Last week Janice showed up.
Janice is loud. Janice says grace before dinner. Janice calls you ’sistah,’ and ‘baybah.’ Janice is 100% Cajun, and she refused to let me into her kitchen.
“No!” was her deep, rolling reply as she lumbered through the office, adjusting her black glasses cockily. She was preparing meals for a weekend-long meeting, and wouldn’t stand for another body in her cayenne-infused galley. “But I do need a dishwasher. Come see me ‘fore ya leave,” she said jollily. I did.
As soon as I finished editing my last text, I ran next door to see if I could be of assistance. With a little pushing from my charmingly aggressive boss, she let me stay. Janice is a woman of secrets in the kitchen. Her main concern is keeping those famous recipes under wraps— unless you slyly press and glean and observe. Her first challenge was to pop a spoonful of potato salad into my mouth and watch my reaction.
“Mmmm it’s subtle,” I said. The aftertaste left a zesty spice lingering on the sides of my tongue. “Black pepper?” She shook her head, salt and pepper cropped hair bouncing. “It’s not paprika…hmm…cayenne!”
Conceding a tiny nod, she turned around with a smile. Janice flusters easily, though her presence is one of confidence, and she likes to be prodded for those monumental recipes. She likes a little advice and affirmation. She tossed me a lemon and a bunch of parsley, allowing me to chop and listen while she told me the order of operations, and her ‘method of gumbo.’ “We ain’t got gumbo boats. How’s he expect me to serve gumbo, w’thout the boats? We just gotta use them mugs.”
“You want some ruuum?’ she asked.
“Sure, I’ll have some rum.”
She put a hand on her stocky hip, “I see we gonna have a problem communicatin’. I said, ‘you got enough ruuuum?’”
“Ohhhh! Roooom. Yes, thank you. I have plenty of room.” Janice walked back to the stockpot to debone the chicken, chuckling to herself.
After a couple of hours bantering and whipping up a batch of bread puddin’, Janice said, “Hey sistah, you think we got some seven in there?” pointing at the refrigerator, “I think it’s time for a drink.” I filled two rocks glasses with ice, while she tossed in some bourbon and topped it off with a little seven-up.
Before the guests arrived, we finished off the bourbon and splashed a guzzle into a pan to simmer with brown sugar and butter for the crowning of the bread pudding. People mingled, and I passed a tray of boudain with saltines (”That’s a Louisiana thang,” she told me.) She said grace, and we served the gumbo.
Though I didn’t learn anything profound, it was nice to have company in the kitchen. Janice reaffirmed the simplest of ingredients are what make a crowd moan over a dish. I would definitely change a few ingredient selections (dijon mustard for yellow, and non-organic for organic,) but the base of her recipes reflects a true passion for simplicity and pleasure in food. I did gather a few hints when she sat down, hands on splayed knees, and said, “Now ya always start your dish off with the Holy Trinity and the Resurrection—” counting on her fingers, “onions, red peppahs, celery an’ gahlic.” Amen.
There are left-overs a plenty in the kitchen. Cheese grits, shrimp and zucchini, bananas foster, dirty rice and lingering mug of gumbo. We’ll eat like creole kings for a day more.
I would never give away Janice’s secret ingredients or a detailed recipe, but I will share a loose version of her bread pudding with the incredible hard bourbon topping, and it can be our little secret.
Bourbon Bread Pudding
Notes: Janice doesn’t use cream or milk in her recipe, but I like a little for extra creaminess. You can use any day old bread, but I like sweet brioche toasted lightly before hand, and cinnamon raisin bread is incredible as well.
Ingredients
4 large eggs (for Bourbon sauce)
1 3/4 c. whole milk 6 tbs. unsalted butter
(substitute 3/4 c. with whipping cream heaping 1/3 c. dark brown sugar
if desired) 3 tbs. bourbon
1/2 c. granulated sugar 1/3 c. chopped pecans
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
4-5 c. cubed challah, brioche, or any
other day-old bread
1/4 c. raisins or sultanas
Butter an 9×9 baking dish and toss in the cubed bread and raisins. Whisk together the first 7 ingredients in a mixing bowl, then pour over the bread and raisins. Mix about to coat all pieces and let soak for 30+ minutes covered in the refrigerator.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Pop the baking dish into the oven for 30 minutes. If top is browning too quickly, cover with foil. Bake another 30 minutes, or until set with golden topping.
Heat a sauce pan over medium low heat and melt butter. Stir in brown sugar until dissolved and add bourbon and pecans. Pour over bread pudding, and toss back into a lowly-heated oven, until time to serve.