The what, why, and huh? of food.
Okra. Okra? Okra!––One-note wonder of the vegetable world or platinum recording artist of the vegetable universe.
Last week we celebrated a coworker’s birthday by sitting down for lunch together. Chef Jim, as he is often inclined to do, traveled to Bailey’s Farmers Market earlier that day and bought what looked good to cook for our lunch. He bought what was in season and fresh—tomatoes and okra, roasting the tomatoes and stewing them with the okra.
When he presented the dish, some of the diners sort of looked around confused. It then became apparent that a few weren’t cool with okra. The discussion became all about okra, what in the heck is it anyway, and why would anyone eat it?
As a girl Southern born and Southern bred, my mother and grandmother fed our family okra cooked all sorts of ways. Some of my coworkers admitted that fried okra wasn’t half bad, but it was generally agreed that this okra-and-tomato concoction (“slimy,” someone said) wasn’t all that appealing. Who actually has tried this? Well, I had, along with pickled okra, okra pods cooked in the pot with black-eyed peas, as well as gumbo, of course. Nobody else had.
Chef Jim gave us an abridged history of okra. How it was discovered in the Ethiopian Highlands and made its way all around the world. It was used mostly for stews and gumbos, but in some parts of the world, the seeds are roasted as coffee. He went on to say we should just act like adults and try it stewed with tomatoes. We did, and everybody found it right delicious (of course, as a child growing up in the South and eating whatever was set in front of me, I already had developed a taste for it). One by one, the others began to see the light. Okra isn’t a one-note wonder vegetable; actually, it’s sort of the pop-diva Madonna of vegetables. In its versatility and ability to adapt itself to blend with other vegetables, it offers a little something for everyone to enjoy.
What do you think of okra? Love it our leave it?
OK, try this okra cookie recipe—nah, just kidding. That was the “huh?” of this piece as mentioned in the title.
Try this recipe for gumbo, starring everyone’s culinary pop superstar, Okra!—from our cookbook, “Good Grits: Southern Boy Cooks” by Chef Jim Shirley. The recipe is on page 57 and below.
Until next time,
Your resident gritsgirl, Shelley
If you were to ask about one dish that runs through every family’s repertoire of recipes in Pensacola, I believe you will find that it’s gumbo. This rich, hearty soup can be made from any meat at hand, and beyond that, it generally should have filé or okra (or both) as ingredients, but disagreements about what goes in the pot can lead to serious trouble between families. I’m not looking for trouble, but here is a savory crab and shrimp version for your family to try.
Shrimp and Crab Filé Gumbo
7 pounds heads-on shrimp, peeled;
reserve shells and heads
3 pounds crabmeat
8 bay leaves
2 cups olive oil
11/2 cups all-purpose flour
3 pounds white onion, diced
7 ribs celery with leaves, diced
1/3 cup minced garlic
1/2 cup minced shallots
1 pound red bell peppers, diced
1 pound poblano peppers, diced
1 pound green bell peppers, diced
3 pounds okra, chopped
3 pounds tomatoes, diced
1/4 cup paprika
1/4 cup ground oregano
1/4 cup whole thyme
2 tablespoons ground thyme
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper powder
1/4 cup filé powder
1 tablespoon black pepper
2 tablespoons salt
1 tablespoon lemon peel, minced
3 ounces Worcestershire sauce
1 bottle Turnbull Sauvignon Blanc
Get your biggest pot out of the cupboard and throw in the shrimp shells, heads and 2 bay leaves. Cover with water. Boil for about 15 minutes, then strain off the shells and heads. You should have about a gallon of shrimp stock; if you areover, leave on high, reduce to 1 gallon and reserve. While the stock boils, heat a cast iron skillet to medium high, pour in 11/2 cups olive oil, add flour and start stirring. About the time you can’t stir anymore, the roux will turn a nice chocolate brown for you. Set aside. Don’t splash any on your skin; it sticks and burns like napalm. Pour the remaining olive oil (1/2 cup) and toss the onions and celery into a large sauté pan set on medium high and sauté till they start to brown. Add garlic and shallots and sauté for 2 more minutes; then dump in the peppers, okra and tomatoes and sauté for 3 minutes. Shake in the paprika, oregano, thyme, cayenne and filé, sauté for 3 more minutes, then tumble the lot into the shrimp stock and crank up to high. Toss in the lemon peel and the remaining bay leaves (6) along with shrimp, rabmeat, Worcestershire, black pepper and salt; bring to a boil. The roux should still be hot; start drizzling and stirring it into the stock. Be sure to keep stirring about now to get the mix right. Turn the heat to low and let the whole batch immer for 3 hours or so, stirring occasionally.
Get out some hot sauce and some French bread for sopping, pour up the Turnbull and call in the troops. But to me, gumbo tastes better the next day. So you can let it cool a bit, make room in the fridge and call in the troops tomorrow. Reheat slowly and stir frequently; don’t ruin the batch by burning the bottom.
Tags: Atlas, Atlas Oyster House, Fish House, local restaurants, Pensacola, Recipes
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