Milwaukee Creole: Barbequed Shrimp

When you live in Wisconsin, finding fresh (never been frozen) seafood can be a challenge. One of the things you will almost NEVER find is fresh shrimp. So, when we heard that the Fabian Seafood truck was coming around last weekend, we knew we had to pick up a few pounds of fresh, wild caught, gulf shrimp.

Sure, we were a bit tentative about buying shrimp out of a truck in a gas station parking lot. But, our minds eased a bit when we saw the incredibly long lines of people waiting to buy shrimp. And we started salivating when we caught site of the shrimp itself -- firm and pink-fleshed with virtually no signs of discoloration. They also smelled fabulous (well, as fabulous as uncooked shrimp CAN smell).
Once we got the shrimp home, of course, the only question was -- how do we prepare them?

I was having a bit of a craving for creole fare. So, I started channeling some of my favorite Louisiana dishes. Barbequed shrimp seemed like a natural choice. After all, it was made famous by Pascale's Manale in the Big Easy.

I've heard that this dish is really best when prepared with head-on shrimp (aren't they all?). The fatty red substance in the shrimp heads, akin to the lobster’s tamale, is highly valued, and is often used to flavor the sauce. I respect this tradition, but am a little creeped out by foods that stare back. Plus, the seafood-in-a-truck people weren't carrying head-on shrimp this time around. So, we opted for the headless variety in our recipe.

Now, despite the "barbeque" in the name, traditional barbequed shrimp are not cooked on a grill at all. But, it was a gorgeous day -- so we decided to break all the rules. Not only were we going to make Nola Barbequed Shrimp with headless shrimp, but we were going to expose them to our trusty Weber.

But, first, we needed to make up a little bit of creole dry rub. A bit of salt, some cayenne pepper, thyme, oregano, garlic, white pepper, paprika, and celery seed should do it.
We tossed the shrimp liberally in the dry rub and a bit of olive oil.
And then we skewered those shrimp up.
If you've not tried the "two skewer" trick with shrimp, you're in for a treat. The double skewers really make flipping the shrimp on the hot grill a breeze (the shrimps can't play spinning tricks on you when you're not looking).
Next, we composed the sauce. First saute bit of onion, garlic, and celery in liberal amounts of butter with a couple of tablespoons of chopped fresh rosemary. Add some Worcestershire, some beer, lemon juice (throw part of the rind in too, for good measure), a tablespoon of agave nectar, a couple of tablespoons of hot sauce. And finally, a nice whorl of heavy cream. Stir it all up, let it come to a simmer, and cook it until thickened.
When you've got the sauce prepared, it's time to take those shrimps out to the barbie. Place them on direct high heat and let them sizzle for 3-4 minutes on the first side.
Then, flip them over and give them another 3-4 minutes on the other side (this depends heavily on the size of the shrimp) -- or until the flesh is firm and the shells are bright pink.
When the shrimp are cooked, it's time to bring them inside and marry them with that luscious creole "barbeque" sauce. Trust me when I say that you really won't be sorry about this.
Just look at that rich, creamy, spicy, smoky malange... the shrimp in this dish definitely lived up to our expectations. And that sauce! Lawd, the sauce!

Our advice? Dress down when you eat these shrimp (hear that ladies?? this is not the time for looking all nice). Gather up a nice loaf of French bread for dipping, and roll up your sleeves. Cuz this is some serious food. *slurp*

Burp! Barbequed Shrimp

This post was submitted as part of Real Food Wednesday!

©BURP! Where Food Happens

The Morel Files: Manicotti with Mushroom Ragu

... if you were wondering what we did with the two pounds of morels we won from Marx Foods (and you might be, because we've been neglectful in our blogging on that topic), I'm pleased to tell you that we savored every last bit of them.
There was a pizza topped with morels and manchego, a steak with a side of sauteed morels, and lovely homemade pasta with morel cream sauce. And then, there was the manicotti.

I should begin by telling you that Peef has fond memories of manicotti. It was the meal he requested for his birthday every year during his childhood. It was the meal that allowed me to feed him tofu for the first time (tofu ricotta is really fantastic, for those of you who've never tried it). And it's been an occasional staple at our house for years. Now, we love classic Italian dishes as much as anyone. But, we also love giving beloved recipes a bit of a spin. Needless to say, we'd never made manicotti like this. Until now.

It all started, of course, with a nice pile of those morel mushrooms. LOVE those 'shrooms. Nutty and slightly smokey, I'm convinced that a morel makes everything better. But, that doesn't mean that there's not a dark side to these friendly fungi. There's ALWAYS a dark side.
Despite my love affair with morels, I do get a bit grossed out by the creatures that live within them. So, I'm in the camp of people who like to soak the morels in a bit of salted water before slicing and dicing them. You still have to see the little beasties that float out of the mushrooms, but it's easy enough to just pour them off the top of the water and get on with your life. Oh, yes, and -- as Peef is kind enough to remind me -- there's a lot less screaming that takes place when I don't come across creepy crawlies while slicing my mushrooms.

We also picked up a package of dried shiitakes -- which we reconstituted in hot water while the morels were soaking. And we reserved that precious mushroom "stock".
We chopped the shiitakes nicely, and added them to a bowl of fresh ricotta cheese.
In a large saute pan, we sauteed about 1/2 pound of morels along with another 1/2 pound of creminis, a Vidalia onion, some garlic, and a tablespoon or two of freshly chopped rosemary. We added the mushroom "stock" and reduced it by about half. When the mushroom stock was reduced, we added a 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes and allowed the sauce to simmer for 15-20 more minutes.In the meantime, we cooked up our pasta and got to work on the filling. To the ricotta mixture containing the shiitake mushrooms, we added a generous handful of Parmesan, Romano, and some Asiago cheese.
Once the pasta was ready, and the filling was thoroughly mixed, we poured a bit of the mushroom ragu into the bottom of a large ceramic baking dish and got to work filling the manicotti.

An easy way to fill manicotti shells is to "pipe" the cheese mixture into the pasta shells. To do this, put mixture into a heavy-duty plastic food storage bag. Seal it and cut off a 1-2 inch opening in one corner of the bag. Then gently squeeze the bag to fill the pasta with the cheese mixture.

Of course, I opted for a more challenging route... and filled the manicotti shells with a small spoon.
I managed to do a rather decent job, but I'd still recommend the plastic bag approach -- which WILL take years off of your life.
Lay the filled manicotti onto mushroom sauce in the pan... and keep on going until all of the manicotti are filled.
Then cover everything with the remaining mushroom sauce...
... and a generous sprinkling of cheese (more of that Parmesan, Romano, Asiago mixture does just wonderfully).
Cover the manicotti pan with aluminum foil and bake at 350ºF for about 30 minutes. At that point, remove the foil and bake for another 10-15 minutes (until the cheese is lightly browned).
We adored this "mushroom lover's" manicotti. The filling was creamy and cheesy and the shiitakes added some depth and tied it in nicely with the mushrom ragu. The ragu was nutty and earthy. The subtle pine-like flavor of the rosemary balanced the sweetness of the tomato sauce and brought out the best in the savory flavor of the mushrooms. And then there was the cheese... ah, the cheese!
The mushroom ragu was fantastic for the manicotti, but it would also be great served with a bit of roasted lamb or baked cod. It would make a great sauce served over a simple bowl pasta -- or baked into a cheesy pan of ziti.

If you're interested in the stats, check out the recipe.
Mushroom Ragu with Morels


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