Jambalaya

Crawfish pie, file gumbo.




File powder. Creole-style is my brother's signature. I get it because it mixes traditional French and European techniques with low-country down-home goodness. It's like the difference between chunky and smooth peanut butter. I like chunky. I like handmade things, I like hunks of vegetables. Billy talks about origins, and knife skills and flavor all the way through a dish. I'm more like "Oooh, this is a pretty ceramic pot to cook in," and Billy's taking me to the restaurant supply, chiding me that Williams Sonoma is overrated. It is, but you didn't hear that from me :-D

http://www.zatarains.com/  Zatarains' products are good!

There's a jar of file powder sitting in my pantry. Billy made a fabulous non-seafood gumbo. We have shellfish allergies that didn't hit us until our late 30s -- his probably because of overexposure in the kitchen, mine probably because there's some sort of genetic predisposition. But we live in the South and grew up with all the tender goodness the sea has to offer -- smoked mullet, shrimp, lobster, scallops, flounder and grouper, crawfish, Stone crabs. You name it. So, it always makes me cranky to consider taking the Epi-kit to dinner. Just kidding.

Back to the file. There was frozen okra in a bag. Some frozen corn, some forlorn green beans, carrots and celery approaching the age of Methuselah. A few chicken thighs. Some leftover andouille. Enough softball-size onions to outfit a Little League team. "We're doin' a cooler cleanin', Ton. Go to the store, get me some heavy cream, and some file powder." Yes, Chef. My freaking younger brother is telling me what to do in my own house and, yep, I'm going. I didn't know what I was supposed to find at Sweetbay. But that's where he said to go. And 15 minutes later I came home with a small glass tube, filled with a yellow powder. I didn't even know if I got the right stuff. Because we lived in the Islands, I knew File is serious juju. I didn't want to hold it for too long. He laughed.

"Good job on your chicken stock." He pulled Zip-Loc bags of chicken stock out of my freezer, each measured in 2-, 4- and 8-cup increments, labeled and dated. My brother lived with me while he was being treated for a broken leg, and diagnosed with bone cancer. We spent a lot of time in the kitchen and said nothing to one another outside of "behind you," "I need your onions now", "Ton, what the hell are you doing" -- to which I'd shrug and laugh, just to watch him smile. He is meticulous. There's a science to onion cutting. Knives have a soul. Respect your pans. Chicken bones and old vegetables are salvaged for stock. It's all used. Nothing is wasted. So, the chicken stock was a labor of love. It simmers for two days. It's skimmed. It's measured carefully into bags. He lays the bags carefully into the freezer so they become flat slabs. The bags are cut open, and the rectangle goes frozen into the pot. Ingenious, really. He fried off the chicken thighs in the bacon hissing in the pan, reserved the grease in the little metal pot he made me buy at Wal-Mart, started the mirepoix. He made the roux. He added the big chicken ice cube. Vegetables, a little red bell pepper for color, shredded chicken, sausage, the clump of ice-encrusted peas.

"Isn't it supposed to be red? Isn't gumbo red?" I always get points for asking the stupid questions. Which usually get answered with another question. "Ton, do you want it red? We can make it red. But this is white. You'll like it." He finished it with a lot less cream than I thought it would need to be creamy and delicious. "When you make large amounts of cream sauce, you need chicken stock for the base. It's not all cream. Try this when you make Alfredo next time." Of course he was right. And it turns out file gumbo, is a thickening agent, made from sassafras, and often used when okra is not available as a thickener. "It's the same stuff in root beer." Okay, not the same stuff, but I got the lesson. File has a distinctive flavor and like all roots, serves a purpose in cooking.

The cancer was worse than either one of us wanted to admit. We argued about treatment options. He was ready to die in my living room, and I was pushing for Moffitt Cancer Center. I didn't pay attention enough during the gumbo lesson. The file calls to me in the pantry from time to time, I pull it out and think. When I think of my brother, I make Jambalaya. It's a happy dish. I'll master the gumbo one day.

Jambalaya

3 pounds chicken thighs (bone is okay if you have them, just roast them, or find boneless chicken breasts, or boneless thighs)

2 t salt
2 t vegetable oil
1/2 t pepper (I add cayenne too, but it depends upon who is eating)
1 pound pork sausage (I use andouille, cut in 1/4 inch pieces after it's cooked)
2 c yellow onions

1 c green peppper

1 c celery
4 Bay leaves
1 T minced garlic
1/3 t thyme
1 cup chopped tomatoes (I buy a can of DelMonte diced tomatoes, onions and peppers)
3 cups long grain rice
3 1/2 cups of water (I use the liquid from the tomatoes, and water, or all chicken stock)
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth

I use a tall pot with a lid instead of a saute pan. Brown chicken, cook sausage in oil. Add vegetables and seasonings. Let cook. Add tomatoes. Stir in rice. Add water and stock. Simmer 30 minutes, covered. Let stand 10 minutes.

Kicked-Up Paprika

This makes Billy crazy when I mix seasonings ahead of time, or when I buy those containers of What-Ever-Chef-Is-On-Food-TV. "Ton, you can do this yourself. You can season it yourself. You know how. Stop buying this crap." He's right. So, there are things I won't live without -- Good Seasons Italian Dressing dry mix, for one. He agrees. That stuff is good. And I make a killer balsamic marinade for steaks and a great salad dressing out of it. He agrees.

Anyway, this is great for grilled hamburgers, sprinkling over Jambalaya, dusting deviled-eggs, putting on parsley-and-butter soaked red potatoes.

3 T paprika
2 T salt
2 T dried parsley (If you have fresh parsley on its way out, dry it in the oven)
1 t dried oregano
1 t dried basil
1 t dried thyme
1/2 t celery salt (optional)
2 t onion powder
2 t garlic powder
1 t black pepper (sometimes I use cayenne too, it just depends upon who is eating)

Mix it up. Put it in a mason jar, or an old salt shaker. Yep.

Avocado and Tomatoes with Balsamic

Avocado (peeled and diced)
Grape or Campari tomatoes, cut in half or in quarters (depending upon size)

Pour the dressing on, and mix with your hands.

Same thing for the Greek cucumber, pepper, tomatoes, onion and feta cheese salad. I use the same dressing. Although, Mom says I am the only person in the family who can do grandma's olive oil and lemon dressing -- that's really just pouring the oil and squeezing the lemons, but I don't tell Mom that, salt and pepper. Vinaigrette is a 1:1/2 ratio.