Brabant Potatoes

Right out of college, I took a coast-to-coast-to-coast road trip road trip in my brown VW Rabbit to see America. My younger sister Ellen came along for a part of the trip. She was 12 at the time and loved the chance for a little bit of freedom and independence. One of the highlights of our time together was our time in New Orleans.

We did all the expected touristy things I suppose: Stayed up late to listen to the Preservation Hall Jazz band; Drank hurricanes strolling down Bourbon Street (yes, I know, she was underage); took in the city’s amazing architecture, including the above-ground cemeteries; bought the obligatory masks and beads even though Mardi Gras was 6 months behind (or ahead) of us. But mostly, we ate amazing food in amazing places cooked my amazing chefs (see Cajun Cuisine for wonderful profiles on some of these African American unheralded legends).

One of the dishes we had again and again was brabant potatoes, New Orleans’ famous version of french fries. To call them that though, doesn’t do them justice: Real crunchy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, coated in garlic confit and topped with chopped parsley. They were so good and so much a part of everything else we ate that I kinda took them for granted. And so here I am, 40 years later, rediscovering this iconic dish.

Ideally, you want a starch-rich, low-moisture potato such as Russet, Idaho, or Yukon Golds. Israeli potatoes are a bit different, but they worked out well. At least I got no complaints from my guests — except that I didn’t make enough. For me, as with many things on our soul food menu, this dish is all about tapping into memories and sensations I had either forgotten entirely or only barely recalled. More like a window into the soul rather than french fries.