By October is almost here and the temperatures have finally agreed to drop below eighty, which in Louisiana is the turning that everyone has been waiting for. The ceiling fans can rest. The windows can open. Mama baked on Saturday for the first time since early spring — a cake, which she reserves for when the weather is finally fit for the oven to run all afternoon. She made a pound cake, the old recipe from Grandmother Ruthie that she keeps on a notecard in the spice drawer, and it came out dense and golden with a crust that crackles when you slice it. We ate it warm with coffee after dinner and the evening felt like something shifted.
I've been thinking about the essay I wrote for Howard — the one about Grandpa Elijah — almost daily now. Not with anxiety but with a kind of rolling wonder that I got to write it. That I had that to say. Not every seventeen-year-old walks into college applications with a story that goes three generations deep into a landscape. I know that. I'm aware of what I've been given, not just the love and the cooking but the story, the depth, the people who made me possible.
Tanya showed me her newest poem this week. It was about her mother's hands, how they look like her grandmother's hands now, the way age makes us resemble our origins. I thought about MawMaw's hands in the kitchen, and how I've been working to write down the things those hands know. There's a relationship between Tanya's work and mine that we've never named but that is absolutely there — we are both doing the work of preservation, of translating something living into something that can outlast the living.
MawMaw made her chicken sauce piquante on Sunday, the version with the whole chicken cut into pieces and browned deep before the spiced tomato sauce goes in. It took three hours and produced something that tasted like it had been cooking for a week. She ate at our table and we watched her eat and she said, "A little more cayenne next time," and we all agreed even though none of us had added any cayenne yet. That is also a kind of knowledge that lives in the cook, not the recipe.
When MawMaw said “a little more cayenne next time,” she wasn’t reading from a recipe — she was reading the dish itself, the way she always has. I’ve been trying to close that gap, to write down what her hands already know, and this Homemade Cajun Seasoning blend is part of that work. It’s the foundation she builds from, the layer underneath the sauce piquante that makes the whole thing taste like it came from somewhere specific and loved. Having a jar of this mixed and ready is the first step toward cooking the way she does — even if the second step still takes three hours and a whole lot of watching.
Homemade Cajun Seasoning
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: About 1/2 cup (approximately 8 servings)
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons smoked paprika
- 1 tablespoon garlic powder
- 1 tablespoon onion powder
- 1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
- 1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
- 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more, to taste)
- 1 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
Instructions
- Combine the spices. Add the smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, dried oregano, dried thyme, cayenne pepper, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes to a small bowl.
- Whisk together. Stir or whisk until all the spices are evenly combined and no clumps remain.
- Taste and adjust. Dip a clean finger or small spoon in and taste — add more cayenne if you want more heat, more salt if needed. This blend should have a warm, bold depth before it ever touches a pan.
- Store. Transfer to a small jar or airtight container. Store at room temperature away from direct light for up to 6 months. Use generously on chicken, pork, shrimp, vegetables, or as a base for sauce piquante.
Nutrition (per serving, approximately 1 tablespoon)
Calories: 18 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 4g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 290mg