Jambalaya is one of my favorite foods, but it wasn't until I moved southward that I was able to eat a version that didn't come in a Zatarain's box. Ever since my trip a couple of years ago to New Orleans, I've been on a mission to make something that at least came close to matching what I ate there. I don't know that I've succeeded, but I think I've gotten pretty close. I was always under the impression, for some reason, that jambalaya (and any other Cajun food) was complicated to make, but despite having a large number of ingredients, it's really not. If you practice good mise en place and prepare all ingredients beforehand, it all becomes a matter of timing. You, too, can make delicious jambalaya.
Maybe I should have written about this yesterday for the Fourth of July, because the melting-pot nature of jambalaya really is pretty American. I can't write about something as fun as jambalaya without giving a little background. Starting with the name: Myths abound regarding the origin of the word "jambalaya." It is said to have come from a combination of jambon (French for "ham"), à la (a contraction of à la manière de, French for "in the style of"), and ya (supposedly "rice" in a West African language), but that seems doubtful considering ham is not a star of jambalaya and there is no known African word ya that means rice. And then there is this more colorful tale, which I rather like, from the Dictionary of American Food and Drink:
Late one evening a traveling gentleman stopped by a New Orleans inn which had little food remaining from the evening meal. The traveler instructed the cook, "Jean, balayez!" or "Jean, sweep something together!" in the local dialect. The guest pronounced the resulting hodge-podge dish as "Jean balayez."
The
Oxford English Dictionary says that it comes from the Provençal word
jambalaia, meaning "mish mash" or "mixup." This would make sense, as jambalaya is certainly a mish mash.
Follow me below the obligatory Newman clip for more history and a recipe...
A little more background:
Common belief is that it originated from the Spanish Paella, which has also transformed in the United States to a dish called Spanish Rice. Jambalaya is a bit different many times as it incorporates seafood , ham, link sausage rounds and chicken, although it doesn't have to have all those ingredients.
It can be made (separately or all together) with ham, chicken, sausage, fresh pork, shrimp and oysters, to which is added shortening, rice, onion, garlic, pepper and other seasonings.
Starting with church fairs, which were the largest public gatherings at the turn of the century, Jambalaya emerged from small quantity indoor cooking to become the ideal dish for outdoor cooking over hardwood fire. Big black cast iron pots made preparation so easy and economical for church use that Jambalaya was rapidly adapted for political rallies, weddings, family reunions and other affairs. No fair or political rally around Gonzales Louisiana(Jambalaya capital of the world) is complete without Jambalaya cooking.
Well, wherever it comes from, I'm grateful, because I can't quite imagine my life without jambalaya. Speaking of which, let's get to the food porn. I have no idea how traditional this jambalaya is, but I don't think it really matters, because it's jambalaya. How can you screw something that means "mish mash" up?
If you're wondering about the title of this diary, it's because my food preparation began with a glass of wine and ended a few glasses later. Making jambalaya is even more fun with a few glasses of wine--and you'll appreciate the grease a little more.
Like I said above, getting everything prepared before the cooking starts is important, because it moves very quickly. At least chop/slice/dice/mince everything: a large onion, a green bell pepper, 2 stalks of celery, 2 tomatoes, 14 ounces of sausage (andouille is more "traditional," and it's what I'm using, but who cares if it tastes good), 6 slices of bacon, and 5 or 6 cloves of garlic. Best to do this part before you drink any wine.
You'll also need a pound of uncooked and deveined shrimp, 2 cups of uncooked white rice, 4 cups of chicken stock, a can of crushed tomatoes (I think I use more tomatoes than most jambalaya recipes, but oh well, I like tomatoes), Cajun or Creole seasoning, Worcestershire sauce, Louisiana Hot Sauce, a few bay leaves, and kosher salt to taste.
It all starts with some good ol' bacon fat. Over medium-high heat, cook the bacon until it is crispy. Just look at that wonderful fond at the bottom of the pan, which will be deglazed soon.
Then, remove the bacon and set aside, leaving all of the fat in the pan. Now, if you want to be healthier, I suppose you could drain off some of the fat, but Eff. That. Noise. Who eats jambalaya to be healthy? In the remaining bacon fat, begin cooking what is called the "Holy Trinity" of Cajun ingredients (onion, bell pepper, and celery), starting with the onion. Sweat the onion until it's translucent.
Add the bell pepper and celery and cook until they are tender.
Now, the sausage. Wait until it starts to brown.
Add the garlic and cook just a few more minutes. Then, add the rice and stir to toast it and coat it with that deliciousness for a few minutes. Add the tomatoes and chicken stock, which will deglaze and incorporate that fond (some jambalaya recipes call for water--I can't imagine why one would choose water over a flavorful stock, but whatever floats their boat). Then, a heaping tablespoon of Cajun or Creole seasoning. I'm using a Creole seasoning I mixed using Emeril's specifications: 2 1/2 tablespoons of paprika, 2 tablespoons of salt, 1 tablespoon of black pepper, 1 tablespoon of cayenne pepper, 1 tablespoon of dried thyme, and 1 tablespoon of dried oregano. Finally, a few glugs of Worcestershire sauce, Louisiana Hot Sauce to taste, and a few bay leaves for added flavor.
Bring the pot to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer (covered) for 15 minutes. It's already looking good.
Finally, add the shrimp. I also tried something different this time and added a cup of frozen okra, which I would not recommend--that was just a little weird. But if it sounds good, go for it. Cook for another five minutes, or until the shrimp are pink. Then add the bacon, which you've probably been snacking on the whole time. Taste for salt and Louisiana Hot Sauce. It should be spicy, but contrary to popular belief, "Cajun" doesn't mean your tongue has to light on fire and fall out of your mouth.
If your wine bottle is now as empty as mine, you'll be lucky to get this on a plate. But if you do, top with some green onions.
What's on your dinner menu tonight?
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