I’m not exactly sure what year or season it was, but the first time I traveled from Tallahassee to New Orleans, it was like I’d been transported to the land of Oz.
It was the early ‘80s, and one long weekend, a friend took me along to visit his family in Baton Rouge. The first evening at his mother’s house, there was a party in the backyard with plenty of beer and a picnic table covered in newspaper and piled high with what they called “mud bugs.”
That was my first crawfish fiesta and likely the first time I heard Professor Longhair. Everyone laughed while they taught me how to pinch the tail and suck the head — a glorious introduction to another world that I was suddenly welcomed to with open arms.
And then there was New Orleans. A short speeding drive down I-10 to the Big Easy and I was hooked. It didn’t look or sound or smell or taste like anything I’d ever experienced.
As a Midwestern farm boy transplanted to Florida, I was accustomed to a certain level of swampy exotica. But not Bourbon Street and Preservation Hall and the dive bars and strip clubs. Or the swirling parades of people, who in the early morning congregated at the river near the French Market, amid the flurries of powdered sugar at Cafe Du Monde.
After that, there were regular trips to New Orleans and annual pilgrimages to Jazz Fest. The music was incredible during that era, and the festival was inexpensive and mostly attended by locals rather than tourists.
Of course, Irma Thomas was a favorite. On many nights, “The Soul Queen of New Orleans” would serve up her famous red beans and rice, before taking the stage at her club, the Lion’s Den.
During Jazz Fest, the infield at the Fair Grounds Race Course was another wondrous pilgrimage, featuring nearly every Creole and Cajun delicacy. I wanted to learn to cook that kind of food. So one day, after standing in line at K-Paul’s, and enjoying what at the time was a fairly expensive meal, I came home with a first edition of “Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen” (William Monroe, 1984).
I didn’t realize it at the time, but working through the recipes and learning how to make roux was like a short course in French cooking, and that idiosyncratic book became a bible of sorts.
I hadn’t revisited Prudhomme’s classic cookbook in a long while. But during the early days of the pandemic, I pulled it off the shelf and prepared a decent version of his chicken and andouille sausage gumbo, substituting some leftover duck for chicken, and brown for white rice.
Now, with Mardi Gras 2022 underway, it feels like the right time to get back to the original recipe, which begins with fried chicken, and is “super” served with potato salad, according to Prudhomme, who died in 2015.
For a full three-course meal, add Prudhomme’s Shrimp Remoulade to start, and his New Orleans Bread Pudding With Lemon Sauce for dessert.
RECIPES
Make these classic recipes from “Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen” for a homemade Mardi Gras celebration.
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
Chicken and Andouille Smoked Sausage Gumbo
Serve this classic gumbo mounded with rice, or as Prudhomme would suggest, potato salad.
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
Shrimp Remoulade
Be sure to make the snappy remoulade sauce several hours ahead, or preferably, two to three days before serving. It keeps several days refrigerated and improves with time.
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
New Orleans Bread Pudding With Lemon Sauce
During the preparation of this dish, the milk-and-eggs mixture is too sweet and all the elements are very strong because they will be absorbed by bland bread. After baking, the result is a magnificent pudding.
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
Credit: CHRIS HUNT
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