Seafood

It used to be that Southerners ate oysters only in months with the letter r in them because it was just too hot from May to August to ensure their safety and freshness. Today, thanks to the wonders of modern refrigeration, they can be eaten year-round. Keep in mind that oysters must be cooked or eaten alive, so freshness is paramount when using oysters, mussels, clams, and scallops. Fresh, properly stored oysters should smell clean and briny, with no hint of fishiness. Any that remain open when tapped prior to cooking or closed after cooking should be discarded.

Gravlax is surprisingly easy to make at home, and you can vary the herbs or add spices to suit your taste. Once you become comfortable with the process, you’ll want to have this around for easy lunches and snacks.

This is a fantastic dish that I came across when I was researching Caribbean food on the Internet. The recipe was cryptic—just a list of ingredients with no measurements or instructions. But I was so intrigued by the use of curry, black pepper, and Angostura bitters that I developed my own method (and added fresh herbs). This pilaf is substantial enough to eat on its own, but heavenly when served alongside grilled fish or shrimp.

This unexpected salmon preparation borrows flavors from Alsace. The usual partner for choucroute is a medley of pork meat sausages, but the oceany flavor of the best wild salmon works surprisingly well. The tart sauerkraut and spicy Gewürztraminer balance the richness of the fish. Juniper berries lend a distinct perfume. Needless to say, the perfect wine for this dish is the one that you used to make the sauce.

This dish’s vibrant, savory sauce is my version of muhamarra, a mildly spicy and slightly fruity Turkish red pepper condiment. It is easy to prepare and goes great with just about any grilled meat or fish (or with thick slices of grilled eggplant). Pole-caught yellowfin tuna is a good sustainable choice; its meaty texture and flavor stand up well to the thick pesto-like puree. Swordfish would be a good alternative, cooked the same way as the tuna. A green vegetable, baked or grilled eggplant, or rice pilaf would make a great side dish.

Shrimp and okra go together like oysters and artichokes (which is to say, they’re made for each other). And to my mind it’s no coincidence that corn and tomatoes are at their peak around the same time as the okra. In this recipe, they all find themselves swimming happily in a broth scented with allspice and thyme, and zippy with fresh jalapeños. If you are leery of that much spice in the broth, leave out the jalapeños and just serve some chopped up alongside, for the daring ones among you.

I’m not sure what the connection is between this old New Orleans favorite and the French politician—perhaps it was created when he visited the city—but whatever the reason, it is an enduring part of the Creole repertoire. The potatoes are most often deep-fried to a light golden brown (a preparation known as “brabant potatoes”) before joining the other ingredients in the pan, but it works just as well to blanch them in water, then crisp them. This makes a tasty complete meal when paired with a ripe tomato salad or a platter of crudités.

One of the great things about living in Louisiana is the plethora of sunny citrus fruits available during winter. When my grapefruit tree started producing more than I could use at home, I developed this recipe to serve at Bayona. Fresh basil is commonly partnered with lemon or orange, but I love how the faint anise flavor of the herb plays off the bright, tart-sweet punch of grapefruit (and since it rarely freezes in New Orleans, we can typically grow basil all year round as well). Citrus and fish is such a great match—this sauce is delicious with pompano, amberjack, or just about any fish.

Although I had never tasted it myself, I decided to try my hand at bouillabaisse after listening to my dad reminiscing for years about the one he’d had in Marseilles, in a café overlooking the bustling port. Eventually, after much research, I felt I knew what it should taste like, but I was still overwhelmed when I had my first bowl in Nice many years later—it was even more complex and deeply flavored than Dad’s memories had suggested. This is one dish where a paticularly flavorful version of Fish Fumet (p. 205) is essential. Because we don’t have the same fish as they do in France (such as rascasse, the bony fish that makes a true bouillabaisse), I use Gulf fish and shellfish in the stock. I put in a mix of flounder, snapper, and trout bones along with shrimp shells (and heads, if available), and a couple of gumbo crabs for good measure. Make enough so that you can freeze a batch for the next time you make this stew. My one concession: mussels. We don’t get them in the Gulf, but it’s just not bouillabaisse without ’em. Roasted Red Pepper Rouille (p. 184) and thin slices of toasted baguette are the essential condiments for this soup.

This is a dish I make often, especially for informal parties. It is delicious, easy, and pretty, and makes a great buffet item, especially when paired with all those other Mediterranean dishes I love to cook and eat, such as Eggplant Caviar and Black Olive Tapenade (p. 191), Artichoke Dolmades with Lemon Sauce (p. 20), and Simple Orzo Salad with Black Olives and Feta (p. 115). The tomato sauce is also a good base for moussaka or baked stuffed eggplant, or just tossed with noodles and some sharp Greek cheese, such as kasseri. The dish can be completed up to the final baking point and kept refrigerated for several hours or even overnight. Bring it to room temperature before baking, or it will overcook.

It’s not hard to imagine eating this dish at a table on the coast in Portofino, Italy. Warm spices, garlic, fresh thyme, and sunny citrus flavors create an irresistible marinade for sweet shrimp. I prefer to pour the marinated crustaceans right onto a baking sheet and roast them (a great no-fuss technique for dinner parties) until they’re just cooked. However, you could certainly sear the shrimp in a hot skillet as well. Crispy Risotto Cakes are the perfect starch to serve alongside the shrimp. Drag a forkful of the flavorful rice through the marinade and you’ll understand why this dish has been one of my entertaining staples for years. For an extra swath of color (and flavor), serve this dish with Butternut Squash Puree (p. 189).

I always envied folks who grew up in corn country and got to taste those gold and silver ears cooked fresh from the field, just exploding with sweetness. I had a friend whose mother used to say, “Go run and get the corn, and if you drop any on the way back, don’t stop to pick it up!” I love the urgency of it. So, when we get a case of really sweet corn at the restaurant, I like to use it two ways: I make this sweet Corn Cream, which goes beautifully with big, juicy sea scallops, and I serve it with the maque choux, so you also get the crisp crunch from the corn kernels in addition to the creamy sauce. If corn isn’t in season and you’re just dying to make this, use frozen sweet corn.

There is something particularly irresistible about food that’s wrapped up like a parcel in an edible casing—especially when there’s a little something inside that you’re not expecting. For me, the subtle, slightly briny flavor of grape leaves represents the best of the Mediterranean. In this dish, there’s an appealing exchange between the fish, grape leaves, and couscous that results in a moist, aromatic, and savory package enhanced by a tangy olive vinaigrette and roasted red pepper garnish. The feta cheese is a tasty addition and a pretty garnish, but it’s not necessary. When it comes to choosing fish, a thick, super-fresh fillet of mahi mahi, grouper, amberjack, or snapper would be ideal.

One of my first memories of New Orleans was gathering the pecans off the ground at the naval base where my father was stationed, then sitting around a table with my family at night, watching Adventures in Paradise and shelling the seemingly bottomless pile. We had nutpicks, silver utensils with curved sharp tips, for digging out the tiny pieces of shell trapped in the crevices of each nut meat—talk about tedious! But I was always proud to have the cleanest and choicest halves to offer up for my mom’s approval. I was surprised when I went to France to cook at the jazz festival in Nice and learned that I had to bring my own pecans to make pecan pie (the nuts are not indigenous there)! It followed, then, that I would use local nuts to create this New Orleans rendition of the more classic Trout Amandine.

One day while cooking a pot of red beans, I noticed that the juice had a beautiful, silky sheen. It occurred to me that the beans might make a good sauce if pureed really smoothly with their cooking liquid. An idea was born—really: that’s all it takes! I played around with seasonings and decided I liked the warm hint of cinnamon married with the spicy flavors of poblano and chipotle. Adding fresh lime juice at the end of the process brightens up the earthiness of the puree. The light coating of cornmeal gives the fish a nice crunch to contrast with the creamy sauce (which, incidentally, is wonderful with grilled fish of any kind—trout, redfish, or snapper are particularly good). A side of Green Rice (p. 309) is a perfect accompaniment.