Texas, Louisiana both stake claim to best boudin
When it comes to the best regional American cuisines, the border between Texas and Louisiana is hard to beat.
Though it doesn’t get the highprofile media coverage of say the Lowcountry of South Carolina, the area straddling the Sabine River in Southeast Texas and Southwest Louisiana is a worthy combination of cultures and natural resources that are embodied in the culinary traditions of the area.
Cajun and Creole traditions from the east collide with Hispanic and European traditions of Southeast and Central Texas, blending with the rich seafood of the Gulf Coast and the hog farms and cattle ranches of the region.
The dish that is often associated with the region is gumbo, in all its many forms and flavors. However, I would argue that the canonical dish of the region is boudin, the French-inspired sausage traditionally made with pork and rice.
Sampling boudin from the furthest reaches of Cajun country all the way to the western fringes of Houston tells a tale of a regional dish that has transformed over time and geography. In Louisiana, the triangle encompassing Opelousas, Eunice and Pine Prairie contains some of the region’s best boudin. Evaluation is based on the balance of rice, pork, spices and aromatic ingredients.
Tastes differ. Some boudin connoisseurs prefer more pork to rice; others want a more aromatic flavor from green onions and parsley.
Texturally, boudin of this area features rice and meat that is “pulverized,” that is, finely ground, resulting in a smoother texture. Though the ingredients are cooked before being stuffed into a pork casing, the resulting sausage is steamed. This often results in a chewier casing, which some boudin fans dutifully chew through, while others squeeze out the filling and throw the casing away.
Boudin in Cajun country is mainly distributed through convenience stores. At places like TBoys Boudin in Mamou, you place your order at the counter and a long ring of boudin is pulled from a steamer and then snipped with kitchen shears into bite-size pieces. Throw in some crackers and hot sauce and that’s lunch.
Things start to transform once you head west over the Sabine. Much is made of the different spelling in these parts — “boudain” is the name you will see in Beaumont and Port Arthur. Though some attribute the difference to a unique recipe or ingredients, in fact, it appears to just be a historical aberration.
Both “boudin” and “boudain” were used in Louisiana in the early 1900s. The latter spelling became the norm in Southeast Texas, probably because large producers, like DJ’s Boudain, standardized on that spelling. In a tongue-incheek explanation, DJ’s website claims they spell it that way because “DJ’s boudin was awesome, so we added the ‘a’ to the spelling.”
And yet, there is a noticeable transformation in technique and ingredients in Texas boudin. The most notable being the texture — boudin here usually features intact grains of white rice and larger chunks of pork, mainly from the shoulder cut. There is a lack of flavor from cuts like the liver and the heart, for which Louisiana boudin is known.
In Houston, boudin is a prominent barbecue joint menu item. The coarser texture of the rice and meat soaks up the post oak flavor from the smoking process, while the casing gets snappier by the higher, drier cooking temperature.
At Henderson & Kane General Store in Houston’s Sixth Ward, sausage maker Aaron Lazo Sr. produces a classic Texasstyle, relatively coursetextured boudin that’s smoked for several hours and served in both spicy and mild versions. It’s a great example of boudin made west of the Sabine River.