by Jon Laiche
½ cup salt
½ cup sugar
2 unpeeled garlic cloves (whole heads)
Again, add or subtract the proportions to taste.
In any event, boil the seasonings together, adding potatoes and corn-on-the-cob. Add the shrimp and boil only for five minutes or so, until they are pink in color and float to the top. Remove them and immediately place in cold water, ice water if available.
Serve with the Sauce Ramolade.
Eleven
SOME CALAS IN THE “FRENCH MARKET
Nobody knows exactly when it started. It was the first thing we saw as our boats pulled up to the new river town. This was no surprise to our company, especially to me. As “Brother Kitchen” it was quite natural to me to land in a market place. After all, one of the main functions of a “town” is that of a market center. One of the first things Monsieur Bienville did was to order that the new streets of New Orleans be protected by a levee. Built on the already slightly higher ground here at the river’s bend, the workers and slaves had heaped up a long pile of earth along the bank in front of what was to become the square, the church, and its attendant structures. Between levee and river, some crude piers and docking areas were built. The German farmers up the river had managed to get most of their first harvest in before the hurricane. The King’s plantation across the river - jokingly nicknamed Algiers, because all the Africans brought to the colony were landed there first - was producing a steady supply of garden vegetables. At some point between 1719 and our arrival, a market place had sprung up on the levee in front of the square to exchange these goods and more.
It was a primitive, informal, and somewhat wild place at first. Fights and thievery were common. Hunters, Natives, Fishermen, Oystermen, Farmers from the German Coast, the Tchoupitoulas, Algiers, and the surrounding concessions, all congregated there once a week or so to peddle their goods. I soon learned that its every man (or woman) for themselves. Admittedly, things have become somewhat more settled as time has gone by and the town has grown.
On the “other side of the coin” as it were, the market is a vibrant place, alive with chatter, exchange, some occasional music, and lots of noise and high spirits. One of the most common cries to be heard is that of “Belle Cala! Tout Chaud!” (Lovely Calas! Good and Hot!) which can be heard around the market and the square. It is the morning cry of the Indian and African women beckoning the hungry (and not so hungry) to come and sample their delicious calas or rice cakes. On that memorable day, as we arrived, not only was I introduced to the New Orleans market, but as my Capuchin brothers and I ate these wonderful rice cakes, I learned a valuable lesson of life in the new colony. In France, our daily bread was always made from wheat flour. In New Orleans we had three different kinds of flour. As wheat was a somewhat rare commodity (and would be for the next few years) we would make great use of flour ground from maize or rice. These wonderful cakes thereby taught me an essential lesson in preparing meals in this New World. I eagerly absorbed this lesson from the old Cala women as they took the Calas piping hot, wrapped them in a clean towel, basket or bowl, and rushed through the streets with their welcome cry ringing on the morning air. Soon after, in our primitive Presbytere, I could simply take the Calas out of the frying pan and drain off the lard by laying them in a colander or on heated pieces of brown paper. Then I would serve them in a hot dish, sprinkled over with sugar and eaten hot with Café au Lait.
Creole Calas (Rice Cakes)
A simple recipe, passed down through the centuries
The old Cala women who walked the streets of the Vieux Carré for over two centuries had as many variations on the recipe as their number. The following Creole recipe is a splendid example:
½ cup of rice
3 cups water (boiling)
3 eggs
½ cup of sugar
½ cake of yeast
½ teaspoon of grated nutmeg
Sugar
Boiling lard
Put 3 cups of water in a saucepan and let it boil hard. Wash half a cup of rice thoroughly, drain and put in the boiling water. Let it boil until very soft and mushy. Take it out and set it to cool. When cold, mash well and mix with the yeast, which you will have dissolved in a half cup of hot water. Set the rice to rise overnight. In the morning, heat three eggs thoroughly and add to the rice, mixing and beating well. Add a half cup of sugar and three tablespoons of flour, to make the rice adhere. Mix well and heat thoroughly, bringing it to a thick batter. Set to rise for fifteen minutes longer. Then add about a half teaspoonful of grated nutmeg and mix well. Have ready a frying pan in which there is boiling lard sufficient for the rice cakes to swim in. Test by dropping in a small piece of bread. If it becomes a golden brown, the lard is ready, but if it burns or browns instantly, it is too hot. The golden brown color is the true test. Take a large deep spoon and drop a spoonful at a time of the preparation into the boiling lard, remembering always that the cake must not touch the bottom of the pan. Let fry to a nice brown. Drain on brown paper. Sprinkle with sugar. Enjoy.
A HISTORICAL ADDENDUM:
As you may have noticed from Frére Gerard’s tale of the early New Orleans market as well as the importance of rice as a staple in the colonial kitchen, the Creole use of rice in the New Orleans diet is as old as New Orleans itself. Creole recipes for rice and rice cakes and pretty much everything else, however, would have to wait over 150 years before anyone would write them down. Here presented are stories and recipes about rice cakes from very early cookbooks, which also give us an insight into the culture from which these wonderful treats emerged.
Made from the simple and abundant (at least by the 1730’s) ingredients, eggs, rice, flour, and sugar, these cakes were a morning staple in Creole New Orleans at least until WW II.
“Belle Cala! Tout Chaud!” Under this cry was sold by the ancient Creole Negro women in the French Quarter of New Orleans a delicious rice cake, eaten with the morning cup of Cafe au Lait.
The Cala woman was always seen upon the streets, until the last few years. She made her rounds in a quaint bandana tignon, guinea blue dress and white apron, and carried on her head a covered bowl, in which were the dainty and hot Calas. Her cry, “Belle Cala! Tout Chaud!” would penetrate the morning air, and the Creole cooks would rush to the doors to get the first fresh, hot Calas to go with the early morning cup of coffee.
The Cala women have passed away, but the custom of making Calas still remains. In many an ancient home, the good housewife tells her daughter just how “Tante Zizi” made the Calas in her day, and so are preserved these ancient traditional recipes.”
From the book, Picayune Creole Cookbook, first published by the Times-Picayune, New Orleans, in 1901.
Here is a more modern recipe from La Bouche Creole (Pelican Press, 1981):
6 tablespoons flour
3 heaping tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups cooked rice
2 eggs
Pinch of nutmeg
Cooking oil
Powdered Sugar
Mix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and vanilla. Thoroughly mix the rice and eggs together in a separate bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the rice and egg mixture. When thoroughly mixed, drop by spoonfuls into the hot deep fat (about 360 degrees F) and fry until brown. Drain on paper towel. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve while hot.
"Other variations are to serve with honey or (my favorite) Steen's Cane Syrup instead of the powdered sugar.
Twelve
A BOUCAN FOR PENTECOST
All good things come to an end. So goes the old adage. And so it happens every year here in New Orleans. Lent and Easter have come and gone, Pentecost approaches. If you haven’t guessed yet, I am talking about the weather, not the Holy Days. April and May are the months of change in Louisiana. The fine weather, the time of cool, dry air that comes in October, lasts through the holidays, finally begi
ns to move out during Easter Tide. Soon, it will be miserably hot again, the mosquitoes return with the thunder showers, the air is often so damp that clothes and bodies rarely dry out completely. But another October will come, and we pray and hope and count the months, and try to stay cool as best we can. Our kitchen routine begins to change with seasons. We begin to plant the potager for the summer harvest, I begin to move the cooking fires outside and away from the stuffy indoor hearths. We have managed well enough for the past seven years and have made great progress, both in growing our parish spiritually and physically. Church and Presbytere, as well as homes and shops, have filled some of the empty spaces first laid out by Monsieurs La Tour and Pauger. The Levee Market has become a group of semi-permanent stalls and open spaces for farmers and artisans to sell their products. New Orleans has actually begun to resemble the French villages and bourgs of our homeland. For my part, the kitchen and potager have taken shape and there is even some extra space wherein we can expand the cooking and
garden domains. Pere Raphael has given me a mission as well. To help organize my demesne for the summer months ahead, I am to plan and execute a Pentecost feast for our Convent and the Ursulines, (and even the few Jesuits around) to begin the hot season. My first decision was to use one of the earliest cooking methods Europeans learned from the Natives, as we stumbled into this new world, the technique of “boucanning”. The New World “Indians”- as the Spanish called them - used this method to prepare the abundant game available on the continent and islands. Now you may well object that cooking meat outside on an open flame is nothing new, we have been roasting meat on a spit since Abel slowly “burned” the best of his flocks to God Almighty and made Cain jealous. But it was the method of the wood frame and the smoking which the islanders taught first the Spanish and then we French settlers in the West Indies. Here on the continent and in the forests of Louisiana, especially the Florida Lands across the great Pontchartrain lake, is found an abundance of wild turkey. Hunters from the capital, often traverse these lands and much further to provide our market with an abundance of fresh game. So I prepared a boucane to cook some turkey birds outside for our Pentecost feast.
To boucane a bird or any other piece of meat is a fairly simple process. Beginning with a lot of twigs about a half-inch in diameter, the first thing to do is to build a frame consisting of several squares, A good size is to make each section about 1 pied square. The twigs or branches are lashed together with twine or bits of string or even stripped bark. Next attach the meat to the frame and hang it over an outside fire pit about 5 pieds above the flames so it cooks very slowly and use the heat of the smoke rather than the heat of the flame. Now, in boucanning turkey birds, the best method I have found is to prepare a marinade and soak the turkey birds - after plucking and cleaning them - in the marinade for a couple of days. Split the birds and half attach them to the frame using the same materials and just let him smoke from early in the morning until supper time.
Turkey Boucanier
Ingredients and Preparation:
To prepare a citrus marinade: blend together the juice of 5 Oranges, a small spoon of Cayenne Pepper (whole or ground), the juice of 2 lemons, a blend of spices on hand, I use salt, garlic, paprika, and a bell pepper. Cook the garlic and pepper down to very soft. Blend the whole mixture together with olive or bear oil and mix with about 2 gallons of water . This is for one bird. Adjust the quantities for the number of birds to be smoked. Soak the bird(s) for at least a day in the marinade, and then boucane as described above.
Our 21st Century version of Turkey Boucanier
We used a fresh turkey, about 15 lbs. and soaked it for 2 days in the marinade below. Prepared for a Fourth of July family dinner, we roasted the bird for 2 hours in 325° oven early in the morning before sunrise. The turkey was then smoked over mesquite coals for 2 to 3 hours as we prepared the rest of the dinner later in the day.
Ingredients and Preparation:
A turkey baked first in the oven, then placed on the BBQ grill to smoke.
Prior to baking/smoking prepare a citrus marinade:
5 Oranges
Cayenne Pepper (whole or ground)
2 Lemons
salt, garlic, paprika, blend to make about 15 tsp.
1 bell pepper
1.25 C Cooking oil
OR a modern cheat = McCormick’s Baja Citrus
5 tbsp. Honey Marinade
Since a turkey tends to be rather large, we prepared 10 liters of marinade as follows: Use the modern cheat or blend together the above spices, chopping or pureeing the bell peppers to add to the marinade base. Using five empty 2 liter soda bottles, begin by squeezing a whole orange into a measuring cup – this normally produces about a quarter cup of OJ (reserve the oranges), add a quarter cup of cooking oil, a tablespoon of honey and one ounce of the spice powder (about 3 teaspoons). Mix well. Fill the cup with water and pour into the 2 liter bottle. Rinse the cup and pour the water into the bottle as well. Repeat the process until you have five bottles of marinade base (one third of the bottle).
Serve with Roasted Herb Indian Corn.
A HISTORICAL ADDENDUM:
“The term buccaneer derives from the Arawak word buccan, a wooden frame for smoking meat, hence the French word boucane and the name boucanier for French hunters who used such frames to smoke meat from feral cattle and pigs on Hispaniola (now Haiti and the Dominican Republic). English colonists anglicised the word boucanier to buccaneer.
About 1630, some Frenchmen who were driven away from the island of Hispaniola fled to nearby Tortuga. The Spaniards tried to drive them out of Tortuga, but the buccaneers were joined by many other French, Dutch and English and turned to piracy against Spanish shipping, generally using small craft to attack galleons in the vicinity of the Windward Passage. Finally they became so strong that they even sailed to the mainland of Spanish America and sacked cities.”
Buccaneer." Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. Last modified on 16 December 2014 at 16:02. Web. Accessed 13 January, 2015.
It is appropriate to the theme of this cookbook that the various roasted and smoked meats are suffixed“Boucanier”. New Orleans, since its founding has always been associated with pirates and smugglers (see Chapter 18). Indeed, much of the local economy of Louisiana during the French period (1699 – 1762) and extending into the famous encounter between Jean Lafitte and General Jackson in the Battle of New Orleans (1815) was based on consumer activity dependent upon the fruits of piracy.
Thirteen
THE HOUMAS VISIT
When my countrymen first arrived in Louisiana under the command of Sieur d’Iberville, the many villages of our Native brethren lined the rivers and streams between La Balize and the Arkansas Post. During the next three decades, we discovered an important fact about “les petits nations”. Here in the New World, or at least here in Louisiana, the people do not stay in one place very long. Entire villages and towns move about quite freely and quite often. For instance, my current visitation and mission to the Houmas nation will take me upriver to the Pointe Coupèe settlement, then back downriver to where the Mississippi forks a few leagues below the Baton Rouge. At that point, we will travel down La Fourche (the Fork) into the swamps, streams, and lakes that is the marsh to the south and west of New Orleans. In all of these places we hope to meet with the Houma people and bring them the Good News and learn from them the ways of catching and cooking the abundant seafood and fishes that inhabit our rich new land. I am traveling to these settlements with Father Anselm*. Pere Raphael has sent him to minister to the Houmas and to the Frenchmen at Pointe Coupèe and beyond. I am tagging along to help him in his work, and not accidentally, to learn as much as I can from our little brothers about the local food production.
Past Baton Rouge, the land begins to rise. To the east, the terrain rolls away in hills and gullies, with bluffs very much like cliffs along the river. To the west stretches a vast flatness o
f grasslands and meadows, which we call praerie in French. The settlement at Pointe Coupèe lay on the western side of the St. Louis. More specifically, it is situated on a loop in the river that has been “cut off” from the main stream and now forms a lake. Folks moving up from Baton Rouge and even the local Indians often call the place False River. Pere Anselm and our party stayed there a couple of months, while Father preached the Word, and made arrangements to start building a permanent chapel. Since the locals were Frenchmen like ourselves, and - more to the point - cooked with the same ingredients I do, following the same methods, cooking on a hearth, there wasn’t much done here in the kitchen that I did not already know. So I spent most of my time, helping with the chapel and exploring the surrounding country. The land on this western bank is the rich alluvial prairie, which is perfect for the plow. Large farms were already established. On the eastern side of the river, the land was much more broken up and vast forests covered the hills and bluffs along the bayous and streams running down into the St. Louis. It was a rich hunting ground for Native and settler alike, and the forest trees were filled with nuts, berries, and fruits of all kind. This indeed is a wondrous land. The Lord has blessed our countrymen in being able to come and partake in its bounty.
Monsieur d’Iberville first found the Houmas on the hills and bluffs of the eastern side of the great river. But, as I said earlier, these New World folk do not stay in one place for long periods of time. Pere Anselm and I did, indeed, find some of the Houma nation at Pointe Coupée, but we learned from them that most of their people had moved south to the big fork in the river below Baton Rouge. As I had been looking forward to learning about the watery food resources that abound in Louisiana, I was excited when Pere Anselm finally decided to visit the scattered Houma nation down La Fourche and minister to them there. So, after some pleasant months, we left the rich farmlands around the False River and headed down the St.