ROUSES_MarApr2019_Magazine-R

INTERNATIONAL

LEBANESE PASTA

Lebanese immigrants have been settling in Louisiana since the late 1800s, bringing with them a distinctive — and delicious — culinary flair. With large popu- lations landing in Baton Rouge, Lake Charles and Lafayette, it wasn’t long before Lebanese and more traditional Cajun flavors started to be co-mingled in kitchens and on menus, lead- ing to one of the most unique, and under-the-radar, fusion cuisines in the region. And while, more often than not, you’ll have to make friends with a home cook in order to sample how “LebaCajun” food has evolved, there are some public- facing spots for the curious to dip a toe in these hybrid waters. Simone’s Market in New Orleans frequently hosts Leba- nese Sunday Dinners featuring dishes like grape leaves, kibbe “footballs” (seasoned ground

beef or lamb) and tabouli, while Serop’s Café in Baton Rouge serves up Lebanese-style pick- les and tea (black tea brewed with lemon and rose) alongside classic Louisiana fare. When it comes to pastas, Leba- nese cuisine is all about the marriage of homey textures and fresh flavors. The traditional Lebanese rice pilaf, served primarily as a side dish, uses noodles in an outside-the- box way by toasting pieces of broken-up vermicelli (“little worms”) pasta in a mixture of basmati rice and spices. And the comfort-food factor only increases from there: Maca- roon bil toum combines pillowy clouds of dumpling-like pasta with a bright, lemon-garlic sauce, while Lebanese-style spaghetti, ma’acaroni bi laban, is served up with a cool, tangy yogurt sauce.

HONDURAN PASTA

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2005, following Hurricane Katrina, that tens of thousands of Hondurans, along with other Central Ameri- cans, flocked to New Orleans to help repair the flooded city. Today, Hispanic individuals make up 5.6 percent of the area’s total population — up from 3.1 percent in 2000. And while pasta isn’t exactly a traditional Honduran dish, there are several noodle-based snacks that have gained popularity over the years, thanks to the give-and-take of immigrants. Sopa de fideo — a stock-based noodle soup made with long, thin pasta — is found through- out the country, and gives chicken noodle soup a run for its comfort- food money. There’s spaghetti con pollo, which gets its signature cream- iness from an unexpected dollop of sour cream. But perhaps the most interesting of all — and the greatest testament to the cultural complexity of Honduran cuisine — is “Hondu- ran chop suey” (yes, really): a stir- fried dish of chow mein noodles and vegetables most often eat during the holiday season.

Ask anyone who’s become a devo- tee of pollo con tajadas (chicken with fried plantains) from restaurants in Kenner or caldo de res (marrow- rich beef stew) from hole-in-the- wall joints on the West Bank over the years, and they’ll tell you: The Greater New Orleans area is over- flowing with a delicious bounty of Honduran cuisine. New Orleans is home to the single largest Honduran population in the United States; the first wave of immi- grants from the Central American country arrived as employees of either the Standard Fruit Company (now the Dole Food Company) or the United Fruit Company (now Chiquita Brands) at the turn of the 20th century. Both companies imported bananas from Honduras into the United States through the Port of New Orleans, and Hondu- rans moved to the city to work on the docks and in the importers’ offices. A second, larger wave of Hondurans moved to New Orleans in the 1950s (many of whom eventually settled in Jefferson Parish), but it wasn’t until

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