What an exciting second week of my open hearth cooking apprenticeship at Magnolia Mound!
Today, I focused mainly on making gumbo file. I decided not to cook from a recipe. I wanted to follow my instincts in the kitchen. First, I made a roux. After letting the fire burn for a good hour, I brought out hot coals to do some "down hearth" cooking. I placed equal parts butter and flour in a large cast iron pot and stirred. And stirred. Then, I stirred some more. Nothing happened. When I say, "nothing happened," I mean that after 30 minutes of stirring, my roux was still as blond as Marilyn Monroe. So, I pulled some more coals under the pot, said a little prayer, and kept stirring.
Thirty minutes later, my roux was finally a nice caramel color, which means that the flour had starting toasting. Phew! Another thirty minutes passed, and my roux was a beautiful, creamy brown -- the color of a Hershey bar. I added my onions to slow the toasting process.
10 minutes later, after the roux-onion mixture had cooked a bit more, I added in the remainder of the "holy trinity": bell pepper and celery. Then came the chicken stock, ham hocks, pan seared chicken, and bay leaf. I switched cooking techniques at this point. I took the gumbo off the coals and placed it on a hook over the open flame and let it simmer for 3 hours. I let the hearth do the rest of the work. Voila - gumbo!
Today, I worked with a woman named Rosemary who has been volunteering at Magnolia mound for 20 years. She is best known for her baking skills and today she taught me how to make biscuits, country bread, and French cake. We made the biscuits in the hearth and we made the other baked goods in the brick oven. While the biscuits were baking, we cooked up some pork sausage patties and then fried apples in the fat from the patties until they were crispy and golden brown. We then made the most sinful breakfast sandwiches: sausage patties, fried apples, and rosemary jam on a hot biscuit. I died and went to heaven - twice. I definitely ate a second one. I do not regret that decision.
The brick oven is a labor of love, in many ways. You have to kindle a very hot fire, keep it burning for 4 hours to heat the bricks, and then remove all of the firewood, coals, and ash from the oven before baking your breads/cakes etc. with the residual heat. Rosemary prepped 4 loaves of bread that morning - they were rising in cast iron skillets before we put them in the oven. We put the French cake in first, though, because cakes generally take longer to bake. We didn't use a timer. We didn't have a toothpick to test if the cake was done. We just eyeballed it!
In addition to the gumbo and the baked goods, we also baked sweet potatoes and acorn squash down hearth in a cast iron pot. I was hoping that Rosemary would cook them a bit differently--by pulling out some hot coals, cooking those coals in ash, and then placing the sweet potatoes in that ash and covering them with more of it. This was a technique employed by enslaved people cooking over open flames (who were rarely given access to cook with the cast iron pots that belonged in the kitchen of the main house).
One of the highlights of my day was when a group of French tourists from Paris came through the museum. They spoke English, but had some trouble understanding the thick Louisiana accent of the docent who was leading their tour. When they visited us in the kitchen, I was able to clarify some of the questions they had. It was nice to speak in French with them!
Today, I focused mainly on making gumbo file. I decided not to cook from a recipe. I wanted to follow my instincts in the kitchen. First, I made a roux. After letting the fire burn for a good hour, I brought out hot coals to do some "down hearth" cooking. I placed equal parts butter and flour in a large cast iron pot and stirred. And stirred. Then, I stirred some more. Nothing happened. When I say, "nothing happened," I mean that after 30 minutes of stirring, my roux was still as blond as Marilyn Monroe. So, I pulled some more coals under the pot, said a little prayer, and kept stirring.
Thirty minutes later, my roux was finally a nice caramel color, which means that the flour had starting toasting. Phew! Another thirty minutes passed, and my roux was a beautiful, creamy brown -- the color of a Hershey bar. I added my onions to slow the toasting process.
10 minutes later, after the roux-onion mixture had cooked a bit more, I added in the remainder of the "holy trinity": bell pepper and celery. Then came the chicken stock, ham hocks, pan seared chicken, and bay leaf. I switched cooking techniques at this point. I took the gumbo off the coals and placed it on a hook over the open flame and let it simmer for 3 hours. I let the hearth do the rest of the work. Voila - gumbo!
Today, I worked with a woman named Rosemary who has been volunteering at Magnolia mound for 20 years. She is best known for her baking skills and today she taught me how to make biscuits, country bread, and French cake. We made the biscuits in the hearth and we made the other baked goods in the brick oven. While the biscuits were baking, we cooked up some pork sausage patties and then fried apples in the fat from the patties until they were crispy and golden brown. We then made the most sinful breakfast sandwiches: sausage patties, fried apples, and rosemary jam on a hot biscuit. I died and went to heaven - twice. I definitely ate a second one. I do not regret that decision.
In addition to the gumbo and the baked goods, we also baked sweet potatoes and acorn squash down hearth in a cast iron pot. I was hoping that Rosemary would cook them a bit differently--by pulling out some hot coals, cooking those coals in ash, and then placing the sweet potatoes in that ash and covering them with more of it. This was a technique employed by enslaved people cooking over open flames (who were rarely given access to cook with the cast iron pots that belonged in the kitchen of the main house).
One of the highlights of my day was when a group of French tourists from Paris came through the museum. They spoke English, but had some trouble understanding the thick Louisiana accent of the docent who was leading their tour. When they visited us in the kitchen, I was able to clarify some of the questions they had. It was nice to speak in French with them!
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