Taking pride in our cooking

One of the perks of living in a southern state is the pride people take in their food. I grew up in the North where the food was secondary to the pomp and ceremony.

Here in the South, what's on the plate is the star of the show, and it seems people south of the Mason-Dixon line have their own feelings about how to prepare the best Southern meal.

Growing up in Louisiana, knowing the proper way to cook Cajun food was much more important than knowing how to drive. It's probably a requirement for anyone living in Louisiana to own a cast-iron pot as it's the only cookware capable of turning out an acceptable roux, the backbone of almost every Cajun dish.

For those new to Southern cuisine, a roux is a mixture of flour and oil, cooked over a medium heat until it turns a caramel color. Ask any Cajun cook how to make something, and the first thing he or she will say is "make a roux."

Right up there with mastering the art of making a roux is learning how to cook crawfish. In Yankee cooking magazines, they refer to these scrumptious crustaceans as "crayfish." Use that word down South, and you'll be tossed out along with your Schlitz beer.

Every Cajun cook worth his or her Tony Chachere's has a secret recipe for cooking crawfish to perfection and all claim their way is the best way.

Some cooks cover the live crawfish with salt to purge them while others skip that step. Some add extra salt and red pepper to the crawfish seasoning packets right when the water starts to boil while others dump the seasonings in at the end.

There's the debated method of throwing ice water on the crawfish when they're finished boiling or just letting them steep in the seasoned water until they're tender and juicy. Some cooks throw red potatoes and corn on the cob in with the crawfish, and there's always heated arguments about the exact right time to add those ingredients.

But Louisiana doesn't have the market cornered when it comes to heated debates around the pot. When we moved to Texas, we found Southern pride in preparing a barbecue dinner. All Texas chefs worth their own cooking rig guard the secret to their sauce more vigorously than guarding the secret to Coca Cola.

Some Texas chefs cook their brisket all night long while others use pecan wood or beer in the smoker to give the meat a sweet, moist taste.

Some add the barbecue sauce while the meat's cooking while others wait until the last few minutes to completely smother the ribs and chicken while they're on the pit. I've had barbecue cooked every kind of way, and it's all fabulous.

The best part of any Southern meal – no matter if it's cooked in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi or Arkansas – is sitting down with friends and kinfolk to enjoy the fruits of one's labor. Once the iced tea glasses are filled, many families bow their heads and say a blessing for the bounty on the table.

And right up there with enjoying the food is enjoying the conversation as Southerners love to argue politics, grumble about the high price of college football tickets and then go back for seconds.

Especially if seconds include another platter of barbecue ribs, a fresh mound of hot, spicy crawfish or that last sliver of pecan pie topped off with some homemade whipped cream.

Sweetie, when you're lucky enough to be a Southerner, life doesn't get much better.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.