October 26, 2018 · 5:02 pm
I have dropped out of the blogosphere for a while. This is my first post in a long time. There are all sorts of explanations: I have turned into a couch potato watching the never-ending news while growing evermore discouraged and we have been very busy watching grandchildren. Carol and her husband went to Parents’ Weekend at our eldest granddaughter’s university and their son needed to stay in his high school classes. Then Sarah and Evan went on an extended book tour to publicize their cookbook, “Rich Table”, so we watched their boys in LA and in San Francisco. Then Sarah and Evan were invited to Zürich, Switzerland as food representatives of San Francisco. Somebody’s got to do it, right? More babysitting which, by the way, we enjoy – but – but – we need an extended rest when we’re finished. Even with all of that, I think the main reason for my absenteeism was that I had run out of things to say and things to cook.
I was nudged back into posting by a gentle note of concern from two blogging friends of many years, Dianne and Tom. (Even though I have never met them, I consider them friends.) That encouraged me to finish an uncompleted post that had been sitting (floating?) somewhere in my computer cloud for months. Here it is. I have already generated a new idea for my next post, so maybe I’ll get back on track.
By the way, you would enjoy the blogs of my friends. She is an excellent cook with a wry sense of humor, and he is an erudite expert on wines, especially from Italy and also with a keen sense of humor. So use the links to check out what they are eating and drinking these days.
Even though our local farmers market has slowed down as winter approaches, there are still eggplants. They are so beautiful, and there are so many varieties that when I see them I ask myself, “What else can I do with them?” In Louisiana, cooks stuff just about any vegetable you can think of. There are stuffed tomatoes, stuffed artichokes, zucchini, winter squash, mirlitons (chayotes) and, of course, eggplants.
In the Cajun repertoire, there is a typical variety of stuffings: crawfish, crab, oysters, white fish, and probably the most popular, shrimp. Combinations of one or more of the above are also common. Paul Prudhomme, the late, great New Orleans/Creole/Cajun chef was noted for his seafood dishes. Think blackened redfish and pecan-crusted snapper. But he loved to stuff all sorts of vegetables with the bounty of the water. There is an abundance of such recipes in his first cookbook, Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen (William Morrow and Company, New York, 1984) I looked at his recipe for seafood-stuffed eggplant with shrimp butter cream sauce (pp 67-68) but it looked way too complicated for my humble skills, so I made a simplified, toned-down version. Not as good as the original, I’m sure, but still pretty tasty.
Baked shrimp-stuffed eggplants
Topped with shrimp cream sauce
Shrimp-Stuffed Eggplant with Shrimp Cream Sauce
- 2 medium (2/3 to 3/4 pound each) globe eggplants
- 1 stick unsalted butter
- 1 medium onion, chopped
- 3 stalks celery, chopped
- 1 large green bell pepper, seeded and chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
- ¼ teaspoon ground thyme
- 1½ teaspoons dried oregano leaves, crumbled
- salt and pepper
- 1 bottle commercial clam juice (8 ounces) divided
- 1 cup fresh bread crumbs
- 1 pound large shrimp, shelled and deveined
- 2 tablespoons butter
- 2 tablespoons flour
- ½ cup cream
- Cut the eggplants in half lengthwise. Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and add the halved eggplants. Return to the boil and cook until the eggplants are easily pierced with a kitchen fork. Remove the eggplants from the boiling water, drain, and cool on a rack. When the eggplants are cool, use a large spoon or knife to remove the flesh, leaving a ¼-½ inch rim and being careful not to break the eggplant skin. Set aside the hollowed eggplants and reserve the flesh for the stuffing.
- In a medium saucepan with a lid, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onions and cover for about 5 minutes to sweat the onions. Stir in the chopped celery, chopped bell pepper, and garlic. Cook, uncovered, for another 5 minutes or until the vegetables are wilted. Stir occasionally and do not let the mixture burn.
- Chop the reserved eggplant flesh and add to the mixture. Season to taste with the thyme, oregano, salt, and pepper. Add half the clam juice (4 ounces) and the bread crumbs. Reserve about half of the shrimp: two each to top the stuffed egg plants and more for the sauce. Chop the remaining shrimp coarsely and stir into the stuffing.
- Place the hollowed eggplant halves in a well-greased baking dish. Divide the stuffing equally among the four eggplant halves. You may have more stuffing than the eggplants will hold. In that case, put the extra stuffing in a well-greased ramekin to be baked with the eggplants. Top each stuffed eggplant with two whole shrimp. Bake in the middle of the oven preheated to 350°F for 30 minutes.
- Meanwhile, melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Stir in the flour and cook for a few minutes to remove the raw taste of the flour. Do not let the mixture color. Stir in the remaining 4 ounces of clam juice and cream. Stir vigorously until the mixture is completely combined and smooth. Add the remaining shrimp and cook 5 minutes or until the shrimp are pink and have lost their translucency.
- Serve the stuffed eggplants immediately, topped with shrimp cream sauce.
February 11, 2018 · 5:18 pm
It’s Carol’s turn with our Sunday family dinner. As a nod to Mardi Gras this next week, she plans to make jambalaya. I am looking forward to that. Since Carol is cooking, that means that I am up for dessert. There are lots of Louisiana desserts that would go with jambalaya, but King Cake seemed to be the most appropriate. King cake is a tradition in many parts of the world, but in Louisiana it is served across the state, starting on Epiphany (January 6th) and ending on Mardi Gras (this year, February 13). There are many versions of king cake. Some folks make rings of filled cream puffs; others make baked meringues, etc., etc. The most common version is a brioche-like sweet bread, often filled with raisins or other dried fruit. The cake is topped with icing and sprinkled sugars in the traditional Mardi Gras colors of green, yellow, and purple. I couldn’t find purple-colored sugar sprinkles, so I made do with red. I hope no one will notice. You can go all-out and fashion a “crown” of a circle of candied or maraschino cherries. The best part of the tradition, though, is finding the baby. A small plastic baby is hidden in the cake before it is baked. In the absence of the baby, a black bean will do. The person who gets the slice of cake with the baby (or bean) is supposed to have good luck. A less recognized part of the tradition is that the person is also supposed to bring the next king cake for the next celebration.
Interestingly, none of our many cookbooks from Louisiana contain a recipe for king cake. The recipe I have used is from King Arthur Flour. Laissez les bon temps rouler.
Filling layered on dough
Baby’s found a home
Pinch the dough closed over the filling
Shaped into a ring (sort of)
Ready to serve
Mardi Gras King Cake
- ½ cup unsalted butter, melted
- ¾ cup lukewarm milk
- 2 large eggs + 1 large yolk, white reserved
- 3½ cups all-purpose flour
- ¼ cup sugar
- 1¼ teaspoons salt
- 1 package (2½ teaspoons) fast rising yeast
- ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest
- 8 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
- ½ cup sugar
- 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1 large egg, lightly beaten
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1/8 teaspoon almond extract
- 2 cups powdered sugar
- pinch salt
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 2½ tablespoons milk
- sparkling sugars – green, yellow, purple
- Add all of the dough ingredients to the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook. Mix on low speed until a soft, silky, but sticky dough is formed. Cover the bowl and let the dough rise in a warm place for 1 hour.
- Transfer the risen dough to a lightly oiled work surface. Shape the dough into a 24 inch x 6 inch rectangle. Let rest while you prepare the filling.
- In a medium bowl, beat together the cream cheese, sugar, and flour until smooth. Add the egg, vanilla, and almond extract and continue to beat until smooth.
- Transfer the filling to the middle of the rectangle of dough, leaving enough of the dough bare so that it can be pulled up around the filling and pinched closed. Before sealing the filling, position the baby or black bean in the filling.
- Transfer the filled and sealed dough rectangle to a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment. Shape the dough into a circle, sealing the ends together. Cover with a clean cloth and let rise for 1 hour.
- Bake in the middle on an oven preheated to 350°F for 20 minutes. Then cover loosely with aluminum foil and bake for an additional 30 minutes. Remove the cake from the oven and let it firm up for 15 minutes before transferring it to a baking rack to cool completely.
- Beat together the icing ingredients. Pour or drizzle the icing over the completely cooled cake. Sprinkle the colored sugars in bands over the icing. Make a ring on top with the optional cherries if desired.
June 7, 2017 · 1:29 pm
Before we left for our child-tending excursion in San Francisco, I bought two beautiful artichokes at the grocery store. They were on special for Mothers Day. We wound up eating out a lot during the week, and so the artichokes languished in the refrigerator. When we returned home, I was worried that the artichokes might have spoiled. They had not, so I was confronted with what to do with them. Usually I boil them and serve them with Hollandaise, but I wanted to do something a little different. I remembered a wonderful dinner that we enjoyed many years ago in Ruston, Louisiana. Our host had gone to enormous trouble to wedge a bit of spicy shrimp into every space between the leaves. Such a dish is a traditional Louisiana favorite, but it is usually reserved for special dinners because it takes so much effort. I thought that maybe I could make something that approximated that long-ago creation with not so much work. It turns out that this version is really easy if you have a food processor. Probably a Vita-Mix would work, too.
Leaves trimmed and choke removed
Ready-cooked salad shrimp
Stuffed and ready for the oven
Served with blender Hollandaise
Shrimp-Stuffed Roasted Artichoke
- 2 large artichokes
- 2 slices good quality French bread
- leaves from 6 stems of parsley
- 3 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped coarsely
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 2 tablespoons olive oil + more to drizzle on the tops of the stuffed artichokes
- ¼ teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
- salt and pepper to taste
- Tabasco sauce to taste (optional)
- 1 cup ready-cooked salad shrimp, thawed
- ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
- Prepare the artichokes by trimming the stem and the tips of the leaves. Cut off the top of the artichoke and remove the inner leaves to reveal the choke. Using a spoon, scrape out the fuzzy bits of the choke.
- Cut the bread into cubes and place in a food processor. Process until the bread forms coarse crumbs. Add the parsley leaves, chopped garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil and process until well combined but not puréed. Add the Old Bay, salt and pepper, optional Tabasco sauce, shrimp and grated Parmesan and process for just a few seconds until the shrimp are finely chopped but not puréed.
- Fill the center of each artichoke with the shrimp mixture and then spread the remainder over the tops of the artichokes. pressing down to force some of the mixture between the leaves.
- Place the stuffed artichokes in an oven-proof pan filled with about 1½ inches of water. Drizzle the tops with olive oil. Cover the pan with heavy aluminum foil, and poke four holes in the foil. Place in the middle of an oven preheated to 375°F. Roast for 1 hour covered, then remove the foil and roast, uncovered, for another 15 minutes. NOTE: Be very careful when you remove the foil, as steam may rush out and burn your fingers.
- Transfer the roasted artichokes to plates and serve with Hollandaise. I used Julia Child’s never-fail quick blender sauce.
October 14, 2016 · 11:44 pm
As we continue our efforts to downsize and declutter, I am working on clearing out the freezer. I found a pound of shrimp that needed to be used, but I was at a loss for a recipe. With shrimp, I often make some of our Louisiana favorites like shrimp creole or seafood gumbo. Barbecued shrimp in the style of the famous New Orleans restaurant, Pascal’s Manale, also sounded like an option, but that recipe calls for really large and really fresh shrimp – and a bit more trouble than I wanted. Shrimp and pasta was another choice, but to tell the truth I am a bit tired of tomato sauces, and somehow the combination didn’t seem quite right. I thought of paella, one of my favorites, but maybe substituting pasta for rice would make a good alternative. All of those ruminations made me think of this combination of shrimp and rigatoni without tomatoes and without saffron. My other goal was to make it a truly one-dish meal. For that, I boiled the pasta in fish sauce in the same cast iron pan where the rest of the ingredients would be added. No pasta-boiling pot to clean up. I topped the finished dish with Parmesan – I know, I know, shellfish and cheese are not supposed to go together. Just try it.
So here’s the recipe.
Rigatoni cooking in fish stock
Peppers and scallions added
Shrimp and Rigatoni
- 2 cups fish stock
- 2 cups dry rigatoni
- 4 scallions, sliced diagonally
- 6 snacking peppers, seeded and sliced into rings
- 1 teaspoon paprika
- ½ teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
- salt and pepper to taste
- ½ cup frozen peas
- 1 pound large shrimp, cleaned and peeled
- ¼ cup chopped parsley
- Parmesan cheese, grated
- In a large sauté pan, bring the fish stock to a boil. Add the rigatoni and just enough water to cover the pasta. Boil for about 10 minutes until the pasta is al dente, adding more water as needed.
- Stir in the scallions, peppers, paprika and seasonings and cook at a simmer for about 5 minutes until the peppers are soft. Add the frozen peas.
- Stir in the shrimp and cook until the shrimp have become pink and have lost their translucency. Adjust the seasoning, stir in the chopped parsley, top with grated Parmesan, and serve immediately in bowls.
October 22, 2015 · 4:27 am
When I was in college, many of my friends memorized lines from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat so that they could impress their true loves. Most of the swains used the quote in the title of this piece, but they probably had not read much else. I think that the book has virtually disappeared from today’s college campuses.
We went on a picnic recently that made me think of the quote. Since our first year of marriage, Susan and I have had an autumn tradition whenever we lived near mountains. We would pack a picnic lunch or evening meal and drive into the mountains to take a walk among the beauty and to sit under the beautiful golden quaking aspens. Of course, the children came along when they were younger. We followed the ritual even when we lived in Louisiana because the Arkansas mountains were not far away; and even though there were no aspens, the colors were spectacular. Only when we lived in Texas, too far from mountains, did we forego the experience. In most Texas places where we lived, the leaves, except for the beautiful gums, just turned a dull brown and fell off the trees around Thanksgiving.
This year the aspens put on an especially good show, and so we packed up a simple lunch and headed up Hyde Park Road to the ski basin. By now, our hikes have gotten shorter and our drives a little longer. This time, except for about a half-hour walk, it was mostly driving. We were surprised to see the crowds, even in the middle of the week. Aspen Vista, where the entire mountainside is laid out in front of you and the trail is flat, was a huge traffic jam. All of our favorite picnic spots had already been occupied.
Fortunately, we ventured up the road in the state park with its assessment of a $5 day-use fee. There was no one around, and we easily found a table under some beautiful autumn colors.
A lovely spot for a picnic
We unpacked our simple lunch: a nice bottle of Cotes du Rhone, a fresh baguette, a roll of hard Italian salami, a wedge of Manchego, a slab of Havarti, and some chocolate. We feasted under the shimmering aspen leaves and thought back on similar days over the decades. It could not have been a more perfect meal or better afternoon. You see why I thought of Omar Khayyam.
Makings of a great picnic
September 4, 2015 · 9:29 am
Many years ago I did a lot of executive recruiting for my organization in Shreveport, Louisiana. Whenever someone – especially a recruit– comes to Louisiana, he or she expects to eat well. Shreveport, like most cities in Louisiana, has a number of excellent restaurants specializing in a variety of cuisines, many with a Southern or Creole emphasis.
In my recruiting days, the Cambridge Club was the best of the best. It was actually a private dinner club run by two cousins from Italy, Vincent Campanella ran the front of the house, and Giuseppe Brucia commanded (my choice of words) the kitchen. They were both trained at a famous Swiss hotel and restaurant school in Lucerne. How they got to Shreveport was anyone’s guess, but nobody cared because the setting, service, and food were so good.
On special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, and celebrations I would take the family to dinner. They loved to go, first stopping at the front door of a beautiful house that evoked the Cotswolds to be greeted by a doorman who came out of a bright red English telephone booth and then escorted into a candlelit room with attentive waiters and delicious food.
Unfortunately, the Cambridge Club is long gone. Vincent retired years ago and Giuseppe opened his own place with a gigantic kitchen and dining rooms filled with patrons wolfing down huge plates of spaghetti and meatballs. Vincent and Giuseppe sold the Cambridge Club, and after only a few years it folded. That seems to be the story of so many legendary restaurants.
One of our family favorites on the Cambridge Club menu was a mushroom salad topped with a dab of red caviar. We talked Chef Brucia into giving us the recipe, and it was copied into our family recipe file in the teenage hand of our older daughter. Susan’s favorite salad was a leek and mushroom salad, but since our daughter runs from anything that remotely smells or tastes like an Allium, she did not copy that recipe.
What follows is a synthesis of the two recipes, minus the red caviar. But you should feel free to add that if you wish. The only other guidance is that the mushrooms absolutely must be peeled, not washed. That is much easier than it sounds. Just place the sharp point of a paring knife under the edge of the mushroom cap next to the gills, lift up and the thin covering strips away. Continue around the edge of the mushroom until it is completely peeled. That should take much less than a minute. It is amazing how much more delicate peeled mushrooms become, how thin you can slice them, and how much more receptive they are to fresh lemon juice and the best EVOO (That’s what Sarah, Evan, and their cooks call extra virgin olive oil.)
Rings of leeks
Unpeeled and peeled mushrooms with shavings
Leek and mushroom salad in the style of the Cambridge Club
Leek and Mushroom Salad in the Style of the Cambridge Club
- white part of 1-2 large leeks
- 2-3 large white mushrooms per serving
- juice of ½ lemon for each serving
- 3 tablespoons of the best extra virgin olive oil for each serving
- Parmigiano-Reggiano or Asiago of good quality
- red caviar (optional)
- With a very sharp knife, slice the leeks crosswise as thinly as possible. Rinse in a colander to remove any bits of sand and dirt. Refrigerate in ice water until ready to use.
- With a paring knife, peel the mushrooms. Slice crosswise as thinly as possible. Save the peelings for vegetable stock if you wish.
- Assemble the salad by placing a nest of mesclun on individual serving plates. Drain the leeks. Divide the sliced leeks and mushrooms among the plates.
- Dress each plate with lemon juice and olive oil. Use salt and pepper if needed
- Top with slivers of Parmigiano-Reggiano or Asiago shaved as thinly as possible with a vegetable peeler.
- If you are feeling flush, add a dab of red caviar to the top of each serving. Remember, this is purely optional.
Filed under Food, Photography, Recipes, Restaurants
Tagged as Asiago, Cambridge Club, EVOO, leeks, Louisiana, mushrooms, Parmigiano-Reggiano, red caviar, Shreveport
August 28, 2015 · 4:23 pm
When I wrote recently about Julia Child’s recipe for ratatouille, I reported that she suggested serving it with pot au feu. I was looking for something simple, but the recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking served twelve to sixteen people and called for 4 pounds of beef, 4 pounds of pork, 4 pounds of chicken, 2 pounds of sausage, and vegetables. That was more than I wanted to tackle.
I had more in mind boiled beef, which sounded fairly simple and something that would not overpower the ratatouille. There is a traditional Creole dish, known as bouilli. It has been served for decades in most of the old-line restaurants of New Orleans. Perhaps the best known version is served at Tujague’s, which was established in 1856 and claims to be the second oldest restaurant in New Orleans. (The famous Antoine’s Restaurant dates to 1840.) Tujague’s sits on Decatur at the corner of Madison, a block from Jackson Square. Like the rest of the French Quarter, the restaurant survived Hurricane Katrina. It is still serving bouilli. I first enjoyed it in 1962. At the time, I thought it was pretty ordinary – stringy beef served in a watery broth. Since then, I guess my taste buds have matured, or at least changed. Bouilli was exactly what I was looking for to serve with ratatouille.
This is not Tujague’s authentic version of boiled beef. For one thing, theirs is made with brisket. I am also certain that they use some secret herbs and spices that I don’t know about. Still, I think that my version makes a good, if a bit bland, foil for the Mediterranean flavors of ratatouille.
Beef and vegetables in broth starting the slow boil
Bouilli with vegetables and ratatouille
Bouilli (Boiled Beef)
- 2 pounds beef pot roast (chuck or round)
- 1 quart beef stock
- water as needed
- 1 large carrot, peeled and cut in half crosswise
- 2 ribs celery cut in thirds
- 1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
- 2 medium turnips, peeled and quartered
- bouquet garni of whole cloves, parsley, bay leaf, fresh thyme, garlic
- 12 whole black peppercorns
- salt to taste
- Place beef in a soup pot and add broth and enough water to cover the meat.
- Add the remaining ingredients and bring to the boil. Cover and reduce to the simmer for 3 to 4 hours or until the beef is tender.
- Remove the beef rom the broth, slice, and serve with some of the broth and the vegetables, if desired. Serve horseradish on the side.
- Strain and reserve, chilled, remaining broth for other uses.
Filed under Food, Photography, Recipes, Restaurants
Tagged as Antoine's, boiled beef, bouilli, Hurricane Katrina, Julia Child, Louisiana, New Orleans, pot au feu, Ratatouille, Tujague's
June 7, 2015 · 8:17 am
A while back I wrote about a classic oyster and artichoke soup from New Orleans. Artichokes are among the favorite ingredients for Louisiana cooks, both professionals and amateurs. It goes without saying that crab, along with shrimp and crawfish, is another favorite Louisiana ingredient. Combining the two is the basis for another popular Louisiana dish. I first enjoyed it many years ago when Susan and I were dinner guests of a great home cook in Ruston, Louisiana. Globe artichokes stuffed with a savory dressing is a welcome alternative to the usual artichoke bracts (leaves) dipped in aioli or Hollandaise.
Some Louisiana food authorities assert that stuffed artichokes – plain only or with shellfish – had their origin in Italian restaurants throughout the state and then became widely popular. That seems likely, because cultivated artichokes apparently had their origins in Sicily, and Italian cookbooks usually have many recipes using artichokes. At the same time, I have only been able to find one recipe for stuffed artichokes – that by Giuliano Bugialli in the classic The Fine Art of Italian Cooking, first published in 1977. He stuffed his artichokes with pancetta or prosciutto.
In the USA, Castroville, California, seems to be the epicenter of the artichoke crop. The town dubs itself “Artichoke Capital of the World”, and you can see miles and miles of artichoke fields along the highway or through the windows of the train. Roadside stands abound.
The Louisiana crop is more modest, but it seems to meet the local need. We are nearing the end of the usual season, but with our present world-wide commerce, artichokes are available year around.
Whatever the origin of the recipe or the source of the vegetable, it is easy to see why stuffed artichokes are so popular. This recipe combines crab and Romano cheese, not considered by some to be a good combination. For me, it works.
Globe artichokes with a little discoloration from chilling – not a problem
Artichokes cooked in lemon water maintain a pale green color
The fuzzy choke is inedible and needs to be removed before you stuff the artichoke
Artichokes trimmed, and with the choke removed, ready for stuffing
Stuffed with topping added and ready for the oven
Crab-stuffed artichoke ready to serve
- 2 large artichokes
- 1 lemon, halved
- 8 ounces crab meat, picked over for shells and cartilage
- ½ cup dry bread crumbs + more for topping
- ½ cup fresh Romano cheese, grated + more for topping
- 1 large egg, lightly beaten
- ½ teaspoon Creole seasoning or Old Bay
- salt and pepper
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- In a stock pot boil enough water to submerge the artichokes. Squeeze the juice of the lemon into the boiling water and add the rinds. Add the artichokes, cover and boil slowly for 30 – 40 minutes or until an outer leaf is soft and can be removed easily. Drain and cool the artichokes.
- Prepare the artichokes for stuffing by cutting off the stem so that the artichoke can sit squarely on the work surface. Using scissors and starting up about 1/3 from the base, cut off the pointed ends of the outer leaves, working around the choke, trimming all the leaves until you come to the pink-hued inner leaves. Remove those leaves to expose the choke (also called the chaff). With a teaspoon, remove the fibrous chaff until the base of the artichoke is exposed and smooth. Set aside.
- Prepare the stuffing by combining the crab, bread crumbs, Romano, beaten egg, and seasonings in a small bowl.
- Working from the outer leaves inward and using a spoon, place a good teaspoon of the filling in the hollow of each leaf, reserving enough of the stuffing to fill the central hollow.
- Sprinkle the tops of the stuffed artichokes with additional bread crumbs and grated cheese. Drizzle the tops with melted butter and place the stuffed artichokes in the middle of an oven preheated to 400°F for 40 minutes. Serve while still warm. Eat by pulling off the bracts, one by one. Take a bite of stuffing and scrape the soft artichoke flesh off the bract between your teeth. Keep on working toward the center. Cut the center into bite-sized pieces.
March 7, 2015 · 2:17 pm
Within the USA, there seem to be two major schools of thought on how to stuff a shrimp (prawn). In New England, most recipes call for crushed Ritz crackers in the ingredient list, and then the shrimp are usually baked. (Parenthetically, Ritz crackers seem to be a basic staple in New England.) Along the Gulf Coast, especially in Louisiana, shrimp are stuffed with a spicy crab mixture and then deep-fried.
My first experience with crab-stuffed shrimp was at Freeman and Harris Café in Shreveport, Louisiana. It is claimed that at one time Freeman and Harris, established in 1921, was the first and longest operating African-American-owned restaurant in the United States. Those seem likely to be highly arguable claims, but what is not arguable is that the food was delicious. Even though the café was located in a poor black section of Shreveport (Saint Paul’s Bottoms or just “The Bottoms”, later renamed Ledbetter Heights), the food attracted politicians, business people, and prominent citizens – black and white – to enjoy chicken and dumplings specially prepared one day a week, other Southern favorites, and the cafe’s famous crab-stuffed shrimp.
Freeman and Harris long ago became Pete Harris’s Café and then eventually closed. But even today descendants of the original families and some of the early cooks still serve up their versions of the stuffed shrimp, to the point that locals think of them as Shreveport-Style Stuffed Shrimp.
This recipe is a pale imitation of the stuffed shrimp I first ate at Freeman and Harris, but it still brings to mind Louisiana cooking.
Red, orange, and yellow miniature bell (snacking) peppers
Chopped bell pepper, celery, and green onion
Butterflied shrimp sprinkled with seasoning mixture
Deep-fried crab-stuffed shrimp
Crab-stuffed shrimp served with rice
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- ½ cup finely chopped celery
- ½ cup finely chopped bell pepper (I used miniature red, orange, and yellow “snacking” bell peppers, but you may use whatever you prefer.)
- ½ cup finely chopped green onion
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- ½ teaspoon garlic powder
- ½ teaspoon black pepper
- 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- ½ teaspoon dried oregano, crumbled between your hands
- 6 ounces crabmeat
- ¼ cup dry breadcrumbs
- ¼ teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Stir in the celery, bell pepper, onion, and garlic and cook for about 5 minutes until the vegetables are wilted and the onions are translucent.
- Stir in the garlic powder, black and red pepper, and oregano. Remove from the heat and stir in the crabmeat, breadcrumbs, and Worcestershire sauce. Adjust the seasoning with the salt.
- Refrigerate until ready to use.
- 1 pound of unshelled extra-large shrimp (13-15/pound or larger)
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- cayenne pepper (optional and to your taste)
- 1½ teaspoons salt
- 1½ teaspoons paprika
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon onion powder
- ¼ teaspoon ground thyme
- ¼ teaspoon ground oregano
- 1 cup flour
- 1 cup milk
- 1 egg beaten
- fine bread crumbs
- peanut oil for deep frying
- Shell and de-vein the shrimp, leaving the tail.
- With a small, sharp knife butterfly the shrimp by cutting along the central line, being careful not to cut completely through. Open like a book. and set aside. You may see another black line (not the intestine. This is the shrimp’s nervous system, so don’t worry about it.)
- In a small bowl, combine the pepper(s), salt, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme and oregano. Reserve 2 teaspoons for sprinkling on the shrimp.
- Combine the flour with the remaining seasoning mixture. Place the seasoned flour in a bowl or pie pan.
- In another bowl or pie pan, combine the milk and beaten egg.
- Put a good amount of breadcrumbs in another bowl or pie pan.
- Sprinkle the shrimp with the reserved seasoning mix.
- Place a generous tablespoonful of the reserved crab mixture on each of the butterflied shrimp. Press firmly so that the crab mixture sticks to the shrimp.
- Working in batches, dip the stuffed shrimp in the flour mixture, then in the milk and egg mixture, again in the four, and then in the breadcrumbs.
- Have ready about 1-2 inches of oil heated to 350°F in a deep, heavy-bottomed pan.
- Fry the shrimp, 3 or 4 at a time, until browned on all sides. Drain on layers of paper towels and keep warm in the oven until all the shrimp are fried.
- Serve immediately with your favorite seafood sauce – tartar, cocktail, etc. Allow 3 to 5 stuffed shrimp for each serving.
Filed under Food, Photography, Recipes, Restaurants
Tagged as crab-stuffed shrimp, crabmeat, Freeman and Harris Cafe, Harris Café, Louisiana, Pete Harris, Ritz crackers, Shreveport, stuffed shrimp
October 4, 2014 · 12:12 pm
California is experiencing a heat wave, and Los Angeles is especially warm. My grandchildren’s schools decided to close early the other day because of the heat – the 90’s – even though the schools sit on the edge of the ocean with ocean breezes. The classrooms are air-conditioned as well. Never mind, the schools closed and parents were asked to pick up their kids, working or not. This decision set my daughter into a fit of pique, especially because she remembered her days in Louisiana where it gets really hot and humid, and the schools were not air-conditioned because the school board considered that a luxury.
Carol shared her disgust with her siblings via e-mail, and that stimulated a discussion of all the tribulations they endured while growing up. Among these, was the menu in the school cafeteria.
We moved to the South when the two older kids were in elementary school, and they had never had okra. They tasted it for the first time on their first day of school. And the second time…and the third time… and the fourth time… which is to say that stewed tomatoes and okra were served every single day. To this day, none of our kids eats okra.
Okra has a well-earned reputation as being slimy. That is especially so when it is boiled or when it is cooked with stewed tomatoes. As a result of this, many refuse to eat okra even though it is possible to prepare it in such a way as to avoid the slime. Mostly this is done by frying with one or another method.
This last week my wife accompanied me to the farmers market, and for old time’s sake, she bought some okra. The pods were beautiful and small so they promised to be tender and delicious. I deep-fried a batch last night, and neither my wife nor I was disappointed. Not a trace of slime.
Fresh okra pods
- okra, leave whole if small or cut into 1 inch slices if larger
- 1 egg, beaten lightly
- ½ cup buttermilk
- ½ teaspoon salt
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 cup yellow cornmeal
- 1 teaspoon salt
- ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper
- peanut oil for deep-frying
- Wash okra in cold water and dry on a clean kitchen towel
- In a medium bowl, combine the beaten egg, buttermilk, and salt
- In a large bowl, mix together the flour, cornmeal, salt and pepper until well combined.
- In a deep, heavy pot heat 3 inches of peanut oil to 350° F.
- Place the washed and dried okra pods in the egg and buttermilk mixture, coating them completely.
- One by one, transfer the okra pods to the flour/cornmeal mixture and then transfer to the heated oil, being very careful not to burn yourself.
- Fry the okra pods until they are well browned. With tongs, transfer the fried okra to several layers of paper towel to drain. Salt immediately.
- Keep warm in the oven at 170° F until all the okra is fried. Serve while still warm.