The Junior League comes through

At last, another contender for Finest Remoulade Recipe.

After last week's mayonnaise extravaganza (although there's nothing wrong with mayonnaise), I decided to go with another oil-based version for this week's experiment.

The recipe comes from a collection put together by and for the Junior League of New Orleans--Jambalaya (this one is the 2006 edition).

My sister A (who died over 15 years ago--so hard to believe) was a member of the Junior League of Shreveport, and I lived with her when she put together her campaign to be asked to join. For those of you from parts of the country where the Junior League does not figure into the social network, think of a sorority for married, middle/upper middle class women.

I was twelve years younger and living with her and her husband for a year of high school, getting away from difficulties associated with living with my parents. It was the late sixties, and while much of the country was going through social upheaval, Shreveport was, at least from my limited experience, still deeply enmeshed in southern traditions, for good and for ill.


The high school I attended was in the first year of integration, but, again, from my limited and very white experience, the year went amazingly smoothly. But when I asked to host a baby shower for a friend who "had to get married," my sister forbade me from inviting my African-American friends. I still remember her pained explanation to my outrage: "We have to live in this neighborhood." I decided not to have the shower at all.

So back to the Junior League: My sister strategically and systematically planned ladies' bridge parties and the like. For each event, the guest list was carefully considered and food was carefully planned, prepared, and presented. Since my parents never entertained, this in itself was an education as I learned that a menu could involve more than what was on sale and what can of vegetables was near the front of the pantry. Cookbooks were for browsing and were about possibilities--not just about how to make sure the turkey was done at Thanksgiving. Lists were made and remade; finger foods were tested before hand to make sure they would not only be appealing and tasty but manageable given the necessities of timing and the small size of A's kitchen.

So I watched the preparations with great interest and helped with the preparation but more importantly learned the work and the pleasure that go into making food that others will enjoy and making entertaining look effortless. I will always be grateful for that lesson, along with so many others that I learned in my sister and brother-in-law's home.

Her campaign was a success, and she was thrilled. No one loved being a member of the Junior League more than A. And while the Junior League is not my particular cup of remoulade, I salute my sister's focus and talent to make it happen.

When my sister died, she left me her fox fur coat--a prized possession, but as she was taller and a bit thinner, the coat always made me look like a clown in a really, really cold country. What I regret is that I didn't let her know that I wanted her cookbook collection which was huge, filling a floor to ceiling bookcase in her kitchen. I'm sure the books went to lots of different folks (her husband was a minister, so I'm betting lots of parishioners loved getting something to remember her by), but I would love to have them now and think of her sitting at the kitchen table with a dozen or so books spread out before her as she planned the next event.

All in all, you can't go wrong for party food with any Junior League cookbook.

The meal we had tonight was a light summer meal that included a tomato given to us by a friend whose mother grew it and a cantaloupe purchased at the tiny farmer's market in Greenville.

Boiled shrimp on a bed of arugula. (It's a wonderful and amazing thing that I'm able to buy arugula in my tiny backwater town.)

Bruschetta (chopped home-grown tomato with garlic, olive oil, fresh basil, and a little red wine vinegar) on a whole-wheat herb bread that MO made on the 4th

Sliced cantaloupe


Here's the remoulade recipe:

2 large cloves of garlic, pressed
1 hard-cooked egg
3 anchovies
salt and pepper to taste
3/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup vinegar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 cup ketchup (I was worried about this but it turned out just fine!)
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
2 1/2 tablespoons Creole mustard
2 teaspoons dry mustard
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon paprika

In a food processor with a metal blade, bloend garlic, egg, and anchovies until smooth. Transfer to a bowl. Stir in salt, pepper, and remaining 9 ingredients. Chill. Stores well in the refrigerator. Yields 2 cups.

The result is surprisingly smooth. The chilling time is important; when I tasted it before putting in in the fridge, I thought uh oh, this is too sweet. But the chilling gave the other flavors time to assert themselves.

This one's a keeper.