The local butter lettuce in my fridge was calling out for larb, the simple, adaptable Thai salad generally made from minced pork or chicken cooked in broth with the addition of fish sauce, lime juice and other spices. Served at room temperature and tucked in lettuce or cabbage, larb (or more properly, larp or lahp) is sublimely citrusy, gently spicy and full of pleasing crunch.
It’s also really easy to make. Here’s how:
I know you’ve heard this before, but the nice thing about buying local it that takes minimal effort to make fresh ingredients taste great. That’s exactly the kind of stripped-down cooking I’m about these days as I try to simply keep my head above water (like everybody).
Last Saturday, (our three kids shockingly free from morning activities) John and I snuck out and dropped by our local Red Stick Farmers Market in downtown Baton Rouge to do some shopping. We were having friends over that night, and I wanted to put together an easy appetizer and a tray of roasted vegetables.
This time of year in south Louisiana, we start to hit that fun period at the market where we can find both cooler temperature crops, like carrots, Brussels sprouts, beets and asparagus, as well as warmer crops like peppers and cucumbers. Gotta love a year round growing season! I bought a big variety of veggies, along with honey from two vendors for morning smoothies, and herbed goat cheese and a whole wheat half baguette for a quick hors d’oeuvre that evening.
The veggies were, as usual, gorgeous and inspiring! I know, food nerd. But still….
Anyone who has ever boiled crawfish knows that events, after the boil, fall one of three ways:
We found ourselves facing #2 this weekend after boiling more than 100 pounds for my husband’s family, so three of us sat down and took on the remainder. It yielded about four cups of tails, plenty for a crawfish-centric main course for 4 to 6, and definitely worth the trouble.
There have been plenty of times when I’ve peeled leftover tails and the haul wasn’t so generous, but I do it anyway. No matter how many tails you’re left with, you can find something fun to do with them, from frittatas and savory pies, to cold salads to classic entrées.
Here are two ways to enjoy crawfish tails after the boil.
Easter signals ham, lamb and casseroles in other parts of the South, but in Louisiana, boiled crawfish is front and center. In recent years in the state, Holy Week has become the pinnacle of the crawfish harvest, with farmers working double time to meet demand and consumers often having to plunk down deposits to reserve sacks.
My Easter weekend routine likely resembles many of my fellow Bayou State residents: immediate and extended family gathered outside on a (hopefully) warm and clear spring day while sacks of live crawfish wait to be poured into roaring, spiked water.
Boiling crawfish, like so many native dishes, is highly personal — and those who boil have strong opinions on how it should be done…
I thought I’d squeeze in one more hot soup blog before the weather gets toasty and our thoughts turn elsewhere.
Lately, I’ve been making a big pot of vegetable soup on the weekends, starting with homemade beef stock. I went through a phase when I bought beef stock from the store – there are so many good quality ones these days, and it definitely saves time – but honestly, nothing compares to the real thing. And last year, I got inspired to return to homemade stock after we did a fun 225 Magazine story on great local soups. I had the best time picking the brains of local chefs on what makes their signature soups so delicious. Some soups were cream-based, and their success turned on straightforward decadence. But others, like Dang’s pho, MJ’s Café’s black bean and Galatoire’s Bistro’s turtle, were soups that rose and fell on house-made stocks. No surprise, they were tended for many hours at a time.
Chef Kelley McCann at Galatoire’s Bistro told me about roasting a medley of veal bones, including lots of gelatinous joints, before simmering them for hours in order to make a super rich reduction for the restaurant’s signature turtle soup. Even Maureen Joyce’s vegetable stock, used in her black bean soup at MJ’s, called for overnight slow-roasting of multiple root vegetables. Soup seems so simple, but a really good soup requires some behind-the-scenes work.
I’m not sure I have that much time to devote, but I can certainly muster a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon while I’m hanging out with my family and doing loads (…and loads…) of laundry.
So, the question is, which bones are best for creating a stock that makes your soup sing?
I lovvvvvee the flavor of lemon.
And I know I sound like dorky Food Network obsessive when I make the very predictable claim that it adds a necessary note of freshness. But it’s so true! Lemon rocks. That citrusy punch is perfect in so many sweet and savory dishes.
We still have fresh lemons on our backyard tree, and I’ve been furiously finding ways to use the last of the crop before I have to start paying for them at the grocery store. One of my favorite uses has been in a version of avgolemono, the sumptuous Greek lemon chicken soup with rice or orzo. I remember noshing on this light but hardy dish at the old Zorba’s on Perkins Road here in Baton Rouge (where Louisiana Lagniappe is located now). The restaurant reopened last year on Essen Lane, and it still serves this traditional starter.
There are lots of interesting recipes out there for avgolemono, but the defining feature is that beaten eggs are incorporated into the broth, providing unexpected richness……