Cast Iron Cooking

Cast Iron Cooking

The Virtues of the Louisiana Staples

Story by Charmaine Thibodeaux Dupré

Growing up on a small farm in Lewisburg, Mom always had a cast iron pot (or two) on her stove. In the ten-inch skillet, she made cornbread, drop cheese biscuits, fried eggs and bacon, and stir-fried beef with onions and peppers. When a calf from the farm was butchered, Dad sautéed fresh calf’s liver and onions in that skillet. It seemed that no part of the animal went unused. He also relished making “bouie,” a stew of chopped fresh heart, kidney, spleen, and sweetbreads, and enjoyed it as a delicacy. As children, we didn’t care much for this offal, but Mom skimmed off some gravy from the dish, served it over rice, and that was our dinner, take it or leave it. I took it and admitted, only to myself, that it was not bad.

Illustration by Emily Miller at Emily Kaye Studio (@ek.studio on Instagram).

The second and hardest working black iron pot was the six-and-a-half quart covered Dutch oven. In it, Mom browned a seasoned beef pot roast (or other types of meat), then added the Cajun mirepoix—chopped onions, bell peppers, and celery—and often a few pieces of smoked pork sausage. The brown bits from the meat and onions were deglazed with water, then the roast was covered and left to braise until tender, filling the kitchen with a tempting aroma. When it was done, she thickened the smoky brown gravy with a slurry of flour and water, and there was plenty of gravy to feed our large family. Along with a rice cooker full of steamed rice, a vegetable side, and salad from the garden, this was standard fare for us throughout my growing years. Cajuns love rice and gravy, and when the men around here have suppers at their camps, the choice of meat may change, but the rice-and-gravy takes the center of the plate every time.

Mom also had a high-walled cast iron pot with a lid, which she used to prepare sides. It was perfect for cooking many types of fresh beans with a little diced onion and bacon, for frying catfish, French fries, and turning out the best homemade doughnuts.

Cast iron cookware originated in China in the sixth century B.C. In the United States, Lodge Cast Iron has been making cast iron pots since 1896 in Tennessee. They have been around a long time and are passed down from one generation to the next. If you haven’t inherited one, there are plenty to be found at vintage shops, flea markets, and garage sales throughout Louisiana.

I have cast iron skillets in four sizes, a medium-sized Dutch oven, and two different molded pans for cornbread. At our camp, my husband Henry has another skillet and Dutch ovens in three sizes, which are used to cook the game or fish he brings in from the wild. When I asked him what the best thing he has ever cooked in his pots is, he said squirrels one time, ducks another time, and squabs the last time. In other words, whatever he cooks in a cast iron pot turns out great. To Henry, as to many outdoorsmen, the black pot is a symbol of camaraderie, jokes and stories shared, and good Cajun cooking.

To further expound on the virtues of cast iron, once you’ve heated the pots, they provide intense heat for searing, and retain heat for a longwhile after the stove is turned off. They are easy to clean, never look dirty, and can last a lifetime. Cast iron can be used on the stove, in the oven, or on a campfire. They even add a little iron to your diet.

So, when I planned my cooking class menus, I often included “Cast Iron Cooking” as one of the themes, and featured down home Louisiana recipes, adding my own twists. As expected, more men signed up to those classes, and Henry hung around to tell hunting stories and pour the wine. I wondered what I could teach these professional camp cooks, but it didn’t take long to win their favor. One evening we started in the kitchen with appetizer crab cakes and remoulade sauce, followed by a warm cup of sweet potato and andouille bisque. While I demonstrated the preparation of the dishes, my guests devoured these appetizers, and we all engaged in food talk.

For the main course, I set a woodland-themed tablescape, starting with a white tablecloth topped with a burlap runner and Spode “Woodland” plates. I chose glasses and chargers in earthy greens, and placed silver pheasants at the foot of a rustic floral centerpiece. I had demonstrated how to “spatchcock” a chicken, which involves cutting away the backbone and flattening out the bird for faster cooking and a crispier skin. At the table, my guests were served this succulent Cajun-spiced lemon and herb skillet chicken accompanied by my yummiest crawfish cornbread dressing. I had also shown the group how to assemble a warm skillet apple pie with pecan streusel. When served, this dish, topped with vanilla bean ice cream, may have stolen the show.

The cuisine of any culture originates from the food that the land, waters, and sky provide in that area. Living off the abundance of Louisiana’s land and sea has been a tradition and way of life for centuries. Louisiana is called the Sportsman’s Paradise for good reason.

Hunters have a diverse array of wildlife that live and thrive here. From waterfowl, like ducks and geese, to the more exotic alligator, hunters can find their desired target. Our land is fertile for raising cattle (both for meat and dairy), pigs, chickens, and eggs. We are spoiled for choice from our waters, which supply the best shrimp in the world, delectable blue crabs; huge, salty oysters; and crawfish in abundance. Along the Louisiana coast you can find a wide variety of freshwater fish waiting to be caught, including four types of bass, bluegill, speckled trout, sac-a-lait, and catfish. Our saltwater fisherman reel in tuna, wahoo, amberjack, cobia, grouper, snapper, and redfish.

As I drive around my home state, lush with vegetation and trees, I see acres of rice, sugarcane, and corn crops (sweet corn for our tables, the others for grain). These are the top food crops of our land. All around Louisiana, there are fields of sweet potatoes—our state vegetable. In early spring, strawberry stands line the roadside from Slidell to the Atchafalaya Basin. This is our state fruit, brimming with flavor for salads, smoothies, and desserts. Blackberries, blueberries, peaches, and figs are harvested next, generous enough for canning. And crops of cantaloupe and watermelon fill wagons high for bringing to farmers’ markets and grocery stores. Smaller truck farms supply our seasonal vegetables, and there are plenty to choose from. In winter those include beets, carrots, red potatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, cabbage, onions, and many types of leafy green vegetables. In summer we have tomatoes, a great variety of peppers, okra, eggplant, squash, cucumbers, and purple hull peas, to name a few. There is no reason to go hungry in the Bayou State.

Back in the kitchen, our restaurant chefs and home cooks not only have access to the freshest products to work with, but also a wealth of special techniques to add umami deliciousness to our foods. For example, it is quite common to first season our meat, fish, and poultry before we cook them. Our seasoning blends (like Slap Ya Mama and Tony Chachere’s) are sprinkled generously on our foods to add heat and flavor. I usually add one tablespoon per pound of meat. Using those heated cast iron pots, it’s been our tradition to brown our seasoned meats until they’re seared well on all sides. The French call this the “Maillard Reaction,” which gives the food a distinctive flavor and makes a good, brown sauce. Many of our sauces, stews, gumbos, and jambalayas start with a “holy trinity” of chopped onions, bell pepper, and celery. A mixture of these ingredients, ready to cook, is available in most of our meat markets and grocery stores. Speaking of brown gravies, our chocolate-colored roux is another key ingredient in our cooking. Besides thickening gumbo—our state dish—locally-made roux is added to meatball stew, chicken stew, pork backbone stew, shrimp stew ... you get the idea. We love the flavor of dark roux as a thickener, and I am reminded of the savory joys of these dishes almost daily thanks to the distinct scent of the roux being made at Kary’s Roux manufacturing plant, a mile from our home.

Our little hometown of Ville Platte is known as the Smoked Meat Capitol of the World, and our local cuisine is particularly characterized by the addition of sausages, tasso (smoked pork shoulder), turkey necks, and more. I love to add sliced tasso when cooking navy beans in my instant pot. Of course, Louisiana is well known throughout the world for Tabasco Sauce, and many other similar sauces and products that add heat and intrigue to our dishes. For four decades, Jack Miller’s Barbeque Sauce, made with seventeen ingredients, has been mopped on our burgers, pork steaks, and all manner of barbequed meats in our area. Using Jack Miller’s, my dad made the best barbequed lamb for our Easter dinners every year.

Traditional desserts served at our tables are made with cane syrup, local pecans, homemade preserves, and leftover bread. In place of gingerbread, we make Gateau de Sirop (Cane Syrup Cake), a classic Acadian dessert made with Steen’s cane syrup from Abbeville. Pecan trees drop tons of nuts throughout Louisiana in October. In a good year, we crack and peel about twenty quarts of pecans from the one tree in our back yard. I use them in most of my baking when nuts are called for; ranger cookies, pralines, pecan pie, and in toppings for fruit crisps. The fruit preserves are used to fill sweet dough pies and cakes, especially fig cakes. In restaurants, the most common dessert on menus is bread pudding. There are many recipes, all made from leftover breads and the favorite spices and sauces of the chef composing them. The Palace Café in New Orleans holds my favorite, a white chocolate bread pudding, decadent and delicious. To finish a meal, Community Coffee is the standard, and it comes in several flavors, to please the palates of all Southern coffee lovers.

So, in this land of plenty, when we are not cooking at home, we seek out the Cajun and Zydeco bands, and celebrate our culture at many festivals throughout the year. In Acadiana especially, our festivals revolve around our local cuisine. There is the Crawfish Festival in Breaux Bridge, the Boudin Festival in Scott, the Cracklin’ Festival in Port Barre, the Smoked Meat Festival in Ville Platte, the Rice Festival in Crowley, and the Frog Festival in Rayne. At Le Grand Hoorah at Chicot State Park, there is a traditional boucherie where a hog is butchered, cooked by chefs in large black cauldrons, and served to hungry patrons. There is even a Black Pot Festival and Cookoff at Lafayette’s Vermilionville Historic Village to celebrate our favorite pots. Each of these festivals features toe-tapping music and tents offering the delicious dishes and crafts of the Cajun people. Festivals showcase our unique “joie de vivre,” our joy of life, our philosophy. Bienvenue!

This story is an excerpt from Charmaine Dupré’s memoir, Life Around the Table: Living the Spirit of Hospitality at Home and Abroad, released on May 1 and available at barnesandnoble. com and amazon.com. For signed copies, Dupré can be reached at cdupre@centurytel.net. Find some of Dupré’s recipes on our site at countryroadsmag.com.