic combination from the south of France. I give the black olives, capers, and anchovies a quick rinse to lessen the impact of their saltiness. Both dips provide a great base from which to build a plate. You can add hummus, feta cheese, various crunchy vegetables, and a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil to create a fantastic antipasto platter.