It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve finally perfected gumbo. I’ve gone through countless over-complicated recipes over the years and have systematically thrown out the steps and ingredients that were superfluous. This recipe is what remained. It’s the best gumbo I’ve ever had.
When I was right out of college and teaching myself to cook, I tried to reverse-engineer Ruby Tuesday’s Sonora Chicken Pasta. I hate to date myself, but this was back in the days of Web 1.0 before seemingly everything was posted online. I didn’t want to literally recreate the dish, as I found the sauce too rich. I just wanted to perfect that creamy taste and texture that coated the noodles and tickled the back of your throat with a slight hint of spiciness. I never wrote down the recipe I eventually worked out, and it’s been at least five years since I last made it. The wife has been requesting it for months, so I thought I’d finally perfect the dish and record the recipe for posterity.
I’ve tried a few times to make a beef variation of Mexican carnitas, which are typically made with pork shoulder. I’ve had some success, but the dish always lacked the depth and richness I had in mind. I found a recipe for Mexican Braised Beef that seemed like a decent starting point. This recipe came out pretty bland as written, so I changed it up a bit to get the kind of Jalisco flavor I was going for.
I’m ashamed to say that I’ve never really cared for the typical Southern version of cheese grits. The grits are tasteless, the cheese is lumpy, and the eggs dry everything out. When the casserole cools down, you have to cut a cube out of the solid yellow mass and smash it down with the back of your spoon. That’s about as unappetizing as it gets. My version makes a rich and creamy dish that actually tastes like cheesy grits instead of a corn-based custard.
Most people aren’t familiar with bulgur, but it’s just cracked wheat. Think of it as a cheaper and puffier version of cous cous. It’s probably the easiest grain in the world to cook. All you do is measure one part bulgur into a bowl, add about two parts hot liquid, and cover. After 15-20 minutes, it’s done.
Sweet Vidalia Onions were on sale at the market this past weekend and we decided to make a dish that would feature them raw. I threw together a citrus vinaigrette pasta salad that was bright and fresh-tasting.
In the South, you can’t help but eat baked beans once a week between April and December. The dish is at every event from ballgames to baby showers. Everyone has a different family recipe and the flavors can range from extremely sweet to extra spicy.
I’ve developed a recipe that strikes the right balance between spicy and sweet and has an earthy flavor that sets it apart.
I’ve spent years perfecting my chili recipe. It’s still subject to whatever ingredients I have on hand, but it’s safe to say it’s about done. It’s not competition chili by any means and it’s more of a compromise than I’d prefer.
I like really spicy Southwestern chili with no beans, but my wife likes a milder, more Southeastern chili with lots of beans. As a result, this recipe makes a medium-heat chili with one can of pinto beans for added texture and flavor.
Now that it’s practically winter, our tomatillos suddenly ripened. We decided to use them and some peppers from the garden to make some salsa verde. Last time we made roasted tomatillo salsa, we kept it sweet as a sauce for some pork. This time, I wanted it to be more like a hot sauce or spicy salsa. We used about a pound of ripe tomatillos, a few pablanos, a couple of chopped onions, a handful of chopped garlic, and assorted peppers and chilis:
