Bonjour, y’all! Today’s post on Mastication Monologues is extra dirty and deep fried since I’m going to be talking about some of the most Southern cuisine there is in the United States: Cajun cuisine. Most people think of Mardi Gras or Hurricane Katrina when they hear anything to do with the state of Louisana, but the reality is that it is also home to one of the most unique cultures in our great nation. The Cajun people are descendants of the Acadian (French colonists) settlers in Canada who were deported by the British in the mid-1700s en masse to the then unknown lands to the south including the original 13 colonies, i.e. America in utero. If these French colonists weren’t imprisoned, killed, or passed away from diseases before or after the expulsion, they found themselves migrating to new and foreign places like the territory of Louisiana. At that time, it was considered part of the Kingdom of Spain, and the Acadian refugees were welcomed by the Spanish government due to the French and Spanish governmental and Catholic links. This new rapport led to the Acadians becoming the largest ethnic group in Louisiana, and their name slowly evolved from “Acadian” to “Cadien” to eventually “Cajun”. With a new name for their culture, their Cajun French (however strange sounding it may be at times) and food became two pillars of local pride for these new settlers and still are going strong today.
Acadian food had to adapt to the new environments they found themselves in since it was a lot hotter than old frosty Canada, and the local flora and fauna were extremely different, especially in the bayou regions. Therefore, they adapted their tastes to create dishes that emphasize the use of pork and shrimp for proteins, flavorful spices, and the “holy trinity” of green peppers, onions, and celery. However, with the rise of New Orleans as the biggest and most important city of Louisiana also came the rise of creole cuisine. While some may use them interchangeably, creole cuisine is more varied in ingredients and reflect the more cosmopolitan nature of the city versus the more rustic Cajun fare. For example, a key difference is that creole cuisine uses tomatoes while Cajun dishes do not. With the rise of celebrity chefs like Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse in the latter half of the 20th Century,
there came a regeneration of Cajun and creole cuisine that was spicier and adapted for modern tastes as the food spread out across the USA. Enter Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen.
I had never been to this local restaurant, but one of my good friends worked there and said I should try the food. I’m not a huge seafood fan (I’m more of a land animal lover), but Janice and I ended up going here on a double date since my friend David picked it. The restaurant itself is like a typical seafood restaurant with a large, wraparound bar to greet you in case you wanted to eat some fish or drink like one. We were more in the mood for a bite to eat, so we met up with David and Vivian who were waiting for us. Looking over the menu, I could see that they definitely were trying to stay true to the Cajun and creole cuisine staples along with including more general American surf and turf options. Price-wise, it’s not the cheapest eatery in town but reasonable for a seafood restaurant like in the $20-30 range for an entree. We decided to focus more on the Big Easy specialties starting with our appetizers. We got the shrimp and crawfish fondue and the crispy fried alligator. The fondue was definitely worth it since it was warm, gooey, and filled with plenty of shrimp and crawfish chunks. The crawfish/crayfish/crawdad/ecrevisse in Cajun French wasn’t really noticeable in this dish given that they often have a slightly muddy flavor given they live and eat whatever they can find in the muck at the bottom of streams. Hence why some call them “mudbugs”. The garlic bread isn’t very Cajun, but it mixes well with the creamy melted cheese. What more could you ask for in an appetizer? Oh wait, fried goodness! That’s the last box that the alligator checked off. Since the Acadians settled in the swampy bayous of Louisiana, obviously they needed to find protein sources. Therefore, it only seemed natural they would try and find a way to eat the large and plentiful alligators prowling the waters. At Pappadeaux it wasn’t like they were plucking them out of the water right outside the door, but they do promise the highest quality of alligator meat on their website. It was served to us on a platter with a side of fried potato sticks and dipping sauce. I would liken it to a plate of popcorn chicken with a dirty South twist. The meat wasn’t exactly like chicken, but it did have a similar density and similar, but not identical, flavor. The breading had a subtle, spicy hint to it with notes of paprika, and the dipping sauce had a thousand island/special sauce vibe going on. Once we took down those tasty treats, I ordered my shrimp étouffée. Before it came out, I got a complimentary cup of their gumbo. This dish’s name originates from either the West African word for okra “ki ngombo” or the Native American Choctaw word for sassafras leaves “kombo“. The reason why the name is linked to these plants is because this state dish of Louisiana is classified as African, Native American, or French depending on the thickening ingredient. The first two were already defined with okra and sassafrass while French creole cooks used flour and fat to thicken their gumbos. This was a lip-smacking good taster of Louisiana. From the spicy andouille sausage to the rich brown base, chopped veggies, and shrimp,this small bowl could do no wrong. I couldn’t wait for my étouffée to arrive. Étouffée comes from the French verb “étoufféer” meaning “to smother” or “to suffocate”, and I could see that most of the ingredients in this creole dish were covered in the brown roux sauce. Mixing the rice together with the rest of the dish made it resemble the fusion feijoada I had at Vermilion during Restaurant Week. It showed the mixing of different cultures like with the use of rice from Spanish and African dishes, the local shrimp from the Cajun country, and the French sauce and spices. It wasn’t a spicy entree, contrary to popular believe about creole and Cajun cooking, and it was the perfect dish for a cold night like when we visited Pappadeaux. I really enjoyed the amount and quality of shrimp in this dish since they weren’t too chewy or undercooked. Plus, the rice gave the étouffée the body to be filling but not too much so. I always love meals that involve mixing meat and rice together, so it was a match made in Cajun heaven for me. My fellow diners also seemed pretty pleased with their choices.