One-Pot Meals

I grew up on this velvety stew of shredded chicken and puffy dumplings. Not only is it comforting and delicious, but, because it stretches a little meat a long way using just a few ingredients, it is yet another example of Southern culinary resourcefulness.

This exotically spiced curry of chicken, tomatoes, peppers, dried fruit, and nuts is proof of Southern food’s cosmopolitan roots. Served with steamed rice, slivered almonds, and fresh parsley, it is wonderfully bone-warming and fragrant.

Étouffée is a traditional New Orleans one-pot dish whose name literally—and appropriately—comes from the French word for “smothered.” Like gumbo, étouffée is a highly seasoned stew of fish or meat and vegetables that is served over steamed rice. Also like gumbo, it has a big-hearted, homey quality that makes it one of my favorite dishes to serve to crowds (especially when they include friends who aren’t from the South). Although serious purists might disapprove, I never make étouffée the same way twice, and I don’t take sides when it comes to never-ending debates about the proper shade of roux or whether there’s room for tomatoes in a bona fide étouffée. For me, one of the joys of Cajun and Creole stews is their variability, so feel free to experiment.

With blue crabs, sausage, corn on the cob, and tender new potatoes, this lowcountry-inspired shrimp boil makes for a rustic and utterly delicious spread that is just the thing for impromptu summertime gatherings. I sometimes serve it in individual tins or buckets, but that’s about as refined as I ever get with this low-key dish, which is best eaten right out of the bucket or from a big pile on the table, with a crowd of friends, and always with your fingers.

Despite its name, this traditional shrimp dish isn’t so much barbecue as a savory, saucy stew. It gets its full-bodied flavor from Worcestershire sauce and dark beer, and a dose of fresh lemon gives it a bright, clean finish.

When Paul Prudhomme’s first cookbook, Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen, came out, I think I made every last one of his gumbos in the span of a few weeks. To this day, his are the recipes I always refer to when I make gumbo. More often than not, however, I don’t have time to make ultra traditional, slow-cooking gumbo, so I’ve adapted my own quicker—and often lighter—versions that take a fraction of the time but still pack loads of soulful flavor. Served over rice with ice-cold beer, it’s all the excuse you need to throw a block party.

Traditional oyster stew was one of my dad’s favorites, and he used to make it all the time, especially when we visited my sister in Biloxi, Mississippi, where we could get really fresh oysters. Taking a cue from oysters Rockefeller, another hallmark dish from Antoine’s Restaurant in New Orleans, I brighten my version with fresh spinach. And, to achieve the same smooth, creamy texture with less fat, I blend potatoes with just a touch of heavy cream to make the broth. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if desired. This soup should be served hot as soon as it’s done, lest the oysters continue to cook in the broth.

This flexible broth is one of the things I always try to teach when I’m giving cooking classes because it’s easy to throw together a fast, flavor enhancing broth using whatever you already have on hand—the trimmings from the herbs, aromatics, and vegetables you are cooking with and the bones or shells from any meat or seafood on the menu. Just throw a pot of water on first thing when you start to cook and add to it as the ingredients are prepped. Here’s a basic recipe made with the shrimp shells and trimmings from the preceding recipe, but remember: you can apply the concept to any of the soup recipes in this chapter. Most anything goes, but stay away from vegetable trimmings that might become bitter or have an overly strong flavor, like eggplant and broccoli.

Every summer when the Carolina shrimp are in season, Nana’s, which is one of my favorite restaurants in Durham, makes a delicious shrimp chowder that is the inspiration for this light and succulent soup. Nana’s version is rich and creamy—closer to a traditional potato chowder—but because I love the sweetness of the corn and shrimp together, I make mine thinner, more like a corn chowder. To give this dish extra oomph, I add the shrimp at the very end, so they are tender and extra sweet, and top with Crispy Fried Oysters Four Ways (page 117).

Rich and meaty Brunswick stew is a true Southern classic. This streamlined rendition of my mom’s perfect version makes a huge amount of food—but to my thinking, that’s the point of stew. It tastes even better the next day, so it’s a great make-ahead meal if you are planning to have weekend visitors or feed a big crowd. You can also pop some in the freezer for a quick-fix weeknight supper another time.

A few years ago, at Easter, in addition to the usual spread of ham and sides, I made a gratin of white beans, country ham, and collards from Frank Stitt’s very fine Southern Table cookbook. That dish, which everyone raved about, and the leftover ham bone—a prized ingredient that should never, ever be put to waste—inspired this low-on-the-hog soup.

My friend Phyllis from Mississippi makes this vibrant and creamy squash soup when she comes to visit us in the summer. It’s such a quick and easy way to make use of fast-growing summer squash that it’s bound to become one of your summer staples, too.

No matter how many tomato sandwiches, salads, or platters of thick, salted slices we eat, come August we can never seem to keep up with the overabundance of tender-ripe Beefsteaks, Early Girls, Cherokee Purples, and Arkansas Travelers taking up semi-permanent residence on the kitchen counter. Everyone develops a strategy for the happy problem of too many tomatoes: in some people it inspires bouts of generous and indiscriminate gift giving; in others, a frenzy of canning and freezing. This light and satisfying take on cream of tomato soup is my favorite solution.

This may be the all-time favorite Bayona family meal, created by Greg Collier, aka “Hoss,” one of my all-time favorite sous chefs (he’s now executive chef of Redfish Grill, which is also in the French Quarter). Hoss adapted his family’s chicken and dumplin’ recipe, and the staff still clamors for it whenever there’s a chill in the air. This recipe takes a little time, but it’s worth it. For this preparation, the “dumplin’s” are baked atop a thickened stew (rather than boiled or steamed in broth). Because we use mainly the hind legs and backstrap, or tenders, of the rabbit for the menu, we end up with lots of forelegs and breast meat to use for other things, such as sausage, confit, and crew food. (Naturally, we use the bones to make stock.) You can prepare the meat and stew up to a day ahead, then reheat gently and bake it with the dumplin’s. If you just can’t eat bunnies, chicken may be substituted.

This unexpected salmon preparation borrows flavors from Alsace. The usual partner for choucroute is a medley of pork meat sausages, but the oceany flavor of the best wild salmon works surprisingly well. The tart sauerkraut and spicy Gewürztraminer balance the richness of the fish. Juniper berries lend a distinct perfume. Needless to say, the perfect wine for this dish is the one that you used to make the sauce.

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.

When I was little, my mom used to deep-fry tiny bay scallops and serve them with melted butter. One time I ate so many that I made myself sick. It was years before I could try another scallop! These days I like to serve large sea scallops, which are easy to sear and make for a beautiful presentation. What’s more, their rich, sweet taste marries well with so many ingredients that sometimes it’s hard to decide what to serve alongside. Here, I’ve paired them with spinach, bacon, and tomatoes for a quick one-skillet sauté that’s bright and festive. The bacon can be omitted, but let’s face it: everything is better with bacon, and here its rich, salty flavor is a nice foil for the sweet scallops. I recommend a nonstick pan, as the juices sometimes get a little syrupy and sticky.

No self-respecting resident of Louisiana will need this recipe! Everyone in this state has his or her own method (complete with secret ingredients—I know one guy who uses Tang, the powdered orange drink) for boiling shrimp, crab, and crayfish. For outsiders, here’s a brief rundown of the basics. Start with the freshest, sweetest shrimp available. I love to add spicy sausage and potatoes to the pot, but by all means, omit or add what you like (even Tang). The peeling process may throw some people off, but that’s part of the fun. This recipe calls for 2 pounds of shrimp, so you can get a feel for it before you move up to the more common 20-pound party batch. If you can get your hands on some crabs or crayfish, you will need to go a bit stronger on the seasoning and the cooking time, as those hard shells need more spice and more time to absorb the other flavors.

This main course needs no accompaniment other than a tossed green salad. Try the Mixed Green Salad with Citrus Dressing on page 54.