I almost never cook with ketchup. So when I commend a recipe that contains it, be assured that it’s something particularly worthwhile. Ketchup is waaaay not one of my favorite things in this world, with the exception of the house-made ketchup at the Tap Room. Of course the recipe comes with a story.
It wasn’t Hurricane Katrina that closed Uglesich’s. It closed a year or so earlier. We only ate there once, a bacchanalian lunch eaten on impulse in the company of Bill Cardwell and Rich Gorczyca many years ago, when they still owned a restaurant together.
A New Orleans legend, it was located in what was in what was politely referred to as a marginal neighborhood, just off downtown. It was not the sort of spot to visit after dark. And no one did, apparently; they came for lunch. And boy, did they come — construction workers and lawyers, neighborhood folks and media types, society matrons driven by their chauffeurs. The women didn’t look in the least overwhelmed by the noise and furor, nor by the sacks of potatoes and onions piled in the corners of the small room. They all came to Uglesich’s and they all ate seafood, prepared by veteran employees working frantically behind the counter. Raw, fried, sauteed, grilled, but seafood, although I think I remember some eggplant floating onto my plate at some point.
I came across this while surfing the Net, probably from something off the revised Chowhound website. I can’t swear I ate shrimp Uggie on that single visit, but the Chowhound consensus on the dish made me believe it was worth trying. And somehow, despite the curious presence of the ketchup, it called to me. What follows is a two-serving version of the recipe (the original served four), with a few slight adjustments for what I had on hand.
The marinade has to be prepared at least two days ahead, but the actual preparation is relatively fast, making it a possibility for dinner guests. I used it as a main course, but small servings might work as a first course. Do not repeat my mistake of not having some good bread to wipe up the last of the sauce, enriched as it is with the shrimp juices.
3/4 cup olive oil (and I probably could have used less)
1/4 cup ketchup
2 tablespoons Tabasco
1 ½ teaspoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 ½ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon paprika
½ green pepper, stemmed, cored and chopped
½ small red onion, chopped
pinch of chopped fresh flat-leaf (Italian) parsley
1 lb. shrimp
2 smallish red potatoes, cut in 1-inch cubes and boiled just until tender
At least two days before serving, combine everything but the shrimp and potatoes, cover it (time for that old peanut butter jar you saved) and put it in the refrigerator. This marinade can wait up to a week, and allegedly is better as it ages longer.
Peel the shrimp over a bowl and save any juices that have accumulated. When ready to prepare, spoon off as much oil as possible from the top of the marinade. The oil may be saved for another purpose or discarded. Warm the sauce over medium heat and add the shrimp and any juice you’ve saved. Cook until pink and opaque on one side, about 3 minutes for medium shrimp, 5 for large ones. Turn the shrimp and add the potatoes, so that they warm in the sauce. Cook for another 3 to 5 minutes, depending on the size of the shrimp.
Make sure the bread is at hand before serving to grateful diners.
-Ann