A whopping 4% of the restaurants in the town next to us are Cajun. In other words, there is one Cajun restaurant there. Needless to say, it's a small town, but bigger than the one we live in, which boasts one Subway and a deli. So when my parents come to visit, as they are doing today, there is a good chance that they will say, "Hey, let's go out tonight!" And an even better chance that what that really means is "to that Cajun restaurant whose only vegetarian option is buttered noodles." I don't think I've ever had Cajun food before, but seeing my parents and husband in such states of food bliss made me wonder what the fuss is about. So I set about to find out for myself.
I based this recipe off of Emeril's Cajun Jambalaya, but as you can see, I strayed from it quite a bit. After all, what does Emeril know about Cajun food? What makes this so good, in my opinion of course (although I hope you agree) is that each individual element is seasoned- the chickpeas, the peppers, the rice- so you get that wonderful effect of layer upon layer of flavor. Thank you, Emeril, for a good base recipe. But you know how it is- sometimes you just have to kick it up a notch.
Cajun Chickpea Jambalaya
2 cups rice
2 cups vegetable broth
2 tbsp cajun seasoning, or to taste
2 tbsp butter
1/4 cup tomato paste
2 cans chickpeas
olive oil for frying
2 tbsp taco seasoning
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 green bell pepper, sliced
1 medium red onion, sliced
3 stalks celery, chopped
salt and pepper to taste
2-3 cloves garlic
Cook rice according to instructions on package, substituting broth for water and adding bay leaf. Stir in cajun seasoning, butter, and tomato paste. Meanwhile, add enough olive oil to coat large frying pan and cook chick peas over medium high heat, stirring in taco seasoning. Let cook for 5 minutes, then remove from pan, add a bit more oil, and add peppers, onions, celery, salt and pepper to pan. Let cook until soft, stirring occasionally. Add garlic, cook for 30 seconds while stirring. Add veggies and chick peas, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove bay leaf before serving.
Way back in my waitressing days, the restaurant I worked at had a pasta that I'd been itching to try. It was called the Southwestern Chicken Pasta, although of course I'd requested to have it made without chicken. I'd heard my customers rave about it- heck, I'd even raved about it when asked (I'm sorry customers. It's just easier to pretend to eat meat than answer a million questions about protein.) Anyways, when I finally tried this dish I was disappointed, to say the least. It just didn't live up to it's potential, and that made me sad. So I took it upon myself to give it the life it deserved.
Southwestern Pasta
Yield: 4 servings
For Sauce:
6 tbsp butter
1/4 cup flour
4 cups milk
1 cup fresh grated parmesan (any other kind will result in lumpy sauce)
1/2 cup tomato paste
1-2 tbsp cajun seasoning
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
In medium saucepan, melt butter over medium heat, then whisk in flour and cook until it forms a golden paste, about 5-7 minutes. Whisk in milk one cup at a time, then reduce heat to medium, and rest of ingredients, whisking continuously until combined. Let cook for 8-10 minutes, whisking frequently, then reduce heat to low and simmer for 10- 15 minutes.
For Pasta:
16 oz pkg rotini (or pasta of choice)
1 red bell pepper, sliced
2 anaheim peppers, sliced
1 small red onion, sliced
1/4 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
2-4 cloves garlic, minced
Bring water to boil in large pot and cook pasta according to al dente instructions on box. In a large frying pan over medium high heat, cook peppers and onions until onions become transparent. Add garlic, salt and pepper, and cook for 30 seconds, stirring continuously. Reduce heat to low and cook for 10- 15 minutes until peppers and onions are fork-tender. Add sauce and veggies to pasta and toss to combine.
Ones that maybe would have been forgotten, but because we occasionally encounter them remain engrained in our subconscious? Well, it's been over 25 years since I've eaten my mom's Goulash, but every time she cooks it my memory hits the refresh button and I'm transported back to my 4 year old self, scraping my farm animal bowl clean of every last drop. No, I don't miss the meat, but that's not to say that I no longer crave the bold heartiness of this Hungarian stew. I was hesitant to make this, as I was certain that it would be a pale comparison to the original. But this dish stands on its own merits. It's not lentils pretending to be beef. It's lentils being lentils, swimming in a saucy broth of sweetness and spice. It's goulash all grown up, but never forgetting its roots.
Lentil and Roasted Potato Goulash
1 lb lentils, cooked
3 potatoes, peeled and cut to small cubes
1 medium sized onion, chopped
2 carrots, peeled and grated
3 red bell peppers
1/8 tsp marjoram
1/2 tsp caraway seeds
1/2 cup flour
2-3 cloves garlic
3/4 cup tomato paste
4 cups good, hearty vegetable broth
1 1/2 tbsp sugar
3/4 cup red wine vinegar
1 1/2 tbsp paprika
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400F.
Drizzle a little olive oil on potatoes and roast for 20-25 minutes, turning a few times, until golden brown and fork tender.
In large pot, bring butter and a little oil to medium high heat. Add onion, carrot, bell pepper, marjoram and caraway seeds. Cook until translucent, reduce heat to medium. Add flour and stir until dissolved, then add garlic, tomato paste, vegetable broth, sugar, vinegar, and paprika. When all is combined, add lentils, potatoes, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes to an hour.
The bad news is... that my kids like wheat berries. Today I was confronted by 2 cups of this mothergrain staring ominously at me from its gladware container in the fridge. "Do you really want to see me again at your next diaper change?" It taunted. I most certainly did not. This dish was born out of a need for something that I would enjoy, but my kids would not. And unless I've thoroughly destroyed your appetite with that introduction, then I do believe that you will enjoy it, too.
