Here’s everything you need:

Pasta With Clam Sauce

• 1 pound pasta, cooked according to package directions
• 2 (6.5 oz) cans Doxsee/Snow’s minced clams, stock reserved
• 3/4 cup white wine
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 3 tablespoons butter
• 1 tablespoon flour
• 1 shallot, minced
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 3 tablespoons fresh herbs, chopped (oregano, thyme, parsley, etc.)
• Juice from half a lemon
• salt and pepper to taste
• chopped herbs, lemon zest and parmesan cheese for garnish

This ingredient list might seem long, but you should already have most of this stuff in your kitchen. Also, if you’re not a big fan of olive oil, then you should cut down the amount in this recipe. I like an oily sauce.

Clams and mussels can get rubbery if they cook too long. That’s why when you order a bucket of steamers, they’re out in just a few minutes. Steamers are usually flavored with a thin, buttery broth. That’s kind of what I was going for here, but to make a sauce that’ll stick to pasta, you need to thicken it up and reduce it. To do that, you cook the sauce and add the minced clams at the last minute. Start off by chopping all of your ingredients.

Warm the olive oil in a pot over medium heat. Add the shallots and crushed red pepper and sauté until the shallots are starting to turn brown, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until nicely browned, but not burnt.

In a bowl, mix the wine, clam stock and flour with a whisk. This is the main flavoring for your sauce. It’ll taste terrible at this stage, but it’ll be sweet and smooth when it cooks down.

Pour the wine mixture into the pot and mix well. Add the herbs and simmer over medium-high heat until it’s reduced by about two-thirds. You want to thicken the sauce and cook off the starchy flour taste. When the sauce coats the back of the spoon a little, add the clams and the lemon juice to the pot. Simmer them for a minute to release their flavor and then add the butter off the heat. Stir until it’s just incorporated so that it stays velvety. Finally, taste and season the sauce with salt and pepper. If you like a thicker sauce, add a little cream and shredded cheese (and put the pan back on the heat). But remember, this isn’t supposed to be a seafood Alfredo.

By this time, your pasta should be about done. Strain the noodles and add them to the pot with the sauce. Make sure all the noodles are coated with the clam sauce or else they’ll stick. Garnish with fresh herbs, freshly grated parmesan cheese, lemon zest, and freshly ground black pepper.

I actually made a full portion of the sauce, but only used half of the pasta. I like a heavy sauce. I used the other half of the noodles to make a basil pesto for the wife. She hates clams.

I’ve only made gumbo a few times. Making the roux is pain in the ass and the shrimp, fish and sausage aren’t cheap. So when I do get the itch to make it, I make a lot and freeze the leftovers.

Here’s everything you need:

Seafood Gumbo

• 1 pound andoille sausauge, sliced
• 1 pound shrimp, peeled, deveined and chopped
• 1 pound cod, chopped
• 2 onions, chopped
• 3 bell peppers, chopped
• 6 stalks celery, chopped
• 1-2 cups okra, sliced
• 1/2 head garlic, chopped
• 1 lemon, juiced
• 1 1/2 sticks butter, divided
• 1/2 cup flour
• 1 (29 oz) can whole peeled tomatoes, crush by hand in juice
• 1 box low sodium chicken stock
• 5 cups water (plus more for andoille baking dish)
• 3 bay leaves
• 1 tablespoon worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 cup fresh, chopped parsley
• 1 tablespoon dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• salt, pepper and sugar for seasoning

There are almost as many gumbo purists as there are barbecue purists. I’m not one of them. Traditionally, you either thicken your gumbo with okra, filé or tomatoes. I don’t know why you can’t use all of them when you make a big enough batch.

Most gumbo rules can be bent, but there are a few that shouldn’t be broken or else it’s not really gumbo anymore. The base of gumbo must be a dark roux, the vegetables must start with the holy trinity, and the sausage needs to be andouille. These three things combine to give gumbo its unique, Cajun flavor.

Louisiana was settled by the French, so Cajun cooking is based on French cuisine. To start your gumbo, you chop equal parts celery, bell pepper and onion. That’s what the French call the trinity.

To cook the andoille, poke some holes in the casings with a fork and put them in a small casserole dish. Add just enough water so the sausages are half-submerged and add a pinch of black pepper and the juice from half of a lemon. Put the casserole dish in a 425° oven and cook until the sausages are firm, flipping at least once.

When they’re pretty firm to the touch, take them out of the casserole dish and set them aside. Don’t drain the water and fat in the casserole dish. This mixture is your secret ingredient (heretofore known as the andouille juice).

To make the roux, you sauté equal parts flour and butter (1 stick butter and a half cup of flour in this case) over medium heat until the starchy taste cooks off and the mixture reaches the desired color. People get intimidated by this step, but it’s actually pretty easy. The problem is that you can’t walk away until it’s done. Melt the butter in a pot and add the flour a little at a time, stirring constantly to work out the lumps. As you can see, I had to draft the wife to take a picture while I worked on my roux.

You’ll have to stir constantly for about five minutes. After that, the roux will get less doughy. Once it starts to darken, it’ll take on the consistency of heavy cream and you only have to stir it every minute or so. If you scorch your roux and see black flakes, you have to start all over again, so you want to get it right the first time. A good roux will give your gumbo its unique taste and color. When it’s chocolate brown, pour in the whole box of low-sodium chicken stock a cup or two at a time. This is going to produce some piping hot steam at first, so stand back or you’ll burn yourself. Make sure you incorporate the stock well with a whisk.

In another large pot, melt a quarter cup of butter (half a stick), drop in a big spoonful of the andouille juice, and add the trinity and garlic. Sprinkle in about a half tablespoon of salt and stir. You want to soften the vegetables and evaporate some of the water.

Cook it for maybe 10 minutes and then add the roux/stock mixture. This is your gumbo base. If you’re adding 3 pounds of meat/seafood, then you need to add about 5 cups of water. This is when you add all of your herbs, spices, crushed tomatoes, lemon juice, etc. — everything except the meat and seafood. If you taste the gumbo, it’ll be a little watery and bland. That’s normal. If you like thick, red gumbo, then add a big can of tomato purée.

Cover and simmer for an hour. Go ahead and slice the sausage, fish and shrimp. Oh, and here’s some friendly advice; cod can really stink up the fridge. Keep it in a ziplock bag in a cooler outside until you’re ready to cook it. And never put shrimp peels in your kitchen trashcan.

At the hour mark, add the andouille to the pot. After another half hour, add the fish to the pot. It’ll break up and flake into small pieces, but those pieces will remain firm. After another 20 minutes, add the chopped shrimp and taste the gumbo. This is your last chance to season it. Add the andoille juice a quarter cup at a time until you reach the desired heat and season to taste with salt, pepper and sugar.

The shrimp will be done cooking by the time you finish seasoning the gumbo. Remember to remove the bay laves before serving. The gumbo should be earthy, spicy and very fresh-tasting. Garnish with scallions and fresh, chopped parsley. Serve with some white rice and pass around the hot sauce and filé powder.

I don’t think gumbo tastes right without filé, but you should never add it to your pot. Filé can’t be boiled or it gets gummy. So even if you take your pot off the heat before you add it, you won’t be able to reheat your leftovers properly without potentially ruining the gumbo. If you’re dead-set on having a bit of that filé flavor in your pot, then put an Earl Gray teabag in your gumbo for a half hour. That’ll come closer than you might think to mimicking the taste.

UPDATE: I’ve matured beyond this gumbo to what I think is the best recipe yet: Prefect Gumbo

Our new kitchen is all about utility. If something isn’t being used, it isn’t staying in the room. And if it does stay in the room, it needs to pull double-duty. Many of our lower cabinet doors also have storage racks attached that hold wax paper, foil, ziplock bags, etc… So we decided our upper cabinets should be just as versatile. We installed these magnetic spice containers and threw some labels on them:

These things are working out great. They have two openings on the side of the lid so you can shake or pour out the contents. Still, I usually just take the top off and pinch what I need. We still have plenty of spice containers, but we’ll pare those down as they run out. And we can always add more magnetic rows if the need arises.

In case you were wondering what’s in that dish on the stove top, it’s eggplant parmesan:

We had some homemade sauce left over, and eggplant is in season, so…

The right side of the garden will have herbs (rosemary, thyme, Greek oregano, parsley, chives, basil, mint and lavender), red and yellow onions, strawberries and cantaloupe. The left side will have heirloom, roma and green tomatoes, red and green bell peppers, cayenne and banana peppers, squash and zucchini. There’s more room, so maybe we’ll plant some radicchio and eggplant later this month.

UPDATE 5/09:

Everything is starting to grow:

We had an unexpected frost not too long ago, and we thought we lost a few plants. It turns out they’re more resilient than they look. We added some eggplant, fennel and tomatillos since the last picture. Our squash are starting to bloom, and we’ve already gotten a few strawberries.