Crispy Cajun Complaints
Earlier tonight I went to a restaurant that had just opened in downtown Bloomington. I went alone, as all my friends were either out of town, or unwilling to attend. I did feel a bit strange attending a restaurant without someone with whom I could converse, but the temptation of fried alligator was a bit too much to resist. Besides, I had told an acquaintance that I would show, and I have a tendency to keep my word, sometimes. There was also the allure of Creole and Cajun cooking, dishes that I have not had unadulterated since leaving New Orleans last year.
The difference between Creole cooking and Cajun cooking was not made clear to me until I visited a rather elaborate restaurant on the outskirts of the French quarter. The restaurant was Creole and wanted to make sure that any patron knew that there was no dirty Cajun influence. The first few pages of the menu were devoted to an elaborate description on the fine nuances of Creole cooking, and why Cajun cooking is for poor, pathetic folk who didn't even deserve to launder their underwear in the restaurant sink. Cajun cooking is a local influence derived from an inability to afford fine cooking instruments and ingredients. Essentially, Cajun cooking was everything thrown into a pot, with lots of spices. Gumbo, for example, would be Cajun, as well as fried foods and jambalayas. Creole cooking, on the other hand, has a strong French influence, which manifests in New Orleans’ wonderful crepes. The restaurant's name was Creole Bar and Grill, which gave me certain expectations.
My expectations were unfulfilled to some degree. Most of the food offered was distinctly Cajun. Were the bar's name Cajun Bar and Grille, I would grant them a waiver, but if the restaurant's name is Creole Bar and Grille, then I expect a bit more Creole cooking. At least the atmosphere was pretty impressive. The lighting was good and the piped in music, while generic grab-bag jazz, contained enough big names to make me happy. I picked out Davis, Coltrane, and a pair of pipes, which sounded a bit like Chet Baker, although I think he's a bit too obscure by modern standards to show in a hicktown restaurant.
I ordered two things: fried alligator, and a roast beef Po' boy. The fried alligator set me back $6.95. It came rather quickly. I wasn't surprised. I was one of eating customers. The fried alligator was sticked, and put next to some kind of lemon-zest dipping sauce. I sampled the sauce a few times in order to try to discern the composition. I was able to sort out a few ingredients, but not enough to make it myself. The alligator, alone, was rather interesting. It tasted like rubbery chicken. I don’t regret ordering it, although it was a bit expensive for the amount of food offered. The Po' boy, on the other hand, was a huge disappointment. I wanted to give it back to the restaurant and tell them to make it proper. I suppose I have been spoiled, after all, I have eaten Po' boys at what is considered the best Po' boy restaurant in New Orleans, Mother's.
For those of you wondering what a Po' boy is, it's basically a meat sandwich on bread, or the Cajun take on a subway sandwich. Po' boys got their name because back in the depression, poor workers would take slices of bread, and head to restaurants in search of scraps. Restaurants would dole out these scraps and ladles of gravy for a small price. Hence, the name, Po' boy sandwich.
Well, I had taken a liking to Po' boys, (in fact, I have uploaded an appropriate picture on my blogspot account. Check my user info if you're reading this on LJ), and so my stomach demanded to see if a plausible substitute could be found outside the Big Easy. What the restaurant sent me was a sorry little roast-beef sandwich with a pickles and tomatoes. If I wanted an Italian beef sandwich, I would have ordered one. I ordered a Po' boy, though, and I wanted a Po' boy. I have a feeling that the cook that night had never had a proper Po' boy before and didn't know how to make them. A proper Po' boy is not dry. A proper Po' boy is swimming in condiments and has Tabasco sauce on it. A proper Po' boy has so much meat in it that you can barely get your mouth around the bread. Creole Bar and Grille cannot make a proper Po' boy.
All together, I spent 15 dollars on a meal that was not entirely satisfying. I probably won't go back again for food. Besides, they didn't have Tabasco on the table. They had some kind of faux-Spanish hot sauce, which is heresy.
I was telling Rosencratz about my Po' boy melancholy, when he iterated a sentence I've heard often from him. Rosencratz firmly believes that flavorful food is only found in the cities, the south and southwest, and the coastal regions of the states (with the exception of lovely Chicago). The Midwest, to him, is one vast expanse of bland, dull cooking. To some extent, I'm inclined to agree. Midwestern cooking is insufferably bland. There are certain pockets of the Midwest where cooking is incredible and influence heavily by local customs and flavors. Kansas City is one of the best BBQ pits in the country. Chicago is practically a cooking mecca, and Chicago grease is embodied in everything worth eating there. Here in hicktown, and in other small towns dotting the wastes of the plains, bland seems to be the most popular flavor. It's hard to get anything decently spiced. This was evident in Creole Bar and Grille, and is evident in the dishes I've had in my travels.
I've given this phenomenon a bit of thought and have come to the conclusion that the reason cooking is predominantly bland in the Midwest is that there is not a lot of cultural exchange. Most people living here are protestant whites of Irish and Germanic descent, with a sprinkling of Scandinavian. It is not surprising that the rather steadfast cultural base has created something akin to vanilla cake. While vanilla cake is nice to eat, it doesn't really have anything that excites the palate. Occasionally marble cake is available, but the quantities aren't enough to truly satisfy the inquiring tongue. The coastal regions, on the other hand, have had a steady influx of a variety of people. Ships brought different cultures, as well as the flavors of different lands. These cultures and flavors integrated into the local cuisine, creating food unique to that area, and usually heavily spiced. Chicago was a major trade center because it was a railroad nexus, as well as a stop on the Great Lakes, which explains its unique culinary tastes. The southwest has its Native American and Hispanic influences. The south has its Caribbean influences, as well as African. The east has most of Europe, as well as anyone who came in through the various east coast ports. The west has a strong Asian influence. The Midwest has shit, except for Kansas City, which has BBQ.
* A resolute discussion with Rosencratz showed that the terms Cajun and Creole are very much a subject of constant debate. Apparently Creole also refers to people of Indian/African/Carribean descent, while Cajun refers to people of Acadian (French Nova-Scotian) descent. For the purposes of this argument, it is to be assumed that Creole refers to "city-cooking" and Cajun refers to "country-cooking."
-----------
I'm sure y'all have noticed that this is kind of a cop-out entry. Not too many people are fascinated by food. Well, food enthralls me.
I'll write more tomorrow. Promise. And it'll actually contain thoughts!
----------
If this house is a rocking...
The difference between Creole cooking and Cajun cooking was not made clear to me until I visited a rather elaborate restaurant on the outskirts of the French quarter. The restaurant was Creole and wanted to make sure that any patron knew that there was no dirty Cajun influence. The first few pages of the menu were devoted to an elaborate description on the fine nuances of Creole cooking, and why Cajun cooking is for poor, pathetic folk who didn't even deserve to launder their underwear in the restaurant sink. Cajun cooking is a local influence derived from an inability to afford fine cooking instruments and ingredients. Essentially, Cajun cooking was everything thrown into a pot, with lots of spices. Gumbo, for example, would be Cajun, as well as fried foods and jambalayas. Creole cooking, on the other hand, has a strong French influence, which manifests in New Orleans’ wonderful crepes. The restaurant's name was Creole Bar and Grill, which gave me certain expectations.
My expectations were unfulfilled to some degree. Most of the food offered was distinctly Cajun. Were the bar's name Cajun Bar and Grille, I would grant them a waiver, but if the restaurant's name is Creole Bar and Grille, then I expect a bit more Creole cooking. At least the atmosphere was pretty impressive. The lighting was good and the piped in music, while generic grab-bag jazz, contained enough big names to make me happy. I picked out Davis, Coltrane, and a pair of pipes, which sounded a bit like Chet Baker, although I think he's a bit too obscure by modern standards to show in a hicktown restaurant.
I ordered two things: fried alligator, and a roast beef Po' boy. The fried alligator set me back $6.95. It came rather quickly. I wasn't surprised. I was one of eating customers. The fried alligator was sticked, and put next to some kind of lemon-zest dipping sauce. I sampled the sauce a few times in order to try to discern the composition. I was able to sort out a few ingredients, but not enough to make it myself. The alligator, alone, was rather interesting. It tasted like rubbery chicken. I don’t regret ordering it, although it was a bit expensive for the amount of food offered. The Po' boy, on the other hand, was a huge disappointment. I wanted to give it back to the restaurant and tell them to make it proper. I suppose I have been spoiled, after all, I have eaten Po' boys at what is considered the best Po' boy restaurant in New Orleans, Mother's.
For those of you wondering what a Po' boy is, it's basically a meat sandwich on bread, or the Cajun take on a subway sandwich. Po' boys got their name because back in the depression, poor workers would take slices of bread, and head to restaurants in search of scraps. Restaurants would dole out these scraps and ladles of gravy for a small price. Hence, the name, Po' boy sandwich.
Well, I had taken a liking to Po' boys, (in fact, I have uploaded an appropriate picture on my blogspot account. Check my user info if you're reading this on LJ), and so my stomach demanded to see if a plausible substitute could be found outside the Big Easy. What the restaurant sent me was a sorry little roast-beef sandwich with a pickles and tomatoes. If I wanted an Italian beef sandwich, I would have ordered one. I ordered a Po' boy, though, and I wanted a Po' boy. I have a feeling that the cook that night had never had a proper Po' boy before and didn't know how to make them. A proper Po' boy is not dry. A proper Po' boy is swimming in condiments and has Tabasco sauce on it. A proper Po' boy has so much meat in it that you can barely get your mouth around the bread. Creole Bar and Grille cannot make a proper Po' boy.
All together, I spent 15 dollars on a meal that was not entirely satisfying. I probably won't go back again for food. Besides, they didn't have Tabasco on the table. They had some kind of faux-Spanish hot sauce, which is heresy.
I was telling Rosencratz about my Po' boy melancholy, when he iterated a sentence I've heard often from him. Rosencratz firmly believes that flavorful food is only found in the cities, the south and southwest, and the coastal regions of the states (with the exception of lovely Chicago). The Midwest, to him, is one vast expanse of bland, dull cooking. To some extent, I'm inclined to agree. Midwestern cooking is insufferably bland. There are certain pockets of the Midwest where cooking is incredible and influence heavily by local customs and flavors. Kansas City is one of the best BBQ pits in the country. Chicago is practically a cooking mecca, and Chicago grease is embodied in everything worth eating there. Here in hicktown, and in other small towns dotting the wastes of the plains, bland seems to be the most popular flavor. It's hard to get anything decently spiced. This was evident in Creole Bar and Grille, and is evident in the dishes I've had in my travels.
I've given this phenomenon a bit of thought and have come to the conclusion that the reason cooking is predominantly bland in the Midwest is that there is not a lot of cultural exchange. Most people living here are protestant whites of Irish and Germanic descent, with a sprinkling of Scandinavian. It is not surprising that the rather steadfast cultural base has created something akin to vanilla cake. While vanilla cake is nice to eat, it doesn't really have anything that excites the palate. Occasionally marble cake is available, but the quantities aren't enough to truly satisfy the inquiring tongue. The coastal regions, on the other hand, have had a steady influx of a variety of people. Ships brought different cultures, as well as the flavors of different lands. These cultures and flavors integrated into the local cuisine, creating food unique to that area, and usually heavily spiced. Chicago was a major trade center because it was a railroad nexus, as well as a stop on the Great Lakes, which explains its unique culinary tastes. The southwest has its Native American and Hispanic influences. The south has its Caribbean influences, as well as African. The east has most of Europe, as well as anyone who came in through the various east coast ports. The west has a strong Asian influence. The Midwest has shit, except for Kansas City, which has BBQ.
* A resolute discussion with Rosencratz showed that the terms Cajun and Creole are very much a subject of constant debate. Apparently Creole also refers to people of Indian/African/Carribean descent, while Cajun refers to people of Acadian (French Nova-Scotian) descent. For the purposes of this argument, it is to be assumed that Creole refers to "city-cooking" and Cajun refers to "country-cooking."
-----------
I'm sure y'all have noticed that this is kind of a cop-out entry. Not too many people are fascinated by food. Well, food enthralls me.
I'll write more tomorrow. Promise. And it'll actually contain thoughts!
----------
If this house is a rocking...
posted by Jon at 9:52 PM
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