Cajun Grilled Shrimp Gumbo with Traveling Beans
(pescetarian, gluten-free option)
Not long ago, a box showed up at my front door. Sturdy and rectangular and curiously not-book shaped, it inspired a million fleeting possibilities as I ran up the steps toward it. The return label bore an address somewhere in New Orleans, and the name Poche.
Reggie Poche. Now this was a mysterious surprise. Even though Reggie and I drank and smoked (well, not me, but some of us) and wrote fiction late into the night as part of the same posse, I hadn’t spoken much to him since we graduated from our MFA program circa 2007. In our pod of 8 or so, some of us were very good writers and all of us were smart asses, and what we failed to accomplish in measurable written words was more than made up for with snarky jokes, long, wailing discussions about the demise of our own creativity (feared more than death, loneliness or finding a Meg Ryan moment in our writing) , and late nights at the Pin Up Bowl. Oh, the old days of not-even-five- years- ago! How I miss them so!
For a moment I stood on the porch and held the box in my arms, imagining that unbeknownst to me, Reggie had published his first novel. Trust me when I say that it’s going to be any day now. Of all the writers in the group, Reggie was by far the most talented (and we all know it so I know I’m not offending any of the others who might read this) and he also had a work ethic that was nearly unrivaled. That, of course, is the biggest problem for most writers: the actual, well, writing part of writing (you might point out that this seems to be my problem lately too, but I’ll thank you not to). But Reggie wrote first and did everything else as an afterthought.
But no novel yet. What I found inside that box instead made me happier than a letter saying someone wants to publish one of my stories. But I’ll let you read it in Reggie’s words:
Becky,
I’ve never gifted anyone beans before, so I am enjoying the novelty of sending you this. But also, when these beans were given to me, I had no idea what to do with them. If they can’t be microwaved, I’m powerless. You were the only person I thought of who may appreciate them.
They were given to me by the parents of one of my University of New Orleans colleagues. They drove from Idaho to Louisiana last week and brought some crops from their farm along. The beans come from Gott Farms in Eden, ID. I was only told that the pink variety is called Viva; I’m not sure what the red ones are.
By now you’ve probably noticed the smaller bag with the prayer card and dried fava bean. That’s from me. I have not found religion or anything like that; it’s just a little bit of New Orleans culture I thought you may like.
I’m currently writing an essay to be collected in an anthology of why people choose New Orleans as home. My contribution is on the St. Joseph Altar tradition of my childhood, which has been practiced in New Orleans since the turn of the century, when immigrants from Sicily came to the city.
According to legend, Sicily suffered a severe drought in the Middle Ages. The people prayed to St. Joseph to deliver them from the drought, and he did. To offer thanks for their survival, they and their ancestors created elaborate altars of food dedicated to the saint. This tradition is still very strong in New Orleans, and celebrated on March 19 each year. The fava bean is called a lucky bean, a magic bean of sorts. It represents the only crop to survive the famine in Sicily because of its drought tolerance. This crop was the saving grace delivered by St. Joseph. The public is invited each year to view and eat from many family and church congregation altars around the city. When you leave, you receive a lucky bean, along with a prayer card, Sicilian cookies, and blessed Italian bread. Since the lucky bean is blessed by a priest, many people consider them to be magical. Keep it in your purse, and you will never go broke. Keep it in your pantry, and you will never go hungry. I hope you use it well.
Take care,
Reggie
Well. The only possible thing to do was to make authentic Cajun shrimp gumbo. And don’t worry – I didn’t cook the blessed fava bean. It’s in my purse so that I might never be broke, and so that I will always have money to buy wonderful food.
Thanks Reggie, I wish you were here to share it.
The Recipe(s):
Lately, my recipes have been two-step. I apologize for that, but I have to admit that I’m enjoying the flavor-layering effect that’s rendered in the final dish. In this recipe, I marinated and grilled the shrimp over an outdoor fire to get the distinct, hickoried piquancy. Less complicated, I also layered dried oregano and thyme with fresh from my backyard – the first clippings of the year (well, not counting the mint for the last post).
[In garden news: Radishes coming in a week or so! Take a look at the end of this post for a few shots from the garden (the pretty little white flower is an alium of some sort. The big purple aliums are the variety chrisophii, which stun me each time I see them.]
Since we’re talking history, I’m using a recipe adapted from a book that’s about as old as the fava bean blessing tradition. Called Warm and Tasty: The Wood Heat Stove Cookbook, and written by Margaret Byrd Adams, this treasure from 1981 (okay, okay…. still, you might be painfully shocked to realize that this was almost 30 years ago) is a collection of recipes that were originally cooked, on an open fire. What’s endearing about the cookbook, besides its splattered and thinning pages and its fraying corners, is that each of the recipes in some way reflects a part of American History. I picked it up used back in the early 90s, and my most reliable chili recipe comes from it. You probably can’t find this book anymore, which makes me love it even better.
Reggie sent some mystery red beans along with the pink Viva beans. I know red ones are traditional in New Orleans food, but I was pulled in by the little cherubic ones. Cooked, they keep their soft pink hue, and their flavor is gentle and starchy — perfect for a kicked up dish like gumbo. Of course no one sent you pink beans from Gott Farms, so you can substitute red ones.
The recipe also calls for bacon, and you can omit that. I used Morningstar veggie bacon, but a splash of liquid smoke and soy sauce would convey the same flavor.
Cajun Seasoning Mix:
1 1/2 tablespoons sweet paprika
1 tablespoon smoked or half-sharp paprika
1 teaspoon salt
¾ tablespoon black pepper
¾ tablespoon cayenne pepper
½ tablespoon dried leaf oregano
½ tablespoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh thyme, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
Place the paprikas, salt, black pepper, cayenne, and dried oregano and thyme in a small bowl. Stir to combine. Add the fresh oregano and thyme and the garlic and stir again. Set aside.
Shrimp Gumbo with Viva Beans
1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 1/2 tablespoons of the Cajun seasoning mix (above), plus one tablespoon olive oil
6 strips vegetarian bacon – or a dash of liquid smoke and soy sauce
2-3 tablespoons butter (see note in recipe instructions)
A splash of olive oil
1 bunch chopped green onions
1 small white onion
4 cloves garlic, minced
¼ bunch fresh parsley
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 tablespoon Cajun seasoning mix
1 28-oz can of tomatoes
10 cups water
2 cups cooked rice (I used brown but white is traditional in New Orleans cooking)
2 cups cooked Viva beans (or small red kidney beans)
To grill the shrimp: Place the cleaned, deveined and peeled shrimp in a large container with a tight-fitting lid. Add the oil and the Cajun seasoning, place the lid on the container, and shake well to coat all pieces. Refrigerate and let marinate for at least 30 minutes and up to several hours, shaking and turning the container occasionally. Grill the shrimp – an outdoor, fire grill is best.
Gumbo: This recipe requires an authentic roux – a mixture of flour and fat, used as a thickening device often called for in New Orleans cooking. To achieve this, cook the bacon strips and then remove them from the skillet. If, like me, you used vegetarian bacon (or if you went with the smoke/soy sauce), you won’t get much fat from that, so use an extra tablespoon of butter instead (for three, total). Add the butter to the same skillet and let it melt, then add the flour, stirring well and constantly to make a golden brown roux. You’ll need to cook this for about 12 minutes – and don’t skimp, because this step mellows the pasty flavor of the flour that would otherwise haunt your whole pot of gumbo.
Next, add the onions, parsley, garlic, a tablespoon of the Cajun seasoning mix and a generous splash of oil. Cook, stirring often, for about 5 minutes. Add the bell pepper and cook a minute longer.Transfer to a large pot and add the tomatoes and water. When it begins to simmer, add the shrimp. Cook for about 10 minutes, then add the cooked beans and rice and cook for another 10 minutes.
And as promised, the garden photos. They are the mystery white allium, some Grandma Eink’s dill from Seed Saver’s Exchange, and a mix of heirloom lettuces, also from SSE.
