Southern

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 recipe is based on the famous Key lime pie from Joe’s Stone Crab restaurant in Miami Beach. If you can’t find Key limes, use fresh juice from regular limes. The bars are best garnished with whipped cream and lime immediately before serving.

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.

To mop or not to mop, that is the question. There seem to be two schools of thought about moppin’ ribs while they’re cookin’. Personally, I think that if the ribs look dry and thirsty you should mop ‘em. Mop sauce should never contain sugars that would burn before the ribs are cooked through. A good mop sauce is based on the spicy flavors of the rub.

We’ve rolled two New Orleans classic pies into one to make a rich, deep, and satisfying dessert. It’s a real restaurant favorite that has been known to make visitors from the South go wild.

Key limes from Florida make their way up north to our markets only every once in awhile. So we use regular limes. The real key is not to overbake the filling so it stays creamy.

I used to think I made a pretty good rice pudding. Then I went down to Miami and tasted the Cuban version, and I sent myself back to the stove. Now ours is modeled after the best ones I tasted down there. It’s perfumed with a bit of lime peel and has a creamy texture and a smooth taste spiked with rum.

There are thousands of recipes for bread pudding because it’s a classic for usin’ up leftovers. I think some of the best recipes come from New Orleans, where home cooks and restaurant chefs alike treat this humble dish with great respect. That’s where I got the inspiration for ours, which is pillow soft when warm and burstin’ with plump raisins and chewy bits of coconut.

The magic ingredient in this outrageous two-layer dark chocolate cake is Dr Pepper, one of America’s oldest soft drinks. Dr Pepper was first made and sold in 1885 at Morrison’s Old Corner Drug Store in Waco, Texas. Just like the state it comes from, this cake is big and impressive. The soft drink’s carbonation gives the layers exceptional rising power, and its special blend of flavorings makes lickin’ the beaters especially appealing.

This is the ultimate “anything goes” dish. All you need is some sausage and any kind of raw or cooked meat you might have on hand. We use a tasty mix of sausage, chicken, pulled pork, and ham. The only thing you can’t skip are the chicken livers. That’s what makes Dirty Rice dirty and gives it its deep, rich flavor. We’ve been servin’ it every Wednesday as a featured side, and we’ve found that Central New Yorkers really appreciate this frugal New Orleans specialty. It’s also good as a stuffing for Cornish hens, pork chops, or turkey.

Here’s another good old Louisiana dish we transported north for our menu. We thought its distinctive spicy, earthy taste was just what our customers were cravin’. Our gumbo is thick like a good hearty stew, and although we’ve personalized it, we’ve still kept it related to all other gumbos by thickening it with Brown Roux (page 139). The flour toasted in oil makes a dusky mix that binds all the veggies, meats, and seasonings into a veritable swamp of broodin’ flavors.

Back in the early days of the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, I made a pilgrimage to New Orleans, and it seemed natural to bring some of the wonders of the Big Easy back up north. The thing that really grabbed me was jambalaya, a dish with infinite possibilities. There’s no one recipe for jambalaya because its whole reason for bein’ is to let the cook get personal and real creative with the bits of meat or fish hangin’ around in the fridge. You can give it your personal touch any way the spirit moves you. Try makin’ it with other veggies, throwin’ in some shellfish, messin’ with the seasoning—this is your chance to be a link in the evolution of one truly great leftover dish.

Most Yankees have a preconceived notion that they don’t like grits. When we put them on the menu, lots of folks are resistant. It’s a tough sell for the waitresses, but once they get customers to try them, they’re hooked. Our flavor-boosted grits are rich and powerfully earthy. Serve them instead of mashed potatoes.

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.

This one-skillet dinner is loaded with flavor and easy to prepare. Serve over some steamin’ Perfect Rice or your favorite macaroni. You can also substitute boneless, skinless chicken thighs for some real concentrated chicken flavor—love that dark meat!

If you love good fried chicken, this is the quick version. It’s just like its namesake, “chicken-fried steak.” Breading up and frying a nice boneless flat piece of meat, whether it’s beef or chicken, will give you a meal in minutes. It makes a great main course, or try slappin’ the finished product in a crusty roll or even slicing it over a mess of salad greens.