Baked Jambalaya

Baked Jambalaya

Ingredients:
2 cups cooked diced chicken
1 good-sized onion
3 stalks celery
1 green pepper
1-½ cups cooked rice
Two 14-15 oz cans of diced tomatoes
Salt
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Pepper
Plain bread crumbs
Butter
Tabasco sauce

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350° F. Wash and chop onions, pepper, and celery. Heat butter in large
frying pan. Saute’ chicken, onion, celery, and pepper on high heat until onions are clear.
Stir in cooked rice and tomatoes. Heat through. Pour mixture into greased casserole dish.
Spread evenly in pan. Top with salt, pepper, and bread crumbs. Bake for 1 hour in oven.
Serve by itself or as a side dish. Be sure to have the Tabasco sauce handy for an extra
zest. Great with garlic French bread. This basic recipe can be prepared for either a side
dish or a main meal. Best served hot with some fresh bread, cold beer, a bottle of hot
sauce, and good friends and family.
Author’s Bio:
I couldn’t have included excerpts from my story, based in the Louisiana back
country, without including at leastone recipe for the region. I grew up in the New Orleans
area and was blessed to be graced with some of the best food in the world. If you ever get
the chance to experience another way of life, be sure to visit Louisiana. Lassiez les bon
temps roulez! ~ Dehanna Bailee
You can find out more about Dehanna Bailee or her current book, TRUE
NATURE, by visiting her website at
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FAVORING CURRY
Excerpt from The Anti-Recipe Book:
I still remember the time I invited Margaret back to my apartment after a very
pleasant country walk having promised her a cosy meal and whatever else might follow.
While she went for a bath I started to prepare. Or perhaps I prepared to start. Either way
the fridge was empty and, as Winnie the Pooh might have said, the more I opened the
door the more there was nothing there. I found a couple of eggs, and, in a cupboard, an
onion and some potatoes and then bowed my head in anguish as I contemplated the
success or failure of the next few hours of my life.
Margaret was a theatrical woman. I’d met her at a social club that tried to put on
an occasional amateur production.As far as she was concerned, she was the production.
Used to meet people by holding out both hands. And now she was due to slink out of the
bathroom and make her grand entrance. She would be nicely warmed for a romantic
evening of conversation and togetherness and I was considering the options of making
egg and fries or having to admit I had forgotten to buy any food. What was worse, I
wondered, an admission, by implication, that I did not care sufficiently to plan our day
out properly or the presentationof a wholly inadequate and anticlimactic meal of one egg
each with some greasy potatoes and a slice of bread.
In a second cupboard I found some rice and pasta and various cans of soups,
beans and tomatoes. I also found a few herbs and, the final clue as to the way to get out of
this mess, some Tandoori curry powder. Margaret was not a great cook and was very
amenable to my experimentation, even viewing me at times with quizzical respect. Thus I
decided to take a chance on a vegetable curry that was virtually devoid of real vegetables.
Favoring Curry