in need of comfort: pan-fried catfish with black-eyed pea salsa

I have to be honest:  I'm a little down these days. It's normally a great time to be in this wonderful city--festivals, sno-balls, seafood everywhere you look--and of course, that's the reason for the blues.  The seafood.  No fried oyster po-boys, no raw oysters.  Fishing folk shuttling executives out to the rigs instead of pulling in hundreds of pounds of shrimp.  It's a crying shame.

I haven't even felt much like cooking lately, though I've been desperate to eat something homey and comforting.  I just couldn't think of what that was.  So yesterday I started scribbling, doodling, trying to get down to the basics of what would make me feel better, and I came up with one of my favorite childhood meals:  fish sticks, peas, and mac and cheese.  Have you ever had this, or something like it?  With a little ketchup on the plate, it looks beautiful, in a Crayola kind of way:  crunchy golden fish sticks, a big splotch of red ketchup, bright green peas (cooked from frozen in nothing more than salted water), and orangy-yellow mac and cheese from the blue box.  Every time my mom pulled the ingredients out for this feast, I got so excited.  It was happiness in one of its purest forms:  looking forward to something.  Plus, I liked the challenge of getting one of those straight macaroni on each of my four fork tines before I took a bite. 

I have to be honest again:  Paul and I have had this exact dinner pretty recently--the kid version.  We both enjoyed the thought of it, and then when we ate it...well, it was less than satisfying, as so many foods enjoyed by our younger palates become.  But yesterday, I needed to recreate the heady anticipation of a meal much like that one, and I think I came up with a keeper:  pan-fried catfish, cool and crunchy black-eyed pea salsa, and serious mac and cheese (coming soon).  This is a comfort plate my taste buds can agree with, and it truly did help me go to sleep happier.  I hope it helps you too.

pan-fried catfish with black-eyed pea salsa

for salsa:

• 2 15-oz. cans black-eyed peas, rinsed and drained
• 1 small red onion (or half a large one), minced
• 1 bunch scallions, sliced thinly
• 1 clove garlic, minced (optional)
• 1 red bell pepper, minced
• 2 jalapeno peppers, minced (leave as many seeds in as you like for heat)
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup minced fresh cilantro
• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
• Tabasco, salt, and black pepper to taste

1. Combine all ingredients, and season with Tabasco, salt, and black pepper until it tastes really good.
2. Cover and chill for about an hour (or longer is fine).

for catfish:

• 4 fresh catfish fillets (cut them into smaller pieces if you like)
• 2 to 3 tablespoons of seafood seasoning, like Seafood Magic, or Creole seasoning, like Tony Chachere's
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup masa harina*
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil (olive oil is too strongly flavored)

1.  Rinse fillets and pat dry.  Season both sides well with seafood or Creole seasoning.
2. Combine flour and masa in a shallow dish; add about 1 tablespoon of the same seasoning to the flour (or you can leave the seasoning out, if you think it will be too strong or salty--you know your seasoning!).  Dredge fillets through flour mixture.
3. Heat oil in a large frying pan over medium heat, until the fish sizzles when you start to add it to the pan.  If the end of a fillet touches the oil and it doesn't start sizzling, put the fillet back on a plate and wait for the oil to heat up more.  You may need to adjust the heat throughout the cooking to prevent burning but keep the sizzle.
4. Fry in hot oil for about 5 minutes per side, until crispy at the edges and golden.  The thickness of the fillets will determine how long they need to cook, and the color of your seasoning will determine how dark the final product is.  If you're unsure, just try flaking into the thickest portion with a fork.  They'll be fork-tender, juicy, and almost pure white when they're done.
5. Serve black-eyed pea salsa on top of or alongside the fish (or together inside a taco shell--yum).

Serves 4.  Actually, the salsa serves more like 8, but it's a great healthy snack for the next day.

* Masa harina is corn flour used to make tortillas, tamales, and pupusas, and I recommend buying some so you'll be more inclined to make all of those!  It's very inexpensive and sold in the baking or Mexican foods sections of supermarkets, or in specialty markets.  But if you can't find it or don't feel like buying it, you can substitute an equal amount of regular old cornmeal, and the fillets will have a crunchy texture (as opposed to crispy), but they'll be oh-so-southern.

in need of comfort: pan-fried catfish with black-eyed pea salsa

gone crawfishing

Crawfish has two usages as a verb in Webster's: one is to catch crawfish, and another is to back out of something you've committed to. But I'm proposing a third definition: to crawfish is to celebrate the deliciousness of the little creatures by churning out as many recipes as you can in one weekend and stuffing yourself full of their glory. And with that definition in place, I can honestly say I have been doing a lot of crawfishing lately.

Our craw-odyssey began on Friday evening with a shellfish stock to use in some of the recipes (and a lot leftover to freeze). Well, actually, it began on Friday afternoon, snacking on crawfish tails and crabmeat pulled from the shells we were using for the stock--one of the rewards of making a stock with the shells of already-cooked sea-things.

For the stock, we took the extra step of roasting the picked shells. Here they are in the roasting pan:

Pretty, huh? They only need about 30 minutes in a 375-oven to intensify and deepen their flavor somewhat. Any longer than that would risk burning the shell and bits of meat still inside, turning them bitter.

I love the way this stock looks. There just isn't a prettier stock than one involving crawfish. Of course, the finished product looks boring and brown, just like a rich chicken stock, but at this point--when the herbs and lemon have just been added and all the little guys are just soaking in the tub, getting to know each other--it's a kaleidoscope of color.

Later that night came Crawfish Etouffee, that iconic Lousiana stew of seafood and vegetables, with a little tomato, served over rice. The above photo shows a step we like to take when making these types of stews (like sauce piquant or jambalaya)--pincé. To pincé (pronounce it "pens'-say") is to add tomato paste and a pinch of sugar when the sauteed vegetables are nearly dry, then stirring and cooking that tomato paste until it deepens in color and intensity--literally just before the sugars scorch. This technique baffled me when I first heard about it, but I have tasted the difference between adding tomatoes to a dish and pincéing tomato paste, and I fully support the pincé camp. Picture adding a can of diced tomatoes with juice, as the original recipe called for--the tomatoes are soft and juicy, and the juice immediately mingles with the other veggies and takes on some of their flavors. But when you add paste, which is thick and somewhat solid, and then refuse to feed the pot with liquid until it's almost completely dry, the paste turns in on itself for moisture and caramelizes, shrinking and condensing even further--thus giving the dish a deep, sweet, tomatoey flavor. You end up with more tomato flavor from less tomato. As you can see, the etouffee turned out rich, red, and creamy, and chock-full of sweet crawfish tails.

The next day there was an incredibly scrumptious Seafood Dip, using up some of the leftover crawfish, crab, and shrimp from the picked shells. Below is a photo of the vegetables and andouille sauteeing and flavoring-up on the stove. Dip made with cream cheese and sour cream is something I make only once or twice a year, usually for parties. But we had all the right bits of seafood and veggies lying around, so...why not?

Finally, on Sunday, I made crawfish pies (pictured at the top of the post), crusted with a delicate cornmeal dough that exfoliates and moisturizes your hands as you mix it (butter + cornmeal = tasty hand scrub!). These didn't taste exactly like a Natchitoches crawfish pie--the filling is more herbal and citrusy, and the pastry is far more delicate (for example, you couldn't drive a bass boat and eat one out of your left hand at the same time). Also, I baked them instead of frying, and I'm so glad I did. That pastry is rich, ya'll--rich. It's got a wonderful buttery flavor and a slight crunch and sweetness from the cornmeal, which is something I adore. In fact, I believe it would be the perfect pastry for a plum or nectarine pie. Gotta get to work on that one.

If you don't have live or freshly boiled crawfish in your area, don't worry. The stock can be made with shrimp and crab shells, or just shrimp shells, and the shrimp can be the raw frozen kind you get in Durant, Oklahoma. The stock won't be the same, but it'll be your own homemade shell stock, and that's a good thing. For the rest of the recipes, it's certainly fine to use pre-shelled, pre-cooked crawfish tails that come in one-pound bags--but note that they must be Louisiana crawfish tails. Look on the bag, it will tell you where they're from. If the bag says they're from China, shake your head and toss that bag back in the bin. If the bag says they're from Louisiana, put them in your cart and maybe wince at the price difference but GET OVER IT. Crawfish from China are antibioticized, flavorless, chewy fluff you wouldn't bait a possum trap with--trust me on this one.

Shellfish Stock (adapted from Hooks, Lies, & Alibis)

• 1 pound each crab, shrimp and crawfish shells (we used way more crawfish shells than the other critters) (you can ask your seafood supplier to set these aside for you instead of buying them with meat inside, if you don't want an awesome lunch while you're peelin')
• 2 onions, chopped
• 2 carrots, sliced
• 2 stalks celery, chopped
• 6 cloves garlic
• 4 sprigs parsley
• 2 sprigs thyme
• 6 whole black peppercorns
• 1 lemon, sliced
• 1 gallon cold water
• 2 cups dry white wine

1. Optional first step: Place the shells in a roasting pan and bake at 375 for 30 minutes, stirring once or twice.
2. In a large stockpot over medium-high heat, combine all ingredients and bring to a rolling boil. Reduce heat to simmer, cover, and cook 45 minutes or until liquid is reduced slightly. During cooking process, skim off all impurities that rise to the surface and discard. Add additional water if necessary.
3. Strain stock through a colander over a large bowl to get the shells and vegetables out. Pour strained stock from bowl back into the stock pot.
4. Strain stock through a cheesecloth-lined colander or very tight sieve to remove smaller bits of shell and vegetables and debris.
5. Cool, portion into rigid containers, and freeze up to a month.
6. You're not done!! Double-bag your trash with the shells in it. Close it up tightly and take it outside to the trash bin. Cover the trash bin. When it's trash day, make sure you get that bin out there in time. If your cooking partner says you can wait until tomorrow, don't you believe it. Fresh seafood shells smell great. Old seafood shells smell like hades.

Makes approximately 2 1/2 quarts.

Crawfish Etouffee (adapted from www.emerils.com)

• 6 T. butter
• 4 T. flour
• 2 cups chopped onions
• 1/2 cup chopped celery
• 1/2 cup chopped bell pepper
• 6 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 sprigs fresh thyme
• 2 T. tomato paste
• pinch white sugar
• 2 1/2 cups stock (shellfish, fish, shrimp, or chicken (if you must))
• 1 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. crushed red pepper flakes
• tabasco to taste
• 2 t. Worcestershire sauce
• 2 pounds crawfish tails, with the fat
• juice of half a lemon
• 1 cup chopped green onions
• 1/4 cup chopped parsley
• cooked white rice for serving

1. In a large, heavy saucepan over medium heat, melt 4 tablespoons of the butter and whisk in flour to combine well. Continue to cook this roux, stirring constantly, until it's the color of peanut butter (you might need to lower the heat a bit to keep it from scorching).
2. Add onions, celery, bell pepper, garlic, bay leaves and thyme and cook until vegetables are soft, about 6 to 8 minutes.
3. Add tomato paste and a pinch of sugar and cook, stirring constantly, for 5 to 7 minutes, until tomato paste is a deeper rust in color, but not brown. The mixture will be dry. If it smells like it's on the verge of burning, pour the stock in.
4. Add stock, salt, red pepper, Tabasco, and Worcestershire and bring to a boil. Skim surface, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook uncovered for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
5. Add crawfish tails and their fat, lemon juice, green onions, and parsley and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
6. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary (probably will need to add more salt). Serve over hot rice.

8 servings

Seafood Dip (adapted from The Encyclopedia of Cajun & Creole Cuisine)

• 2 T. butter
• 3 green onions (scallions), sliced
• 1 stalk celery, minced
• 1/2 of a large red bell pepper, minced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 2 T. andouille sausage, minced (or any other flavorful pork--ham, cooked bacon, tasso, etc.)
• 2 t. hot chili, minced (we used a small Italian chili pepper jarred in olive oil; jalapeno would work, or any other hot chili you like)
• 2 cups finely chopped cooked crawfish tails, shrimp, and crab in any ratio you like, or a single one of these
• 1 t. lemon zest
• black pepper, white pepper, and cayenne pepper (the pepper-fecta)
• few dashes Worcestershire sauce
• few dashes Tabasco
• 4 oz. cream cheese, at room temperature
• 1/4 to 1/2 c. mayonnaise
• 1/2 c. sour cream

1. Melt the butter in a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Add green onions, celery, red bell pepper, garlic, andouille, and hot chili and saute for about 5 minutes, until vegetables soften and andouille shrinks and browns.
2. Turn heat to low and add seafood, stirring to combine everything and meld the flavors. Add lemon zest, black, white and red peppers to taste, Worcestershire, and Tabasco. Taste, and if the mixture needs salt, add some. Adjust the seasonings, keeping in mind that the dairy products will soften the heat of the various peppers and have a slight dulling effect on the saltiness.
3. Place seafood mixture in a medium bowl and allow to cool to room temperature. Add cream cheese, mayonnaise, and sour cream to mixture, blending with a rubber spatula or wooden spoon. Taste and adjust seasoning.

Makes about 3 cups. I recommend chilling it in the fridge for a couple of hours to let the flavors develop a little more, but it's so good that you might want to ignore that suggestion and just eat it, standing, in the kitchen. Serve it with some sturdy wheat crackers.

Crawfish Pies (from Crescent City Cooking)

Cornmeal Pie Crust

• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup cornmeal
• 1 T. sugar
• 1 1/4 t. salt
• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) plus 1 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into small dice (I stick mine in the freezer for several minutes after I cut them, so they'll be good and cold)
• 1/4 cup ice water
• 3/8 cup sour cream (I think a 1/2 cup is fine, and easier than this fraction. My dough ended up needing more water, anyway, so more moisture from sour cream would be fine.)
• 1 egg, beaten, for egg wash

1. Place flour, cornmeal, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse to combine. Add butter and pulse into the dry mix just until coarse pebbles of butter form.
2. Transfer mixture to a large bowl. By hand, gradually work in the sour cream and ice water. The dough should be soft and pliable but not sticky. Adjust as necessary with flour and water.
3. Chill the dough at least 30 minutes (or up to a day in advance).

Crawfish Filling

• 1 T. olive oil
• 1 T. butter
• 1/2 medium onion, diced
• 1 celery stalk, diced
• 1 small green or red bell pepper, diced
• 1/2 fennel bulb, diced (optional: we used about 9 button mushrooms, chopped, instead)
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 3 green onions, sliced thin
• 3 T. chopped fresh parsley
• 2 T. flour
• 3/4 cup stock (shellfish, seafood, vegetable, or chicken; or 1/2 cup stock and 1/4 cup milk or cream)
• zest and juice of 1 medium lemon
• 1/2 t. Worcestershire sauce
• 1 pound cooked and peeled crawfish tails, coarsely chopped
• salt and pepper to taste
• hot sauce to taste

1. Heat oil and butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion, celery, bell pepper, and fennel, and saute for about 5 minutes, until softened.
2. Add the garlic, green onions, and parsley and cook for 2-3 minutes more.
3. Sprinkle the vegetables with flour and stir. Whisk in the stock, lemon zest and lemon juice, and Worcestershire.
4. Add crawfish and simmer for a few minutes, until crawfish is warm. Adjust seasonings with salt, pepper, and hot sauce.
5. Cool to room temperature or refrigerate until ready to make pies.
6. When ready to bake pies, preheat oven to 350 and line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper. Separate dough into 8 portions. On a well-floured surface, roll each out into a 6-inch round, about 1/8" thick (I am no pastry wizard, so I trimmed the rolled-out doughs into circles with a knife). Place 2 to 3 tablespoons of filling on one half, fold the other side over the top, and crimp the edges together with a floured fork.
7. Brush each pie lightly with egg wash, and bake at 350 until golden, about 25-30 minutes. Cool completely on wire racks.

Makes 8 large individual turnovers.

gone crawfishing

the stars of spring

One of the things I love about the Crescent City Farmers Market is their varied locations--and even more, that one of those locations, the Thursday evening market, is a short walk from our house. This past Thursday, we sauntered out with dozens of people from the neighborhood who were taking advantage of the brief period in New Orleans when days are sunny and bright, but not hot. For a month or so, the weather will be the star here, with sweet Louisiana produce running a close second.

We sampled some great gazpacho, tabbouleh, and salsa, and took home hand-made black bean and corn tamales, cilantro hummus, cajun-spiced goat cheese, Gulf shrimp, shiitake ciabatta bread, and rich, red, plump, freshly picked strawberries. At left is a strawberry bruschetta we made as part of our farmers market dinner: sliced ciabatta, spicy goat cheese, and thickly sliced strawberries--an unorthodox combination of sassy local offerings.

Above: busy market stalls; fresh vegetables; locally made goat cheese; handmade tamales and sauces.

Pictured below is another simple way I like to enjoy these succulent fruits: strawberry caprese. Several years ago, my friend Brooke served me a caprese salad, which is traditionally made of sliced tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and basil, made with peaches instead of tomatoes. It was an enlightening moment for me, and really made me think about why the caprese works in the first place. It's a simple combination, seasoned lightly with salt, pepper, a drizzle of balsamic vinegar and/or olive oil, as you prefer; yet its success rests on the interplay of peppery basil, mild, cooling cheese, and the tart sweetness of late-summer tomatoes. So before those tomatoes are at their best, but you still want the fresh caprese experience? Use whatever fruit is bursting with color and excitement, and serve it either as an appetizer or a welcoming dessert.

the stars of spring

fat and happy at mat and naddie's

Guess what? I had a really good meal for my first birthday as a New Orleans resident (surprise, surprise). We went to a great little place in our neighborhood, Mat and Naddie's, which our neighbor Mark has been telling us we should visit for months. Mark was right--this place is a gem. I'm so glad it's in our neck of the woods.
















The only cocktail I ever want to drink during a stifling New Orleans summer: the Pimm's Cup. I've been trying these at different locations to find my favorite. Mat and Naddie's was smooth, so I don't think they use ginger ale or 7-Up...maybe lemonade? The cucumbers always make me happy.
















A nice sampling of olives, artichoke hearts, roasted peppers, and fresh mozzarella to nibble. Everything was marinated in olive oil and herbs.

















This photo doesn't do justice to these fantastic oysters, on the menu as "Grilled Oysters with Brie Cream and Shiitake 'Bacon.'" That's right--they make a "bacon" out of sliced shiitake mushrooms, I can only guess, by cooking it low and slow in a skillet until it intensifies its shiitakiness and dries out a little, like a mushroom jerky. Or maybe this happens in the oven. There's also a little garlic and pecorino-romano action going on here.
















My fabulous entree, "Spicy Tempura Fried Gulf Shrimp Tonkatsu." This is one of the most exciting dishes I've had in New Orleans. The shrimp are butterflied and coated in a light tempura batter, and somehow remained outside-crispy and inside-silky the whole time I was loving this dish. I didn't know what Tonkatsu meant, so I asked the waiter if this was a good item to order, and he said it was one of the best things on the menu, which I totally believe. Apparently, Tonkatsu is a Japanese combination of fried pork served with something crunchy, like cabbage, and a sweet-spicy sauce. Mat and Naddie's serves their seafood version with a fresh bok choy slaw, sticky jasmine rice, and a sauce--it's one of the best sauces I've ever tasted--of red chile and a deep, complex sweetness, maybe plum, maybe lemongrass, a small piece of sun for brightness, a drop of dew from the Garden of Eden? I will meet this sauce again.

Paul's "Grilled Filet Mignon with Smoked Marrow Compound Butter." Nice. It looks like Paul was eating in another restaurant because this photo was taken with flash. But he wasn't! He was sitting across the table from me! Thank goodness, because I really wanted to taste this, and he was kind enough to let me. Rosemary steak fries (not too exciting), but (continuing from the menu description) "wilted greens and a Maytag blue cheese and bacon buerre rouge." ?!? Please, sir, I'd like some more. While the potatoes were a little too basic to stand up to the rest of the plate, the rest of the plate was divine: a smart combination of beefy, winey, tart, creamy, burgundy, and leafy.

Sorry to say we couldn't squeeze in a dessert to show you. I would've done it too, because I was so impressed with everything else I ate that night. To all my friends: come visit already, so you can go here too!

fat and happy at mat and naddie's

hot child in the city

Believe me when I tell you that a couple of weeks ago, when I was dead-set on filling out a nice, long post with photos of the Creole Tomato/Louisiana Seafood/Cajun-Zydeco festival throwdown, I had no idea that it would be so hot down in the French Quarter.

It was too hot to take photos. Seriously, the camera kept slipping out of my hands.

I managed a few, though:

I love these little guys. I ate them.

Cajun fish taco. I asked for a small portion of slaw so I could really taste the fish. It's a lightly fried tilapia filet, dusted with just a bit of Cajun seasoning (like a mixture of cayenne, garlic powder, thyme, salt, pepper). Really nice and simple-tasting, a good thing to eat in the heat.

Shrimp-and-crab-stuffed Creole tomato. This was the perfect dish to "marry" the two food festivals together. Creole tomatoes are the jewels of the summer season here in Louisiana--people talk about them all year, either how much they miss them or how much they love them. They don't really look different from regular tomatoes, to me, but the taste is something special. Denser, sunnier, redder. I devoured every last seed of this tomato.

We had some other yummies--crawfish sausage, hurricane sno balls--but they didn't make it to the photo stage. If you can stand the heat, this festival trio, known as the "Vieux To Do," is really something. Tons of food, great vendors, fun music. This year it was held the weekend of June 13-14, so I'd assume next year it will be sometime close to that.

hot child in the city

parts of a whole

I wouldn't call myself a fan of green beans. There's something about them I just don't really care for--too much "green," too much "bean," too much of each of those combined. And green beans and potatoes? There seem to be many calls for these two items together, in curries, stews, or pasta dishes, and I just don't get excited. For whatever reason, though, I can abide them both in a good, solid niçoise. Perhaps it's the way, in a niçoise, they are two components among several others which are all considered important and equal. Perhaps it's the relentless individuality they retain when grouped this way, much like the way people on a team know, deep inside, that even though there's no "i" in "team," there's a "me."

A niçoise is a pretty forgiving square meal. It's meat (traditionally, tuna), veg (green beans), and potatoes, along with various accompaniments that kind of add up to a plate of hors d'oevres, and it's meant to be served at room temperature, which is always a comfort when you're not really up to finishing several different cooking times at once. There are some steps, but they're basic as basic can be: boiling, steaming, baking, and vinaigrette making. It can be served over greens or not, tossed or not, and made expensive or not (one of the perks of living in New Orleans is freshly caught catfish). It can even be seafoodless and still be very satisfying. There's hardly even a recipe to follow, once you've got the basic idea down.

A More Local Niçoise

• 4 portions of seafood (something inexpensive and local, if possible): shrimp, scallops, catfish, crawfish, tuna, salmon, bass, etc.)
• 12 small red boiling potatoes, scrubbed but not peeled
• 2 big handfuls green beans, trimmed
• 1 large ripe tomato, or 1 pt. cherry tomatoes
• 3/4 cup pitted olives (preferably niçoise, but kalamata are fine too)
• 4 eggs
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 lemons
• 2 cloves garlic
• a few teaspoons of wine vinegar (white, red, or champagne)
• 1-2 teaspoons Dijon or grainy mustard
• salt & pepper
• salad greens (optional)

1. Make the vinaigrette first, which is the unifier of this dish: Mince the garlic and place in a bowl or measuring cup large enough for a whisk to move around in. Juice the lemons and add the juice to the garlic. Shake in a little wine vinegar and plop in the mustard. Start whisking this mixture with one hand, and with the other hand, slowly pour in the olive oil. This doesn't need to be perfectly emulsified; you'll keep whisking it every time you use it. Taste it, and add salt and pepper and additional vinegar until it tastes like a strong salad dressing. I like it slightly overseasoned, because the potatoes and beans are going to break it down a little.
2. Potatoes: Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and boil them whole until a knife will almost go into the center of one easily. Take them off the heat, drain, and return to the pot and add the lid. Let them steam in the pot (no fire underneath) for another 10 minutes to finish cooking. Let them cool for a bit, then quarter or halve them, depending on size. Toss them in a bowl with some of the vinaigrette and set aside.
3. Green beans: Put about 1 cup water in a medium saucepan, salt it, and bring to a boil. Add the beans and cook them the way you like them: really crunchy, slightly crunchy, soft, or cafeteria-soft. Drain them, cool them for a long minute, then toss them in a separate bowl with some vinaigrette.
4. Seafood: Decide how you want to cook it: bake, broil, grill, saute, poach, etc. Season it with salt, pepper, and anything else you like (I used catfish & some seafood grill seasoning I had on hand). Drizzle it with a bit of olive oil (or another kind of oil) and cook it the way you like it (I baked it at 400 for about 12 minutes) and let it rest for about five minutes for most of the heat to leave.
5. Eggs: Hard-boil, cool, peel, and halve.
6. Tomatoes: Cut into 8 wedges (if you have cherry tomatoes, you can halve them or leave them whole) (as you might notice in the photo, I forgot to buy tomatoes).
7. Olives: Snack on a few and then just keep them at the ready.
8. Greens (if using): Make these ready to use as a bed for the other ingredients: wash & tear the greens and toss them with some of the vinaigrette, as you would for any salad.
9. Compose: On each plate, place greens, potatoes, green beans, two egg halves, two tomato wedges, several olives, and a portion of seafood. Drizzle a little more vinaigrette over the whole dish and serve.

Serves 4.

parts of a whole

taking the long way

If you want to eat some good seafood, and you want to eat it at a NOLA institution, Casamento's on Magazine Street fits the bill. I fell in love with this place the minute I saw it, though we had to find something else to do with ourselves while we waited for it to open. It was so worth the wait.

The problem was that we arrived too early. Tip #1: they open for dinner at 5:30, Thursday through Saturday only.

So we headed toward the track, to visit Liuzza's, famed for its po' boys--a tip from Davey and Gracie. BBQ shrimp po' boy? Garlic oyster po' boy? Yes. But along the way, we got distracted by the idea of stopping on St. Charles for a drink somewhere, then got even more distracted by a new route which ended up taking us downtown. We decided to land in the Quarter. I found my first-ever parking place on Bourbon Street (a very big deal). Since we were there, we thought, "Frank's"--we'd heard great things about it. Alas, our stay was short. Under pressure from our waiter, we ordered crab-stuffed mushrooms, which were highly flavorful, but $10 for three? Ouch. Tip #2: Frank's is tasty but priced for tourists. Luckily, we mustered the courage to brave the rain and the traffic and head back to the car, by way of Molly's. Tip #3: Molly's is a cozy little place, but it gets real fratty on Saturday night. Back uptown, we returned to our starting point at 7:00 p.m., which was just in time to beat the crowd.

Casamento's was established in 1919 and still inhabits the same location. It's small, tiled, and bright, and you walk through the miniscule kitchen to get to the restrooms. I absolutely love walking through restaurant kitchens. More!

At Casamento's, the sandwiches are "loaves," which differs from a po' boy by bread. The bread for a loaf isn't the light, fluffy New Orleans French that you expect when you order a po' boy. It's thick-cut white toast, the type I normally call "Texas." Somehow that doesn't feel right anymore. I guess I'll start calling it "loaf." I think there's a little garlic butter spread on this bread. Your basic NOLA "dressing" of mayo, tomato, and lettuce, and then the lightest, freshest fried catfish you can imagine. Oh my.




























The menu is small but complete. Everything you could want in a New Orleans seafood joint is there: seafood gumbo (a tomatoey version), fresh, juicy raw oysters ($9 a dozen! $4.50 half dozen!), fried trout and catfish, softshell crabs. The star, to me, was the catfish loaf I ordered--the best-tasting sandwich I've had in this city, bar none. I'm a fan of Casamento's for several reasons, but their "small prices"--the choice you have of ordering a full-sized dinner for $12 or a half-sized dinner for $6.75--are the most important, for me. I'm a taster. I don't need a huge plate, and I usually don't even want it. I respect a restaurant that does something to keep me coming back: excellent food, fair price.

taking the long way

ever feel like sampling a little seafood?

Last weekend, I attended my first New Orleans food festival--the Seafood Festival, held downtown on Fulton Street. This was also my first experience with Drago's: their famous char-grilled oysters. On the bottom is their grill (which also happened to have the longest line at the party); top left is the finished product--tender oysters, romano and parmigian cheeses, pepper, lemon, and hot-hot-hot shells.

Crawfish cakes from Mr. B's and Paul's happy face.

Alligator sausage & seafood gumbo from Red Fish Grill and shrimp remoulade from Galatoire's. If you guessed "yum," you're right. Incidentally, this was also my first Galatoire's. It was a big day.

ever feel like sampling a little seafood?

dinner from the freezer, louisiana style

John Folse is a famous Louisiana chef; I've watched him for years on PBS. He's also the author of several very large and luxuriously informative cookbooks, including The Encyclopedia of Cajun & Creole Cuisine. So when we happened by the freezer case stocked with his frozen gumbos, soups, and bisques, we just had to try one. It was really good, and I could argue that it's also worth the money.

Inside the tub, the frozen gumbo is packed in a plastic bag which you immerse in a pot of boiling water. I was glad for this technique--no one should have to eat overcooked seafood, and the bag helps you reheat the gumbo gently, protecting the crawfish and shrimp. The container says seven servings are in each bag, but they're 1/2-cup servings. Paul and I split the entire container (it's the gumbo part only, so you make your own rice to add--the best way to offer frozen gumbo, I think). We spent about $7, so about $3.50 per meal. That's a good price when you're comparing it to restaurant gumbos at $5 to $10 per bowl, but lousy when you're looking at a huge homemade pot that will last a few days. But as far as convenience and quality go, Folse's gumbo was much better than I was expecting it to be.

How much does your gumbo cost, per serving?

dinner from the freezer, louisiana style