The Pork Boys Do M.P.'s Birthday

Owing to spells of illness and sundry domestic crises, we had to put off M.P.'s birthday dinner until last Sunday, which turned out to be a nice, peaceful day here in Texas, the temperature outside merely a balmy 90 degrees.

As per our custom, M.P. - resident cook and chef extraordinaire - asked your Head Trucker to prepare the birthday repast, featuring a childhood favorite of his:  Cajun chicken fricassee over rice, accompanied by sweet peas in butter sauce, fried garlic corn, and toasted garlic bread.  And I am always glad to have a chance to cook for M.P. who, as my longtime truckbuddies know, routinely serves up so many delicious meals for me.  M.P. really loves to cook; he thinks and plans and even dreams about it all the time.  It's his glory and chief delight in life, and he is entirely self-taught.

Your Head Trucker's talents in the kitchen, as in all other areas of life, are few and small.  But I believe I can safely say now that I have mastered the fricassee.  When I first made it for M.P. a couple of years ago, he pronounced it delicious, saying it was just like his mama made it.  But this time, after I've improved the recipe a bit, he declared it excellent and perfect.  He even said with a guilty grin (shhh!) it was better than his mama's!  You can't get higher praise than that.  So now he has given yours truly the accolade of Honorary Cajun with Two Stars, which I shall bear proudly.

Enough talk, here's the pictures - I do wish I could hand you boys a plate.  It's plain cooking, all right, but it will fill you up.  Click the pics to enlarge.

M.P. likes to use a seashore theme for our summer Sunday dinners.  This week, he crafted a whimsical lighthouse out of empty seasoning jars.

Our pretty Sunday dinners, not to mention birthday and holiday meals, always feature wine and candlelight and some festive theme of M.P.'s devising.

Sweet peas and butter on the left, gen-yew-ine Cajun chicken fricassee on the right.  If any of my truckbuddies want the recipe, let me know in the comments and I'll post it.  (First you make a roux . . .)

Fried garlic corn topped with parmesan cheese on the left, plain white rice on the right, fluffy and moist.  And just so you know, the stovetop was spotlessly clean when I started cooking, three-and-a-half hours before this picture was taken.  I can cook or clean, but not both at the same time.

Toasted garlic bread, hot out of the oven, ready to serve.

Lightouse on the rocks.

Alas, your Head Trucker's talents do not extend to cake decorating.  But it's the thought that counts, right?  M.P. was delighted with the strawberry cake, the cream cheese icing, and the watermelon wine.
(Try it, you'll like it!)

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Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

Mardi Gras is coming up next Tuesday, and M. P. and I have already planned our menu, which is a little out of the ordinary for Cajun feasting, but still with a French flavor.  More on that later; meanwhile, here's the late, great Justin Wilson showing and telling you how to make a classic chicken and sausage gumbo - which some folks like your Head Trucker consider "heaven in a bowl."

Bear in mind that no two Cajuns make gumbo exactly the same way, so if you go looking for a recipe, you will find an infinite variety.  But this will do to get you started if you've never made gumbo before.



Update, 7:15 p.m.: Here's "6 Authentic Gumbo Recipes" from Southern Living, in case anyone wants to have a try with one of them.

And your Head Trucker will say that the secret to a good gumbo - or to a good anything - is to make a perfectly smooth roux (half cooking oil (not olive oil) or drippings, and half flour) by cooking it on highest heat, stirring constantly with a long-handled whisk or wooden spoon for the 5 or 10 minutes it takes to turn it a deep, dark brown, just like melted chocolate, an operation that takes nerve but is just essential for good eating.  (Modern-day recipes that say cook on low heat and stand there stirring constantly for 30-45 minutes are for the birds - nobody has an arm that strong, anyway.  Some Cajuns just mix the oil and flour and pour it into a baking pan and cook it in the oven. And down in Acadiana, you can simply buy it in a jar at the grocery store, ready to go into the gumbo.)

At that point, and not a second later - you'll know when you get there - throw in all your chopped vegetables (onion, bell pepper, celery - the "Holy Trinity") at once and take the pan off the fire. The addition of the veggies stops the roux from cooking and burning. Keep stirring, but not as furiously, over low heat until the veggies soften, then turn the fire up a bit, and add chicken stock, not plain water. After adding the meats and everything comes to a boil, simmer for an hour.

I also prefer to add 2 or 3 cups of chopped okra (yummmmmm!) in the cooking instead of using filé powder when it is served (it's okay, but changes the taste a bit).  Wine is not necessary.

If the roux smells burned, it is burned. Just throw it out and start over.

You can make it all in a cast-iron dutch oven - preferably with a handle on one side - or you can make the roux in a skillet first, then put it and everything else into a stock pot to simmer. As Justin said, it will be even better the second day - if you can stand to wait that long!

You Yankee boys can't get andouille up Nawth, so just buy a pound of regular smoked sausage, which will do just fine.  If you want to be all nice and neat about it, you could bone the chicken before adding it to the gumbo, if you can't stand to fish whole pieces out at the dinner table.  But it is more fun that way. You could also cheat by simply picking up a rotisserie chicken at the deli instead of frying it yourself - but shhhh! don't tell anyone I told you that.

And serve over fluffy, hot, fresh-cooked rice - do NOT eat gumbo all by itself like soup.  It's the law!

P. S. -- Be very, very sparing with any hot seasonings you put in. Very. Contrary to every "Cajun" meal you've ever had in a restaurant, real Cajun food is not hot as hell. Instead, you set hot sauce or pepper flakes on the table so each diner can add as much or as little as he likes. Trust me on this, guys.

Actually, all the seasonings you need are contained in Tony Chachere's Cajun Seasoning, which comes in a green can. If it's not in the stores where you live, you must send away for it.

And there is a difference between Cajun gumbo and Creole gumbo - the former is the country dish, the latter is the city dish. Look it up if you like, but the important thing is, don't argue with people about which is "right." Everybody's mama did it her own way. So if you didn't learn from your mama, just experiment and make the kind of gumbo you like best. And then savor it with friends and good cheer, as all home cooking should be shared.

Buttered French bread or garlic toast is the only accompaniment you need. But if you simply must have an antipasto, I suggest bacon and spinach. What, you never had that? Oh just fry up a skillet of bacon, as much as you like, and when it is done, take the bacon out and throw the baby spinach leaves in the grease with the fire still going, and stir them around a minute until all wilted. Then crumble the bacon into the spinach. Lovely stuff - can be a meal by itself. For an extra zing, saute some chopped onion with the bacon.

The Pork Boys Do Porkchops Jambalaya

One night last week.  The food was so damn good, we forgot to take pics of it on the table.  This is one of M.P.'s all-time greatest hits, I tell you what boys.  Thin, tender, juicy slices of fried pork chops mixed in with a variation of traditional Cajun jambalaya - the real jambalaya from the bayou country, not what you get in stores or even restaurants. 

Starts with rice, of course; Ro-Tel tomatoes, which you Yankee boys don't know anything about; three colors of bell peppers (red, orange, green); hard-boiled eggs; crumbled fried bacon; various herbs and spices, including the mandatory dash of Tony Chachere's Cajun Seasoning.  Plus the secret ingredient that starts the chain reaction (shhhh!):  caramelized onions sauteed in butter with a little sugar sprinkled over them.

Oh.My.God.  Beyond larrupping good.  So sorry I couldn't save you boys a plate, we damn near killed ourselves wolfing it down, with some fresh French bread and real butter on the side, and of course some smooth White Zin.  If you're ever asked what you want for your last meal, this is what to order.  Grin.
 

M.P. has a thing for colored bottles, very pretty when the evening sun shines through the window of his neat little bungalow. 
He built that table himself.





M.P. picked the roses and irises out of his garden that afternoon, and they made a lovely centerpiece together.





As you can see, M.P. is a wizard at napkin folding; he did these to match the irises.

 

Porkchops jambalaya.  Sweet, spicy, incredibly good.
It may not look like much, but trust me fellas -
you ain't never had something this good in your mouth.



My contribution:  fresh, ripe strawberries with whipped topping over Sara Lee pound cake.  A fine, simple ending to a fabuous meal.