Stew

Paprika is found nowhere in Italian cuisine except in the cooking of Trieste and its surroundings. Though the years of domination by the Austro-Hungarian monarchs were resented by the Italian-speaking Triestines, their descendants have not given up the city’s traditional adaptations of Hungarian dishes like this goulash. Serve Middle European style with potatoes (boiled or mashed); Italian style with polenta or fettuccine; or with steamed rice.

Brodetto means cooked in a soupy medium, and so it is in this recipe: different fish cooked together with aromatics to form a unified, delicious dish. The more varieties of fish in the brodetto, the more complex the flavor will be. Traditionally in Istria, brodetto was made with the pick of the catch. But in many a fisherman’s household, such fish was sold, and his family ate what he didn’t sell, a mix of the smaller fish, which were all harmonized by the brodetto cooking method. I remember many brodetti of my childhood in which there were only small fish. I wasn’t even ten years old, but already my mouth was well attuned, and I would screen with efficiency all the small fish bones—a skill that is still with me. This dish can be made several hours in advance and reheated, very gently. Set the meaty fish on a platter and keep warm, and use the sauce and remaining bits of fish to dress the pasta (or polenta). I like to let everyone help themselves to fish from the platter. And since the crab should be eaten with the hands, provide an empty bowl for the shells and bones—and plenty of towels!

GINA I can hear “It’s a Man’s World” by James Brown playing whenever I make this chili. But beer, bacon, and brisket are three of my favorite “b”s, too. So don’t be scared, ladies—this delicious chili will please the whole family, not just your quarterbacks. As with most stews and chilis, this is best made the night before, and reheated right before the big game starts!

The next time you feel like throwing a raging party for all your tripe-loving friends, this is the dish for you! If you’re making a face while reading this allow me to offer a cliché: don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. Yes, even the best honeycomb tripe could be described as mild with an edge of musk. But all that means is that it needs a good, savory vehicle to deliver that fabulous texture straight to your mouth. Here, tomato sauce enhances the flavor, while beans provide a creamy textural counterpoint. I add mint, too, to give it some zing. This is a truly comforting dish that would be especially welcome on a cold fall or winter evening.

Succotash is a traditional stew of fresh butter beans and corn made velvety by the last-minute addition of butter. The basics—beans and corn—are a must, but beyond that it seems most every Southern family has its own particular version. I typically let the farmer’s market determine the mix of vegetables, but this rendition, with sweet bell peppers, basil, and summer squash, is one of my all-time favorites.

When it comes to good luck, Southerners don’t take any chances. Each year on New Year’s Day, we hedge our bets by eating hoppin’ John, a rustic mix of rice, black-eyed peas, bacon, and onion that is thought to bring good fortune in the year to come. (Literally—the peas in the dish represent coins, and the stewed collards that are usually served on the side are the rich green of dollar bills.) For extra good luck, serve with Mess o’ Greens (page 245).

Long-simmering red beans practically cook themselves, a fact that didn’t escape the many generations of hardworking Louisiana Creole women who supposedly made this dish every Monday, on laundry day. Even now, many Creole restaurants serve red beans and rice as a lunch special on Mondays.

Étouffée is a traditional New Orleans one-pot dish whose name literally—and appropriately—comes from the French word for “smothered.” Like gumbo, étouffée is a highly seasoned stew of fish or meat and vegetables that is served over steamed rice. Also like gumbo, it has a big-hearted, homey quality that makes it one of my favorite dishes to serve to crowds (especially when they include friends who aren’t from the South). Although serious purists might disapprove, I never make étouffée the same way twice, and I don’t take sides when it comes to never-ending debates about the proper shade of roux or whether there’s room for tomatoes in a bona fide étouffée. For me, one of the joys of Cajun and Creole stews is their variability, so feel free to experiment.

Despite its name, this traditional shrimp dish isn’t so much barbecue as a savory, saucy stew. It gets its full-bodied flavor from Worcestershire sauce and dark beer, and a dose of fresh lemon gives it a bright, clean finish.

When Paul Prudhomme’s first cookbook, Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen, came out, I think I made every last one of his gumbos in the span of a few weeks. To this day, his are the recipes I always refer to when I make gumbo. More often than not, however, I don’t have time to make ultra traditional, slow-cooking gumbo, so I’ve adapted my own quicker—and often lighter—versions that take a fraction of the time but still pack loads of soulful flavor. Served over rice with ice-cold beer, it’s all the excuse you need to throw a block party.

Traditional oyster stew was one of my dad’s favorites, and he used to make it all the time, especially when we visited my sister in Biloxi, Mississippi, where we could get really fresh oysters. Taking a cue from oysters Rockefeller, another hallmark dish from Antoine’s Restaurant in New Orleans, I brighten my version with fresh spinach. And, to achieve the same smooth, creamy texture with less fat, I blend potatoes with just a touch of heavy cream to make the broth. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if desired. This soup should be served hot as soon as it’s done, lest the oysters continue to cook in the broth.

Rich and meaty Brunswick stew is a true Southern classic. This streamlined rendition of my mom’s perfect version makes a huge amount of food—but to my thinking, that’s the point of stew. It tastes even better the next day, so it’s a great make-ahead meal if you are planning to have weekend visitors or feed a big crowd. You can also pop some in the freezer for a quick-fix weeknight supper another time.

This may be the all-time favorite Bayona family meal, created by Greg Collier, aka “Hoss,” one of my all-time favorite sous chefs (he’s now executive chef of Redfish Grill, which is also in the French Quarter). Hoss adapted his family’s chicken and dumplin’ recipe, and the staff still clamors for it whenever there’s a chill in the air. This recipe takes a little time, but it’s worth it. For this preparation, the “dumplin’s” are baked atop a thickened stew (rather than boiled or steamed in broth). Because we use mainly the hind legs and backstrap, or tenders, of the rabbit for the menu, we end up with lots of forelegs and breast meat to use for other things, such as sausage, confit, and crew food. (Naturally, we use the bones to make stock.) You can prepare the meat and stew up to a day ahead, then reheat gently and bake it with the dumplin’s. If you just can’t eat bunnies, chicken may be substituted.

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.

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 fabulous, herbaceous gumbo used to be primarily a meatless Lenten dish, served on Good Friday. It is a pretty rare find on menus these days, but if you should come across it, give it a try. It is a thinner, soupier gumbo than most, and you’ll be surprised how much flavor the greens impart to the broth. When I made it the first time, I thought of how wonderful oysters would taste with the herbs, so I decided to top it off with a few fried ones. You could still serve it during Lent, but don’t reserve this delicious gumbo for once a year.

Although I was not born in New Orleans—we moved here when I was six—I most definitely consider it my hometown. Even post-hurricanes, I am eternally grateful to my dad for deciding to make this simmering, sumptuous, gumbo-of-a-city our permanent home when he retired from the navy. What a happy circumstance for a food lover like me! Speaking of gumbo, I could eat it every day of the week. And you can’t claim to be a cook in Louisiana without having your own version of its most famous dish. While I have to say that Donald Link, the chef at Herbsaint, makes the best gumbo I have ever eaten, I’ve learned to make a pretty mean version myself. Here is one of the most basic. Feel free to substitute an equal amount of roasted chicken for the duck.

Creamy polenta provides a wonderful counterpoint to this hearty stew. To time everything right, bring the water to a boil while the chicken is browning, then add the polenta to the water when beginning step three of the chicken recipe.

You can replace the zucchini with other vegetables, such as eggplant or bell peppers. Turmeric, which is related to ginger, is what gives curries and prepared mustard their distinctive yellow color. Look for it in the supermarket’s spice aisle.

This version of vegetarian chili uses textured vegetable protein as a substitute for the ground beef. Although it looks a little like granola in its dry form, it absorbs the flavor of whatever you put in the dish, so in the end even meat eaters don’t realize it’s not really beef.