Mirepoix
With a Cajun accent
Mirepoix1 is a mixture of diced veggies cooked slowly2 over low heat in order to soften and sweeten3 them to make the base for the dish.
Just about every culture that has cuisine has some form of mirepoix, but the French version — and where we get the term — is onions, carrots, and celery in a 2:1:1 ratio.
In 1755 a bunch of French folks in the French-Canadian colony of Acadia refused to swear unconditional fealty to the British Crown, and promptly got punted out of their colony in what is known as Le Grand Dérangement.
After a bit of wandering, these folks found themselves the happy4 owners of a whole bunch of Louisiana swamp — and while swamps are rather … fecund … and enthusiastic about growing stuff5 — carrots aren’t real high on the list of swamp veggies. The proto-Cajuns looked around, saw bell peppers, shrugged, and improvised.
Voila! The Cajun/Creole version of mirepoix.
As an aside I never heard of this referred to as “The Holy Trinity” until about five years ago when I saw an Isaac Toups video about gumbo. I’m not saying that referring to them as “The Holy Trinity” hasn’t been a thing for a while, but my dad just thought of them as the veggies you cooked with. If he was cooking Cajun food, it was understood that onions, bell pepper, and celery would be the base of the dish.
So. The proper ratio between veggies varies from cook to cook, but is usually either: 1 cup onion, 1 cup bell pepper, and 1 cup celery; or (the one I use): 2 cups onion, 1 cup bell pepper, and 1 cup celery.
It is not, despite the efforts of earnest commentors on social media, “1 onion, 1 bell pepper, and 1 stick of celery”.
Just … no.
Also — and I’d like a whole bunch of Tik-Tok “Cajun cooks” to read this — yes, you should have celery in there. I’m seeing way too many “Cajun dish” videos with absolutely no celery whatsoever in the veggies. Nope, nope, nope.
Dice each veggie to pieces about the same size, and if you’re just using them for the base, melt some butter or bacon grease, bung them into the oil over low heat, and stir for four - five minutes. Again, we’re not sautéing them, and we’re not caramelizing them — we want them to soften and to bring the sugars to the fore. Once they’re translucent, start popping in the rest of your ingredients.
If you’re using the veggies to stop your roux, dice them to the same size6, and when your roux hits the colour you need, toss in the veggies7. The veggies will drop the temperature enough that your roux will stop darkening … and won’t burn8.
After the veggies are in your roux, stir until translucent, and then proceed with the rest of the recipe.
Cajun mirepoix. A/k/a “The Holy Trinity”.
It gave me something to write about on a Tuesday morning.
Ian
“meer-PWAH“
-ish.
We’re not caramelizing the veggies. This is important.
-ish.
Gators. Mosquitoes. You know — stuff.
Do this BEFORE you start making the roux.
I also throw in a splash of stock.
If you’ve never burnt a roux, you’ve never made a roux. It happens to everyone.
As noted before I will have to recuse myself from consumption of Bell Peppers. For some reason I seem to be able to deal with other peppers just fine - though please excuse me from Carolina Reapers and other weapons grade peppers. The necessity of celery strikes me as like the necessity of Cilantro in Mexican or Tex/Mex cooking. You may not like it as a primary flavor but if it isn’t there as an undertone, something is missing.
I used Roux a good deal before my lady’s gluten and dairy problems became acute. Yeah, if you haven’t burned one, you haven’t been trying enough. The instructions I had told me to keep stirring on heat until it turned the color of peanut butter. Mine kept jumping from pale to burnt, but with practice I got the feel for it, and BOY is it worth the practice!
I heard the term "Holy Trinity" thirty years ago in New Orleans. 1 cup each.