Growing up, I thought it was downright exotic that my mom, every month or so, made jambalaya for dinner. This was in St. Louis, where a bargain-bin Mardi Gras provides the only attempt of New Orleans charm, and a shoddy one at that. By no means does Cajun or Creole cooking have much of a foothold in the Midwest, and back then, I didn’t know anyone else whose family ate jambalaya in a rotation with pork tenderloin and flank steak and chicken marsala.
jambalaya for days
jambalaya for days
jambalaya for days
Growing up, I thought it was downright exotic that my mom, every month or so, made jambalaya for dinner. This was in St. Louis, where a bargain-bin Mardi Gras provides the only attempt of New Orleans charm, and a shoddy one at that. By no means does Cajun or Creole cooking have much of a foothold in the Midwest, and back then, I didn’t know anyone else whose family ate jambalaya in a rotation with pork tenderloin and flank steak and chicken marsala.