Because New Orleans (and all of Louisiana) is such a melting pot, and because Cajun and Creole dishes often have similar roots, including French, Spanish, Italian, African, Haitian, Cuban, German, and Native American, some of the distinctions between what's Creole food and what's Cajun food can be hard to make. In his book My New Orleans, chef John Besh explains that Creole gumbo pays tribute to a "rich variety of cultures and ingredients, whereas Cajun gumbo evolved as the essence of peasant food, a way to feed a large number of people making the very best of whatever meager ingredients were at hand," and John Folse's Encyclopedia of Cajun & Creole Cuisine extolls Creole cuisine as a "more sophisticated cousin" to Cajun cooking. Explanations like these work perfectly when comparing elegant Creole dishes to rustic cast-iron Cajun stews, but the waters grow murkier near a pot of jambalaya.
what's creole, what's cajun, and what's jambalaya?
red beans and rice: form and theory
Red beans and rice is one of the quintessential New Orleans dishes. You eat them on Monday--every Monday, if possible--after cooking them on Sunday and soaking them on Saturday night. Monday was "wash day" in New Orleans, and became the traditional day for eating red beans because they could be cooked all day with little fuss while doing other chores. I love to make huge batches and freeze them in meal-size portions, so each Monday morning I can set one container out to thaw and dinner is planned. Make up some fresh rice, heat the beans, and get some pickled onions...oh yes, the pickled onions. More on those later.
surprised by pie: Mother's
Mother's is a New Orleans institution, famous for long lines, great grits, and heavenly baked ham. The first time I went there, I ordered a ham po-boy--the ham is what's touted on their sign, after all. But maybe I shouldn't have gone for the ham the first time. It's the most perfect ham sandwich in the world. The problem is that I can't order anything else on the menu. I'll try the jambalaya or red beans or grits that other people at my table order--and bless them for doing that--but I'm committed to the ham po-boy above all else.
This is it. I know it doesn't look like much, but trust me, it is the holy grail of ham sandwiches. The truth lies in the simplicity and honesty of the ingredients: shaved baked ham, shredded cabbage, mayonnaise, Creole mustard, pickles, and fresh French bread. The ham is slightly sweet, the cabbage has a PhD in crispness, and the mayo and mustard create a background chorus that Ray Charles would hire on the spot. I know I'm hyperbolic, but do you know that I would never get hyperbolic unless I felt it was my duty? Because I wouldn't, I promise you.







