Vandy pole vaulter sets sights on national record
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Dorothy Champagne Voisin
April 7, 2008
“Frank Davis Makes Good Groceries.”
It’s a fact, and it’s the title of Davis’ latest cookbook, just released by Pelican Publishing Co.
In this, his fourth cookbook with Pelican, Davis doesn’t just take you shopping; he shows you how to make “good groceries” with the groceries.
The Crescent City’s favorite chef is touring the area, making stops at local Rouses to sign books and offer a few tips in the kitchen.
“People in New Orleans don’t go shopping, they make groceries,” Davis said, “and what they make is comfort food. That’s what we’ve got here. These are the dishes you want to eat if you’re sad, or tired, or lonely or if the ICBMs are incoming.”
The recipes in “Makes Good Groceries” were likely cooked in your grandmother’s kitchen, he explained. “These are Maw Maw’s old recipes – with a little Frank Davis on it.”
And Davis provides his take on what side dishes to serve, what to do with the leftover ingredients and how to use alternative seasonings. “People kept asking all the time, ‘What do I fix with that?’ or ‘What kind of wine do I drink with that?’ he said. “All of a sudden I’m a menu planner and sommelier.”
With the WWL-TV cooking and fishing gig, four cookbooks and a fishing guide, you’d figure Frank Davis had a full plate. But the latest addition to his food empire is a line of seasonings; 15 to be exact.
Thibodaux, Davis fans lauded the narrative writing style.
“People aren’t dumb. They can read a full sentence,” he said. “I want them to read recipes as if I was standing next to them. The master chef can say, ‘Yep, he got that right,’ and the novice can read it and say, ‘Boy, I’m sure glad I know I’ve got to get a bigger pot because Frank says the small pot I was going to use is going to boil over the top.’
“I try to make it a book for all seasons. Everybody can cook with it and do it well,” he added. “It’s a cooking course just for that one individual.”
When you run into Frank in the Tri-parishes, don’t bother asking which recipes are his favorite. “Want to know what my favorite recipes are? The ones that start on page 1 and go to page 239,” he said, laughing. “Take all four of my cookbooks and if you can’t find something to eat, you’re in trouble. You need a bag of potato chips.”
That Famous Fried Potato Po’ Boy
It was the sandwich that fed New Orleans during the Great Depression.
Martin Brothers Restaurant is said to have been the originator; but Herschtel’s on St. Claude also made and served them by the thousands! They were a foot long and cost 15 cents. The story goes that workmen would buy one, have it cut in half, eat one half for their lunch, and bring the other half home to the wife for supper. Real restaurants that maintain New Orleans traditions still serve them today.
Vegetable oil for frying
2 medium white potatoes, thinly sliced into strips or rounds
12-inch loaf French bread
1/2 cup Blue Plate Mayonnaise
1/2 cup roast-beef gravy
Salt and black pepper to taste
First, take a frypan, fill it with enough oil to cover the potatoes when you drop them in, and bring it up to 350 degrees. Then drop in the potato strips (or rounds) and deep-fry them until they turn a golden brown.
In the meantime, while the potatoes are cooking, slice the French bread down the middle, separate the top from the bottom, and liberally slather both with mayonnaise.
Then, when the potatoes are done, remove them from the frypan, drain them on several thicknesses of paper towels, and arrange them on one half of the French bread. And you need to be generous, too – don’t skimp on the spuds.
Then, right before the time when you’re ready to put the lid on the sandwich, take a ladle and pour roast-beef gravy over the potatoes, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and serve up the treat piping hot.
Chef’s Note: It’s OK these days to dress the potato po’ boy with lettuce and tomato if you want to; but the original was comprised of nothing but fried potatoes, mayonnaise and gravy, something the old-timers referred to as a “wish sandwich.” You ate the potatoes, but you wished you had some meat!
Pan-Smothered Creole Hot Sausage
This is an exercise in culinary simplicity!
3 tablespoons water
3 pounds Creole hot sausage links
12 French pistolettes
Mayonnaise
Yellow mustard
Take a large 12- or 14-inch cast-iron skillet with a tight-fitting lid (you can use heavy club aluminum if you absolutely must!), place it on the stovetop on medium-high heat, and sprinkle the inside of the pan with the water.
Now take the sausage links and, starting in the center of the pan, begin laying them down in concentric circles, filling up the skillet to its outer rim.
At this point, place the lid on the skillet and let the sausages begin to smother.
When a red-colored spicy liquid begins to accumulate in the skillet (that’s actually fat and cayenne pepper!), reduce the fire to medium low, take a basting bulb, and begin removing the drippings. You don’t want to leave any of it in the skillet with the links; otherwise the links won’t smother or brown – they’ll just boil in the juices.
Oh – and to render out the maximum amount of excess fat, it is also a good idea to prick the links with an ice pick in several places.
When the sausages are done, which should take about 20 minutes of slow simmering with the pan covered, uncover the pan, completely remove the last of the drippings, brown the links uniformly all over, and serve them piping hot inside the freshly-baked pistolettes, dressed with mayonnaise and mustard.
(Hint: if you want to add the coup de grace, you should also dress each hot sausage sandwich with a half-handful of minced lettuce and tomatoes.)
