Check out this week's recipe.
The late great American chef and icon, Paul Prudhomme created and developed thousands of recipes in his lifetime. His books are filled with his culinary genius and creativity. Though, above all the recipes listed in all the indexes in his books, the one recipe that will still be attributed to him decades from now will be blackened redfish or blackened anything for that matter.
If you are
in a mid-scale chain restaurant in Bozeman, Montana, and order a blackened
chicken breast salad, or a seafood restaurant in the Florida Panhandle and order
blackened grouper, you can thank Prudhomme. That is how one leaves his/her impact
on an industry.
Prudhomme probably
didn’t invent blackening. It’s likely something he picked up in the home kitchens
and campsites of the remote bayous of his South Louisiana childhood home in Opelousas.
But he is the one who brought it to town. And he is the one that started using
that rustic cooking process in a fine-dining restaurant. And he is the one who
made that process so widespread and popular that an entire species of fish—
redfish— bordered on the edge of extinction and had to start being regulated by
the government for fear that it may vanish from the Gulf. True story.
Chefs
typically have signature dishes that follow them around for their entire
career. John Currence brought Shrimp and Grits to Mississippi. He learned the dish
while working for Bill Neal at Crook’s Corner in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
Currence brought it to The Square in Oxford when he opened City Grocery. I
would venture to say that Shrimp and Grits—though Neal brought it from the Low
Country into a restaurant— is more attributed to Currence these days than Neal.
There is
no chance of shrimp being over-fished, but that hasn’t stopped that particular dish
from spreading all over the country. We serve a version in one of our
restaurants. We also blacken proteins.
A dish
that has been associated with me for the past 30 years is white chocolate bread
pudding. I didn’t invent it. To my knowledge the chefs at Dickie Brennan’s
Palace Café created that dish when that restaurant opened on Canal Street in
the early 1990s. I ate it there around that time and loved it. I went back
several times determined to breakdown the recipe, take it back to our
restaurant, and recreate it. I brought friends with me and had them try it. I
ate a lot of it early on.
It’s now been
so long that I can’t remember if I asked the restaurant for their version of the
recipe or if I just winged it back in our kitchen until I got it right. But I
do remember making several changes to the way the Palace Café seemed to be
preparing theirs, in that I put the bread and loose custard into a mixing bowl
with the paddle attachment and slowly blended those two which gave the end
result a smooth, ribbony custard-like texture.
We have
been serving white chocolate bread pudding since then. It’s been in my books. It’s
been served at catering events and weddings. I once served it at a fundraising
event for one of Emeril Lagasse’s charities on the Mississippi Gulf Coast and we
served over 1,200 portions even though there were 800 people there. They kept
coming back for seconds. It’s one of those things— as far as recipes go— that
has stuck to me, even though I didn’t create it from its inception.
At the end
of the day, I would like my tombstone to read: “He was a good husband, a good
father, and a good friend.” At this rate it will likely state “Here lies the white
chocolate bread pudding guy.”
I have
created a few hundred recipes at our restaurants. Most of those recipes were
created in the early days when I was working as a full-time chef in the kitchen.
I don’t get behind the line anymore (I would greatly slow down the process),
though I still occasionally work side-by-side with our chef team these days to develop
new menu items or cookbook recipes. Out of all our menu offerings and cookbook
recipes, there is one recipe that has become popular, that can 100% be
attributed to me that is probably the most requested recipe in my arsenal. It’s
a dish I created in the late 1990s, baked shrimp and squash.
The dish
came from the need to get rid of a surplus amount of squash we had in the
restaurant. I combined a basic squash casserole base with sauteed shrimp that I
seasoned with Old Bay seasoning, and it became a hit.
A perfect
recipe crosses boundaries. The white chocolate bread pudding is that way. Due
to the silky consistency, people who don’t like bread pudding like it because it
has the texture of a custard. People who don’t like custard like it because it’s
more like a bread pudding. People that don’t like either custard or bread
pudding enjoy it because it doesn’t remind them of either and it just tastes
good.
The baked
shrimp and squash is similar. People who don’t like squash love this dish,
because it’s more like a seafood casserole. People who don’t like shrimp. Well,
I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like shrimp.
A perfect
recipe is versatile. The good thing about that shrimp and squash recipe is that
it can be served in a casserole dish as a buffet item at a nice dinner, or in a
Pyrex dish on a trivet in the middle of a table for a casual lunch. It can also
be portioned into individual rarebit dishes as we do in the restaurant and
served as a single entrée. At the all-vegetable summer lunches at our house, baked
shrimp and squash will sit among the butter beans, black eyed peas, new
potatoes, fried corn, and okra as the stand-alone protein.
A perfect
recipe also has a sense of place. My baked shrimp and squash is a perfect
example of what I call Piney Woods Cuisine. It is a dish that is “of” its
region. We are one-hour due north of the Gulf of Mexico, home to the world’s
best shrimp. We are 90 minutes northeast of Louisiana where Creole flavors have
a large influence in our dishes. And the South Mississippi garden provides
ample amounts of fresh squash. It’s inside that triangle that encompasses the
Mississippi Coast, New Orleans, and Hattiesburg Mississippi where my favorite
food is prepared and served.
My friend
and chef, Martha Foose, recently posted a letter on my Facebook page: “Dear
Robert St. John, Could you publish the shrimp and squash casserole every year
in July? Thanks. Your pal, Martha.”
Here ya
go, Foose.
Onward.
Robert St. John’s Baked Shrimp and Squash
6 cups Squash, cubed
1/4 cup Clarified butter or canola oil
1 Tbl Garlic, minced
1 tsp Salt
1 tsp Pepper, freshly ground
1 Tbl Creole Seasoning
1/2
cup green onion, chopped
3 cups Wild-caught, domestic Shrimp (36–42 count), peeled and de-veined
1/4 cup Clarified butter or canola oil
1 Tbl Old Bay Seasoning
1 Tbl. Garlic
1/2 cup Onion, medium dice
1/4 cup Red Bell pepper, medium dice
1/4
cup Green Bell Pepper, medium
dice
4 Tbl Butter, cubed
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
1 cup Cheddar cheese, grated
1 cup Sour Cream
1/4 cup Green Onion
1
Tbl Hot Sauce
1 cup Ritz Cracker crumbs, crumbled
1/4 cup Parmesan Cheese
2
Tbl Parsley, chopped
Sautee the first seven
ingredients until the squash is cooked. Place squash in a colander and press
out excess moisture with the back of a spoon. Pour all into a stainless steel
mixing bowl.
Sautee the next seven
ingredients until the shrimp are pink and cooked through. Transfer shrimp to
the mixing bowl with the squash.
Immediately add butter, parmesan
cheese, cheddar cheese, sour cream, green onion and hot sauce to the bowl with
the hot shrimp/squash mixture. Stir well until butter and cheeses are melted.
Pour the mixture into a 9 x
13 casserole dish. Mix together the Ritz crumbs, parmesan and parsley. Top casserole
with the cracker crumb mixture and bake at 350 degrees until bubbly.
Yield: 6-8 Servings
© Robert St.John 2001
Recipe published in A Southern Palate Cookbook, Different Drummer Press
Kingfish note: I know some of you clowns will gripe about this column not having a white chocolate bread pudding recipe. Well, try this one out. Nearly ten years ago, JJ had the pleasure of producing a video about the late former State Senator Jim Bean. His daughter fixed a wonderful bread pudding that was heavily sampled by me and the crew. Enjoy.
16 SLICES OF WHITE BREAD
3 EGGS
1 QUART OF WHOLE MILK
1 STICK BUTTER, MELTED
2 CUPS SUGAR
2 TEASPOONS VANILLA
CINNAMON AND SUGAR MIX (to your own taste)
1 CUP WHITE CHOCOLATE CHIPS
1 STICK BUTTER, MELTED
2 TABLESPOONS WATER
1 CUP POWDER SUGAR
1 TEASPOON VANILLA
TEAR BREAD AND TOSS WITH CINNAMON SUGAR. MIX MILK, EGGS, SUGAR AND VANILLA TOGETHER. POUR OVER BREAD. POUR BUTTER OVER BREAD AND MILK MIXTURE.
BAKE AT 350 FOR 45 MINUTES TO AN HOUR.
MIX REMAINING INGREDIENTS TOGETHER AND POUR OVER WARM BREAD PUDDING
11 comments:
I was getting ready to be that clown! Thx for adding it in.
Ol' Paul single handedly transformed the lowly redfish. Formerly considered a trash fish, with no size limits, no catch limits, that people usually threw back. Now they're as tightly regulated as any other game fish and mighty good eating.
We should have commissioned him to come up with an appetizing way to cook feral hogs.
Thank you for BOTH of these recipes!
I will be trying them this weekend and making many trips to the gym to offset the damage.
Cool. If you really share this with seven other people, you get 262 g of fat, of which 21.5 g are saturated fat… Bon appetite!
(Is there a health insurance with lower premiums for the folks who don’t eat such stuff?)
Why did you post this just before lunch?
Make bread pudding using Shipley glazed donuts.
Your welcome.
Robert's ability to find new ways to blow his own horn is amazing.
Why not enjoy two or three sticks of butter on a stick? Roll it in Cajun seasoning first. Less work.
I had shrimp and grits several times at Neal's Crook's Corner restaurant (sadly now closed) in Chapel Hill when my son was a student at UNC. It was indeed a special dish, which Currance didn't equal, though he might not have even been trying to copy the dish.
Redfish was a trash fish until Prudhomme blackened it and brought it to the table. Most places where they say redfish, you’re usually getting drum. Red or black is left to interpretation.
"I don’t get behind the line anymore (I would greatly slow down the process), though I still occasionally work side-by-side with our chef team these days to develop new menu items or cookbook recipes."
Wait, WHAT? RSJ has been in the business over 30 years and he'll "slow down the process" by actually cooking for his customers in his own restaurant? I have numerous comments but I doubt most would get approved so I'll just leave each to decide what the above quote tells them.
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