New Orleans Creole hot pot

22 hours ago

9 min read

This New Orleans Creole hot pot with sausages, celery, onions, green peppers, leeks, tomatoes and corn on the cob, among other flavours, are brought together with a Creole-style roux and gently cooked to offer up deep rich flavours in a hearty gravy. Less spicy than Cajun gumbo, this also makes it a popular dish with children.

Jump straight to the ingredients and cooking method

Fat meat ain't greasy

This New Orleans Creole hot pot isn't something I know from childhood, but something I learned as an adult when a friend cooked it for me at her home in London. Originally from New Orleans, Jacqueline had grown up and studied there. She'd later settled in London with her partner and we became friends as a result of first being work colleagues after she clocked that I had experience of the Southern States. The specific moment came when, during a particularly demanding morning clinic where we were working together. She heard me mutter: "You think fat meat ain't greasy!" as a particularly demanding walk-in departed having entirely ignored everything I said.

"Where did you learn that?" she smiled. I told her. And soon we were gabbin' like debutantes at the cotillion... Sometimes cultural shorthand is everything.

A while later Jacqueline invited me for supper at her home. It was nicely informal; just her and her partner Cora. By then, knowing a bit more about each other, she was eager that I try something in the style of the home cooking she was raised on in the French Quarter of New Orleans. She was from one of those old families that still have those "secret" houses nestled betwixt famous streets of the the tourist hell. She promised me something with a New Orleans-style roux—made with butter rather than oil-based rouxs favoured by Cajun cooking—and quite a lot of tomatoes, something used less frequently in the Cajun cooking I'd already professed to loving, but used quite a lot in old-fashioned New Orleans dishes with a notable French influence.

She and Cora have since retired to Portugal, and we stay in touch. I joke with her that I am "proud to still know a proper lesbian couple" and she tells me to f**k off... I shamelessly and frequently suggest they might want to spend some time back in New Orleans... and of course I would be happy to come and visit...

When she first invited me to supper in London, I asked her if I could join them early to actually learn how to cook the dish she was planning and not just be a happy dinner guest. She and Cora were pleased I had the interest, but Jacqueline warned me: "You'd better come early. It takes its time to cook."

Holy moly!

One of the things I learned is that New Orleans Creole and Cajun cooking do share is the "holy trinity": that magical mix of celery, green bell pepper and onions, a kind of riff on mirepoix developed by the early French settlers in Louisiana. As with a lot of Creole or Cajun dishes, it forms the backbone of this delicious dish. So, it's worth not rushing it.

Something I found interesting was hearing from Jacqueline how the (in)famous Andouille sausage of gumbo was more of a Cajun thing than a New Orleans Creole cooking ingredient even though it had first arrived from France through the Port of New Orleans. While people do certainly use it in New Orleans, Jacqueline told me that when her mother or grandmother cooked this dish when she was growing up, they would rarely use Andouille sausages (or indeed any form of smoked sausage), instead favouring porks sausages that contained herbs mirroring the ones added to the dish, or pork sausages with a mild BBQ seasoning.

This, together with the overall spices used, makes it a less smoky dish than Cajun dishes such as gumbo and, indeed, less spicy, though you can pump up the cayenne pepper if you want. These factors, together with the creaminess the butter in the roux and "holy trinity' bring, probably account for why it has proven popular with kids when I have served it to them. The only smokiness comes from the small amount of smoked paprika, the only heat from the cayenne pepper. It uses no dried chillies in the way Cajun spice mixes often do.

The agnostic trinity

I've been drawn back to this dish with the early hint of autumn in the air. It's a hearty dish that I associate with feeding people something filling, a warmer against the cold. This is ironic because, as Jacqueline explained to me, for her it was a typical weeknight family dinner all year round, including during that infamously humid New Orleans warm season.

It's also a dish that I have found has gone down famously with kids: not too spicy for those unfamiliar with heat to complain; and all those healthy vegetables cooked down to a rich, delicious gravy in which their identity is too disguised for infant tantrums about eating what's good for them.

Take note:

This version is for 4 to 5 diners, depending on appetite and any side dishes. You can easily scale it up for a larger group, the only challenge being a pot big enough to cope with all the corn on the cob.

This dish stores well in the fridge for a couple of days and freezes well if you remove the corn on the cob first. I will often cook corn on the cob separately when dishing up the defrosted, reheated version. Sure, it doesn't have exactly the same cooked-in flavours, but it is still delicious.

Please note that the images are indicative, based on serving it on two separate occasions.

3 top tips to get this recipe right:

This is definitely a dish cooked at a slower pace on low temperatures. Don't rush it. The longer the stock is cooked into the sauce, slowly being integrated with the roux, the richer the end result. Here simmering is about a very gentle simmer.

This dish is most often made with fairly straightforward pork sausages. But, it can also be made with large pieces of dried sausage. Opt for dried sausage is you want the sausage to have a "meatier" presence as pieces in the final result. Fresh pork sausages become deliciously soft and more integrated into the sauce.

The 'holy trinity'—onions, green bell peppers and celery cooked down slowly—that form the backbone of this dish can be cooked days in advance and kept in the fridge until you are ready to cook the hot pot. Similarly, if you often cook Cajun or Creole dishes, which I do, you can prepare it in large batches and freeze it, defrosting when the urge for a delicious Southern dish takes your fancy.

Shopping list

for the New Orleans Creole hot pot

8 to 10 pork sausages; cut into fairly large pieces
2 large brown onions (or red); diced
2 green bell peppers; diced
5 sticks of celery; finely sliced
2 leeks; sliced
1 ear of corn on the cob per diner; peeled and cut into large segments
400g puréed fresh tomatoes (or canned chopped tomatoes)
3 tbspns sunflower oil (or canola oil)
3 to 4 tbspns unsalted butter
2 tbspns plain flour
1l chicken stock (or vegetable stock)
3 cloves of garlic; grated or finely chopped
2 tspns dried mixed herbs (marjoram, thyme, oregano; parsley, sage)
1 tspn cayenne pepper
1 tspn smoked paprika
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Side dishes

I'm serving it here with the same mashed potatoes with which it was served to me the first time I ate it; potatoes mashed fairly roughly with added chopped spring onions (scallions), a little cream, salt and pepper. And, delicious cornbread baked by my friend Chrys.

Both of these are fairly traditional with how it was served, but Jacqueline told me that when she was growing up it would also often be served with rice, yams or sweet potatoes.

Cooking Method

the New Orleans creole hot pot

Prepare your 'holy trinity' first. You can even do so days before and store in the fridge. In a pan, heat the sunflower oil on a low-medium heat. Add the onions, celery and green bell pepper and stir in, ensuring all are coated evenly. Reduce to a low heat, cover and slowly sweat, stirring occasionally. Cook until all are soft and tender (adding daubs of additional oil if it appears too dry) but not caramelised. If you are doing it correctly, it should take at least 30 to 35mins before you have a suitably soft, cooked 'holy trinity'. I personally prefer to do it on an extremely low heat, cooking it down over the course of an hour or more. Remove from the heat and place to the side
Using the same frying pan, add about a tablespoon or so of butter, and increase to a medium heat. When the butter bubbles, add the sausage pieces and brown fully on all surfaces. You don't need to worry if they are cooked through, but you do want the outside browned to the point that there are notable signs of crisping here and there. Place to one side
In the large pot with a lid in which you will cook the dish, melt 2tbspns of butter on a low-medium heat. As soon as it has all melted, add the sifted flour, stirring constantly to form a smooth roux. Immediately add all of the 'holy trinity', folding in so that all ingredients are coated with the roux.
About 1min later, add the garlic, stirring constantly so that nothing sticks. When the garlic aromas release, add the leeks and fold in, cooking for about a minute
Pour in 500ml of the stock, stirring so the roux does not form lumps in the liquid. Bring to a very gentle simmer, increasing the heat if needed, but sure to avoid it boiling. Stir until the sauce shows signs of thickening. Then, slightly reduce the heat, cover and gently simmer for 8mins
Uncover and add an additional 200ml of the stock and the tomatoes and gently stir in. Re-cover and gently simmer for 15mins
Uncover and add the sausage pieces and the dried mixed herbs and a little more stock, and gently fold in. Re-cover and gently simmer for 30mins, stirring occasionally, adding a little extra stock each time so that it, in turn, is absorbed into the thickening sauce
Add the cayenne pepper and smoked paprika and stir in. Add the corn segments, pushing them down into the liquid, adding a little additional stock if needed. Simmer for another 20 to 25mins, stirring occasionally and turning the corn so it cooks evenly on all facets
When the sauce looks like it is nearing optimal consistency—it should also have a deeper, rich brown colour at this point—add the remainder of the stock and chopped fresh parsley, and gently simmer uncovered for a further 10mins, until it is fully thickened. Taste and add salt (and pepper) as needed
Keep hot in the pot until you're ready to serve, then plate (or add to a serving dish) and take to table with your preferred side dishes

Alternatives

This carnivore dish is easily turned lactovegetarian simply by using vegetable stock and veggie sausages of the firmer sort, whether Quorn or other types. Quickly brown them, but only add them right towards the end of the cooking process to avoid them breaking up i.e. about 5mins before the parsley goes in (step 9 above). You could create a vegan version by additionally using vegetable oil for the roux. I haven't tried it, but this is actually how the roux for many Cajun dishes is made, so I am sure it would work.

It is easy to make great pescatarian versions of this dish. The easiest is to add raw prawns or king prawns to the last five minutes of the cooking. But, if you're feeling indulgent—and open to a messy dining experience—add whole crayfish. Add these in the last 5mins of cooking if you have already boiled them in their shells in salted water. You can add them whole is you want the whole shell-cracking experience, but I love to extract the cooked crayfish meat from the shells and add it as large pieces in the last few minutes of cooking. Alternatively, add raw crayfish earlier in the cooking process so that they cook within the sauce itself.

Pairings

Though this dish has a wonderful depth and richness to it, it's not overly "meaty" because of the high vegetable content. Thus, I think it works best with medium-bodied red wines that aren't heavy on the oak. I tend towards pinot noirs, merlots or a good old-fashioned chianti. But, if serving it as a "winter warmer" I go for slightly fuller bodied wines such as cabernet sauvignon or shiraz. There are so many out there that have worked, that I can't remember many of them. But, I always avoid things such as very "oaky" red riojas. The flavours in this dish are rich, but somehow remain fairly subtle, so full-bodied reds with a strong note of wood tend to be overkill.

On the occasions shown in the images, I had it with a Californian Hahn Estate Pinot Noir and Apothic Merlot, also from California. Both paired well, but the former had the edge in being both a better wine overall and having the smoothness that better suits this dish.

That said, if I were to serve this dish in hot weather, I would probably serve it with a chilled white wine such as a sauvignon blanc, riesling or Albariño. But this remains theoretical as I have not done so yet.

If going for beer, becuase of its rich, velvety flavours, this is a dish that I works very well with Belgian trappiste beers such as Chimay, Orval or Westmalle, traditionally served at room temperature. And this would always be my tip in colder weather. In the summer, I'd advise chilled Spanish or Mexican beers such as Corona Extra or San Miguel.