Recipes: Authentic Creole Red Beans and Rice with Andouille Sausage

If I’m going to spend a Monday afternoon making a big pot of red beans, then I want them to be New Orleans red beans, like so many versions I tasted when I was living and cooking in the Crescent City. As a chef, I take these matters very seriously. And I should also point out that this recipe took some considerable time and effort, and not just on my part. The very foundation for this dish — the Camellia Brand red beans themselves — were sent to me by a good friend, a native of New Orleans who insisted that there was simply no viable substitute.

Since Phil is usually correct about all things Creole, and because he was also willing to mail several pounds of dried beans to California, I naturally complied. As for the andouille, I ordered a few pounds of the “real deal” directly from Jacob’s World Famous in La Place (fortunately, Jacob’s will FedEx some of their heartier pork products, although their rival down the block, Bailey’s World Famous, does not offer shipping).

a few

A few key New Orleans cookbooks (from left to right): Lena Richard, 1940; Paul Prudhomme, 1984; Leon Soniat, 1981; Mary Land, 1969.

Historically, red beans and rice is considered a “Creole” dish, meaning that its roots are located in the City of New Orleans (or thereabouts). Although the words “Cajun” and “Creole” have become practically interchangeable today, “Cajun” cooking implies a cuisine that was developed in the more rural areas of Louisiana, such as Opelousas, the native home of chef Paul Prudhomme (my former employer at K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen in the French Quarter).

Over the years, Prudhomme has authored several books regarding Louisiana cuisine, including 1987’s “The Prudhomme Family Cookbook,” in which he notes, “when I was growing up in Cajun country, red beans were just another dried bean, like pinto beans and lima beans — and Cajuns loved dried beans. But when I moved to New Orleans, I discovered that red beans were a cultural phenomenon, a tradition dating back for hundreds of years.”

As I began to formulate a recipe for authentic Creole red beans, “The Prudhomme Family Cookbook” was just one of several vintage New Orleans cookbooks that served as my reference points. In fact, my most trusted cookbook by Prudhomme is his very first, “Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen,” published in 1984. I’ve returned to this seminal text so many times that my copy of the book automatically opens to the red beans recipe on page 190.

But Paul Prudhomme represents just one facet of New Orleans cuisine: One of my most revered resources for Creole cooking is the legendary Lena Richard, author of 1940’s “New Orleans Cook Book,” which provides amazing recipes for so many great Creole dishes.

Some of the other landmark cookbooks in my collection include a 1942 edition of the “Picayune Creole Cook Book” (published by the New Orleans Times-Picayune), a 1964 edition of “Brennan’s New Orleans Cookbook,” a 1981 edition of “La Bonne Cuisine” (a famous recipe compilation by the Women of All Saints’ Episcopal Church, New Orleans); and 1969’s “New Orleans Cuisine” by Mary Land.

Each of these books puts a slightly different spin on Creole red beans and rice, and aside from those already mentioned, there are several more historic New Orleans cookbooks that have also provided me with beaucoup insight. Rather than list them all here, I’ll mention them if they become pertinent.

The Cultural Context of Red Beans

As the folks from New Orleans know, red beans and rice is traditionally a Monday dish, with Monday also being the traditional wash day. As Leon Soniat points out in his 1981 cookbook, “La Bouche Creole,” dealing with the laundry took quite a bit of effort in the old days. So the idea was to multitask, since cooking red beans and doing laundry were chores that required several hours each. By getting the beans on the stove in early the morning, the lady of the house could then deal with the wash all day as the pot simmered.

Soniat describes this era the best: “Come Monday morning washday would begin. The procedure usually involved three large tubs — the tub in which the clothes had been soaking and in which they would be scrubbed on a washboard, another tub filled with water in which the clothes were rinsed, and the third tub to be filled with water to which a few spoonfuls of bluing had been added. A small tub of thick, sticky starch would be cooking on the stove. After being washed, some of the clothes were dipped into the starch and then hung out to dry.”

Among the dozens of red bean recipes that I’ve researched over the years, the cooking times can actually vary quite a bit, although I can assure you that no decent batch of red beans was ever made in 30 minutes. At the minimum, each recipe requires at least a couple hours of simmering, and each recipe also requires soaking the beans in cold water the night before. As it is, the subject of cooking dried beans is not a simple one, even though so few foods may seem as basic as the “staple” bean.

Beginning with the Beans

One of the main general issues of bean cookery involves salt, and more specifically, when it should be added to the cooking liquid. Conventional “wisdom” is that salt strengthens the skins of the bean, thus preventing them from breaking down during cooking. It turns out that this caveat is highly debatable, and possibly dead wrong. Famed food scientist Harold McGee asserts that salting the overnight soaking liquid actually helps to cook the beans more quickly (and season them more evenly, to boot).

Hey, if it works for McGee, then it works for me. End of story. Well, almost.

Aside from the salt debate, the “hardness” of your cooking water and the age of the beans are two other important factors in cooking time. For those folks who have noticeably hard water, the surplus minerals may inhibit the water’s ability to penetrate the bean during cooking. Also, older beans tend to take longer than newer beans, even if they both seem equally dry. Likewise, ingredients that are high in acid, such as tomatoes, or high in calcium, such as molasses, will also inhibit the breakdown of dried beans (which is why chili beans and baked beans are able to maintain their shape so well over time). However, since high-acid and high-calcium ingredients are not usually relevant to cooking authentic Creole red beans, this point is mostly moot.

Beyond the Beans

In comparing red bean recipes among several cookbooks from several decades, I tried to find common themes among the ingredients. In doing so, I considered five various elements in each recipe, beginning with (1) the cooking liquid, (2) the other vegetables besides red beans, (3) the preferred pork product, (4) the herb and spice profile, and finally, (5) the garnish.

Aside from listing some different cooking times, the method for each red beans recipe is strikingly similar: Simmer everything together until the beans are done, and then mash them up a bit, if necessary, to help them achieve their desired creaminess. This dish is simple by nature.

The real difference between each recipe has much more to do with ingredients, rather than techniques. Right off the top, however, I did notice that water is the standard cooking liquid in all of the recipes except for one (Prudhomme’s red bean recipe in “Prudhomme Family” calls for chicken stock as the preferred option, although his recipe in “Louisiana Kitchen” does not). And so, with water pretty much being the consensus choice as the cooking liquid, I shifted my focus to the other four elements:

Vegetables: The Complete Cajun Trinity?

Thanks to Emeril Lagasse, most of America has now become familiar with the “Holy Trinity” of Cajun cooking: onion, celery, bell pepper. This trio presents an American twist on the classic French mirepoix, which is onion, celery, and carrot. I noticed that many classic red beans recipes actually do not feature the entire Cajun trinity, perhaps revealing their origins in Creole culture (if red beans had been first embraced by the Cajun culture, we might’ve seen a distinct difference in this regard).

After perusing the ingredients for several different recipes, the only two that featured the entire Cajun trinity were those from Paul Prudhomme (no surprise, from a native of Opelousas) and Leon Soniat. One of the the very oldest recipes — from the “Picayune Creole Cookbook” — actually calls for carrots, although no bell pepper or celery; Lena Richard’s version features onion and bell pepper (but no celery); “La Bonne Cuisine” requires onion and celery (but no bell pepper, although this unique recipe does call for a can of tomato sauce); Mary Land’s recipe calls for onion only; “Brennan’s” calls for just onion and shallot (or what most non-Creole people would call a green onion).

The foundation for this dish is clearly debatable, although I should mention that, believe it or not, celery was once considered a luxury item in America, which may account for its absence in many of the older recipes. I say, if you’ve got the entire Cajun trinity in your pantry, then roll with it. Otherwise, make sure you at least have an onion. And omit the tomato sauce, no matter what.

Pork: Pickled Meat, and At What Point, Sausage?

One of the beautifully economical things about cooking red beans and rice on Mondays is that traditionally, many New Orleans families would often have a leftover ham bone from Sunday dinner. Rather than be discarded, the ham bone could be enlisted as a seasoning element on Monday. But there’s more to red beans than ham bones:

In Lena Richard’s recipe, she calls for a ham shank or “pickled meat” (pork shoulder, usually, that has been pickled and preserved through heavy brining). Leon Soniat calls for pickled pork or ham, while many recipes, including those from “Brennan’s” and the “Picayune Cook Book,” simply call for chopped ham outright.

Regardless of these variations, every single red beans recipe requires some form of seasoned pork product. Mary Land and Paul Prudhomme both call for ham hocks, which is also my favorite choice (assuming I had no leftover ham bone from Sunday dinner).

As one might expect, many recipes for red beans call for andouille sausage, although most do not. Of course, I’m inclined to add andouille whenever possible, since it’s so damn delicious. Few folks from Louisiana would disagree, although they might disagree on when to add the sausage (this debate presents one the of the few instances when red bean recipe methods do not form a general consensus).

Paul Prudhomme instructs readers to add the sausage during cooking, although in the very latter stages. Leon Soniat is absolutely adamant that sausage shouldn’t be added at all, instead opting to cook it separately and treat it more like a garnish.

Since some folks seem so against it, and since there are other pork products simmering in the liquid, I’m amenable to cooking the andouille separately.

Herbs and Spices: A Pumpkin Pie Profile?

Among the list of herbs and spices present in most recipes for red beans, garlic is by far the most common, and I believe that it’s a standard element across the board. A bay leaf is also standard for the most part, and thyme is practically universal as well. Aside from these three basic elements, Paul Prudhomme adds white pepper, oregano and cayenne; “La Bonne Cuisine” calls for garlic, bay leaves, and Worcestershire (extra points for umami); while 1975’s “The New Orleans Cookbook” (by Rima and Richard Collin) calls for garlic, bay, thyme, cayenne, and (oddly) dried basil.

By far, the most unique spice profile for red beans is the one provided by Leon Soniat, who in “La Bouche Creole” calls for garlic, bay leaf, thyme, cayenne, chili powder, allspice and cloves. These latter two “baking” spices are certainly intriguing in this context (and a clear nod to the West Indies), but I’m not too sure about going too far in that one particular direction; I’m willing to add a pinch of allspice, but I always fear that cloves can overpower a dish.

Garnishes: What’s the Final Creole Touch?

Although many cookbooks feature different approaches to Creole red beans, a surprising number of them agree upon the garnish, which is typically a couple tablespoons of chopped parsley (some recipes will have the parsley stirred into the beans just prior to serving, while other recipes recommend sprinkling the parsley over the top).

However, I’ve noticed that the really old school recipes call for a sieved egg as the garnish, which I admire not only for its tradition, but because sieved eggs bring a terrific color contrast to an otherwise monotone dish. With that general principle in mind, I opt for the best of both worlds: A sieved egg alongside the more contemporary chopped parsley (sprinkled, not stirred).

• • •


And so after much research, this is my composite recipe for red beans. Enjoy!


• Red beans, dried (preferably Camellia Brand), 1 lb.

• Ham hocks, four each

• Onion, one large, diced (about 2 cups)

• Celery, 3 ribs, diced (about 1 cup)

• Red bell pepper, one each, seeded and diced (about 1 cup)

• Green onion, tops only, one bunch, diced (about 1/2 cup)

• Garlic, minced, three toes

• Bay leaf, 3 each

• Dried thyme, 1/2T

• Dried oregano, 1/2T

• Allspice, 1/2t

• L&P Worcstershire sauce, 1T

• Salt and black pepper, to taste

• Crystal hot sauce, to taste

• Garnish: sauteed half-moons of andouille sausage, chopped parsley, and a sieved egg

Cooking Method

1. Soak the red beans in salted cold water overnight (the solution should taste like slightly diluted sea water).

2. The next day, drain and rinse the beans thoroughly, and set them aside. In a large stock pot, combine 2 quarts of water with the ham hocks, Cajun trinity, garlic, bay leaves, thyme, oregano, black pepper, allspice, and Worcestershire. Bring liquid to a boil, and then simmer for 30 minutes.

3. Add the red beans to the pot, and allow them to simmer, perhaps for a few hours, until they finally begin to break apart naturally.

4. Once the beans have formed a creamy consistency, season them with salt and hot sauce, if necessary. Remove the ham hocks, and carve away the meaty portions. Dice the ham hock meat and return it to the red beans.

5. Serve the red beans over fluffy white rice, and garnish with half-moons of sauteed andouille sausage, chopped parsley, and a sieved egg.


During simmering, add as much water as necessary to the beans to help avoid scorching. I typically begin with two quarts of water, and if I leave the stock pot lid ajar, I sometimes don’t have to add any additional water (some steams escapes, but some drips back into the pot). Also, as the cooking liquid reduces, reduce the cooking temperature accordingly (it will require less and less heat to maintain a gentle simmer, especially as the beans release their starches).

14 comments to Recipes: Authentic Creole Red Beans and Rice with Andouille Sausage

  • Donnie

    This has been the most informative I ever read about Red beans and rice and I loved the historical facts and the lore.

  • Richie Quinn

    My mother came from NOLA and during my growing up in Sacramento CA we had Red Beans & rice once a week. Don’t remember if it was Monday or not. Always loved it. When I read your piece said “Thass what I’m talkin bout!!” Thank you for being thoroughly informative and soulfully entertaining. RQ

  • godfather

    Fantastic article that you need to have published in the newspaper here in nola. Most folks here will take out about a cup of cooked beans at the end and mush them with a spoon. Then retun them to the pot and that gives you a creamy texture. looking foward to your visit

  • Janet

    Thank you for the great recipe! Am I misreading or did the sauteing and addition of the trinity get truncated from the final addition?
    I use K-Paul’s tasso and andouille, so coupled with your recipe it it develops into perfect seasoning. Thanks again.

  • The Accidental Wino

    Yes, I just put the trinity straight into the liquid. You could saute it first if you wanted, but I think that because the cooking time is so long for the beans, the trinity veggies are going to break down either way.

  • Anne

    Thanks for this great looking recipe. A question- do you simmer for 2-3 hours covering the stock pot with a lid or uncovered? I am making it now, it’s uncovered and it smells divine! Also, 2 quarts seems like barely enough water, so I added some more.. any thoughts on this? And lastly, I am finding that I really did need a 6 quart or larger stock pot. I am getting by, barely, with the 5 quart but it’s really packed in there.. 🙂 Will write back and tell you how it is. Thanks again for all your hard work and research! 🙂 A

  • Anne… You have the right idea to add water as common sense dictates. In terms of the simmering process, there’s the potential for a lot of variation in the approach, since some stoves are bound to burn hotter than others, and since stock pots are also different. As for leaving the pot covered or uncovered, I split the difference and leave the lid ajar, thus allowing for the slow escape of water (steam). My main thought is, I want the beans to break down as they cook, and this takes time. If you leave the pot uncovered, you will just have to add more water more often to avoid scorching. Conversely, if you left the pot covered, the water would be retained, and the recipe wouldn’t have a chance to reduce and to concentrate its flavors. Hope that makes sense!

  • Anne

    Makes perfect sense, and was what I ended up doing. It was delicious!! I had to take out one ham hock because in my 5 quart pot, I just didn’t have room and it was still great. I also followed a bit of Emril’s advice, re: this recipe, which was to smash up about half of the beans and add that to the whole beans and rice. I smashed up the beans along with some cooked down veggies and it added a yummy, creamy-ness. Thank you so much for this great recipe. This is the first time I have made it. I don’t think I would have had such success without your clear and detailed instructions, thank you! 🙂

  • Mike

    Not sure when this was published but Baileys Sausage in Laplace does offer shipping and in fact I find it to be cheaper as they mail in a flat rate box.

  • That’s great new actually! Thanks for the update.

  • Tracy Jackson

    Is this teaspoon or tablespoon?

  • T = Tablespoon
    t = teaspoon

  • Mary Dufour

    This is the best reason I found yet. Thanks for the info on the history, I never have read this in so much depth before. Very good for my grandchildren and great grandchildren to know about it.

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