By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles 

​PawPaw LeJeune’s house used to be the setting for our extended family’s wintertime boucheries, hog butcherings. I remember freshly-killed pigs hanging from oak trees, big black kettles of spattering grease, and pawpaw’s wooden, tin-roofed smokehouse smelling like heaven.

​For us, the event was strictly work. Each adult was assigned a job. After every part of the pig was cooked, exhausted uncles, aunts, and cousins rounded up children and drove home with their share of pork. 
            
Modern refrigeration makes home hog-butchering unnecessary. But fortunately, many Louisianians keep the unique custom alive. One such couple is David and Lorraine Bertrand of Elton.

These high school sweethearts have been married some 45 years, and they spend most of their time managing their family rice farm. David also owns and runs a rice marketing business. In spite of their busy lives, each year in late November, they set aside a day to host a boucherie, a ritual they both grew up with. 

This day started before sunrise, and arriving guests were handed aprons. (Yes, we were expected to work!) Under the supervision of the Bertrands, their 3 grown children, and a few brothers and sisters, the first task was to hack up a 180-pound porker.

This pig was bought scraped and cleaned, but David recollects the old days of scalding and scraping off hair. His family used the “3-finger” test to determine if the water was hot enough for scalding. “If your finger can only stay in for 1 dip the water’s too hot,” he says. “For 3 dips, it’s too cold.” 

The butchering was done by folks who obviously knew how to wield a meat cleaver. But there was also a cadre of inexperienced young folks who wanted to lend a hand. The scene was a true sense of community, with the young wanting to learn butchering techniques, and the old pros more than willing to teach them. 

Early in the morning a daughter made lengths of sausage, which spent most of the day hanging over smoldering wood in a smoker. The tall, narrow tin smoker was made from a reclaimed outhouse.

David recalls that a few years ago a friend raised his hands and pressed them up against the smoker’s side. “He wasn’t making a novena to the old outhouse,” David said with a laugh. “He was checking the temperature.” David then gave me another handy boucherie tip: “Hands on the tin for 8 seconds and it’s too cold. For only 3 seconds, and it’s too hot.”

As the Bertrands’ spacious barn filled with several hundred invited guests, Lorraine told me that “almost everyone around Basile and Elton used to hold boucheries,” Accordion music was filtering in. “When David and I started having boucheries, they were small, just family,” she said, “with enough boudin and sausage for everyone to take home.” Things changed in 2006, when they expanded their guest list and turned the event into a working party. These days, there’s plenty to eat during the boucherie, but the Bertrands usually have few leftovers. 

By mid-morning one of the Bertrand children had already fried a vat of cracklins’. Another was stirring a pot of sauce picante, and one of Lorraine’s sisters had made jambalaya. On a side porch someone had cooked a batch of white beans and tasso, and one of David’s brothers and his helpers were manning a massive pit smoker full of ribs. (To feed the large crowd, the Bertrands bought extra ribs.)

Right off the porch, a huge pot of water was set over a propane fire to boil the pig’s head. Typically, meat picked off the head would be the basis for hog’s head cheese, but this particular meat was destined for boudin.

Beer kegs flowed, and well before noon, the atmosphere was sparkling. By noon, two long rows of tables were groaning with smothered greens, salads, beans, and casseroles, and every sweet imaginable, all provided by guests.  

By 2 o’clock, another of Lorraine’s sisters had rounded up a group of volunteers that stuffed boudin casings. At 3 o’clock Leroy Thomas cranked up zydeco from the bed of an old rice truck, and the barn’s dance floor quickly filled. Steaming, spicy boudin was passed around. Some of it landed inside the pit smoker alongside a football-sized ponce, also known as chaudin, which is a sausage-stuffed pig stomach.

Cooking each of the pig’s parts correctly is an important part of the boucherie process, and that knowledge is obviously being passed down verbally. No one had written directions for preparing these complicated and incredible pork dishes. “What recipe,” was the response I kept getting. “I just throw things in until it tastes right.” 

The boucherie itself was pretty much done by 4:00. But the partying was expected to go on until the wee hours of the morning. 

Although the Bertrands’ annual event is festive, it is also a serious learning experience. David and Lorraine, like me, remember when the boucherie was crucial to farm life. David in particular remembers helping his father clean the hogs, cut up the meat, and grind, stuff, and smoke the day away. “To us, preserving meat was central,” he said. “And socializing happened when everything was finished, if at all.” 

They hope their children understand the boucherie’s true origins, that it was a way of survival, and that it brought communities together. Another big wish is that the following generations carry on the tradition. 
            
 
 
 

 
Do you have a Louisiana agriculture story or a recipe you’d like to share? Contact me at noblescynthia@gmail.com
 
Cynthia Nobles is the cookbook editor for LSU Press and the author/co-author of several historical cookbooks, including A Confederacy of Dunces Cookbook, The Delta Queen Cookbook, and The Fonville Winans Cookbook.
 
 
 
Smoky Barbecued Pork Ribs
Makes 6 servings 
 
2 racks St. Louis-style spareribs (6-8 pounds total)
½ cup Creole Seasoning Mix, plus 1 teaspoon 
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
½ cup tomato sauce
½ cup white vinegar
¼ cup dark brown sugar
¼ cup Creole mustard, or any coarse-grained mustard
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
2 cups hickory or mesquite wood chips
 
1. Work a long, slim screwdriver under the papery skin on the back of ribs, and move it along to loosen the skin. With your fingers, pull skin off. Pat ribs dry. Season each side of rib racks with 2 tablespoons dry rub. Wrap ribs in plastic wrap and refrigerate 4-24 hours.
2. While ribs are marinating, make basting sauce. In a medium saucepan, combine butter, tomato sauce, vinegar, brown sugar, mustard, salt and ground black pepper. Bring to a boil, lower heat to medium and cook, uncovered, 10 minutes. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature. If not using immediately, refrigerate up to 1 week.
3. One hour before ready to cook, remove ribs from refrigerator and soak wood chips in water. Prepare a barbecue for indirect cooking by placing lit coals against the two sides of a barbecue pit and leaving center clear, (or lighting the two outside burners of a gas grill). Toss drained wood chips onto coals (or put into a gas grill’s smoker box), and put a drip pan in between the coals. Pour a cup water in drip pan. Arrange ribs, bone side down, on the grill over the cool middle. Cover the grill and cook 1 hour.
4. Brush ribs on both sides with basting sauce. Cover grill and cook until meat shrinks back from the bone, 30-45 minutes longer, basting every 15 minutes. At the beginning of the last 15 minutes, sprinkle 1 teaspoon seasoning mix on top of rib racks, baste and leave cover open. When done, remove to a platter and allow to sit 15 minutes before serving.
 
 
 
 
Stuffed Ponce (Chaudin)
Makes 6-8 servings      
 
Ponce, or chaudin, is nothing more than a cleaned pig stomach stuffed with sausage and smoked. You can find them ready to cook at many traditional Cajun meat markets. I based this recipe on the method used by Mrs. Nita LeJeune of LeJeune’s Sausage Kitchen in Eunice. 
 
1 (1-pound) smoked, sausage-stuffed ponce
1 tablespoon cornstarch for thickening gravy
 
1. Use a fork to pierce the stuffed ponce’s skin in several places on the inside curve. Place the ponce in a Dutch oven and add enough water to come up in the pot ½ inch. Boil over high heat, allowing the water to evaporate. Let the ponce turn brown, pierce it with a fork on the inside curve again, and turn it over. 
2. Add another ½ inch water. Let the water evaporate again, and let the ponce turn brown. 
3. Add another ½ inch water and cover tightly. Lower heat to a simmer and cook until the inside registers 160°F on a meat thermometer. Turn ponce over every 20 minutes and add water as necessary to keep it at ½ inch. Should take about 3 hours.
4. Remove the cooked ponce from the pot and make a gravy with the drippings with a cornstarch and water slurry. Serve the gravy alongside slices of warm ponce.
 
 
 
Cracklin’ Cornbread
Makes 6 servings
 
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
¾ cup yellow cornmeal
¾ cup all-purpose flour
1½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature
2 large eggs, at room temperature
3 tablespoons melted butter
1 cup pork cracklins’, finely chopped in a food processor
 
1. Heat your oven to 400°F. Swirl the vegetable oil around the inside of an 8-inch cast iron skillet and heat in the oven until hot but not smoking.
2. Meanwhile, in a large bowl stir together the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, soda, and salt. Add buttermilk, eggs, and melted butter and mix well with a large spoon. Stir in cracklins’ and pour batter into hot skillet.
3. Bake until brown and center is set, about 20-25 minutes. Cool at least 10 minutes. Serve warm.

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles

Back in the 1960s, many Louisiana school “lunchroom ladies” hand made their rolls, and the yeasty, pillowy bread was usually served with dark cane syrup. The bread itself tasted heavenly. But it was downright irresistible when used to mop up a pool of syrup. 

Before and through the Great Depression, much of our rural population relied on homemade syrup as their main form of sweetener. Throughout the year they cared for their own small plots of cane.

Right before the first frost they cut the cane stalks, crushed them, and boiled down the juice in their own backyard syrup houses. 

Most home-type syrup houses are gone, as well as our old-line commercial producers. But we still have Norris Syrup Company in north Louisiana, which has been selling regionally since 1924. And, of course, our state has the only large national cane syrup producer left, our much-loved brand Steen’s, which has been going strong since 1910. 

Fortunately, the back-to-the-farm movement that started back in the 1980s just keeps growing. And this love of all things local is spurring a home-pressed syrup market. Across the American South and in Louisiana, several farmers are growing small plots of cane and making syrup, and they’re doing so following traditional syrup-making methods. 

To learn how to make the sweet stuff, I traveled to St. Martinville’s historic Longfellow-Evangeline State Historic Site, where, on a crisp November morning, there was a syrup-making demonstration.

A few volunteers and staff members, such as Curator Philip Frey, were dressed in garb appropriate to the mid-1800s, when the parkland was privately owned and operated as Olivier Plantation.

Jesuit priests introduced sugarcane into south Louisiana in 1751. “In the antebellum era,” said Frey, “Olivier Plantation planted 250 acres of sugarcane. Some 25-30 slaves tended the plantation’s fields, which was backbreaking work.” Slaves worked constantly, making rows and weeding. “Then came la roulaison, grinding season. During harvest time, sugar and syrup-making could go on around the clock.”  

Although it takes time and finesse, the syrup-making process is relatively simple: boil the cane juice, constantly skim it, and, when it has evaporated into the proper thickness, pour it into jars.

For our demo, volunteer Tommy Guidry tromped into a small nearby patch of ribbon cane and slashed down a few stalks. Blue Ribbon, commonly known as ribbon cane, gets its name from banding, the “ribbons” on its dark maroon central stalk. 

“Blue Ribbon is probably the type of cane that was grown on most Louisiana sugar plantations in the 1800s,” said Guidry. “It originally came here from the Caribbean. For our little crop, we get seed cane from LSU.” 

Unlike tall modern cane varieties, ribbon cane only grows 6-8 feet tall. When higher sucrose and more disease-resistant cane varieties were developed in the early twentieth century, ribbon cane fell out of use commercially. But the super-juicy variety is still grown on small farms. 

Guidry took his freshly cut stalks, sliced them into 3-foot lengths, and ground them through a small, modern hand-cranked press about the size of a bread box. That’s quite a difference from the methods used during antebellum sugar production, when cane grinding was done by slowly circling oxen, horses, or mules that turned the gears that powered the huge metal rollers that ground mountains of cane. 

“It takes 7 or 8 healthy stalks of ribbon cane to make 1 gallon of juice,” Guidry said. He poured his freshly pressed juice into a 10-gallon cast iron pot set over a propane burner. “And it takes 7 or 8 gallons of juice to make 1 gallon of syrup.” 

Boiling down cane juice into syrup is the step before creating sugar. To make sugar in the nineteenth century, hardwood logs would have burned under three to five large sugar kettles arranged in descending size, in a “kettle train.” The largest kettle, the grande, held up to 500 gallons, and the smallest, the batterie, 70-100 gallons. As syrup boiled down and condensed in the larger kettles, it would have been transferred into smaller and then smaller kettles, which made the condensing process more efficient. It was in the final, smallest kettle that a Master Sugar Maker, almost always a skilled slave, “struck” the syrup, tested for crystallization, and then sent it on to coolers, where it evaporated into raw granulated sugar. 

To make his syrup, Guidry let the cane juice bubble gently for a few hours. He kept the temperature low to prevent scorching along the sides of the pot, which could produce burned bits. He occasionally stirred the bubbling juice and regularly skimmed off the froth.

"I’ll get out about 90 percent of the impurities by skimming,” he said. As the liquid evaporated and slowly thickened, the grayish brown liquid turned mahogany. “And I don’t strain my syrup. That’s what gives it its unique taste.”

​“Unique” is an understatement. I’d call the syrup Guidry made more like nectar. It was dark and full-flavored, and refreshingly less sweet than today’s commercial syrups. Since it wasn’t made with chemicals, it was clean-tasting, and it had only the slightest hint of molasses. 

​I left St. Martinville with a nice stash of freshly made syrup. And that made me want to rush home and bake rolls.
 
_______________________________________________________________
 
Do you have a Louisiana agriculture story or a recipe you’d like to share? Contact me at noblescynthia@gmail.com
 
Cynthia Nobles is the cookbook editor for LSU Press and the author/co-author of several historical cookbooks, including A Confederacy of Dunces Cookbook, The Delta Queen Cookbook, and The Fonville Winans Cookbook.
 
 
For all these recipes, Steen’s brand cane syrup works great. 
            
 
Cane Syrup-Glazed Pork Loin
Makes 6-8 servings
 
3 to 4-pound boneless pork loin roast, trimmed of fat
Creole seasoning
¾ cup light brown sugar
1 tablespoon Creole mustard
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
½ cup pure cane syrup, divided 
7-8 bacon slices 
 
1. Remove pork from refrigerator 1-2 hours ahead of time. When ready to cook, line a roasting pan with foil and coat a roasting rack with cooking spray. Preheat oven to 350°F. Sprinkle pork with Creole seasoning.

2. In a small bowl, mix together the brown sugar, mustard, and Worcestershire. Spread the sugar paste all over the pork. Wrap the pork with bacon slices. If necessary, secure with toothpicks. Drizzle ¼ cane cup syrup over the bacon. 

3. Set the rack over the foil-lined roasting pan and place the roast in the center of the rack. Cover with foil and bake 1 hour. Raise oven temperature to 375°. Remove foil from roast and spoon the drippings over the bacon. Cover again and bake another 15 minutes. 

4. Remove foil, baste again, and drizzle on remaining ¼ cup syrup. Bake until the center registers 140°F and the bacon is crisp, about 20 more minutes. Remove from oven and rest 10 minutes. Pour the pan sauce into a bowl and serve alongside the slices of meat.
 
 
Louisiana Gâteau de Sirop (Louisiana Cane Syrup Cake) with Cane Syrup Butter
Makes 12 servings (Adapted from a recipe by Nancy Tregre Wilson of Hahnville)
 
Nancy tells us that where she lives, on Louisiana’s German Coast in southeast Louisiana, sugar cane fields line the Great River Road that parallels the Mississippi River. When she was growing up there was never a shortage of sugar or cane syrup in any home in the region. Her dad used to tell her that when he was a child, supper was sometimes just bread, milk, and syrup.  
 
1 cup sugar
2½ sticks butter, at room temperature, divided
3 large eggs
1¾ cups pure cane syrup, plus 2 tablespoons
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
¾ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
½ teaspoon cloves
1 cup whole milk
⅓ cup chopped, toasted pecans 
 
 
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour a 9x13-inch pan or a Bundt cake pan.

2. In a large bowl, cream together sugar and 1½ sticks butter, about 3 minutes on medium mixer speed. Add eggs one at a time and beat well after each addition. Beat in 1¾ cups syrup.

3. Sift together flour, soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Add flour mixture to butter mixture alternately with milk, beating well after each addition. Batter should look satiny. Pour and spread into prepared pan. Bake until cake springs back when lightly touched, about 1 hour. 

4. While cake is cooling, make the Cane Syrup Butter by melting the remaining stick of butter and mixing it with the remaining 2 tablespoons cane syrup and the pecans. Spread over warm cake. Allow cake to cool completely and serve. 
 
 
Mrs. Gaston Cart’s Syrup Pie
Makes 24 hand pies, or 1 (10-inch) pie 
 
Sweet crust syrup pies are a specialty of my hometown, Iota. They are usually made as hand pies, but some bakers make them like regular pies. This recipe version is an old one. It is courtesy of Florence Miller of Iota, who got the recipe from the Gaston and Clarise Cart family of Iota.
 
Filling
1 quart cane syrup
2 cups water
2 cups all-purpose flour
1½ cups sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon lemon juice
 
Sweet Dough Crust
4 cups all-purpose flour
1½ cups sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup Crisco vegetable shortening
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
 
1. Combine all filling ingredients in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Stirring constantly over medium heat, bring to a boil. Continue stirring and cook until very thick, about 5 more minutes. Cool completely, without a cover.

2. While filling is cooling, make crust. In a large bowl, mix together flour, sugar, and baking powder. Work shortening into flour mixture with your fingers. Stir in milk and vanilla and form a large ball. Divide dough in half, wrap each half in plastic wrap, and chill at least 30 minutes. 

3. To make hand pies: Preheat your oven to 350°F and line a cookie sheet with foil or parchment. On a heavily floured sheet of wax paper, roll one of the dough balls out to ¼ inch thick. Cut out 5-inch circles and place 1 heaping tablespoon syrup filling in the center of each circle. (Don’t let the filling get too close to the circles’ edges.) Fold the dough over to make a semi-circle, press edges gently with your fingers, and crimp the edges with the floured tines of a fork. Cut 3 small slits in the top of each. Repeat with remaining dough. Refrigerate assembled pies that are waiting to go in the oven. Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes. Cool at least 30 minutes before serving.

4. To make a whole pie: Preheat your oven to 375°F. Transfer one half of chilled dough to a hard floured surface. Roll it out to fit a 10-inch pie pan and line the pan with the dough. Spread the prepared filling in the crust. Roll out the remaining dough half and fit it on top of the pie. (If you’re not doing a lattice, be sure to cut slits in the top dough.) Bake until deep golden brown, 45-55 minutes. Cool thoroughly before serving.
 
 
Louisiana Cracker Jack
Makes 3 quarts
 
The taste of this sweet, crunchy treat is much more flavorful than what you buy in the box.
 
3 quarts popped corn
1½ cups toasted, shelled peanuts
1½ cups pecan halves
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch pieces
1½ cups light brown sugar
1¼ cups pure cane syrup
1 tablespoon white vinegar
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon baking soda
 
1. Preheat oven to 325°F. Line a sheet pan or large cookie sheet with parchment paper and set aside. Combine popped corn, peanuts, and pecans in a large bowl, and set aside.

2. In a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt butter over medium heat and cook, stirring constantly, until butter just starts to turn tan. Remove from heat and stir in brown sugar, cane syrup, vinegar, and salt. Return to heat, bring to a boil, and cook, without stirring, over medium-low heat until mixture reaches 250°F, about 5 minutes.

3. Remove pot from heat, and stir in vanilla and baking soda. Pour syrup over popcorn and nuts, and stir until syrup is evenly distributed. (Be careful: syrup is extremely hot.) Spread popcorn on sheet pan and bake 15 minutes.

4. Remove from oven and stir well, making sure to scrape up and blend in any accumulated syrup. Spread popcorn evenly in pan again, and bake 15 more minutes. Remove from oven, stir well, and allow to cool. Break into pieces. Store tightly covered at room temperature up to 2 weeks.
 
 
Lunchroom Lady Rolls
Makes 16 large rolls
 
These fluffy rolls are the perfect accompaniment to cane syrup. (If you don’t have a stand mixer, mix everything by hand and knead 10 minutes. If you make half the recipe, bake in an 11x7-inch pan.)
 
2 cups whole milk
8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter, divided, plus additional for coating plan
¼ cup sugar
2 teaspoons iodized salt
2 packages (4½ teaspoons) yeast
¼ cup lukewarm water
5-6 cups sifted bread flour
 
1. In a small saucepan, bring milk to a boil. Remove from heat and add 4 tablespoons butter, sugar, and salt. Cool to lukewarm.

2. Soften yeast in the lukewarm water and add to milk mixture. In bowl of a standing mixer, combine milk mixture and 5 cups flour. With dough hook attachment, beat on low speed and add enough remaining flour to make a soft dough. Dough should come clean from sides of bowl but yet be soft. Raise mixer head to upright position and put a sheet of greased plastic wrap directly on top of dough. Let rest 10 minutes. 

3. Remove plastic wrap and knead dough on medium speed 8 minutes. Put greased plastic wrap directly on top of dough and let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1½ hours.

4. Butter a 9x13-inch baking pan. Melt remaining 4 tablespoons butter and set aside. Turn dough onto a floured board and knead until surface is smooth. Divide dough into 16 equal pieces. Roll each portion into a ball, brush each ball with melted butter, and place in prepared pan. Cover with a towel and let rise until doubled in bulk, 30-40 minutes.

5. About 10 minutes before rolls have finished rising, preheat oven to 375°F. Brush rolls with remaining melted butter and bake 15 to 20 minutes, until dark golden brown. This is the hard part: Let sit at least 10 minutes before serving.
 

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles

Although Grandma Zaunbrecher’s ham and cornbread dressing were unsurpassed, the focal point of Christmas Day was always the tinsel-laden tree in her living room. Those towering, woodsy-scented pines grew wild on my family’s forestland. It did not matter that they had long sparse needles and slightly crooked trunks — to my child’s eyes they were stunning. And most memorably, I’d tag along with my Uncle Willie to “help” cut them down. 
            
There’s something calming, almost magical about spending time in the woods. But aside from using our forests for camping, hunting, and chopping down Christmas trees, this renewable resource provides raw material for our state’s second largest manufacturing employer, the forest products industry.

Buck Vandersteen of the Louisiana Forestry Association reminds us that Louisiana has as astounding 15 million acres of forests. “Some 60 percent are privately owned by family farms,” he says, “with the average tree farm at 40 acres.” Ten percent is managed by the federal and state governments, and corporations own the remaining 30 percent. 

The northeast part of the state is home to hardwoods, such as the oak group, which is our most prevalent hardwood. Softwoods, such as pine, are predominant in the northwest part of the state and down to DeRidder. The Florida parishes also specialize in pine production, while our vast wetlands nurture the state’s official tree, the bald cypress.

​Bald cypress, which is a deciduous softwood, is in the same family as sequoias and redwoods. So, although bald cypress is technically a softwood, it is so durable, stable, and rot-resistant that it can match up to just about any oak.

The state’s most commercially important tree is the Southern Yellow Pine, which is a term used to describe a group of species made up of loblolly, longleaf, shortleaf, and slash pine. This softwood is particularly important for making building products, since it can be pressure treated against moisture retention. 

“Louisiana’s milled wood primarily goes to markets in Dallas, Houston, and California,” says Vandersteen, “as well as to ports in New Orleans and Mobile, which ship on to places such as France, Spain, and the Caribbean.”

Some wood products we make in our state include lumber, engineered wood, plywood, pellets, paper, windows and doors, and particle board. Our hardwoods and cypress are primarily used for cabinetry and for furniture, such as a spectacular handmade cypress dining table I recently bought at a store in Lafayette.

Growing trees here is big business, around $13 billion annually, with some 50,000 Louisianians working in such jobs as foresting, logging, transportation, and in mills. 

“And there’s good news concerning mills,” says Vandersteen. “After a 25-year drought with no new construction, four mills have recently announced startups.” One lumber mill is reopening in DeQuincy, and new mills are being constructed in DeRidder, Taylor (in Bienville Parish), and north of Alexandria in the town of Urania.

Urania also has the distinction of being the home to Henry Hardtner, the “father of forestry in the South.” In the 1890s, the Pineville lumberman spent lots of time trying to figure out how to grow new crops of trees in about 60 years, rather than relying on the 200-year-old-trees that had been traditionally harvested. He eventually convinced the Louisiana legislature and the largest sawmill in the world, the Great Southern Lumber Company, to establish reforestation efforts. Most of what is known about southern pine silviculture, the development and care of forests, was pioneered in central Louisiana by Hardtner and his local contemporaries.

To keep our trees growing and healthy, reforestation is incredibly important. If you own forestland don’t hesitate to ask for advice from experts at agencies such as the Louisiana Department of Agriculture, the LSU Ag Department, the Louisiana Forestry Association, the National Forest Service, and especially the Natural Resource Conservation Service. 

If you just want to kick around in the great outdoors, consider visiting a state park. Or go to one of the five ranger districts of the 604,000-acre Kisatchie Forest, Louisiana’s only national forest. While you’re there, you might want to spend time camping, fishing, swimming, boating, hunting, hiking, horseback riding, or picking up firewood. Just be sure to get permits ahead from park rangers. 

If you want a forest-fresh Christmas tree, consider going to a “Choose and Cut” Christmas tree farm. (You can find a list at www.southernchristmastrees.org). Some places cut them for you, and some allow you to chop down your own cypress, fir, cedar, or pine. Most farmers are happy to tell you how they grow their manicured rows of trees, and some farms have petting zoos and activities for children.

Unlike my grandma’s Christmas trees, the chances are excellent that the one you bring home will be straight and full. And way past December you, too, will remember the joy of picking out your own. 
 
 
 
Orange-Glazed Ham
Makes 12-14 servings
 
This old-fashioned Christmas favorite is always a hit. Even though it’s simple to put together, it looks and tastes like you worked hard making it. 
 
1(8 to 10-pound) smoked, fully cooked ham, with fat layer
Whole cloves
1 (10-ounce) jar orange marmalade
2 tablespoons orange juice or water
 
1. Score the top fat layer of ham horizontally and vertically at 1-inch intervals. Push a whole clove into each fat square. Cover ham and refrigerate until ready to bake. (Can refrigerate up to 2 days ahead.)
2. When ready to bake, take ham out of the refrigerator an hour or so ahead. Preheat oven to 325°F. Place ham on a rack over a foil-lined roasting pan and bake 1½ hours.
3. Meanwhile, combine marmalade and orange juice in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir constantly until marmalade is melted. 
4. Raise oven temperature to 350°F. Baste baked ham with half of glaze and bake 15 minutes. Spread on remaining glaze and bake 15 more minutes. Remove ham from oven and cool at least 20 minutes before slicing. 
 
 
 
Grandma Zaunbrecher’s Cornbread Dressing
Makes 8-10 servings
 
You could tell it was Christmas Day just by opening my grandmother’s front door, when the savory, meaty scent of this dressing hit you. 
 
¼ cup vegetable oil
2 medium onions, chopped small
2 stalks celery, chopped small
1 bell pepper, chopped small
2 cloves garlic, chopped small
2 cups (1 pound) ground beef
6 cups (8 slices) toasted bread
6 cups coarsely crumbled day-old cornbread
¾ cup water or chicken stock, plus more if needed
1 tablespoon poultry seasoning
Salt and black pepper
1 (4-ounce) jar chopped pimentos, drained
½ cup chopped parsley
½ cup chopped green onions
 
1. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Grease the insides of a 9x13-inch casserole dish. Heat the ¼ cup oil in a Dutch oven and sauté the onions, celery, bell pepper, and garlic until just soft, about 4 minutes. Add the ground beef and cook over medium-high until brown. Remove from heat.
2. Soak the toasted bread in water and squeeze dry. Gently stir the cornbread and soaked bread into the beef mixture. Add the water, being careful not to break up the cornbread too much. You want it moist but not wet, about the consistency of thick mud, so adjust water as needed. 
3. Add poultry seasoning and season generously with salt and pepper. Gently stir in the pimento, parsley, and green onions. Spoon into the prepared dish and bake, uncovered, until golden and crispy on top, 30-35 minutes. Serve warm.
 
 
Christmas Wine Cakes
Makes six 4-inch, or 12 baked in muffin tins (Make 1 day ahead.)
 
Throughout the 1800s, festively decorated pound cakes soaked in wine were a must on New Orleans holiday tables. You can still buy wine cakes at a few New Orleans grocery stores and bakeries, but none compare to the taste of homemade.
 
2 cups cake flour
1 teaspoon iodized salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
2 cups sugar, divided
4 large eggs, room temperature
¼ teaspoon ground cloves, optional
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1½ cups dark rum, divided (or port, sherry, marsala, or even wine!)
Whipped cream
6 cherries 
 
1. Preheat oven to 325°F. Generously grease and flour six 4-inch baking molds or 12 muffin tins. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, salt, and baking powder. Set aside. 
2. In a large bowl, use medium mixer speed to cream together butter and 1 cup sugar until it’s light and fluffy, 3 minutes. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Stir in cloves and vanilla. Using low mixer speed, add flour mixture and ½ cup rum to butter mixture, beginning and ending with flour. Beat until just combined. 
3. Pour batter into prepared pans until they’re ⅔ full. Level off tops. Bake on center rack until brown and center springs back when lightly touched, 40 minutes for larger cakes, and 30 minutes for muffins. Remove from oven and cool 5 minutes in pan. Remove from pans and set cakes on a rack to cool thoroughly.
4. Boil together ⅔ cup water and remaining 1 cup sugar until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and pour the hot liquid into a 4-cup measuring cup or equivalent shaped boil. Cool 2 minutes. Stir in remaining 1 cup rum. Completely submerge each cake into the syrup, and hold down in the liquid a few seconds. Place saturated cakes in a baking pan. Pour remaining wine syrup over cakes. Wrap pan tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
5. To serve, arrange cakes on a rimmed serving dish, and pour remaining wine syrup over each. Top each with a spoonful of whipped cream and a cherry. 
 

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles

I’d heard about Little Eva Pecan Company, but had never driven up to Cloutierville to check it out. Since this is the time of year I pull out dog-eared holiday recipes and stock up on pecans, I thought that now was the time to make that trip to central Louisiana.

Julie and Mark Swanson own this tranquil, 362-acre orchard, which is perched on a peninsula surrounded by the Cane River. Julie explains that their business is a family-run corporation. “We operate our warehouse and trees under the name Natchitoches Pecans. But the business is more identifiable as Little Eva.” Little Eva is the name of their retail store, a quaint wooden cabin flush with just-picked pecans, Louisiana-themed gifts, and enough types of pecan candy to satisfy any sweet tooth.    

Little Eva is part of a former 11,000-acre plantation known as Hidden Hill, which in its heyday was North America’s largest pecan orchard. The name “Little Eva” comes from the believable legend that Hidden Hill Plantation was the inspiration for Harriet Beecher Stowe’s classic anti-slavery novel, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. In the 1950s, in honor of the girl who befriended Uncle Tom in the book, the then-owners renamed the plantation “Little Eva.”

Another celebrity associated with Little Eva is the folk artist Clementine Hunter, who was born at Hidden Hill in 1886. Hunter’s valuable original paintings hang in top-end museums. But you can buy Clementine Hunter-inspired gifts at the Swansons’ Little Eva Gift Store.

None of Hidden Hill’s major original structures still exist. But on their part of the former plantation’s acreage, Julie and Mark lovingly grow many varieties of grafted pecan trees. Julie easily rattled off some of the names of their towering pecans. “Sumner, Caddo, Melrose, Lakota, and Oconee,” she said. “Lots of them are named for Native American tribes.” They also have the variety Candy, known for its use in desserts, the buttery-tasting Elliot, and the variety called Desirable, which produces a large, semi paper-shell popular for using in anything. 

With help from family members, Mark manages Little Eva’s vast alleys of trees and oversees everything from planting to shelling. He especially enjoys nurturing his trees, which he plants in symmetrical, square-patterned rows 50’x50’ apart. 

Although he has a few new varieties that produce earlier and earlier, he says that typical trees take 6 to 10 years to mature. Pecans, which are technically drupes, are members of the hickory genus and the walnut family. Trees can grow over 100 feet tall and can live well over 100 years.  

Crows and squirrels love pecans. Mark’s biggest varmint threats come from pests such as aphids, mites, and the aphid-like insect known as phylloxera. He especially keeps an eye open for signs of the case bearer moth. 

“Scab,” he says, “is my hardest challenge. “It’s a fungal infection. If I don’t keep up with it, it can knock out the whole crop.” It’s no wonder that he constantly tries out new tree varieties that provide resistance.

Another source of tree damage comes from the weather. The Swansons have faced tornado destruction, and they still feel the sting from Hurricane Rita. They were especially hurt by Hurricane Laura, which tore through with 100 mph winds, and in 2020 cost them nearly 60 percent of their typical annual yield of 125,000 pounds in-shell.

Fortunately, this year’s crop looks much healthier. As is typical, different pecan varieties are ripening at different times. It’s time to harvest when the trees’ numerous green husks (shucks) turn brown and crack open in four parts, revealing their seeds, pecans. Harvest begins in mid-October and ends in late December. 

The harvesting process begins with a large machine that grabs tree trunks and shakes them free of pecans. The pecans are scooped up by a mechanized harvester and loaded into wagons. 

​Mark cracks and packages Little Eva’s pecans on-site. He cleans unshelled nuts in a chlorine solution. Grading involves loading them on a conveyor belt that sorts by the use of a computerized “electric eye.” Dried and graded nuts are stored in “super bags” that hold up to 2,000 pounds.

Little Eva has several mechanized pecan crackers and shellers. “One of my machines can crack up to 1,000 pecans a minute,” Mark says. “After they’re shelled, about 80 percent come out in perfect halves.” The final step before packaging is grading by hand. 

Most empty pecan shells end up as mulch in Julie’s expansive mounds of flower beds. When she’s not gardening, Julie takes care of Little Eva’s retail end of the business. She sells directly from the Swansons’ farm, either by mail order (www.natchitochespecans.com) or from their store. She also hand-packages whole, cracked, and shelled pecans, as well as a large variety of candies made especially for Little Eva. And she makes artful gift packages. 

“It’s a lot of work,” she says. “But I enjoy it. And I couldn’t do it without help from family.”
Since pecans turn rancid fairly fast, Julie recommends refrigerating or freezing them promptly. In-shell or shelled pecans can be stored in air-tight containers and refrigerated for 9 months, or frozen at 0°F up to 2 years.

The U.S. produces 80 percent of the world’s pecans. The state of Georgia is our most prolific grower. Louisiana, with some 13,000 bearing acres, consistently ranks in the top 5. Our state harvests over 17 million pounds annually, which contributes about $12 million to our economy. 

The modern commercial pecan business is possible because of a long-ago discovery made by a slave named Antoine. The industry was established after 1846, when a slave at Oak Alley sugar plantation in southeast Louisiana successfully grafted a variety of pecan that could be easily cracked. Antoine’s “paper shell” pecan won a prize at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, where his pecan picked up its name, the Centennial Variety. 

In addition to the numerous grafted varieties the Swansons grow, they also have a stand of native pecan trees. Pecans are indigenous to south central North America. The name comes from the Algonquin word “pakan,” which means “a nut that takes a stone to crack.” When the French arrived in Louisiana, they pronounced it “puh-CON.” That’s the way most of America says the word, at least according to the American Pecan Council. It’s the English, especially those who settled on the east coast, who decided to say “PEA-can,” a word that to some Louisianians invokes images of an outhouse.

No matter how you say it, we love this native nut. After my visit to Little Eva, I came home with an assortment of irresistible candies and a large bag of Desirable pecan halves. I’ve been assigned to bake a few desserts for our family’s Thanksgiving meal. Without a doubt, at least one, or maybe two will contain pecans.
 
 

Do you have a Louisiana agriculture story or a recipe you’d like to share? Contact me at noblescynthia@gmail.com
 

 
 Louisiana Pralines
Makes 24. Adapted from a recipe by the Little Eva Pecan Co.
 
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 cup heavy cream
¼ cup (½ stick) salted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups pecans
 
1. Lay a long sheet of parchment paper on a hard work surface. In a 3-quart, heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine sugars and cream. Stir while bringing to a boil over medium-high heat. Lower heat to medium and simmer, without stirring, until mixture reaches the soft-ball stage, or 238°F.

2. Remove pan from heat and stir in butter and vanilla. Keep stirring, and when mixture starts to get creamy and slightly thick, stir in pecans.

3. Use a tablespoon to quickly drop candies onto parchment paper. Allow to cool until firm. Store in an airtight container up to 2 weeks.
 
 
Bourbon and Chocolate Pecan Pie
Makes a 9-inch pie (Best made a day ahead)
 
The bourbon is optional, but the alcohol evaporates as the pie bakes and leaves a delicious flavor.
 
1 (9-inch) refrigerated pie dough, or homemade, unbaked
3 large eggs
1 cup light corn syrup
⅔ cup light brown sugar
3 tablespoons bourbon or water
2 tablespoons salted butter, melted
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips
½ cup finely chopped pecans, plus 1 cup pecan halves
¾ cup chocolate chips
 
1. Place a rack in the center of your oven and preheat oven to 375°F. Place defrosted or homemade pie dough in a 9-inch pie pan. Trim it and refrigerate while making filling. 

2. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, corn syrup, brown sugar, bourbon, melted butter, and vanilla. Stir in the chopped pecans. Scatter the chocolate chips on the bottom of the pie filling and gently pour filling over the chocolate. Bake 20 minutes.

3. Remove pie from the oven and carefully arrange pecan halves decoratively on top. Return to oven and bake until puffy, yet has a slightly wobbly center, about 30-40 more minutes.

4. Remove from oven and cool completely, preferably overnight. Serve at room temperature.
 
 
Pecan Pie Bars
Makes 24 
 
These little goodies taste just like traditional pecan pie, but they’re easier to serve.
 
1¾ cups all-purpose flour
1½ cups firmly packed light brown sugar, divided
1½ sticks cold salted butter, plus 5 tablespoons melted butter
1 cup dark corn syrup
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1½ cups chopped pecans
 
1. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Butter the insides of a 9x13-inch baking pan. In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour and ½ cup brown sugar. Use your fingers or a pastry blender to cut in 1½ sticks cold butter until the mixture resembles coarse corn meal. Press mixture firmly into the bottom of the buttered pan and bake until light brown, about 15 minutes. Remove from oven and prepare the filling.

2. In a large bowl, mix together well the remaining 1 cup brown sugar, 5 tablespoons melted butter, corn syrup, and eggs. Stir in pecans. Pour filling evenly over the prepared crust and bake until firm, 35-40 minutes.

3. Cool completely, then cut into bars. Store in an airtight container up to 2 days.
 

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles

I read somewhere that before the 1950s, the typical rural Louisiana child did not go trick-or-treating.

An extremely unscientific survey of a few older friends reveals that this is probably true.
There were, however, whisperings that kids in large towns roamed streets and went home with candy that was actually bought from a grocery store. And countless newspaper reports from as early as the 1800s divulge that ritzy Halloween parties had been going on in Louisiana’s larger cities. But for most country folks, October 31 was just another day — when farmers cut last crops, stored equipment, finagled over commodity prices, and prepared cattle for winter.
            
It’s no coincidence that Halloween falls near harvesttime. Halloween’s roots began 2,000 years ago in Ireland, where every November 1 the Celts held a harvest festival called Sahmain. Since the Celtic day began and ended at sunset, celebrations began the day before, on October 31.

These Irish also believed that on that day of celebration the dead returned to earth. So, in addition to storing grain and rounding up livestock for winter, the Celts wore grotesque masks to scare away spirits. To placate any ghosts that may have slipped in, they left offerings of food that they begged from neighbors. 

The Romans, too, held a harvest festival, theirs dedicated to Pomona, the goddess of tree fruits, especially apples. To steer Catholics away from these pagan rituals, the seventh century Pope Boniface IV declared November 1 All Saints Day, also known as All Hallows Day. The evening before became Hallows Eve, and eventually Halloween.
           
Meanwhile, back in Ireland, the celebrations were often rowdy. When the Irish came to America, they brought their Halloween custom, which often took the form of pranks. 

It was the Irish who first carved spooky faces in common vegetables of the season, particularly turnips and pumpkins. The pranksters also dragged cabbages tied with string through fields to terrorize travelers. It wasn’t uncommon for farmers to come home to toppled wagons and outhouses, gates off hinges, and livestock on barn roofs. The vandalism was also common in large cities, especially up north, where arson occasionally broke out. 

In Louisiana cities in the early 1900s, fun-loving young adults went door-to-door promising not to do tricks if they got treats. But there was usually rowdiness, too, even in smaller towns, with houses splatted with rotten eggs and eggs filled with paint. Garbage cans and outdoor furniture would be tipped over, and anything else not tied down was stolen. 

Although Louisiana’s farm kids didn’t do much trick-or-treating, some certainly did the prank part.

One particularly ghoulish rural trick was to leave coffins filled with wooden skeletons on doorsteps, which often frightened superstitious families out of their houses.

I can’t help but wonder if another skin-crawling horror may have kept rural residents locked inside on Halloween night. Our state’s infamous Rougarou is supposedly a shapeshifting, 8-foot-tall, half-man, half-wolf monster that roams our swamps. Many early Cajuns were afraid of the mythical beast every night of the year. But it stands to reason they would have been especially petrified on Halloween. (In honor of Louisiana’s homegrown monster, the town of Houma holds a Rougarou Festival every year in late October.)

The two world wars tamed America’s Halloween mischief. In the 1950s Halloween came back less dangerous, with a focus on children and candy. This sanitized version seemed to touch everyone, even rural Louisiana.

It’s hard to tie today’s Halloween celebrations with the holiday’s strong agrarian roots. In addition to pails overflowing with candy, October 31 has grown into a time for extravagant, sometimes racy adult costume parties. For many, it’s the unofficial start of the Christmas shopping season. For others it’s a day to binge on horror movies.

Unbelievably, Halloween is America’s second-largest commercial holiday. And we spend around $2.6 billion just on candy.

In my childhood, we kids out in the country certainly went trick-or-treating. But things were much simpler. Come October 31, most everyone under the age of 12 who lived up and down our then-gravel highway would dig through closets and transform ourselves into witches, princesses, devils, and farmers. (The latter would not take much effort.) Around twilight, our mothers would pack us into family station wagons and drive us down neighboring gravel roads to beg for homemade popcorn balls, cookies, and fudge. If we were lucky, we’d score a Baby Ruth. Or maybe chewing gum.

Our fathers couldn’t do the chauffer honors because they would be tired from a long day baling hay. Or they might have been cutting ratoon, “stubble,” their “second crop” of rice.

They had been busy harvesting, doing the activity that started the Halloween tradition.
            
 
Sweet Potato Soup with Cheesy Ghost Croutons
Makes 4 servings
 
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
½ cup chopped onion
3 cups chicken broth
1½ cups cooked, mashed sweet potato (canned is fine)
½ cup tomato sauce
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons honey
¾ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice
 
Croutons
4 slices white bread
4 slices Monterey Jack, White Cheddar, or provolone cheese, cut in half
Pitted black olives, cut into thin slices
 
1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Heat oil in a large heavy saucepan and sauté onion until translucent, Stir in remaining soup ingredients, except for lime juice. Bring to a boil and reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in lime juice.

2. Meanwhile, cut 8 ghost shapes from the 4 slices bread, and 8 pieces of cheese slightly larger than the bread shapes. Place bread “ghosts” on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Top each with a piece of cheese. Cut the olives to resemble mouths and eyes and arrange them in a face pattern on top of the cheese. Bake until cheese is melted, about 2-3 minutes.

3. Puree soup with an immersion blender or in a blender. Ladle into bowls and top with croutons. Serve immediately.
 
 
 
Persimmon Bread
Makes 2 loaves
 
I have a prolific persimmon tree, and I puree and freeze the overabundance for later use. If you have a hard time finding persimmons, pumpkin works just fine.
 
2 cups pureed persimmon or cooked pumpkin
1 stick unsalted butter, melted
½ cup vegetable oil
4 eggs, at room temperature
⅔ cup bourbon, or water plus 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
3½ cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1½ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon each cinnamon and allspice
1½ cups chopped pecans or walnuts
1½ cups raisins or dried cranberries 
 
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Oil 2 loaf pans and dust with flour. In a medium bowl, mix together the persimmon, butter, oil, eggs, and bourbon. Set aside.

2. In a large bowl, use a fork to mix together the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and allspice. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients until there are no traces of dry flour. Stir in the pecans and raisins.

​3. Divide the batter between the 2 pans. Bake until the center springs up when touched lightly, about 1 hour, or until a temperature probe inserted into the middle reads 190°F. Remove from pans and cool on a rack at least 30 minutes.
 
 
Sweet Dough Monster Cookies
Makes 6 dozen. Adapted from a recipe by Loretta Miller of Iota.
 
If you can’t find candy eyes use drops of icing or an edible marker to make eyes out of Skittles or M&Ms.
 
¾ cup whole milk
2 large eggs
½ teaspoon vanilla
4½ cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon each cinnamon and ground nutmeg
2½ cups sugar
1 stick salted butter, softened
Gel food coloring to color the dough
Candy eyes
A small tube of dark writing icing or an edible black marker
 
1. In a small bowl, use a fork to beat together the milk, eggs, and vanilla. In a large bowl, use a fork to mix together the flour, baking powder, soda, cinnamon, and nutmeg. In another large bowl beat together the sugar and butter until well combined, about 3 minutes with a fork or 2 minutes with beaters.

2. Beat the milk mixture into the sugar mixture. Gradually add the flour mixture and beat until well combined. Divide the batter between 2 bowls. To make your desired colors, add enough of one food coloring to one bowl and another color to the other. Dough will be sticky. Cover tops of bowls with plastic wrap and refrigerate the batters at least 2 hours. In the meantime, decorate your “eyes” if you’re not using pre-made.

3. Preheat oven to 375°F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Roll the dough out to ¼ inch on a hard, well-floured surface covered with parchment paper. Cut out cookies with a round 2- or 2½-inch cutter. Place cookies 1 inch apart. For soft cookies bake 9-10 minutes. For crisper cookies bake 11-13 minutes. As soon as you remove cookies from the oven, press in the eyes.

4. Cool cookies thoroughly on a rack, then squeeze on the mouths with the icing. Keeps 4-5 days in an airtight container.

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles

​It’s Easy to BUY LOUISIANA!
 
Our state has some of the world’s most knowledgeable and hard-working farmers, ranchers, and fishermen. With every dime I spend they are top of mind. 

An obvious reason to buy Louisiana products is that our purchases help keep our economy rolling.

According to the Louisiana Department of Agriculture and Forestry, our farm and forest industries directly contribute well over $11 billion annually. This figure doesn’t even count the massive number of support jobs agriculture creates.

For anyone who appreciates good food, another reason for buying local is that products grown nearby usually don’t spend months in holding refrigerators. And they are often sold without the use of preservatives.

To me, Louisiana-grown food is just plain tastier. Maybe it has something to do with “terroir” (tair-WAH). This fancy French word describes wine, meaning that when you drink something grown locally you are tasting the soil, the climate, and the craftsmanship in which it was made. Over the past few decades the term has expanded to encompass food. So when you buy a bag of sugar produced in Thibodaux, a crate of peaches grown in Ruston, or a true Creole tomato raised in the lower river parishes, you are buying a part of that region’s terroir, its geographical area, as well as its culture. 

​It doesn’t take much effort to find Louisiana products. Commissioner of Agriculture, Mike Strain, recently reminded me that a simple way to identify local foods is to look for labels that indicate “Certified Louisiana,” “Certified Cajun,” Certified Creole,” “Certified Farm to Table,” and “Louisiana Grown. Real. Fresh.”

Most of our nationally-based grocery stores are good about carrying staples such as Louisiana rice, sugar, and pecans, and Cajun- and Creole-themed food products. They’re also getting better about featuring such items as Louisiana-grown strawberries, blueberries, sweet potatoes, citrus, and melons.

Farmers’ markets, of course, are excellent places to buy just about anything grown in your region.

Many vendors also sell directly from their farms, through memberships, and at drop-off locations. 

Some farmers’ markets carry freshly slaughtered, yard-raised poultry and colorful arrays of eggs.

Foster Farms chickens are commercially grown in the northeast Louisiana town of Farmerville, so look for their label in grocery stores. A few other brands that either grow or process chickens here are Miss Goldy, Pilgrim’s Pride, Sanderson Farms, and House of Raeford.   

Louisiana’s two large commercial egg growers are Cal Maine Foods and Jordans Egg Farm. And keep an eye out for eggs produced by Gunter Egg Farms, LSU Central Research Station Poultry, Inglewood Farm, and Little Solar Farms.

It’s getting easier and easier to fill your freezer with straight-off-the-ranch Louisiana beef, pork, lamb, and goat. Consider building a relationship with Kentwood’s Iverstine Farms, Three Twelve Beef in St. Francisville, or Trotter Beef in Natchitoches. Gonsulin Land and Cattle in New Iberia delivers beef, lamb, and pork locally, and Abbeville’s Brookshire Farms has pickup locations throughout the state. The Shreveport/Minden area has Wooldridge Land and Cattle, and Parish Meat Processing will help you locate a live animal from a farm. The venerable Superette in Eunice is Louisiana’s largest state-inspected animal processor, and they source and supply from local farmers.

Back in the 1980s Louisiana had over 1,000 dairy farms. Today we have less than 85. This alarming trend makes it extremely important to support the few dairies we have left. Although some regional creameries such as Morrell, Feliciana’s Best, Hill Crest, and Flowing Hills all sell at farmers’ markets or convenience stores, most small dairies sell to large processors. In grocery stores look for Brown’s Dairy, Borden, and the iconic Kleinpeter.

Fresh Louisiana shrimp, fish, oysters, and crabs are pretty easy to find. You can even have seafood shipped from many old-line seafood markets, such as Baton Rouge’s Tony’s Seafood and Schaeffer’s in Metairie. 

Ordering Louisiana seafood in restaurants is a little trickier. Although Louisiana Act 372 requires restaurants to post a notice if they serve imported shrimp or crawfish, you never know the origin of everything else. You’d be surprised how many “Louisiana” restaurants serve imported fish, as well as shrimp and crawfish. To make sure the oysters in my Rockefeller and the crab in my au gratin were caught in Louisiana, I usually ask my server where my seafood comes from.  

As an aside, it’s great to see that distillers are making spirits from Louisiana commercial crops. A few who use local sugarcane to make rum, vodka, or gin are Lacassine’s Bayou Rum Distillery, Lafayette’s Wildcat Brothers Distilling, Donner-Peltier Distillers in Thibodaux, Yellowtail Vodka in Sulfur, and New Orleans-based Roulaison Distilling, Cajun Spirits Distillery, and 73 Distillery. Rumor also has it that the LSU AgCenter has developed a short-grain rice for a New Orleans saké (rice wine) company. 

I have a bottle of J. T. Meleck’s vodka, which is handcrafted from rice grown in the small town of Branch, not too far from my house. It’s after 5 o’clock. I think I’ll mix up a cocktail, toast our Louisiana farmers, and see if I can taste the terroir. Cheers!
 
 

 
Do you have a Louisiana agriculture story or a recipe you’d like to share? Contact me at noblescynthia@gmail.com
 
Cynthia Nobles is the cookbook editor for LSU Press and the author/co-author of several historical cookbooks, including A Confederacy of Dunces Cookbook, The Delta Queen Cookbook, and The Fonville Winans Cookbook.
            
 
Seafood-Stuffed Eggplant
Makes 4 entrée servings
 
2 small or medium purple eggplants, unpeeled
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup chopped onion
½ cup chopped bell pepper
1½ pounds Louisiana shellfish (cleaned shrimp, crawfish tails, or crabmeat, or a combination)
1 clove garlic, minced
¼ cup chicken stock
1½ cups breadcrumbs, divided
Salt, ground black pepper, and cayenne pepper to taste
¼ cup minced fresh parsley
¼ cup, plus 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
2 eggs, beaten
1 tablespoon butter, melted
 
1. Bring a big pot of water to boil and heat your oven to 350°F. Halve eggplants lengthwise. Use a paring knife to score the insides in a crisscross pattern, being sure to not cut down through the skin. Scoop out pulp with a spoon or grapefruit spoon, leaving ¼ inch on the eggplant skin. Chop pulp into ½-inch pieces and reserve. Skin side up, boil the eggplant shells in the water 3 minutes. Drain and reserve. 

2. Heat oil in a large skillet over moderately high heat and sauté onion and bell pepper until soft. If you’re using shrimp or crawfish, add them now. Stir in eggplant pulp and garlic and stir constantly until eggplant is tender and most of liquid is evaporated, about 2-3 minutes.

3. Remove skillet from heat and stir in stock, 1 cup breadcrumbs, salt, black pepper, and cayenne. Stir in parsley, ¼ cup Parmesan cheese, and beaten eggs. If using crabmeat, gently stir that in.

4. Mound stuffing into eggplant shells and top with a mixture of remaining ½ cup breadcrumbs, 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese, and melted butter. Place stuffed eggplants in a lightly oiled baking pan and bake until deep brown, about 30-40 minutes. Let cool 10-15 minutes before serving. 
 
 
Braised Beef Ribs
Makes 4 servings
 
This company-worthy dish is better made a day ahead. And since the vegetables end up pureed, don’t bother to chop them too fine. 
 
8 bone-in, Louisiana-raised beef short ribs
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
Salt, black pepper, and cayenne pepper
½ cup all-purpose flour
1 large onion, chopped
1 medium carrot, chopped
2 ribs celery, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
3 cups beef stock
½ cup tomato sauce
8 ounces fresh button mushrooms, sliced
Hot cooked rice, pasta, or mashed potatoes for serving
Garnish: chopped parsley or green onions
 
1. Preheat your oven to 325°. Heat the oil in a large Dutch oven on the stove at medium-high. Generously season the ribs with salt, black pepper, and cayenne. Dredge the meat in the flour and brown them well on all sides in the hot Dutch oven.

2. Add the onion, carrot, celery, and garlic. Stir in the stock and tomato sauce and bring to a boil. Remove from heat, cover the pot, and bake until meat is just tender and falling off the bone, 2-2½ hours. 

3. Carefully remove meat from the pot and set aside. Skim the fat and puree the vegetables in the liquid with an immersion blender or in a blender. Add mushrooms and bring to a quick simmer on the stove. Stirring occasionally, cook until the mushrooms are soft, about 6-7 minutes. Taste for seasoning. The gravy should be nice and thick. If not, add a little cornstarch mixed with water. 

​4. Add meat and any accumulated juices to the pot. Bring to a simmer and cook enough to heat the short ribs through. Serve meat and gravy over rice. Garnish with parsley or green onions.
 
 
Louisiana Greyhound Cocktail 
Makes 1 drink
 
The Greyhound Cocktail got its name from its place of origin, the restaurants at Greyhound bus stations. This drink is sublime when made with freshly squeezed Louisiana grapefruit juice. But since local grapefruit won’t be ripe for a month or so, go ahead and use bottled juice for now. It will still be delicious.  
 
Ice
2 ounces grapefruit juice
1½ ounces Louisiana-made vodka
Garnish: mint leaves and a slice of lemon
 
Fill a rocks glass with ice. Add the grapefruit juice and vodka and stir. Garnish with mint and lemon.

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles

​Late summer months trigger good memories of shucking corn under the shade of my parents’ sycamore. We seven kids did not consider it much of a chore to yank off the husks, pick away silks, and use butter knives to dig out the occasional worm. (Okay—maybe the worm part is not so memorable.)

That corn we shucked was sweet corn, the kind Louisiana gardeners grow in back yards and eat off the cob. To learn about field corn (dent corn), I spent time in a field with someone who’s been growing it a while. 

Aside from 700 acres of sugarcane, Bryan Carroll of Batchelor in Pointe Coupee Parish has planted 500 acres of soybeans and 500 acres of field corn. He’s been farming over 40 years, and with an authoritative grin he explains that his corn is the “hard, starchy, grainy kind. It’s not the kind we eat off the cob.” 

If you don’t keep up with agriculture statistics, you might be surprised to learn that over 99 percent of the 600,000 acres of commercial corn grown in Louisiana is field corn. Field corn is used to make things like soap, paper, and polymers for plastics and fabric. A full 40 percent of U.S. field corn goes to make ethanol. Over 35 percent is processed into animal food. Although we don’t typically eat it fresh, we consume field corn processed in the forms of cornmeal, corn flour, corn syrup, corn flakes, corn chips, cornstarch, and even bourbon. 

Compared to sweet corn, field corn grows taller and has larger, thicker leaves. Bryan pulls a light brown ear off a stalk and peels off its husk to reveal even rows of hard, deep gold kernels. He teaches me that “field corn stays on the stalks until the ears are dry and dented.” (Hence the name “dent” corn.) The kernels on this particular ear are still smooth, but only a few weeks from the dent stage. 

“Sweet corn comes from specialized hybrids,” he says. “And it’s harvested much earlier, when it’s in the milk stage and high in sugars.” While large Florida and California sweet corn farms harvest gently with specialized machines or human hands, Bryan’s ears of field corn are ripped off the stalks and stripped of kernels with the same combine he uses to cut soybeans. The only major mechanical adjustment he makes is to swap out the combine’s header.

Bryan sends his harvested crop to grain elevators in Port Allen. He says that from there it is “shipped out internationally.”

This year he is growing two hybrids, a DeKalb and a Croplan. Corn seed breeders have developed hybrids that help ease problems with the usual pests, such as weeds, insects, and those dreaded worms. But there’s another production challenge, he confesses, and it comes from furry nocturnal thieves: coyotes, black bears, and raccoons. They think corn tastes pretty good too.

And the number one bandit? Bryan’s easy smile vanishes. “Without a doubt, it’s wild hogs.” A survey of a massive patch of trampled stalks and mostly-eaten cobs reveals that he’s not kidding.  
You could get lost among his acres and acres of healthy plants and their towering stalks, tassels, and leaf canopies. These rows look almost majestic. And they are certainly more impressive than their original ancestor. 

Our modern, sturdy corn ears have an average 800 kernels divided among 16 rows. That’s quite a difference from what we believe is the first known corn, a tall, 5 to 12-seeded wild grass called teosinte, which looks sort of like a frail stalk of wheat. 

Teosinte is indigenous to central Mexico and Central America. Archaeologists believe that about 10,000 years ago Mesoamericans selected and manipulated this grass and developed the field corn we know today. Sweet corn was a spontaneous mutation on field corn. It originated east of South America’s Andes Mountains about 1000 years ago. 

Early Native Americans called corn “mahiz.” With the arrival of Columbus and the spread of corn to the world, the word morphed into “maize” — except with the English. To English-speaking colonists, the word “corn” originally meant “small particles.” So they first called corn “Indian corn,” then simply “corn.” 

Today, there are four basic groups of corn: field corn, sweet corn, popcorn, and ornamental corn. Bryan is obviously a pro at growing field corn, but does he ever plant other varieties? 

“Every once in a while I grow sweet corn,” he says. “But not this year.” 

As it turns out, his neighbors have a bumper crop of sweet corn. Bryan has graciously offered them storage space in a spare refrigerator on his farm. 

Next to his barns, combines, and tractors sits a pecan orchard, with lots of shade. By now the prolific neighbors have probably paid their storage debt in the form of sweet corn. I can’t help but wonder if Bryan’s family gathered under those pecan trees to do the shucking. 
 

Do you have a Louisiana agriculture story or a recipe you’d like to share? Contact me at noblescynthia@gmail.com


Cheddar and Corn Cornbread
Makes a 13x9-inch pan
 
This cornbread is super moist and bursting with corn flavor. If you consider jazzing it up with peppers, onions, or bacon, give the original recipe a try first. It might surprise you how good it tastes plain. 
 
1 stick butter, melted, plus more for greasing pan
2¼ cups (12 ounces) corn muffin mix
1 (15.25-ounce) can whole kernel corn, drained
1 (14.75-ounce) can cream-style corn
1 cup sour cream
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese 
2 large eggs
 
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter the insides of a 9x13-inch baking pan.
2. Mix all ingredients in a large bowl. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake until brown, about 35-45 minutes. Cool at least 15 minutes before slicing. 
 
 
Skillet Corn with Sausage and Peppers
Makes 6 servings
 
Frozen corn tastes fine in this dish, but fresh corn off the cob makes it spectacular.
 
2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil
1 medium onion, chopped
½ pound smoked sausage, cut into ½-inch slices
1½ cups chopped fresh bell peppers, or a combo of bell peppers and mild chilis
3 cups fresh corn kernels, or a 16-ounce package frozen
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon Creole seasoning
¼ teaspoon ground black pepper
 
1. Place a large skillet over medium-high heat, add the oil, and sauté the onion until just translucent, about 5 minutes. Add sausage and peppers and cook until the sausage is lightly brown, 6-7 minutes. 
2. Reduce heat to medium-low and add corn, garlic, Creole seasoning, and black pepper. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until corn is tender, 5-6 minutes. (A minute or 2 longer for frozen corn.) Remove from heat and let sit, covered, 5 minutes. Serve hot.
 
 
Creamed Corn
Makes 4 servings
 
I’m including this recipe because it’s a side dish that just about every child will eat. For adult palates you can add peppers and spices, or serve it my favorite way, over rice and gravy. One taste and you’ll never buy the stuff in the can again.
 
3 cups corn scraped off the cob, or 1 (16-ounce) bag frozen corn, thawed
1½ cups milk 
1 tablespoon sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1½ tablespoons cornstarch mixed with 3 tablespoons cold water
Salt and ground black pepper to taste
 
1. In a saucepan, bring corn, milk, and sugar to a boil. Lower heat to a simmer and cook 5 minutes. (Cook a minute or so longer for frozen corn.) Remove from heat.
2. In a large saucepan over medium-low heat, melt butter, then slowly stir in corn and milk mixture. Raise heat to medium. Bring to a simmer and slowly add cornstarch mixture, stirring constantly. Cook and stir until thick. (If needed, thicken with a little more cornstarch and water.) Stir in salt and pepper. Serve warm.

By Cynthia LeJeune Nobles