A Yankee Looks South

I am really, really not southern. I was raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia by parents who had grown up further north along the eastern seaboard. Okra was not a part of my vocabulary, let alone my diet. Nonetheless, when the optional okra was consistently all gone by the time I arrived at Lenox Hill to collect my share, I was a little miffed. The farmer’s note about the okra was that they used to grow it in large quantities, and it always ended up in the swap box, so they stopped. But now okra seemed to be experiencing a revival of sorts, because the smallish bag they sent (“take it if you like”) was disappearing immediately, thwarting some of our dinner plans. Eventually, the farmer got hip to the situation and changed the instructions to “take it if you like–no more than 3 pieces.” Which I did. 

J. is a genuine southerner (by blood, and now also by residence). Her advice, when I asked what to do with okra, was to make gumbo. So after 2 weeks of purposely choosing very large pieces, I had just enough to make a variation on Paula Deen’s gumbo, her recommended starting place. 

According to J., in order to count as gumbo, the dish must have sausage, shrimp, okra, and onions. The roux is important, too, but those ingredients are the bare minimum. So I raided my fridge & freezer, bought a few extra things at the Italian market, and did my best. Personally, I’m very happy with the results, though I’ve yet to share them with a known gumbo authority, so a real verdict is still to come.

First, I browned some sliced andouille sausage in vegetable oil. 

After removing the meat to a plate, I added some lard to the remaining oil, and some flour, and stirred over low heat until the roux was nicely browned. I was a little afraid that I was burning it, but it turned out ok.

The instructions are to let the roux cool before continuing, and while I don’t entirely understand why that’s necessary, I followed Ms. Deen’s advice. I let it sit while I chopped some vegetables, and then turned back on the heat and added the rest of the lard, an onion, a lot of minced garlic, a bell pepper, and a stash of chopped celery I had in the freezer. 

Then some Worcestershire sauce (I won’t tell you how long that bottle has been hiding in my kitchen), a big handful of chopped parsley, and some crushed red pepper, because a little spice sounded like a good idea. (C. is slowly influencing my cooking, even when she’s not in the kitchen.)

That was followed by four cups of vegetable stock (brought to a simmer in a separate pot), and the sausage. I brought the gumbo to a boil, then let it cook, covered, for about 45 minutes. I took that time to run out and get shrimp and white rice.

Then I added the chopped tomato and sliced okra. Next time I will probably slice the okra thinner, in addition to seeking out smaller pieces. This simmered for another hour, which was plenty of time to make the rice, and watch an episode of True Blood to get myself in a southern mood.

I decided that rather than cook the shrimp separately, I’d add it at this point, and cover for another minute or two–just long enough for it to cook through. Then it was just a matter of adding the chopped scallions (and theoretically some more parsley if I hadn’t used up my entire stash already).

Serve in soup bowls, with a big spoonful of white rice.

As I said, I declared this a success. It does make me wonder, though, why so much of southern cuisine involves dishes that must simmer or braise for hours and hours. I would think that a climate that allows for a very long growing season and sweltering summers would drive people to a raw foods diet, just to keep the kitchen as cool as possible. Not that I’m complaining about the existence of gumbo, mind you. 

Yankee Gumbo
adapted from Paula Deen

1/4 c vegetable oil
12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4″ rounds
1/2 c flour
5 tablespoons lard
1 large onion, chopped
8 cloves garlic, minced
1 bell pepper, seeded and chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1/4 c Worcestershire sauce
1/4 bunch Italian parsley, chopped
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper (optional)
4 c vegetable stock, simmering
2 medium tomatoes, chopped (about 12 oz)
2 c okra, sliced 1/4″-1/2″ thick
1/2 pound small shrimp, cleaned
4 scallions, sliced

Heat the vegetable oil in a big heavy-bottomed pot (or Dutch oven) over medium heat. Add the sausage rounds and cook until they’re lightly browned. Remove to a plate and turn the heat to low.

Add 2 Tbsp of the lard, and the flour, and cook for 8-10 minutes, stirring constantly, until you have a deep brown roux.

Add the remaining lard, the onion, garlic, bell pepper, and celery. Cook 10 more minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the Worcestershire sauce, parsley, and red pepper. Cook 10 more minutes. Add the stock and the cooked sausage. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat & cover, simmering for 45 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and okra, and cook covered for 1 hour.

Add the shrimp, stir, and cook 1-2 minutes, until the shrimp are cooked through. Turn off the heat and stir in the scallions. Serve with long-grain white rice.

A Cabbage to Call My Own

I believe I have mentioned that we get a lot of cabbage from Stoneledge. Like, a LOT a lot. They grow regular green cabbage, bok choy, an heirloom variety called Early Jersey Wakefield, and Napa cabbage. I spent a good part of last summer hunting down as many recipes as I could find to use up the stuff. Good old Smitten Kitchen has an extensive stash of recipes. So does the Martha Rose Shulman, covering both green and red with multiple options. And I do love me some cole slaw. But somehow I never found what I would call a go-to cabbage dinner, one of those dishes where I HAVE to put the leftovers away immediately because otherwise I’ll eat them all, straight out of the pot, just standing in front of the stove.

But as of tonight, I think that problem is solved. Ladies and gentlemen, I present you with Seared Orange and Cabbage Salad, courtesy of The Arrows Cookbook: Cooking and Gardening from Maine’s Most Beautiful Farmhouse Restaurant.  Adjusted slightly for what was on hand, and served with seared shrimp.

I’ve been thinking a lot about serendipity this week. (This is relevant, I promise.) I had extra dried orange peel from the aioli, and I wasn’t quite sure how it would ever get used (except if I wanted to make more of the same). And then I stumble across this recipe, which reminds the cook that using dried orange peel is a classic technique in Chinese cooking. How convenient! I still had one of the oranges (minus the peel), and so all I needed to buy was shrimp and chile paste, though I probably could have been good with a bit of my sriracha stash.

So first off, quarter the cabbage–2 small heads, or one large one–core them, and slice them into inch-wide strips. Dump all the cabbage in a bowl with a teaspoon or so of salt, and toss together. Then peel your orange (the recipe actually calls for fresh, so don’t worry if you don’t have a stash of dried), and juice it.

Then the cooking, which is frankly minimal (another reason this recipe is a keeper).  Heat a bit of vegetable oil in a very hot saucepan, and add the orange peel. Stir “vigorously,” to keep it from burning.

When they’ve started to color, lower the heat and add a clove or two of garlic, chopped finely. Stir some more, until THAT starts to color, and then add the orange juice, a quarter cup each of rice vinegar and sugar (or, you know, agave nectar, if you’re a hippie like me), and a tablespoon each of finely chopped ginger, chile paste (sweet or spicy–your choice), sesame oil, and soy sauce.

Raise the heat again and bring it to a boil.

Pour it over the cabbage and toss it all together. That’s really it. You can let it cool down as much as you like or eat it right away. I basically only waited as long as it took to pull the shrimp out of the fridge and sear them in the same pan I’d made the sauce in. 

Beef or chicken or pork would probably be a wonderful addition, too. I think it goes especially well with shrimp, though, because the curls of the shrimp and the curls of the orange peels reflect each other in such an adorable way, you’d think I’d planned it. (If you really want that effect, make sure you peel the oranges latitudinally. I don’t think you’d get the curls with vertical strips.)

All I Want Is a Giant Bowl of Curry, Made in a Giant Copper Curry Pot

I have basically no standards when it comes to Thai food. As particular as I can be about some foods, when it comes to Thai cuisine, you can take me to the cheapest little hole-in-the-wall and serve me a giant bowl of curry, or pad thai, or really anything, and I’ll be ecstatic. I have honestly considered closing my eyes and pointing at the menu at random to choose my dinner on occasion. Green curry? Red curry? Whatever. If it was made with lime, cilantro, and/or coconut, I’m going to love it.

The strange thing is that I often forget how simple it is to make a curry at home. So this evening, I picked up a jar of curry paste, some coconut milk, a couple of limes, and this bag of frozen aquaculture shrimp from the natural foods store across the street that sounded like eating them would not be contributing to the decimation of the seas.

And then I decimated my CSA delivery. One onion, half a jalapeño (we were told they are especially spicy this year)

both funny eggplants, the purple pepper and one of the long green ones

all sauteed up in some coconut oil, then drop in a couple tablespoons of the curry paste.

Once it’s sort of melted in, add a can of coconut milk and the pint of stir-fry stock that was stashed away in the freezer, and a teaspoon or three of fish sauce, and one of soy sauce. Oh, and some lime juice.

Once it’s all hot, dump in the bag of shrimp, and bring to a simmer, just long enough to cook the shrimp. Toss in a handful of sliced basil and serve over basmati rice.

Yum.

I considered using the soybeans as my protein, but frankly I don’t have the patience to shell them, so they are destined to be eaten just as edamame, at a later date. I was hoping this would make such a huge amount that I’d get more than a couple of lunches out of it, but it’s so good that I’m not sure how long it’ll last.