What’s In A Roux?

Since so much of New Orleans is about food, we started there, with eating. Across the street from our condo was a little place called The Ruby Slipper. Carl dove right in and ordered the Chicken and Andouille Sausage Gumbo and here’s where it gets a bit weird. I don’t even remember what I had. I just know I didn’t eat a single thing during the entire week that was bad.

We took a culinary tour escorted by a chef of some renown, stopping at 5 of the more established and expensive restaurants, in the city, to sample the one thing they were best known for. We had Gumbo at one place and Shrimp Remoulade at another. Turtle Stew was the third offering while Slow Braised Brisket waited for us at the fourth. Somewhere in there was a designer gelato shop. We were told how these recipes had been developed, handed down and nurtured by generations of restaurateurs who had been in operation for hundreds of years. The sample menu was varied but the single common theme to the entire tour was traditionally laid down layers of flavor.

Chef George told us the history of how these recipes were built, not how to make them, mind you, but how to bring them to life. He talked of the holy trinity, celery, peppers and onions enhanced by the “pope” otherwise known as garlic. The majority of all their recipes started with these flavors. And no tour would have been complete without an offering of Red Beans and Rice from a non-descript little shop within site of Jackson Square. It was here we experienced how to build a roux, the flavor base for just about everything in Creole cooking from Ettoufee to Jambalaya. It’s the darkness of the roux that matters. And contrary to popular belief, including mine, New Orleans is not about the heat index of food. Imagine spending all this time carefully building these layers of flavor only to burn the diner’s palette with incredibly spicy seasoning. No, it’s quite the opposite. The spiciest thing we ate was the Shrimp Remoulade which screamed “horse radish” when, in fact, it was a Creole mustard giving us the heat.

And everywhere we went, signs proclaimed the “best” or “original” pralines pronounced “praw lines”, a sugary confection with many variations but all containing some kind of chopped nut. Soft, hard or chocolaty didn’t matter, pralines are to die for. Oh, and Carl just had to have some of that mustard to bring home. ( A roux is equal parts oil and flour, heated constantly until it reaches the desired color for the dish you're making )