Down South: Grillades and Grits

End of March and it’s cold and rainy in New York City. Even though I cannot wait for spring and summer produce (and the correlating lighter meals that I plan to create), I am still craving hearty comfort food. Add to this craving a sincere pleasure in cooking all day long on lazy Sundays, and you get a grillades and grits.
I had been planning to do a lamb-based dish in honor of Palm Sunday, but when I went to my neighborhood butcher, I discovered they were out of stock – waiting to receive the big shipment for Easter Sunday, I suppose. Looking around at the other cuts of meat, ranging from free-range chicken to pork belly and tenderloin, my eye was drawn to a bowl of beef chuck toward the front of the display. At $10.50/lb., it was right in my price range for the day. I had the butcher give me a pound of the grass-fed meat – enough for dinner for two and lunch the next day.
the meat, post-browning
Thus inspired, I gave my daddy, the meat master, a call and asked him how exactly one goes about preparing grillades. He consulted his John Folse (the Encyclopedia of Cajun & Creole Cuisine) and listed off the ingredients, while I tried to memorize them on my way to the store. I had most of the things I needed, just had to grab a red pepper, garlic powder, a can of crushed tomatoes, and a jalapeno. Then, within an oven-friendly pot, you brown the meat and set it aside. You bring up the roux; add the veggies, then tomatoes, red wine, stock, and the herbs. Bring to a boil and throw into a 350° oven for an hour and a half to two hours.
the ingredients
The key to good grillades, he underscored, is the roux. Unlike a gumbo, the roux for grillades is darkened, which means you cook it longer, without letting it burn. I did not realize how time-intensive the process of bringing up a roux was. After browning the garlic-powdered meat and chopping the vegetables, I added 1 part olive oil and 1 part flour to the jus of the meat. I stirred it together over medium heat…for 45 minutes. For 45 minutes, I stood over the heat of the pot, scraped down the sides, made sure it didn’t boil or burn, and caressed it into a happy and healthy roux.
bringing up the roux
Finally, when it turned a healthy shade of medium brown, I added chopped onion, garlic, red bell pepper, and celery to the roux. Dad had warned that the new additions might make the smooth roux slightly clumpy, but I didn’t end up having that issue. I let the veggies simmer for about 10 minutes, still stirring continuously, before adding stock, crushed tomatoes, jalapeno, and red wine (I used a delicious Cahors, which I ended up drinking with the meal as well – the right amount of leather, liquorice, blackcurrant, and earth). I let this come to a soft boil before adding thyme, more garlic powder, salt, pepper, 3 bay leaves, and some freshly chopped basil. I gave it a stir and popped it into the oven for 2 full hours.
browning the veggies
When the time came to serve the grillades, I prepared the grits. Mom had sent me home at Christmas with a package of stone ground cheese grits from South Carolina that were surprisingly quick – boil the water with a tablespoon of butter, added the contents of the package, reduce heat, and simmer for 12-15 minutes, stirring occasionally. When they were ready, I plated the meal, grits topped with grillades meat and jus. I was so excited that I forgot the parsley garnish, not that I missed it.
digging in…

Louisiana Wedding

I have not had as much fun or as much food as I had this past weekend in quite some time. I went down to a wedding for an old family friend (well, she’s young, but the friendship is old) in Shreveport, Louisiana. The wedding was the perfect Southern affair, spanning several days, requiring several changes of outfits, and most importantly tasting several different elements of Louisiana cookin’. And I brought an Italian along for the ride.

G and I arrived in Shreveport on Friday afternoon and found ourselves, along with the rest of my family, the welcome house-guests of the father-of-the-bride’s brother and his wife. We were put up in their guest cottage, which was outfitted with more breakfast/lunch/snack food than one family could consume in a weekend, even if there weren’t meals planned. We unpacked, hung our nice things so they could de-wrinkle, and set about to resting before the rehearsal dinner.

That night, at the Shreveport Club, the groom’s family (out-of-towners from Austin) hosted a lovely surf-and-turf dinner–beef tender and shrimp in a cream sauce. The rehearsal dinner, I learned, is traditionally given by the groom’s family for close family members and out-of-town guests, and I figured we were a bit of both. The wine was a little bit on the weak side (more acid than umph), which was unfortunate as it was the night where we sat through many a speech! One outfit and one meal down.

We went to bed so that we could get up and do it all over again. Friends of the bride’s family hosted a pre-wedding brunch. We were welcomed into their gracious, palatial home–rather reminiscent of Monticello–with a choice of mimosa or bloody mary. I went for spice over sweet, and the bartender threw in a special something, a pickled green bean, the likes of which I’d never before seen in a bloody mary. It was a nice change from celery. Brunch was served buffet style–cheese grits, the most moist fried chicken I’ve ever tasted, asparagus with a gremoulade sauce, and meat pie, right out the fryer. We took our plates outside to sit in the sun, attacking the chicken with our hands. The dessert that followed was just as good–homemade palmiers, coconut and blueberry bars, and the famous Louisiana praline (nothing but sugar, pecans, vanilla, and butter). All of it was sweet enough to make your teeth curl. Two outfits and two meals down.

The wedding was at 4pm, so we had a bit of time to explore the town and drive by the big, majestic homes of a Southern town that hasn’t exploded like my hometown of Atlanta, whose growth has encroached upon the once large and luscious lawns. We then changed to make it to the church on time. Like a true Episcopalian service, the processional was longer than the ceremony, leaving me enough time to tear up but not enough to cry. Then, we headed back to our place, as that’s where the reception was to be held.

We drove up to a big brass N’awlins band playing. It was much colder than everyone had expected, so many of the in-town women broke out their fur coats as we stood outside to wait for the bride and groom to arrive. We all grabbed glasses of champagne, as well as the (warmer) spicy crawfish beignets and espresso cups of mushroom soup splashed with cognac. We finally migrated to the back of the house, to the tent, so that we could all get warm under the heaters, and be dancing, imbibing, and eating.

The father-of-the-bride had chosen the wine–a Crucillon garnacha that is big and fruity, with a little kick. It’s his favorite because it’s both good and affordable (even though they don’t sell it in his town). My mom got him hooked. Different stations were placed around the edge of the tent–pasta with shrimp and taso (a Louisiana sauce based on the type of sausage of the same name); wheels of cheese; mini-burgers; grits with a crawfish cream sauce; and lamb and beef tender. The cakes were cut and passed around. The groom’s cake was a black forest cake, made predominantly of meringue, while the wedding cake was made of layers, alternating white and red velvet. Everyone ran around, tasting and dancing, until the band quit playing so they could head back to Houston. Three outfits (and a coat) and three meals.

Sunday morning brought Sunday brunch and a last chance to get together and say goodbye before the bride and groom left for their honeymoon and the before the guests headed home. This meal–the most simple of all–was the most divine. The furniture in the bride’s family home had been cleared out for the most part and replaced with little dining tables. Everyone headed toward the dining room buffet and stocked up on grits, green beans, and grillades. I had never heard of grillades before yesterday, but this spicy round steak stew, when served over grits, is the most delicious hang-over cure ever. Especially when followed by lemon squares. Too bad we had to get on a plane after that…although it’s probably better for my waist-line.

Oh, and for the record, that’s four outfits and four meals. In a two day span.

**for more information on Louisiana cuisine, check out John Folse’s “The Encyclopedia of Cajun and Creole Cuisine.”