A Rumpus in the Big Easy (and a Sazerac recipe)

Visit the author @ www.KurtFriese.com

In April I had the opportunity to spend a few days in New Orleans.  It would take a kind of Faulknerian prose that eludes me to express the spectrum I witnessed there: beauty and sadness, devastation and rebirth.  One store open for business, the store next door boarded and forlorn.  One home rebuilt and cheery, with flowers in the window boxes and emanating jazz and gumbo, while the one next to it still sits imploded and rotting.

The aspect that struck me more than any other, though, was determination.  Nearly a quarter of a million people (it was once a half a million) live in New Orleans Parish today.  Each one I met displayed the kind of grit and resolve we all wish to have in the face of adversity.  They want their city back, and they have the willpower to make it happen.  What they really need is you, and everyone else, to pay them a visit.

The New Orleans economy revolves around tourism like Iowa's revolves around corn and soybeans.  It's not the whole thing, but they can't get by without it.  So if you have a few days to head downriver for a spell, here's a sampling of what you might find.

My stay kicked off with a meal at Susan Spicer's legendary restaurant, Bayona.  After a traditional New Orleans cocktail called a Sazerac, (recipe below), the first course was rosemary-roasted shrimp with artichokes and grape tomatoes.  Next our guests chose from a cream of garlic soup; a green gumbo (which has collards and other braising greens in it) with a fried oyster garnish; crispy smoked quail salad with bourbon-molasses vinaigrette; or a Caesar-style salad of romaine and arugula.

I chose the gumbo, mainly because I wanted the oyster – my thirst cannot be quenched – but the gumbo itself was hearty and delicious, with just a hint of Cajun spice.

For the entrée we had an especially difficult choice to make, between sautéed local flounder with crab, corn and Ellis Stansel rice; fried buttermilk rabbit with stoneground grits, roasted mirliton (also known as chayote) and tasso sauce; grilled duck breast with pepper jelly glaze, or a lamb loin with goat cheese and Zinfandel sauce.  I chose the rabbit, and it was the right choice.  The tasso sauce lent a rich spice to the dish, and the idea of garnishing with a brochette of the offal was truly inspired.

Our dessert was brown butter crumble cake with candied orange and cane syrup ice cream.  An outstanding finish, and delicious with my chicory-tinged coffee.

The next day's lunchtime found me wandering around the Quarter, where about three-quarters of the shops and restaurants were open, and all the bars.  Lots of good jazz blaring from the French Quarter festival by the riverside, so I ate there, and especially enjoyed the fish tacos (I had three).

That afternoon, I had the honor and privilege of cooking with Miss Leah Chase, owner and chef of the famous Dookie Chase's Creole restaurant since 1941.  When Louis Armstrong signed his letters "Red Beans and Ricely Yours," these are the beans he was referring to.  He, Duke Ellington and Nat King Cole were all regulars. 

Today Dookie's is closed by the flood, but they expect to reopen in August at their original location on Orleans Avenue.  That's gonna be a party.  If you go, don't expect cutting edge high cuisine.  This is Cajun & Creole charm served with a sense of history, and Miss Leah's Gumbo is not to be missed.

In the evening it was Bon Ton Café, just around the corner from the International House Hotel where I was staying.  Another New Orleans institution, Bon Ton is famous for its crawfish etouffé and its bread pudding with whiskey sauce.  Both were amazing, though extremely rich one after the other.

Bon Ton serves a great Sazerac too.  Here's that drink recipe I promised you:

1 teaspoon of simple syrup (that's equal parts water and cane sugar, boiled)
3 - 4 dashes Peychaud's bitters (and only Peychaud's)
2 ounces rye whiskey (most natives of New Orleans use Old Overholt)
1/4 teaspoon Herbsaint, (a New Orleans brand of anise liqueur)
Strip of lemon peel

Use a nice, heavy-bottomed "Old Fashioned" type glass.  The kind that sounds so inviting when you drop ice into it from just the right height.  Too high and you'll chip the ice.  Chip the ice and it'll melt too fast…

At any rate this drink doesn't get ice in the glass, it is served "up."  Add the Herbsaint to the glass, and swirl it around to coat the sides and bottom of the glass. Discard the excess by pouring it back in the bottle.  The flavor of the Herbsaint should be there, but just a hint -- it should not overwhelm.  In a cocktail shaker, add four or five small ice cubes, then add the sugar syrup, whiskey and bitters. Stir gently for about 30 seconds.  Don't shake it, because a frothy Sazerac is all wrong.   Strain into the Herbsaint-coated glass. Twist lemon peel over the drink, and try to watch carefully to make sure a cascade of tiny lemon oil droplets actually strike the surface of the drink; this is an important  part of the preparation ritual. Rub the twist over the rim of the glass, then add as garnish and serve.

Visit the author @ www.KurtFriese.com