“People love New Orleans like they love a person.” When I read this line in Sara Roahen’s outstanding diner’s-eye-view of the Crescent City, Gumbo Tales, my head bobbed up and down vigorously, and by that point in the book I may well have leaked a tear—or five. Yes, yes, it’s true—or it’s true for me, anyway. I love New Orleans. I love it in a way that I don’t love other cities, except maybe my own. It makes my chest ache like thoughts of an old lover, because no matter how many times I go, I just can’t seem to get enough of it. I long for … the food, the music, architecture, the languid pace, the Sazerac’s made at French 75, the history, the simultaneous joy and sadness thick in the warm, humid air. All of it is so utterly compelling that if I don’t get down there once a year, I get the kind of pit in my stomach that can only be filled by a big, soupy bowl of gumbo or a puffy, fully dressed, spilling-from-the-sides oyster po’boy.

 

So last weekend when the Saints won and I looked at the calendar and realized my birthday lands on a Saturday next month (and that I had enough frequent flyer miles to excuse the splurge), I booked my tickets. I’m already scheduling my days based on where I plan to eat—Cochon and Upperline for dinner, Domilise’s and Johnny’s and Parasol for po’boys, Commander’s Palace and Mr. B’s for lunch, Napoleon House for Pimm’s, Cure for well-executed cocktails. I’m dizzy with the options, not wanting to miss one deliriously good bite while we’re there. In preparation, I’ve started poring through cookbooks as well as re-reading Roahen’s excellent book, which is as good as (or maybe better than) any travel guide I’ve ever used. A Midwesterner by birth, Roahen is a former chef who did some time in California kitchens and moved to New Orleans, only to land a job as the restaurant critic for the newspaper Gambit Weekly—an intimidating job for someone not only new to a city, but one with such deeply rooted, historical food traditions that voicing any sort of opinion as an outsider is akin to skipping blindfolded through a mine field.

 

Instead, Roahen generously treated her new city like a new love, allowing it to reveal itself in all its delicious ways on its own terms. How many ways are there to prepare gumbo? Po’boys? King Cakes? Red beans and rice? And would you dare ever make a turducken? Roahen did. But along with all the hunting and foraging, you’ll discover all the people behind these dishes and the struggle for New Orleans to maintain not just its bricks and mortar, but its true self post-Katrina, and all the ways that its phenomenal food are part of bringing it back from the brink.

 

I won’t pretend to know what that must have been like. Or what it still is like. I only know that for some mysterious reason that I can’t explain, I feel invested in NOLA’s climb back. I crave visits to its streets and use food as a way of communing with it, crazy as that might sound. I don’t really care that much about football, but as I watched the Saints’ coach Sean Payton pump that Lombardi trophy in the air on television last Sunday, it was hard not to feel for a second or two that it was a bigger win than just a football game.  It was, at the very least, some well-deserved joy. And with Fat Tuesday one little week away, well… I’m breaking out my biggest gumbo-worthy pot to celebrate along with them.

 

Is there a city you long for this way? Do you cook certain things—or seek out certain foods—to remind you of your time there? 

 

 

 

Amy Zavatto has been writing about wine, spirits, and food for ten years. Her work appears in Imbibe, Gotham, and Every Day with Rachael Ray, among others. She is the author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bartending and the co-author of The Renaissance Guide to Wine & Food Pairing. 

 

Comments
by Blogger Amy_Zavatto on 02-09-2010 04:14 PM

Just after getting this blog up, I heard from Sara Roahen, who graciously contributed the following recipe -- I say start cookin'!

 

 

Shrimp and Okra Gumbo

 

So says Sara: "I have never eaten Mr. Hartman LeJeune’s shrimp and okra gumbo, but he gave me a verbal recipe for it one evening over a dinner of stuffed crab that his wife, Loretta, had prepared for us at their home in Jeanerette, Louisiana. His passion for the subject was enough to inspire some experimentation in my own kitchen. Hartman and Loretta’s son, Matt, is a third-generation owner-operator of LeJeune’s Bakery, the source of some incredible Cajun-style French bread. Few of us can enjoy LeJeune’s bread regularly, but do grace your dinner table with a respectable loaf from elsewhere when serving this gumbo."

 

 

Serves 8-10

 

1 Tablespoon plus 1 ¼ cup vegetable oil

2 pounds fresh okra, chopped into half-inch pieces

1 can Rotel tomatoes

2 Tablespoons white vinegar

1 cup flour

3 quarts shellfish stock

1 green bell pepper, diced small

1 yellow onion, diced small

2 ribs celery, diced small

¼ cup minced garlic

3 bay leaves

cayenne pepper to taste

black pepper to taste

salt to taste

¼ cup chopped parsley

1 cup chopped green onion tops

3 pounds fresh shrimp

 

 

If you do not already have shellfish stock on hand, you can make one quickly by peeling and cleaning your shrimp, and then simmering the shells softly with some aromatic vegetables and bay leaves. Adding gumbo crabs will make the stock more robust. Refrigerate the peeled shrimp, cutting them in half first if they are jumbo shrimp.

 

Heat 1 Tablespoon vegetable oil in a stock pot or Dutch oven. Add the okra and stir over medium-high heat for a few minutes, until okra begins to release a sticky substance. Add the can of Rotel tomatoes and the vinegar, and continue to cook over medium-low heat for about 30 minutes, until the okra loses most of its slime but not all of its shape. Remove the okra from the pot and set aside. Pour the shellfish stock into the pot and heat to a gentle simmer.

 

Meanwhile, heat the rest of the vegetable oil in a cast-iron pot or Dutch oven until almost smoking. Gradually whisk in the flour and continue to cook, stirring constantly, until the roux reaches a deep, dark chocolate color. Be careful not to burn the roux. This step should take about 30 minutes. When the roux attains the desired hue, cut off the heat and add the chopped seasoning vegetables—the bell pepper, onion, celery, and garlic. Turn heat back to medium and sauté the vegetables until they begin to soften.

 

Bring the shellfish stock to a boil and add the roux-vegetable mixture to the stock by spoonfuls, whisking to incorporate it without lumps. Next, add the okra and the bay leaves to the stock. Adjust the heat to maintain a steady simmer and let the gumbo cook for an hour. Season with salt and cayenne and black peppers to taste, and simmer for another 30 minutes.

 

Just before you’re ready to serve the gumbo, add the parsley, green onion tops, and shrimp. Turn off the heat, wait five minutes, and readjust the seasoning. Serve with white rice.

 

Recipe courtesy of Sara Roahen.

by -Michaela- on 02-10-2010 06:24 PM

I sure heard dat!  Of course for me, garden-obsessive that I am, it's all about the balconies, trailing vines, Spanish moss and ivory old tombs. When I'm lucky enough to get down to New Orleans, I spend days and my leisurely twilight hours wandering through hidden courtyards and gardens, and my evenings shimmying, sipping and nibbling my way across town. An you are zactly right, fa sho. New Orleans is like a living character; a sad, sexy, soulful, and mysterious lover. Just thinking about it makes me want to hop on a plane. And a recipe for shrimp gumbo? Oh sweet torture, how can I ride out the snow storm with this on my mind. Thank you to Ms. Sara Roahen, and to you as well Amy. I sure hope you pass a good time.