I'm a little late in posting this, but Kathy continues to crank out the good stuff over at her blog. Check out her etouffee. And if the mood strikes you, show her a little moral support by contributing on her behalf to the Gourmet Survivor Hurricane Katrina Relief Fund.
Well, your donations were unfortunately not enough to keep Kathy in the Amateur Gourmet's Gourmet Survivor II Hurricane Relief Contest. She was eliminated in last week's voting, by the slimmest of margins. Nevertheless, indefatigable cook that she is, Kathy continues to play along, and this week she has created some spectacular-looking beignets. Please go check them out, and consider donating a few dollars to hurricane victims in support of Kathy's continued efforts.
Welcome to the Gourmet Survivor Competition, a foodblog-community fundraiser for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. This effort is the brain-child of Adam over at the Amateur Gourmet, and the rules and developments can be found at his site. All you really need to know is that there are four competitors each battling for your votes (and charity dollars) by blogging their experiments with New Orleans cuisine. Here at Frost Street, we're supporting Kathy Mayers, a saucy SoCal gourmande (just look at the photo scavenger hunt she completed to qualify for the competition). Kathy has some serious chops in the kitchen, so make sure she stays in the competition by voting for her at the Gourmet Survivor donations page. A five dollar donation buys you one vote, but there's no limit to the number of votes you can cast, so vote early, vote often, and be sure to put Kathy's name in the comments section of your donation.
Now, on to why you should vote for Kathy: Check out the wicked po' boy she put together for the first round of the competition. If you want to see more spectacular kitchen adventures like these, be sure to keep Kathy in the running by giving generously:
Kathy's Po' Boy Entry:
Reading about the first challenge, my first reaction was, "but I've never eaten a po' boy before!" How on earth could I possibly do justice to something I had never even tried? Armed with only the most hazy idea of what a po' boy might consist of (something about seafood and a long roll…maybe?) I went in search of more information. I thumbed through cookbooks, searched the web and asked anyone I could think of 1) if they had ever had one and 2) what made it really good. Then the planning began.I wanted to make something close to whatever a "classic" po' boy might be, if only so I could try one for myself for the first time. I decided to go with fried shrimp as the filling and a remoulade sauce as accompaniment. But the bread was just as important. How to find something light with just the right crunchy exterior?
Bernard Clayton's "New Complete Book of Breads" to the rescue. I flipped right past all the classic French bread recipes and settled on "Blue Ribbon French Bread", a loaf enriched with small amounts of nonfat milk, butter and sugar. This would hopefully give the right texture and flavor to complement the shrimp and other fillings. The dough was a little sticky but pretty easy to work with.
They came out just as I had imagined – light, chewy, with just a bit of crunch in the crust. Now, on to the remoulade. But first I needed a good mayonnaise.
Note: this was my first attempt at mayonnaise, outside of opening a jar of Best Foods. I can't even think of a good reason why I haven't made any in the past, other than I've never been a big mayo fan and didn't see the point. But this sandwich deserved the best, and that was not going to come out of any jar.
Now I understand why people love mayonnaise. Truly glorious stuff that I wanted to dollop or smear or just, well, taste over and over to properly ensure quality. I'm all about quality control. I almost hated to add everything else so this lovely sauce could become a proper remoulade. In went the celery, green onion, garlic, mustard, parsley, ketchup, lemon juice, worcestershire sauce, hot sauce (Crystal, my favorite!), and salt. I had to try a little right then and it took all the self control I have not to polish off the whole bowl with a spoon then and there. Off it went to sit in the refrigerator so all those flavors could marry properly. But first, a close up:
Finally, it was time to prepare the shrimp. I mixed them with some mustard thinned with a little bit of milk, then drained them. Off they went into a bag filled with flour, cornmeal, salt, cayenne, and garlic powder, then off into the fryer for a quick dip to crisp up. At the same time I cooked up some Nimon Ranch applewood smoked bacon, This was a complete departure from anything remotely classic, but I thought the smokiness of the bacon would pair well with the sweetness of the shrimp. Once both were drained it was time for a test. I dipped one of the shrimp in a bit of remoulade and took a bite. Completely delicious. Then I tried a bite with a bit of bacon added. Even more delicious. The bacon played a perfect base note to the sweet, tender saltiness of the shrimp. Call me a heretic, but bacon would be in my po' boy sandwich.
I toasted the roll just enough to add another layer of crispness. On top of that, I slathered remoulade sauce with abandon. On top of this came butter lettuce and tomatoes fresh out of my neighbor's yard. Shrimp just out of the hot oil, still tender inside, were placed reverently on top. Then the bacon, tucked carefully between the plump, crispy shrimp. Last came the top slice, also covered in that wonderful remoulade.
As I bit down, all I could think was, "why haven't I ever eaten a po' boy before?" And more importantly, "how soon can I eat one again?"
What did I tell you? Look at that po' boy! How could you not want to see more New Orleans delicacies like this? Well, it's all in your hands: go straight to the Gourmet Survivor donations page and vote for Kathy. Remember: Five dollars per vote, vote early and often, and don't forget to put Kathy's name in the comments for your donation.
I've been reading a little bit about jazz funerals this week. They are, of course, famous for their wild celebratory music, but the dancing and revelry don't begin until the departed is laid to rest. Until the mourners "cut the body loose" at graveside, the jazz funeral is a somber march. Only when the deceased is at peace do the mourners raise their horns to heaven to sing the spirit on to its reward. First the dirge, then the dance.
I've never been to New Orleans. A year ago Lisa blogged her trip there, and the city obviously deserves to be celebrated. But today there is still too much suffering, too much death, and too little peace to start the dancing. There is work to be done to ease the survivors' suffering, and to bring the too, too many dead to rest.
Adam over at The Amateur Gourmet is organizing a foodblogger charity effort that should be unveiled this week. In the meantime, please donate what you can to the Red Cross.
Guest Author: Lisa
And now, on to the defendant's case......We visited K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen on Chartres Street in the French Quarter. Although the "Paul" part of the restaurant's name is self-explanatory, our waiter informed us that "K" refers to Paul's late wife and business partner, Kay. Compared with Emeril's, K-Paul's is a smaller, less modern and homier restaurant; but both fit into the areas of the city where they are located.
To start, my brother ordered the gumbo, which was absolutely fantastic. I had never had gumbo before, but Mark, a Louisiana resident for the past two years, declared this the best gumbo he had ever tasted. Just look at that picture -- doesn't the gumbo look great???:
I had the turtle soup to start, which was fine but unexpectedly tastes like chili.
Most of my dining party/jury raved about their main course. My mother ordered veal medallions and my brother ordered steak. They didn't need to tell me how much they liked it; I could tell that they because they virtually licked their plates clean. Although I have some genes in common with these two, they usually (unlike me) eat like birds, so cleaning their plates is therefore an unequivocal endorsement. Jessica ordered the soft shell crab, which came atop creamy seafood pasta. She enjoyed it but also seemed to indicate that it was a little rich. I ordered the drum, which I found tasty and mild, but my brother thought it was salty.
For dessert, we had the bread pudding and sweet potato pecan pie. Neither is my preferred dessert in a regular meal (dessert means chocolate for me), but I wanted to try more traditionally Southern food while I was in New Orleans. Both were quite good, especially the bread pudding, which I normally do not care for.
My jury seemed loathe to announce a verdict. They found it difficult to compare the two restaurants because the places and their food were very different. Ultimately they returned what amounts to a split verdict -- they seemed to prefer the service at Emeril's, but liked the food at K-Paul's better. However, under my home-cooked Lisa law, I am going to render what we lawyers call a judgment notwithstanding the verdict, and judgment is for the defendant. At the outset, this case was meant to determine which restaurant would provide the best New Orleans dining experience, and I believe that K-Paul's does that. Emeril's throws some Louisiana-type food on its menu, but really, it's trying to be something more than a Louisiana restaurant. What that "more" is, I'm not sure, but I was looking for something more authentic than what is becoming one in a chain of high-priced restaurants. Truthfully, if I went to a similar restaurant in Manhattan, I probably would have been disappointed. However, K-Paul's achieves the New Orleans authenticity I was looking for -- it is not pretentious, the environment is cozy, the menu is centered on cajun food, and the food was outstanding. Thus, my judgment is for Paul Prudhomme, with sanctions against the plaintiff for overuse of the word "Bam!" I just can't tolerate obnoxious signature exclamations in my courtroom.
Guest Author: Lisa
As I mentioned earlier, I am not a foodie. So basically, I?ve only heard of a chef if he or she is famous, or if Jeremy has raved about them to me. As for famous chefs in New Orleans, I am sure there are other lesser-known but also fabulous chefs, but the two I had heard of are Emeril Lagasse and Paul Prudhomme. I know of these chefs because (1) Emeril has a television show in which he say ?Bam!? all the time, and (2) Paul Prudhomme is a large guy. Thus, I made reservations to eat at each of their restaurants when I visited New Orleans.
Because, like Jeremy, I am a lawyer, I have decided to turn this into a case of sorts? which chef provides the better New Orleans dining experience? My dining party will serve as the jury, and I will serve as the final arbiter of the law as the judge. While I realize that venue would most properly lie in Louisiana, as a New York licensed lawyer I am unfamiliar with the Napoleonic Code. Thus, I?ll be honest with you ? I am going to decide this case under some home-cooked Lisa law.
Also, the record is incomplete. Not being a pseudo-professional food blogger, I failed to write down the names of the dishes I ate at the various restaurants, and I was also embarrassed to take pictures of food. (Food bloggers, I must inform you that it is really not normal to take pictures of food. Most people take pictures of people, or interesting landmarks, like the cool picture of a cornstalk fence I posted above. I find it embarrassing when Jeremy and I are in a fancy restaurant and the owner comes over and asks Jeremy why he is taking pictures of the food and jotting down things in a notebook.) However, for the sake of this blog and my boyfriend?s good will, I swallowed my pride and took some food pictures anyway, so you food experts out there will be able to tell what we ate, even if I don?t remember its precise name and preparation.
Anyway, we will start with the plaintiff?s case. I have decided that Emeril will serve as plaintiff because he strikes me as the more litigious of the two chefs ? probably due to the whole aggressive ?Bam!? thing. At any rate, we dined the Emeril?s in the Warehouse District, his original restaurant. (He has two other restaurants in New Orleans -- Emeril?s Delmonico and NOLA -- as well as restaurants in other cities.) My jury was particularly bowled over by the service at Emeril?s. Our waiter was superb, and he was pretty funny too. For instance, the member of the wait staff who brought over a basket containing a variety of breads told us that Emeril's cornbread was the best in Louisiana. However, our primary waiter confidentially informed us, in his charming Southern drawl, that it was his momma who made the best cornbread. No doubt! He was also helpful in helping Jessica open her papillote (which contained a fish of some sort which she described as ?mild? and very good):
My brother and I both had ?A Study of Duck,? a special which contained duck prepared three ways, topped by foie gras and sitting atop of bread pudding of sorts:
My brother enjoyed the dish, but I thought it was OK. I did not like one of the preparations, where the duck was kind of ground-up, and I didn?t feel that the bread pudding went well with the duck. Frankly, I?ve had better duck. Nonetheless, the other two preparations of duck were very tasty.
In the next post, I will present defendant?s case and the verdict.
Guest Author: Lisa
New Orleans, of course, is not known only for its wonderful food, but for its superb jazz scene. Supposedly, visitors interested in jazz should not miss Preservation Hall. While jazz is great and all, I skipped Preservation Hall -- after all, they don't serve food or drink there! Mon dieu! I decided that the better option would be to combine the food, drink and jazz by attending the Jazz Brunch at Commander's Palace, a much lauded Big Easy restaurant.
Commander's Palace is located in large aqua-colored building in the Garden District, making it conveniently located for a pleasant pre- or post-brunch stroll around the gorgeous neighborhood and/or Lafayette Cemetery. A jazz trio, complete with a bass player with a Louis Armstrong voice, entertains the diners during the Sunday brunch. My mother appreciated that the jazz was "not too intrusive," but was not just background music either. Curiously, during one of the songs the New Orleanites began dancing around the dining room, waving their napkins in the air. This was quite a spectacle for a Northern girl like me, used to brunching at crowded restaurants packed too tight to allow for conga line, and I was a bit too shy to join the dancing.
The brunch price includes an appetizer, main dish and dessert. All of the food was spectacular, but there were a few highlights. My brother enjoyed the shrimp remoulade, which he described as tasting "like really good cole slaw, but with shrimp in it..." "....but with a kick!" my mother added.
All four members of my dining party enjoyed poached eggs for the main course, preferring to order breakfasty-food for Sunday brunch rather than the meat dishes that were also available on the brunch menu. This was a good choice, as the eggs melted in your mouth, but for good measure I ordered eggs that came atop pork chops, which were delectable as well.
For dessert, I took a chance and skipped the traditional and highly-recommended bread pudding for a trio of melon sorbets. I wasn't disappointed -- the sorbets tasted just like actual honeydew, cantaloupe and watermelon, but frozen. It was a perfect refreshing dessert for typical New Orleans summer day (i.e., oppressively hot and humid).
Guest Author: Lisa
You may have noticed that the humble proprietor of this weblog, Jeremy, has been a bit busy lately -- though perhaps by "busy" he really means "I'm in rehab". In any event, I agreed to guest blog on Frost Street for a few entries in order to fill up some of the dead air. However, I must warn you that if you're looking for the sophisticated food analysis you generally expect from Jeremy, you will not find it in my entries. I am culinarily challenged.
So, what these entries will lack in quality I hope to make up in quantity -- I eat a lot, and I'm proud to report that I just spent the weekend eating and drinking my way through New Orleans. To start, my hotel was conveniently located a mere two blocks from the inimitable Caf頄u Monde, and because the caf頩s open 24 hours a day, beignets and caf頡u lait made both a delicious breakfast and a great late night snack. Truth be told, beignets are basically nothing more than the zeppole you'll find at every New York City street fair, yet for some reason, beignets are better. Maybe it's just the romance of sitting in an outdoor caf頩n a lazy Southern city, powdered sugar swirling in the air around you. I certainly hope the atmosphere is part of it -- I prefer that beignets remain a New Orleans treat. If Caf頄u Monde could replicate its magic on the Upper West Side, it would do some major damage to my waistline.
