Potluck

By Marcelle Bienvenu

E very day, my mother had a pot of rice on the stove. Sometimes for breakfast, she stir-fried rice with eggs, bacon or bits of ham showered with a handful of green onions or parsley from her garden. It was a meal that stuck with you the better part of the day.

Inevitably, when we asked, “What’s for supper?” Her response was usually “rice and gravy.”

Sometimes the gravy began with thinly cut chunks of beef round steak or “7 steaks.” (A 7-bone steak is from the chuck section of the cow, and it includes a crosscut of the shoulder blade. The bone is shaped like the numeral 7, which gives these cuts their name.) The meat was generously seasoned with salt and cayenne (we rarely cooked with black pepper), lightly floured, then put into a hot cast-iron skillet or Dutch oven (depending on the amount to be cooked) to brown in oil— often bacon grease. (Oh, the flavor.)

Then the pot was deglazed with water. Yep, plain old water. Then handfuls of coarsely chopped onions and bell peppers were added, the heat was reduced, and the pot was covered with a lid to simmer until the onions caramelized in the brown gravy. (Some cooks in my family add garlic and celery, so feel free to use whatever makes you happy.)

But another delicious rice and gravy meal was made by my daddy. He called the dish chicken aux gros oignons (chicken with lots of onions), and he often prepared it in his huge cast-iron pot over a wood fire at our camp near the Atchafalaya Basin. With a cold beer always at his elbow, it took the better part of the day to get it just right.

Chicken pieces—on the bone and with skin—were heavily seasoned with salt and cayenne (and sometimes with Tony Chachere’s seasoning mix. Papa and Mr. Tony were friends and Mr. Tony often brought Papa a small brown paper bag with his seasoning mix before he went public) were browned in hot oil, then lots of onions were added along with water to simmer in a covered pot until Papa deemed it to be ready. Sometimes he added lots of canned mushrooms with the can juice, or petit pois, and in the summer he added maque choux. Bring on a pot of rice.

Speaking of rice: In my family, long-grain rice is the most popular. Mama rinsed hers several times before putting it in the pot with enough water to come to the second knuckle of her little finger, plus a shower of salt and a drizzle of oil or butter. The mixture was brought to a boil, then the heat was reduced to a simmer, the pot was covered with a lid, and 15 to 20 minutes later, voila! Perfectly cooked rice. Short-grain rice is used in making boudin and some rice dressings because it becomes quite tender and sticky when cooked.

Back to meat and gravy. My baby brother Bruce makes a dish similar to our Papa’s chicken with lots of onions, with just a few changes. He flours the chicken pieces before adding them to the pot so that later, when the water or broth is added, the gravy thickens. In go lots of onions and bell peppers, and all is cooked long and slow until there is a rich, brown gravy. In some parts of Louisiana, I understand this dish is known as “sticky chicken.”

When I was a youngster, I often spent the night with my great aunt Belle, who we called Nannan. Her rice and gravy dish? Meatballs in brown gravy. (She called the meatballs boulettes.) Her meatballs were made with a combination of beef, pork, and veal generously seasoned with salt, cayenne, and black pepper. She sometimes added dried oregano and Worcestershire sauce. The mixture was held together with a raw egg and a handful of homemade breadcrumbs. The pièce de résistance was the whole peeled garlic clove she stuffed into the middle of each meatball. They were then rolled in flour and browned in a cast-iron skillet to which water was added. The skillet was covered and shoved into the oven to slowly bake.

During the winter months, my father and brothers hunted waterfowl, so we feasted on baked teal, mallard, and specklebelly geese. Papa considered the “specks” the golden geese. Preparation began the night before. The breasts of the geese were stuffed with slivers of garlic, seasoned with salt and cayenne, then marinated overnight in a mixture of dry sherry, chunks of onions and celery, salt, and cayenne.

The birds were then removed from the marinade and lightly floured before being browned in bacon grease, then put into the oven with the marinade mixture to cook long and slow. Toward the end of the baking time, sliced white mushrooms and peeled topinambours (Jerusalem artichokes) were added to the pot, which was then covered and baked for 30 minutes or so to make an incredibly delicious chunky gravy.

White rice was combined with wild rice and coarsely chopped toasted pecans to serve with the specks.

Every Christmas Mama insisted on having not only turkey but also a 10-to-12-pound fresh ham shank. Minced garlic, onions, and bell peppers seasoned generously with salt and cayenne were stuffed into slits all over the roast. The roast went into the oven when we returned from Midnight Mass. The aroma of the roast that wafted to my bedroom from the kitchen was my wake-up call Christmas morning.

Mama made the gravy by adding just a little water and red wine at intervals throughout the cooking time. The result was thick and dark brown that I could drink by the cupful. She always set aside about a pint of the gravy in the freezer “for later use.” That use was a dish that still makes my mouth water. She combined the gravy with cooked rice, finely chopped celery, crumbled fried bacon, mushrooms and green onions. She called it “dressed up rice” because she said it was not a traditional rice dressing.

If the men brought home a couple of squirrels or rabbits, they too were cut into serving pieces, seasoned, and sometimes dredged in flour before being “smothered down” with onions and bell peppers (to make what we call a fricassee, but others might call a stew), which is—you guessed it—served with rice.

Meat and gravy is more of a technique than a recipe, and the same procedure works beautifully with other meat and game, like venison, pork chops, short ribs, or even sausage. A friend tells me that he often smothers down chicken livers to serve with rice. There are no rules! Use whatever is available, season it however you like, and cook it low and slow until the gravy is thick and the rice is ready. You can’t go wrong.