Po'boys and beignets, okra and file

Although I have eaten in New Orleans just once in my life, I have returned to its food – the variety, the intense and enticing flavors – a million times in my head.

Senior year in college, my roommate and I booked flights from Providence on a whim. She wanted to catch Mardi Gras. I was game for nearly anything. So we left New England on a Friday morning in February. Neglecting to double-check the calendar, however, we didn't realize that we would actually miss the party by a few days.

On the ground, we decided to plan our own festivities. They don't call it the Big Easy for nothing. Over the long weekend, we would eat and drink as best we could on our student budgets.

For lunch, we had muffulettas and oyster po'boys. They are casual, convenient sandwiches, proteins and carbs in the same package. The first is a meatfest topped with an olive spread, the second a showcase for deep-fried oysters.

For dinner, we had red beans and rice, and crawfish etouffee, with bold spices we seldom encountered in the dining halls. They were foods my roommate knew from her Southern childhood, foods with which I had only recently become familiar.

We sipped hurricanes in bars on Bourbon Street and treated ourselves to beignets and chicory-spiked café au lait at Café du Monde.

Piled high with powdered sugar, beignets need to be handled carefully. One shake sends a cloud of sweetness across the table. One laugh out loud and there was snow on our noses, our hair and our shirts. We went through several plates of these signature pastries, laughing into the early morning.

Chicory with coffee, I later learned, is an age-old Louisiana tradition. The French added roasted and ground chicory to coffee to help stretch supplies during Napoleonic blockades in the early 19^th century. When naval blockades cut off shipments to New Orleans during the Civil War, people in Louisiana started to add chicory to their coffee as well, and came to appreciate the nuttiness it lent to the beverage.

***

New Orleans, it seems, has always been about good food. "We not only love to eat and to cook what we eat," Charmaine Neville says in the anthology "My New Orleans: Ballads to the Big Easy By Her Sons, Daughters and Lovers." "We love to talk about what we are going to cook and what we are going to eat. Before we finish what we're eating, we're already talking about the next meal we're going to have together."

"In spite of our differences," editor Rosemary James says in the introduction, "we have sought out each other's company over, always, the very best food, ingenious dishes created from a poor people's basics: beans, rice, okra, fish, crabs, oysters, shrimp, peppers, garlic, onions, file… And elegant desserts created from everyday things like bananas and sugar and rum. Ours is comfort food even for the aliens among us."

Traditional Louisiana cooking blends a number of cuisines and techniques. Creole dishes might have been based originally on French stews and soups, but they were influenced significantly as well by the Spanish affinity for onions, bell peppers, tomatoes and garlic, by the African use of okra, and the Native American introduction of file, finely ground sassafras leaves. Like Cajun foods, considered country cousins, they were spicy and robust.

By the 1980s and '90s, avuncular chefs such as Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse had mostly blurred the lines between Creole and Cajun cooking, popularizing both in person and in print. Lagasse, for example, incorporated them at Emeril's, his first solo restaurant venture, and in the best-selling book "Emeril's New New Orleans Cooking," developing additional recipes further influenced by his Portuguese roots.

In the months following Hurricane Katrina in 2005, eateries were among the first businesses in the city to re-open. Some places unfortunately did not survive. "Their owners were getting on in years," food writer and radio host Tom Fitzmorris says in "Hungry Town: A Culinary History of New Orleans," "or their buildings had been too badly damaged to rebuild, or they had intractable insurance problems."

But others including Galatoire's, Commander's Palace, Brennan's and K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen still thrive. Home-grown chefs such as Susan Spicer, Donald Link and John Besh also continue to play with seasonal ingredients and innovative approaches at places like Mondo, Herbsaint and Restaurant August, respectively.

Before Katrina hit, according to Fitzmorris, there were more than 800 restaurants in greater New Orleans. These days, there are more than 1,200 – big and small, casual and formal, Creole, Cajun, Caribbean, French, Italian. It is a testament to the hunger people in the city have for good-tasting food, and the lengths to which cooks will go to feed that hunger. It speaks to their commitment and hospitality.

***

Since college, I have tasted different foods and visited a number of other cities. I have bitten into fresh scones, for example, topped with strawberry jam and lovely clotted cream in London. I have had cheese-smothered deep-dish pizzas in Chicago. I have feasted on Korean favorites like bulgogi and bibimbap in Los Angeles.

Why then, I wonder, do I return often in my head, and in my kitchen, to iconic New Orleans foods?

When catfish fillets are on special at the market, I grill them Louisiana-style, seasoned with paprika, black pepper, white pepper and cayenne pepper. I like the heat. When Christmas comes, I make a festive jambalaya. It seems the right project for a celebration. And when rain threatens to dampen my spirits, I gather ingredients for chicken and sausage gumbo. I have nearly perfected my roux.

Some foods, I suppose, are a part of who I am, who we are. They are the dishes we grow up eating, whether poached whole chicken or macaroni and cheese, barbecued pork buns or fresh baked apple pie. They are the flavors we know well, offered to us by our parents or grandparents.

Other foods, however, are a part of who I become, who we become, the people we essentially grow into. They are the dishes we discover on our own when we choose to travel and broaden our palates. They are the flavors we try to re-create when we can, combinations that started for me with a weekend trip to the South long ago.

Po'boys and beignets, okra and file. They are items my parents and grandparents never ate. After immigrating to the U.S. in the 1960s, my mother spent her time and effort at the stove fine-tuning Chinese dishes that reminded her of home. She knew of nothing else and wanted nothing more at her table in California. I would inevitably learn more and need more.

Maybe that's what New Orleans means to me. It is a terrific city with an extraordinary history. But it is also among the first places I found myself, when I began to look, when I hoped to forge an identity outside of family. There is that thrill. Maybe that's the connection. And the food? Well, maybe the food is just a splendid bonus.

(A version of this essay appeared originally on www.culinate.com.)

A veggie diet

"Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread and pumpkin pie."

Jim Davis

Bowl-ed over

Goodness in an oversized Korean rice bowl.

Who knew?

"It was hard to say goodbye to Irina, my kind, precise Russian teacher, and to my journalist friends. I was sorry to leave the dazzling commentators I had interviewed, and also the Uzbek and Chechen women who sold me vegetables and homemade yogurt and honey at my local farmers' market. 

"Theirs were the best tomatoes I'd ever tasted. 'Tashkentsky!' the Uzbek women stated proudly, for everyone wanted produce from the capital of Uzbekistan, Tashkent. Who knew you had to come to Russia for the perfect tomato?"

Irris Makler in "Hope Street, Jerusalem"

Shocking

Shocking Pink Pasta

from Clotilde Dusoulier's "The French Market Cookbook: Vegetarian Recipes from My Parisian Kitchen"

12 ounces beets, peeled and diced
1 cup light whipping cream or unsweetened non-dairy cream alternative, such as soy or rice
1 clove garlic
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. whole cumin seeds or 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1 pound pasta, such as spaghetti, bucatini or linguine
freshly ground black pepper
1 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
2/3 cup almonds, toasted and roughly chopped

In a food processor or blender, combine the beets, cream, garlic, salt and cumin. Process until smooth.

Bring salted water to a boil in a large pot. Add the pasta and cook until it's a minute shy of al dente. Drain, return the pasta to the pot, and fold in the sauce. Return to medium heat and cook until heated through and al dente, about 1 minute.

Divide among warm bowls, sprinkle with pepper, and top with the parsley and almonds. Serve immediately. Makes 4 servings.

Summer corn

Corn Soup with Summer Vegetables

from Michelle Obama's "American Grown: The Story of the White House Kitchen Garden and Gardens Across America"

4 to 6 ears of fresh corn, shucked and silk removed
2 sprigs fresh thyme
juice of 1/2 lemon (about 1 Tbsp.)
salt
olive oil
grilled vegetables of your choice: zucchini, summer squash, tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, mushrooms

Cut the corn off the cobs and set aside.

Place the cobs in a large pot and just barely cover with water. Bring to a boil; then lower the heat and simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until the stock has a rich corn flavor. Strain the stock and set aside.

Reserve 3/4 cup of the corn kernels and place the remaining corn in a blender. Blend, starting on low speed and increasing the speed as the corn purees. You can add a little of the corn stock to get the corn started. Blend on high for 45 seconds to a minute.

Pour the pureed corn into a medium saucepan through a fine-mesh strainer to remove the bits of skin. Add the thyme and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently. You do not want the soup to boil.

As the soup heats, the natural starch will begin to thicken the soup. Once the soup has thickened, add the lemon juice and the reserved corn stock little by little until the soup reaches the desired thickness. You should have 4 to 6 cups of soup. Add salt to taste.

Heat a small frying pan over medium heat; add enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan. When the oil begins to smoke, add the reserved corn kernels and do not stir until the corn has a nice brown color. Stir the corn and then remove it from the heat.

Add the seared corn and any other grilled vegetable of your choice on top of the soup and serve. Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Rhubarb love

Rhubarb. In any language, in any farmers market, it is a personal favorite.

Feasting

Cooking without meat in no way means cooking without flavor. 

In her sixth volume, "Indian Vegetarian Feast: Fresh, Simple, Healthy Dishes for Today's Family," BBC presenter Anjum Anand ("Indian Food Made Easy") concentrates on sensible vegetarian dishes. 

A London resident who visits Delhi and Calcutta regularly, she prepares mostly vegetarian foods for her husband and children. She offers ideas for meals throughout the day that privilege herbs, spices, rice, beans and whole grains. 

Her "desert island ingredient would be humble Bengal gram (chana dal), a type of lentil," she writes. Highly versatile, "it can be made into a curry, stir-fried with spices into a protein-rich side dish, even used to make a dessert." 

Anand combines yellow lentils with ginger and chilies to create "fluffy, spongy, savory" steamed lentil cakes, served in a spicy rasam broth. 

For appetizers, she makes tandoori baby potatoes — twice-cooked potatoes with cumin, garam masala, coriander and paprika — and tops them with herbed yogurt. 

To griddled zucchini carpaccio, she adds an Indian-inspired chickpea salsa "based upon a roadside chaat," drizzles pistachio dressing and scatters feta cheese. 

That none of the recipes here appears excessive or inaccessible is a testament to Anand's ability to simplify ingredients and techniques. Emma Lee's bright and evocative images add class to the presentation.

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

Spring peas

Spring Pea Salad

from Michelle Obama's "American Grown: The Story of the White House Kitchen Garden and Gardens Across America"

2 1/2 cups shelled fresh green peas
1 small shallot, thinly sliced
1 small leek (white part only), cleaned and thinly sliced
zest and juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup shredded fresh mint leaves
salt
freshly ground black pepper

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Pour the peas into the water and cook for no more than 2 minutes. Drain and immediately plunge the peas into a bowl of ice water. Drain and pat dry with a towel. Puree 1/2 cup of the peas in a blender.

Place the peas, pea puree, shallot and leek in a medium glass or stainless steel bowl and toss gently to combine.

Add the lemon zest and juice, olive oil and mint. Season with salt and pepper and toss gently until the vegetables are coated. Serve immediately. Makes 6 to 8 servings.

Chill-y

Live things everywhere

cutting greens

curling them around
i hold their bodies in obscene embrace
thinking of everything but kinship.
collards and kale
strain against each strange other
away from my kissmaking hand and
the iron bedpot.
the pot is black,
the cutting board is black,
my hand,
and just for a minute
the greens roll black under the knife,
and the kitchen twists dark on its spine
and i taste in my natural appetite
the bond of live things everywhere.

Lucille Clifton, quoted in Kevin Young's "The Hungry Ear: Poems of Food and Drink"

Thai one on

Fava bean Friday

The fava beans go from this

 to this

to this

in the span of a Friday afternoon. It is time well spent.

"Plenty"

"For me, every food can be special. I always think you can add beauty and luxury to a dish by adding lots of herbs to it.

"I think a huge platter always looks better than a small plate, so to make my guests welcome and feel special I put many beautiful platters with food, as I do in my shops, so it's quite a lot around, a lot to choose from.

"Once you've done that, you can make the simplest things in the world, and still everyone thinks you've gone to the longest of efforts, but actually it's as simple as that."

Yotam Ottolenghi, author of "Plenty: Vibrant Vegetable Recipes from London's Ottolenghi," on NPR's Weekend Edition Sunday

Squash squashed

Or squashed squash. Same difference.

Craving curry

A Ferris wheel set up for the Treasure Island Music Festival reminds me in some way of the London Eye, you know, if the Ferris wheel had been many times larger, if the bay had been the Thames, the Bay Bridge the Westminster Bridge, and the San Francisco skyline Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. Yes, I am crazy.

But I think of London. I do. All the time. When the sky is overcast, I think of London. When it threatens to rain in Northern California, I welcome the wet weather. Bring it. When I hear an accent, from an actor or writer or broadcaster, I think of London. I am here, but I suspect I should be there.

I think of London and begin to crave curry. Any kind. When a head of cauliflower costs less than a dollar at the market, I grab one to make curry, using a straightforward recipe from Bon Appetit. I combine cauliflower with chickpeas, tomatoes and coconut milk, and cook it down. I eat curry with rice, basmati if I have some, medium grain white rice if I don't. At the table, I think of London.

Curried Cauliflower and Chickpea Stew

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
2 1/2 cups chopped onions
5 tsp. curry powder
6 cups small cauliflower florets (from 1 medium head)
2 15 1/2-ounce cans garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drained
2 10-ounce cans diced tomatoes
1 14-ounce can unsweetened coconut milk
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Heat oil in large skillet over high heat.

Add onions and saute until golden brown, about 8 minutes. Add curry powder and stir 20 seconds.

Add cauliflower and garbanzo beans. Stir 1 minute. Add diced tomatoes, then coconut milk. Bring to a boil.

Reduce heat to medium-low, cover and boil gently until cauliflower is tender and liquid thickens slightly, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.

Season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir in cilantro. Serve over rice. Makes 4 servings.

What I like

What I like most about Korean restaurant meals: the variety that makes its way to the table.

The cool down

I see directions for a vegetable paella in a cookbook, and think to tackle the dish myself. I saute onions and bell peppers, but mess up on the spices. The heat is just a tad too intense. Not to worry. There is peach ice cream to finish.

Seeing green

I am a sucker for orzo. And cooked broccoli.

So I find myself drawn to Heidi Swanson's Orzo Salad, from her second cookbook "Super Natural Every Day: Well-Loved Recipes from My Natural Foods Kitchen."

The dish promises to be light, tasty and healthful. It will work itself easily into the rotation. These days I have been seeing green. Happily.

Orzo Salad
from Heidi Swanson's "Super Natural Every Day: Well-Loved Recipes from My Natural Foods Kitchen"

fine-grained sea salt
1 1/2 cups whole wheat orzo
5 cups raw broccoli cut into small florets and stems
2 cloves garlic, peeled
2/3 cup pine nuts, toasted
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup creme fraiche
grated zest of 1 lemon
1 small ripe avocado, peeled, pitted and sliced

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Salt generously, add the orzo and cook according to the package instructions. Drain, rinse with cold water and drain well again.

In the meantime, cook the broccoli. Bring 3/4 cup water to a boil in a large pot. Add a big pinch of salt and stir in the broccoli. Cover and cook for 1 minute, just long enough to take off the raw edge. Quickly drain the broccoli in a strainer and run under cold water to stop the cooking. Drain well and set aside.

To make the pesto, combine 2 cups of the cooked broccoli, the garlic, most of the pine nuts, the Parmesan, 1/4 teaspoon salt and 2 tablespoons of the lemon juice in a food processor. Drizzle in the olive oil and creme fraiche and pulse until smooth.

Just before serving, toss the orzo and the remaining cooked broccoli florets with about two-thirds of the broccoli pesto and the lemon zest. Thin with a bit of warm water if you like, then taste and adjust if needed. You might want to add a bit more salt, or an added drizzle of lemon juice, or more pesto.

Gently fold in the avocado. Turn out into a bowl or onto a platter and top with the remaining pine nuts. Makes 6 servings.

Dining at Ruth's

The second oldest restaurant in Utah - we haven't a clue as to the first - Ruth's Diner in Emigration Canyon is housed in an old-school trolley car. We like the vibe and the decor.

With baked macaroni and cheese, a grilled portobello mushroom sandwich, and a classic chocolate malt pudding, we also like the menu.