Vol-au-Vent of Louisiana Seafood
Soft-Shell Crab with Crabmeat Meunière
Soft-Shell Crabs with Chinese Hot Garlic and Black Bean Sauce
Pasta with Cajun Crawfish Cream Sauce
Oysters and Pasta Creole Bordelaise
Mussels in Ghent-Style Wine Sauce
Bouillabaisse, New Orleans Style
Although the Gulf and lake waters are full of first-class finfish, when someone from South Louisiana thinks of seafood, he’s probably thinking of a crustacean or a mollusk. The crawfish really should be on the official seal of the state of Louisiana.
It’s hard to imagine Creole cooking without crabs, shrimp, oysters, and crawfish. They’re all used in both starring and supporting roles in all kinds of dishes. Featured in this chapter are recipes in which our best local shellfish (along with a few exotic ones) are the centerpieces.
But first get to know these delicacies a little better.
Few foods inspire more culinary creativity than shrimp. You can cook shrimp just about any way you can think of, and thousands of ways have yet to be invented.
Louisiana shrimp are the standard of the world. They are caught in tremendous numbers from several species, with seasons so complicated that only fishermen seem to know exactly when they come and go. Anyway, shrimp stand up to freezing better than any other seafood, so they’re available almost all the time. (If you buy them frozen, thaw them in the refrigerator as slowly as possible.)
The two most common varieties are the brown shrimp and the white shrimp. The argument as to which is the better has been going on for a long time. I say they’re both spectacular and just leave it at that.
Shrimp come in sizes from tiny (60 or more to the pound) to real monsters (3–4 to the pound). The size is usually specified by the “count”: 16–20 count means 16 to 20 to the pound. I always buy shrimp whole, with the heads on; the flavor is much better, and it gives you shrimp shells for making stock for gumbo and all sorts of other dishes.
Shrimp cook very rapidly. When they overcook, the shrimp can stick to the shells or get mushy. Another problem that occasionally turns up with shrimp is a strong flavor of iodine. This is usually blamed on a lack of freshness, but in fact, it’s due to the shrimp’s diet. When acorn worm—which concentrates iodine in its tissues—is around in large numbers, the shrimp that eat them pick up the iodine flavor. It’s objectionable but harmless.
Adding a sprinkling of lump crabmeat to a dish that needs just a little something is a favorite trick of New Orleans chefs. But that’s a cliché and a waste of good crabmeat. The best crabmeat dishes employ the biggest lumps with the lightest of sauces. The flavor of the local blue crab is so distinguished that it needs no help. And it’s so subtle that it’s easy for a sauce to get in the way.
Louisiana crabs are the same species found throughout the Gulf and up the Atlantic seaboard. All forms of blue crabs are best and least expensive in the warm months. Crabmeat is always available, but its price skyrockets in the winter.
Picked crabmeat comes already cooked in containers of a half-pound to a pound. Pasteurized crabmeat has largely supplanted the superior fresh crabmeat, and crabmeat from Southeast Asia has become common. Read labels carefully before buying.
When you add picked crabmeat to a dish, you only need to warm it through. So add it last to the pan. Here are the most common forms of Louisiana crabmeat:
JUMBO LUMP (ALSO KNOWN AS BACKFIN). This is the big lump of meat from just below the point where the claws are attached. There’s a little sliver of thin shell in there that’s almost impossible to remove without breaking the lump. Restaurants buy almost all the jumbo lump in the market, at the highest prices. But it can usually be found in season in the better grocery stores and markets.
LUMP. This is from the same part of the crab as the jumbo lump but from smaller crabs or perhaps broken jumbo lumps.
WHITE. The white meat from inside the crab, but in large flakes and shreds instead of lumps. The flavor is not bad, but the look isn’t as good, and the quality is inconsistent. It’s best for soups and sauces.
CLAW. The big lump of meat from inside the claws actually has the most pronounced flavor in the crab. It doesn’t look as good—the meat is darker and stringy. It’s the cheapest variety of crabmeat but perfectly fine for stuffings.
WHOLE BOILED HARD CRABS. This form may be the ultimate way to eat crabmeat because all of the above is packed securely within that shell. At the peak of the season, they can’t be beat—even though the work expended in opening and picking the crabs is not replaced by the calories in the crabmeat.
And then there’s the miracle of . . .
Soft-shells are almost absurdly delectable. During the warm months, particularly in late spring, the blue crabs that live around New Orleans shed their old hard shells. For a brief time afterward, they can be eaten almost whole. The process is closely monitored by crab farmers, who know when the crabs are about to molt. They remove the crabs from the water as soon as that happens, before the new shell stiffens.
A crab grows so much in the minutes after it sheds that it seems impossible that it ever could have fit in the old shell. If the crab is taken before it sheds and pumps up, and the shell is removed by hand, the meat is richer and more intense. That’s what is done to “buster” crabs, which usually lose their legs and claws in the process.
Crabs get better as they get bigger. A gigantic soft-shell crab (known as a “whale” in the trade) contains massive jumbo lumps. I’d prefer one whale to two smaller crabs, even if the two weighed more.
Without a doubt, the best way to cook soft-shell crabs is to fry them. You might marinate or smoke a crab before and sauce it after, but if you do anything but fry it in between, you’ll wish you hadn’t. You can make the crab look really good by just dipping its legs in the hot oil for a few seconds before putting the rest of the crab in.
Oysters are, to my palate, the finest of local seafood. Gulf oysters are among the best in the world, available in tremendous quantity at very low prices throughout most of the year. Creole cooks have dreamed up hundreds of ways to prepare them.
For all that culinary exploration, connoisseurs agree that oysters are at their best cold and raw on the half shell. The health risk you’re constantly told about actually affects only a small number of people. Even for those who are advised to stay away from raw seafood, properly cooked oysters are quite safe to eat.
Oysters are somewhat seasonal. Although refrigeration has largely eliminated the risk of eating oysters in months without an “R,” there is a grain of truth to the old myth. In early summer, oysters change sex (!) and spawn, resulting in a harmless but off-putting milky liquid in the shell. In early fall, oysters are lean and can shrink a lot when cooked.
In New Orleans, wholesale and retail oyster houses shuck and package fresh oysters in pints, quarts, and gallons on a daily basis. The freshest and best oysters are those you shuck yourself, since the oyster is still alive until you open it. But shucking oysters is hard and borderline dangerous work. I have a short list of friends who have the knack; I invite them to all our oyster dinners and keep them well supplied with beer or wine as they perform their unenviable task (which they seem to like, for some reason).
One rule applies to all oyster dishes: Don’t overcook them! When the edges get curly and the oyster plumps up, it’s cooked. Get it out of the pot or pan!
One other thing. Never, ever just throw away the liquor in which oysters are packed. Strain it and add it to whatever you’re cooking for another burst of flavor.
People who don’t eat crawfish call them “crayfish” or “crawdads,” two other names for these small, lobsterlike crustaceans. The crawfish season begins around Thanksgiving in a good year, reaches a peak in April and May, and tapers off around the Fourth of July. Crawfish tail meat is available most of the year, but outside the season, it’s usually the much inferior imported product. I recommend eating crawfish only in season
In recent years, the popularity of Cajun cooking has brought about a large increase in the annual consumption of crawfish in America. Crawfish tail meat is usually available in one-pound frozen packages. In gourmet stores, you can sometimes even find live or boiled whole crawfish, much of which comes from China. I would strongly recommend looking for the Louisiana crawfish, which has more fat.
The peak revelry involving crawfish is a crawfish boil. It happens only when crawfish are at peak. Mounds of the red mudbugs are piled on newspapers, and the eaters go through fantastic numbers of them with potatoes, corn, and beer.
Crawfish are the official food of Cajun country, where hundreds of dishes utilize them. The important issue is that crawfish have a rather mild taste and require a lot of help from the seasonings and sauces. That done, they’re delicious.
Barbecue shrimp, one of the four or five best dishes in all of New Orleans cooking, is completely misnamed. They’re neither grilled nor smoked, and there’s no barbecue sauce. It was created in the mid-1950s at Pascal’s Manale Restaurant. A regular customer came in and reported that he’d enjoyed a dish in a Chicago restaurant that he thought was made with shrimp, butter, and pepper. He asked Pascal Radosta to make it. Radosta took a flyer at it. The customer said that the taste was not the same but he liked the new dish even better. So was born the signature dish at Manale’s.
I know that the amount of butter and pepper in this recipe seems fantastic. Be bold. This is not a dish you will eat often—although you will want to.
3 lb. fresh Gulf shrimp (16–20 count), with heads on
¼ cup dry white wine
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
2 cloves garlic, chopped
4 Tbsp. fresh ground black pepper (or more!)
2 tsp. paprika
¼ tsp. salt
3 sticks (1½ cups) butter, softened
1 loaf French Bread
1. Rinse the shrimp and shake the excess water from them. Put them in a large skillet (or two) over medium heat, and pour the wine, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, and garlic over it. Bring the liquids in the pan to a light boil and cook, turning the shrimp over with a spoon every 2 minutes or so, until all the brown-gray color in the shrimp is gone. Don’t overcook! At the first moment when you think the shrimp might be done, they will be. Lower the heat to the minimum.
2. Cover the shrimp with a thin but complete layer of black pepper. You must be bold with this. When you think you have enough pepper in there, you still need a little more. Add the paprika and salt.
3. Cut the butter into tablespoon-size pieces and distribute over the shrimp. With a big spoon, turn the shrimp over. Agitate the pan as the butter melts over the shrimp and emulsifies into the liquid at the bottom of the pan. When no more solid butter is visible, remove the pan from the burner.
4. Serve the shrimp with lots of the sauce in bowls, with hot French bread for dipping. Don’t forget plenty of napkins and perhaps bibs. SERVES FOUR TO SIX.
Clemenceau is the name of a classic Creole chicken dish. But if you take the same ingredients and substitute big shrimp for the chicken, you get a delicious dish that’s very different from most other shrimp concoctions, with a great blending of flavors. It comes out best if you buy whole shrimp, peel them, and make a shrimp stock from the shells.
Vegetable oil, for frying
2 large potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch dice
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter
32 medium shrimp (21–25 count), peeled
½ tsp. crushed red pepper
¼ cup dry white wine
1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms
4 artichoke hearts, poached and cut into quarters (or use canned or jarred artichoke hearts, drained)
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup shrimp stock (see recipe, this page)
2 green onions, chopped
½ cup frozen petit pois peas
½ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1. Pour the oil into a deep skillet to a depth of 1 inch. Heat until the temperature reaches 375 degrees F. Fry the potatoes, in batches, until golden brown. Don’t eat too many of them as you do.
2. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the shrimp and crushed red pepper, and cook until the shrimp just turn pink. Remove the shrimp from the pan and set aside.
3. Add the wine and bring it to a boil. Add the mushrooms, artichoke hearts, garlic, and shrimp stock, and cook over medium-low heat, shaking the skillet to mix the ingredients. Reduce until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.
4. Add the green onions, peas, fried potatoes, salt, and pepper, and cook until everything is heated through. Adjust the seasonings and serve with hot French bread on the side. SERVES FOUR.
Vol-au-Vent of Louisiana Seafood
This is a delectable combination of fresh local shellfish in a rich, slightly spicy sauce. The vol-au-vent (a large version of what Orleanians call a patty shell) can be bought fresh from a French baker or frozen at supermarkets.
2 Tbsp. olive oil
½ cup chopped green onion
1 Tbsp. chopped shallots
¼ cup dry white wine
2 cups heavy whipping cream
Pinch of saffron threads
½ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. ground white pepper
Pinch of cayenne
Pinch of ground ginger
1 lb. sea scallops
1 lb. large shrimp (16–20 count), peeled and deveined
2 dozen fresh, shucked oysters
1½ tsp. fresh tarragon, chopped (or ½ tsp. dried)
6 large vol-au-vents (puff pastry shells)
1. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the green onion and shallots, and sauté until they’re limp. Add the wine and bring it to a boil. Reduce until most of the liquid is gone. Add the cream, saffron, salt, pepper, cayenne, and ginger, and bring to a light boil. (Also add tarragon at this point if using dried.)
2. Add the scallops and shrimp, and cook for 4 minutes, then add the oysters and, if using, fresh tarragon. Cook until the edges of the oysters are curly, 3–5 minutes. Throughout the process, shake the pan to slosh the sauce over the seafood.
3. Bake the vol-au-vents until warmed through, about 2 minutes. Place the shells on individual plates and overfill each shell with seafood and sauce so that the mixture runs over the top and onto the plate. SERVES SIX.
Soft-Shell Crab with Crabmeat Meunière
Few dishes inspire the eye-popping anticipation that a large, golden brown soft-shell crab does. It’s so intrinsically good that any fancy preparation diminishes it. The standard (and best) preparation is to dust the crab with seasoned flour and fry it. All it really needs in the way of a sauce is a little brown butter, and perhaps a topping of extra-jumbo lump crabmeat.
4 large soft-shell crabs
Vegetable oil, for frying
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. ground white pepper
2 cups flour
1 cup milk
1 whole egg
1 stick (8 Tbsp.) butter
1 Tbsp. lemon juice, freshly squeezed
½ tsp. Worcestershire sauce
½ lb. jumbo lump crabmeat
1. Rinse the crabs and shake off excess water. Using scissors, cut out the gills (the dead man’s fingers) from under the shell and then cut off the eyes and mouthparts.
2. Pour the oil into a large, heavy kettle to a depth of ½ inch and heat to 375 degrees F. Meanwhile, blend the salt and pepper into the flour in a wide bowl. Whisk the milk and eggs together in another bowl.
3. Lightly dredge the crabs in the flour mixture, then dip them into the egg mixture. Coat crabs again with the seasoned flour.
4. Place a crab, top shell side down, on the end of a long-handled cooking fork. (Do not skewer it.) Let the legs and claws dangle. Lower all but the body into the hot oil. Hold that position for about 15 seconds and then carefully flip the crab backward into the oil. Fry two at a time until golden brown and drain. (Let the heat of the oil recover before frying the next batch.)
5. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat until it stops bubbling and the milk solids at the bottom just begin to brown. Carefully add the lemon juice and Worcestershire sauce—this will cause the butter to foam!—and cook until the foaming subsides. Add the crabmeat and sauté 30 seconds. Spoon the butter and crabmeat over the hot fried crabs. SERVES FOUR.
Soft-Shell Crabs with Chinese Hot Garlic and Black Bean Sauce
It surprises some Orleanians (who tend to think that all our favorite dishes originally came from our city) that crabs are also much enjoyed in Southeast Asian coastal cuisines, from Thailand to China, and throughout the Indonesian archipelago. And Southeast Asian cooks know what we know: that the crabs must be fried somewhere along the line. This is a spicy Chinese approach to the delectable beasts, with a sauce that doesn’t overwhelm.
4 large soft-shell crabs
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
1 tsp. chopped green onion
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper
½ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup soy sauce
1 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
¼ cup dry white wine
1 Tbsp. sesame oil
4½ tsp. sugar
1 tsp. chopped garlic
¼ tsp. finely chopped fresh ginger
½ tsp. hot bean sauce (available at Asian markets)
¼ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1. Rinse the crabs and shake off excess water. Using a pair of scissors, cut off the eyes and mouthparts. Turn each crab on its back. Remove and discard the “apron”—the part of the shell in the rear. Carefully lift up the pointed ends of the bottom shell and remove the gills (the dead man’s fingers) and the sand sac at the front. Push the shell back in place. Cut each crab in half, front to back.
2. Mix the egg, cornstarch, chopped green onion, and black pepper together in a wide bowl. Dip the crabs into the mixture to coat.
3. Heat the vegetable oil to almost smoking in a heavy skillet or wok over high heat. Fry the crab halves, two at a time, until crisp on the outside but still soft and moist inside. Remove from the pan, drain, and keep warm.
4. Pour out the oil from the pan but don’t wipe. Add all the remaining ingredients and boil, stirring, for about 1 minute.
5. Place 2 crab halves on each of 4 plates and spoon on the sauce. Serve immediately. SERVES FOUR.
Pecans add a fascinating flavor dimension to any fried seafood. They’re used most commonly with fish, but I think they’re great with soft-shell crabs.
SAUCE
½ tsp. salt-free Creole seasoning
¼ tsp. salt
¼ cup flour
1¼ sticks butter
1 cup veal or chicken stock
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. red wine vinegar
1 cup finely chopped pecans
CRABS
4 large soft-shell crabs
Vegetable oil, for frying
2 tsp. salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 tsp. salt-free Creole seasoning
2 cups flour
1. With a fork, stir the Creole seasoning and salt into the flour.
2. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When it begins to bubble, stir in the seasoned flour and make a roux, stirring constantly, until it’s medium brown. (Be careful not the let the roux burn; throw it away and start over if it does.)
3. When the right color is reached, add the stock and whisk until the roux is dissolved. Add the lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, and vinegar and bring to a light boil. Cook until thick enough to coat a spoon (5 minutes or so), then remove the pan from the heat. Keep the sauce warm while you prepare the crabs.
4. Wash the crabs and remove the gills (the dead man’s fingers) from underneath the shell and cut off the eyes and mouthparts.
5. Heat the vegetable oil in a large heavy kettle to 375 degrees F.
6. Blend salt, pepper, and Creole seasoning into flour and coat each crab lightly with flour.
7. Place a crab top side down on the end of a long-handled kitchen fork (do not skewer it), with the legs and claws hanging down.
8. Carefully lower all but the body into the hot oil. Hold that position for about 15 seconds, then carefully flip the crab backward into the oil. Fry 2 at a time until golden brown, then drain. (Let the heat of the oil recover before frying the second batch.) Keep warm.
9. Reheat the sauce. Stir the pecans in and cook for about 2 minutes, then serve over the crabs. SERVES FOUR.
Crab cakes are not native to New Orleans, but you would never know that to look at menus or recent local cookbooks. They moved in from Maryland in the early 1990s, replacing the good old stuffed crab and igniting the issue that rages wherever crab cakes are found: Which restaurant makes the best? Interestingly, every place claims its are self-evidently superior.
Most people will say that a great crab cake will contain as much jumbo lump crabmeat as possible while still sticking together as a cake. But clearly there should be other things in there, too. I like green onions, parsley, garlic, and red bell pepper. I use béchamel to hold the crabmeat together and a light dusting of bread crumbs so the things can be browned. Crab cakes should fall apart at the touch of a fork, not hold together like a hamburger.
WHITE REMOULADE SAUCE
¼ cup mayonnaise
2 Tbsp. Creole mustard
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
Dash of Tabasco
¼ tsp. granulated garlic
CRAB CAKES
1 stick (8 Tbsp.) butter
½ cup flour
½ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. ground white pepper
1 cup warm milk
2 lb. lump crabmeat
⅓ cup finely chopped red bell pepper
2 green onions, thinly sliced
1 tsp. chopped fresh tarragon (or ½ tsp. dried)
½ cup plain bread crumbs
2 tsp. salt-free Creole seasoning
¼ cup clarified butter (see recipe, this page)
1. To make the sauce: Mix all of the rémoulade ingredients in a bowl and set aside.
2. To make the crab cakes: Make a blond roux by melting the butter in a heavy saucepan over low heat. Add the flour, salt, and white pepper, and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture just barely starts browning. Whisk in the warm milk until the blend has the texture of runny mashed potatoes. Cool to room temperature. (You’ve just made a béchamel.)
3. Remove any shells from the crabmeat, trying to keep the lumps as whole as possible. In a large bowl, combine the crabmeat with the bell pepper, green onions, and tarragon. Add ¾ cup of the cooled béchamel and mix with your fingers, being careful not to break up the crabmeat.
4. Season the bread crumbs with Creole seasoning and spread the seasoned crumbs out on a plate. Use an ice-cream scoop to measure 12 balls of the crabmeat mixture. Gently form each into cakes about ¾ inch thick. Press them gently onto the bread crumbs on each side and shake off the excess.
5. Heat the clarified butter in a medium skillet. Sauté the crab cakes until they are golden brown on the outside and heated all the way through. (The way to test this is to push the tines of a kitchen fork into the center of the cake, then touch the fork to your lips. That will tell you whether the heat has penetrated all the way through.) Serve crab cakes with the rémoulade on the side. MAKES TWELVE LARGE CRAB CAKES.
Crabmeat Imperial is an old local favorite that has fallen on hard times. It’s as good as ever—about the only way one could dislike it would be to dislike crabmeat—but few restaurants serve it. I like the very simple way it’s prepared at the Bon Ton Café, the city’s oldest Cajun restaurant. The crabby flavor fairly explodes in your mouth. This is my variation on Bon Ton’s recipe.
6 Tbsp. butter
½ cup chopped green onion
¼ cup sliced mushrooms
1 lb. jumbo lump crabmeat
¼ of a roasted red bell pepper (pimiento), chopped
¼ cup dry sherry
4 slices toasted French bread
¼ cup chopped flat-leaf parsley, for garnish
Pinch of cayenne, for garnish
1. Preheat the broiler. Melt 3 tablespoons of the butter in a large skillet over mediumlow heat. Add the green onion and mushrooms, and sauté until the green onion becomes limp but not brown.
2. Add the crabmeat, red bell pepper, and sherry, and turn the heat up a bit. Cook, shaking the skillet (don’t stir), until the sherry is boiled away.
3. Melt the remaining 3 tablespoons of butter into the crabmeat mixture and pile it onto rounds of toasted French bread on ovenproof dishes. Run the plates under the broiler, about 5 inches from the heat, for 2–3 minutes, or until the crabmeat sizzles. Garnish with the parsley and cayenne. SERVES TWO TO FOUR.
As widely as this is thought to be true, au gratin does not mean covered with a thick layer of Day-Glo melted cheese. All it means is that there’s some kind of crust on top. In this recipe, the crust is mostly bread crumbs, although there’s some Parmesan cheese both in the crust and in the sauce. You will thank me for not ruining the taste of the crabmeat with melted Cheddar or the like.
1 cup heavy whipping cream
½ medium yellow onion, chopped
4 large mushrooms, sliced
2 Tbsp. green onion tops, chopped
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 tsp. salt-free Creole seasoning
1 tsp. lemon juice
5 Tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese
1 lb. jumbo lump crabmeat
2 Tbsp. plain bread crumbs
1. Preheat the broiler. Heat the cream in a small saucepan and reduce by about a third. Add all of the vegetables and return to a boil. Stir in the Creole seasoning, lemon juice, and 3 tablespoons of the Parmesan. Add the crabmeat and toss in the pan to combine with the sauce. Be careful not to break up the lumps.
2. Divide the mixture into 4 ovenproof dishes for appetizers, 2 dishes for entrées. Combine the bread crumbs and remaining cheese together and sprinkle over the top of each dish. Broil until the sauce begins to bubble, 3–5 minutes. Serve immediately. SERVES FOUR AS AN APPETIZER OR TWO AS AN ENTREE.
The less-expensive varieties of crabmeat like “special white” (that’s the flaky, non-lump white meat) and claw meat are very affordable. If you use them with a few other ingredients to make burger-like patties, you can pan-fry or broil them, then make tremendously delicious slider-style sandwiches. They’re especially good with white rémoulade.
1 stick butter
⅓ cup flour
⅓ cup milk
1 lb. white or claw crabmeat
2 oz. tasso ham, chopped fine
¼ red bell pepper, chopped
2 green onions, tender green parts only, thinly sliced
1 cup bread crumbs
8 small French bread rolls or kaiser rolls
¼ cup white rémoulade, warm (see Shrimp Rémoulade with Two Sauces, this page)
Baby lettuce, if desired
1. Melt 6 Tbsp. of the butter in a saucepan. Add the flour and cook over mediumlow heat, as if making a roux, stirring constantly, until the texture changes. Do not allow it to brown.
2. Add the milk and whisk until well blended into what looks like thin mashed potatoes. This is a béchamel sauce. Remove from heat.
3. Add the crabmeat, tasso, bell pepper, and green onions to the béchamel and stir gently with a wooden spoon.
4. Turn the mixture out onto a cutting board. Form round, flat cakes the size of thick hamburgers.
5. Put the bread crumbs onto a plate and gently press the crab patties into the crumbs to coat.
6. Heat the remaining butter to bubbling in a skillet over medium-high heat. Cook the crab cakes on both sides until crusty brown.
7. Warm the bread rolls in the oven. Spread with the rémoulade and place a crab cake in each. Baby lettuce makes a nice finishing touch, if you like. MAKES EIGHT SANDWICHES.
I’m not sure who thought of it first, but the combination of Louisiana crabmeat lumps with fettuccine and an Alfredo-style sauce is inspired and irresistible. This recipe takes it a step further, with a soft-shell crab (or even better, a buster crab) on top.
6 small soft-shell crabs
Vegetable oil, for frying
1 cup flour
1 tsp. salt
¼ tsp. ground white pepper
2 Tbsp. butter
⅓ cup chopped yellow onion
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 cup heavy whipping cream
¼ tsp. salt
⅛ tsp. cayenne
⅔ cup shredded Romano cheese
1 lb. white crabmeat
1 lb. (precooked weight) fettuccine, cooked al dente
1. Rinse the crabs and shake off any excess water. Using scissors, cut off the eyes and mouthparts. Turn each crab on its back. Remove and discard the “apron”—the part of the shell in the rear. Carefully lift up the pointed ends of the bottom shell and remove the gills (the dead man’s fingers) and the sand sac at the front. Push the shell back in place.
2. Dry the crabs very well with paper towels. Heat about 1 inch of the oil in a deep skillet or saucepan to 375 degrees F. Season the flour with salt and pepper in a wide bowl. Dredge the crabs in the seasoned flour. Drop the crabs in the oil two at a time and fry until golden brown. Drain on paper towels and keep warm until serving.
3. Melt the butter in large skillet and sauté the onion for 1 minute, then add the garlic and sauté until fragrant. Add the cream, salt, and cayenne, and reduce for 1–2 minutes. Add the Romano cheese, stirring until it melts into the cream. Add the crabmeat and cook for another minute, shaking the skillet to mix the ingredients. Remove the sauce from the heat.
4. Add the cooked, drained fettuccine and toss with the sauce. Divide among 6 plates and top each with a fried soft-shell crab. SERVES SIX.
Pasta with Cajun Crawfish Cream Sauce
This is the most famous and the best of the many Louisiana pasta-and-seafood dishes, with suaveness and rambunctiousness playing off each other. It gets its distinctive pink-orange color from Creole seasoning. I add a little Cognac at the beginning and a little tarragon at the end. If I have crawfish stock around, I add some of that, too.
2 Tbsp. butter
½ cup finely chopped green onion, plus more for garnish
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. Cognac or brandy
½ cup crawfish stock (optional; see recipe, this page)
2 cups heavy whipping cream
4½ tsp. salt-free Creole seasoning
1 tsp. salt
¾ tsp. fresh tarragon, chopped (or ¼ tsp. dried)
2 lb. crawfish tail meat
1 lb. bowtie or other pasta, cooked al dente and drained
1. Melt the butter in a large stainless steel skillet until it bubbles. Add the green onion and garlic and cook until the garlic is fragrant. Add the Cognac. Warm it and either boil it off or flame it (very carefully). If you have crawfish stock, add it and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce it by half.
2. Add the cream, Creole seasoning, salt, and tarragon, and bring to a boil while shaking the skillet carefully to blend its contents. Reduce the cream by about a third (approximately 3 minutes over medium-high heat). Then add the crawfish tails and cook until heated through.
3. Add the pasta and toss with the sauce to distribute all the ingredients and sauce uniformly. Serve immediately, garnished with finely chopped green onion. (Resist the temptation to add Parmesan or Romano cheese.) SERVES FOUR.
Etouffée means “smothered,” and that’s the idea. It’s not a long-cooked stew. My mother’s version of this Cajun classic is important to me not only because it’s very good, but also because of a poignant memory it always triggers. One afternoon in 1984, I brought Mama a big bag of boiled crawfish, and she made a pot of this étouffée. My father, 75 and ailing, ate a big plate of it. He remarked how good he thought it was, then went off for a nap. He never woke up. It is my fondest wish that I shuffle off this mortal coil the same way.
It’s best to make this from whole boiled crawfish, so when you peel them, you can extract the fat from inside the head. (Your finger will do the trick.) That adds lots of flavor to the étouffée. One more thing: Crawfish tails are addictive, so bring home lots of them.
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup flour
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter
1 small yellow onion, chopped
2 green onions, greens only, chopped
½ red bell pepper, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 ripe tomato, coarsely chopped
2 Tbsp. chopped celery
4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley
1 basil leaf
1 bay leaf
3 cups crawfish tail meat from boiled crawfish
Fat from crawfish heads
3–4 dashes of Tabasco
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups cooked long-grain rice
¼ cup very finely chopped green onion, for garnish
1. Make a roux by heating the oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture turns medium brown. Add the butter, allowing it time to melt and mix in.
2. Add the yellow onion and sauté until it’s barely brown around the edges. Add the green onions, bell pepper, and garlic, and cook until tender. Add the tomato and 2 cups of water. Bring to a boil, then add the celery, parsley, basil leaf, and bay leaf. Simmer for 10 minutes.
3. Add the crawfish tails, crawfish fat, Tabasco, and salt and pepper to taste, and simmer for 10–12 minutes more. Remember as you add the salt and pepper that the boiled crawfish already have a good bit of both. Serve over rice, topped with finely chopped green onion for garnish. SERVES FOUR TO SIX.
This was created at Commander’s Palace by Sebastian “Chef Buster” Ambrosia, who might have the best name I’ve ever heard for a chef. For many years, Chef Buster hosted a cooking show on WWL Radio, where I work. He has served oysters Ambrosia in every restaurant he’s headed, and it was always the best dish in that restaurant at the time. It’s as Creole as something can be: seafood with a brown sauce. “It’s good, hearts!” as Chef Buster would say.
4 dozen fresh, shucked large oysters, with their liquor
2 Tbsp. salt-free Creole seasoning
2 sticks (16 Tbsp.) butter
3 cups flour
2 cups red wine
4 cups rich beef stock (see recipe, this page)
6 bay leaves
1 Tbsp. chopped garlic
¼ cup Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. Louisiana hot sauce, such as Crystal
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Vegetable oil, for frying
1 Tbsp. salt
2 green onions, chopped, for garnish
8 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish
1. Drain the oysters, reserving the liquor. Sprinkle the oysters with the Creole seasoning and toss around to coat. Put them in the refrigerator while making the sauce.
2. Make a medium-dark roux by melting the butter in a medium saucepan. Add 1 cup of the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture turns the color of an old penny. When the roux has reached the right color, add the wine and bring it to a boil, stirring for about 1 minute.
3. Add the beef stock, strained oyster liquor, bay leaves, and garlic, whisking to dissolve the bits of roux that will be floating around. Bring the sauce up to a simmer and let it cook and thicken for about 45 minutes.
4. Add the Worcestershire sauce and hot sauce, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Simmer another 10 minutes, at most, while you prepare the oysters.
5. Pour the oil into a kettle to a depth of 1 inch and heat until the temperature reaches 375 degrees F. Place the remaining 2 cups of flour in a large bowl and season with the tablespoon of salt. Dredge the oysters in the seasoned flour. Fry the oysters, in batches, until golden brown, about 2 minutes. Don’t add so many oysters that the oil temperature drops radically. Drain after frying.
6. Spoon some of the sauce into a bowl and toss the oysters in the sauce to coat them well. Place 6 oysters (for an appetizer) or 12 oysters (for an entrée) on a plate and top with some green onions and parsley. (Note: For an opulent option, add some lump crabmeat to the bowl when tossing the oysters in the sauce and serve them both together.) MAKES EIGHT APPETIZERS OR FOUR ENTREES.
Oysters and Pasta Creole Bordelaise
A delicious and very simple combination: spaghetti aglio olio (or bordelaise, as we call it in New Orleans) with fresh Louisiana oysters.
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
24 fresh large oysters
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter
2 Tbsp. finely chopped garlic
4 Tbsp. finely chopped green onion tops
½ tsp. crushed red pepper
¼ tsp. salt
1 lb. vermicelli, cooked al dente
8 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish
1. Heat the oil in a small skillet over medium-low heat. Add the oysters, cooking them by shaking the pan and making them roll around until they plump up and the edges curl up.
2. Add the butter, garlic, green onion tops, crushed red pepper, and salt, and cook, shaking the pan all the while, until the green onions have wilted. Don’t cook more than a minute, or the garlic and green onions will lose their flavor.
3. Remove from the heat and add the cooked, drained pasta to the pan. Toss the pasta until well coated with the sauce. Garnish with the parsley. SERVES FOUR.
Mussels in Ghent-Style Wine Sauce
The best mussels I ever ate were in a big restaurant called Auberge de Fonteyne in the center of Ghent in Belgium on the third day of our honeymoon. The mussels were awash in what they called a wine sauce, although it seemed more like a cream sauce to me. It’s a Belgian classic, and no place in the world is more enthusiastic about mussels than Belgium.
Mussels are very inexpensive, so buy plenty of them. The best are the black-shell mussels from Prince Edward Island in Canada. (I do not recommend the green-lipped mussels from New Zealand.) Mussels should be tightly closed; if the shell gapes a little, tap it. If it doesn’t close, pitch it. Although most of the mussels I’m finding in stores these days are pre-washed, scrubbing them and removing the byssus (beard) is still essential. After the mussels pop open in the pan, check them to see whether they need to be washed inside even a little more because sometimes they do. Mussels cook very quickly, and they shrivel up if you cook them too long. So get them out of the pan as soon as they open and are heated through.
MUSSELS
8 dozen mussels, scrubbed
1 yellow onion, coarsely chopped
1 Tbsp. coarsely cracked black pepper
1 tsp. dried thyme
Stems from 1 bunch of flat-leaf parsley
2 cups dry white wine
SAUCE
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter
1 heaping Tbsp. flour
1 small yellow onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 cup heavy whipping cream
½ tsp. saffron
4 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 green onions, chopped, for garnish
1. Put the mussels into a very large, heavy pot with all the other non-sauce ingredients, plus ¼ cup of water. Bring to a boil over high heat. After a couple of minutes, vigorously shake the pot to allow the unopened mussels to work their way to the bottom and open. Steam for about 4 minutes, or until all the mussels have opened.
2. Remove the mussels to a strainer set over a bowl to catch all the juices. After they cool for 3–4 minutes, rinse the inside of the shells in a bowl of water and remove any beards that may remain. Strain the mussel juices back into the pot through a fine sieve or cheesecloth.
3. Make a blond roux by melting the butter in a large saucepan until it bubbles. Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture just barely begins to brown. Add the onion, garlic, and crushed red pepper, and cook until the garlic is fragrant, about 2 minutes.
4. Add the strained mussel juices and gently simmer for about 8 minutes. Add the cream, saffron, and parsley, and simmer 3–4 minutes more. Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste.
5. Place a dozen mussels in a large, broad-rimmed soup bowl and ladle the sauce over them. Garnish with the green onions. Provide hot loaves of French bread, damp towels, and a bowl for the shells. SERVES ONE MUSSEL FANATIC OR FOUR NORMAL PEOPLE.
Bouillabaisse, New Orleans Style
Save this recipe for the day when you find yourself with a surplus of whole fresh fish. If you never have such a day, make crab or shrimp stock (see recipe, this page) instead of the fish stock. The best fish to use, both for the stock and the big pieces that will make their way into the soup, are firm-fleshed white fish, such as redfish, red snapper, drum, grouper, and lemonfish. For something outrageously good, use pompano. For various reasons (texture and color, mostly), I would avoid catfish, escolar, salmon, or tuna.
STOCK
Bones, heads, and scraps from 5–8 lb. white fish (see headnote), livers and gills removed
Top 4 inches of a bunch of celery, chopped
Stems from 1 bunch of flat-leaf parsley
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 Tbsp. black peppercorns
1 tsp. dried thyme
BOUILLABAISSE
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 large yellow onion, coarsely chopped
1 fennel bulb, coarsely chopped
6 large cloves garlic, crushed
½ tsp. crushed red pepper
2 medium fresh tomatoes, skin, seeds, and pulp removed, coarsely chopped
2 canned whole Italian plum tomatoes, chopped
½ cup juice from canned tomatoes
⅔ cup dry white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc
1 large bay leaf
2 lb. white fish (see headnote), cut into large pieces
½ pound squid, cleaned and bodies sliced into rings (optional)
4 dozen mussels, scrubbed and debearded Pinch of saffron threads
16 large (16–20 count) shrimp, peeled except for tails (or take them off, too)
½ lb. lump crabmeat (optional)
2 green onions, finely chopped
8 sprigs flat-leaf parsley, leaves only, chopped
Salt to taste
Cayenne to taste
Parsley, for garnish
Toasted French bread rounds
½ cup Spicy Garlic Mayonnaise (see recipe, this page)
1. To make the stock: Put all of the fish bones, heads, skins, and scraps into a stockpot and cover with cold water. Bring it to a boil, then dump the water, saving all the fish parts. Refill the pot with just enough water to barely cover the fish parts. Add all of the remaining stock ingredients and bring to just a simmer. Reduce the heat to low and very gently simmer for 30 minutes more, skimming the foam that rises to the top.
2. Strain the stock and discard the solids. Return the stock to the pot and simmer while you continue with the rest of the recipe.
3. To make the bouillabaisse: Heat the oil in another large kettle over medium-high heat. Add the onion, fennel, garlic, and crushed red pepper, and sauté until the onion turns translucent. Add the fresh and canned tomatoes and juice, and cook 1 minute more. Add the wine and bay leaf, and boil for 3 minutes.
4. Ladle ¾ cup of the fish stock into a skillet and set aside. Add the fish and squid and remaining vegetables to the kettle and return to a simmer.
5. Meanwhile, add the mussels to the skillet with the stock and cook for about a minute, by which time all of them should open. (Discard any that do not.) Turn the heat off and allow to cool while shaking the pan so that the stock sloshes inside the mussels. Remove the mussels to a bowl. If any of the mussels appear to have grit or beard inside, clean them. Strain the liquid from the pan and the bowl through a fine sieve into the kettle with the fish.
6. Add the saffron and shrimp to the kettle and cook for about a minute. Add the crabmeat, mussels, and green onions, and cook for another minute, gently stirring to distribute the ingredients. Season to taste with salt and cayenne.
7. Divide the seafood equally among 4–6 bowls and ladle the broth and vegetables over everything. Garnish with parsley. Serve with toasted French bread slices spread with spicy garlic mayonnaise. SERVES FOUR TO SIX.
Cajun Seared Scallops with Near-Guacamole
Save this recipe for occasions when you find those sea scallops that are almost the size of filets mignons. Sea scallops that size are delicious and lend themselves particularly to pan-searing. In our part of the world, this verges on blackening and that’s just fine, assuming the pan is really hot and you don’t let the scallops sit there too long. The salsa is essentially my recipe for guacamole but with the avocados sliced on top instead of blended in.
SCALLOPS
1 lb. sea scallops, the bigger the better
Salt-free Creole seasoning
Salt to taste
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter, melted
SALSA
2 tomatillos, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 medium sweet onion, coarsely chopped
Juice of 1 lime
1 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. olive oil
2 tsp. Tabasco Green Pepper Sauce
2 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped
¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. coarsely ground black pepper
2 tsp. Vietnamese fish sauce
2 Hass avocados, ripe but not soft, each cut into 8–12 slices
8 sprigs cilantro, leaves only, chopped, for garnish
1 green onion, tender green part only, sliced, for garnish
1. Heat a black iron skillet over high heat. Check the sea scallops to make sure they’ve been well trimmed. (Sometimes you’ll find some fibrous stuff at the edge; remove and discard this.) Coat the sea scallops generously with the Creole seasoning and a little salt. Add the butter to the skillet, then add the scallops and sear them for about 2 minutes on each side.
2. Blend all the salsa ingredients up to (but not including) the avocados in a food processor.
3. Spoon about ¼ cup of the salsa onto each of 4 plates. Place 4–6 scallops on the salsa (depending on size). Put 2–3 avocado slices between the scallops. Garnish with the cilantro and green onion. SERVES FOUR.
Here’s my take on the very rich Creole-seasoned, chock-full-of-seafood pasta dish that became popular in the early 1980s and remains so today. When crawfish are in season, use them instead of the scallops.
2 Tbsp. butter
½ cup chopped green onion
1 Tbsp. chopped shallots
¼ cup dry white wine
2 cups heavy whipping cream Pinch of saffron threads
½ tsp. salt, plus more to taste
¼ tsp. ground white pepper
Pinch of cayenne
Pinch of ground ginger
1 lb. sea scallops, halved crosswise
1 lb. medium shrimp (20 –25 count), peeled and deveined
2 dozen fresh, shucked oysters
½ tsp. fresh tarragon (or ¼ tsp. dried)
1 lb. lump crabmeat
Dash of Tabasco or pinch of crushed red pepper (optional)
2 lb. farfalle pasta, cooked al dente
1. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the green onion and shallots, and cook until they’re limp. Add the wine and reduce until most of the liquid is gone. Add the cream, saffron, salt, pepper, cayenne, and ginger, and bring to a light boil. (Also add tarragon at this point if using dried.)
2. Add the scallops and shrimp, and cook for 4 minutes. Add the oysters and fresh tarragon, if using. Cook until the edges of the oysters are curly, then add the crabmeat. Throughout the process, shake the skillet to slosh the sauce over the seafood.
3. Taste the sauce and add salt if necessary. You can also spice it up with a bit of Tabasco or crushed red pepper. Remove from the heat. Add the cooked and drained pasta, and toss until well combined. SERVES EIGHT.
