Roux

A Roux is cooked mixture of equal parts flour and a fat such as oil, butter, or animal fat that is used as a flavoring and/or thickening agent. The lighter the Roux, the more thickening power it has while the darker the Roux, the more flavor it has. Roux based sauces, soups, and stews are popular in French, Italian, Hungarian, and Cajun/Creole cuisine. It is common to start with a Roux, and build a dish by layers into a Velouté, a Lasagne Béchamel, or a hearty Gumbo. 

There are different varieties of roux achieved by how long it is cooked. They are identified by their color and distinguished by their taste. Each variety has a unique coloring and depth of flavor as it transitions to the next level, creating an array of roux’s that is perfectly customizable. The easiest roux to concoct is a “white” roux. It is the combination of flour and fat that has only been cooked for a few minutes, retaining its light color. It is the best thickening agent, with the least amount of additional flavor. It can be used to thicken anything from macaroni and cheese to a beef gravy. 

“Blonde” roux is a light golden brown and is cooked for about 15-20 minutes. It is rich, and slightly nutty while still retaining powerful thickening capabilities. It can be used as an all-purpose roux for thickening up sauces, soups, and stews while imparting a “certain something” of flavor. 

“Brown” roux is similar to the color of peanut butter. It has a much nuttier perfume than its predecessor, the blonde roux. In my first experiences with roux, I thought my brown roux burnt and therefore inedible, only to find on subsequent attempts it presented visually and fragrantly the same. At this stage, the flour is quite cooked and would require and increased addition of roux to effectively thicken, but incorporates a bounty of flavor that is well worth the effort of a 25-35 minute preparation. 

“Dark Brown” or “Chocolate” roux resembles well its namesake. This roux can be a bugger because it takes up to 45 minutes of careful attention to cook. Vegetable oils have a higher smoke point than butter, and are recommended for chocolate roux. This roux has the most to offer in the way of toasted, nutty flavor, but the least in the way of thickening a sauce, soup, or stew relative to a white roux. It is easily scalded, in fact it is know to be referred to as “brick” roux when it takes on a reddish color, just before the stage of being burnt and inedible. Take care with chocolate roux. It would be a grave indignity to lose your flour and oil to the trash after having spent 45 minutes in its progressing splendor. 

Now that we’re familiar with our Roux options, let me offer my own experiences in Battle of the Roux that is, my first experience making “chocolate” roux just a few days ago. It started with my decision to make Mulligan Stew, a recipe from the Lafourche Parish of Louisiana. I wasn’t expecting to do anything more taxing than throwing some oil and four into a pan, and stir it while I chopped up some “Cajun Trinity” vegetables. Negative. A Roux is not a patient entity. It doesn’t ask for your patience, or attention. It demands it. It lays the smack-down on your intentions. 

I started with the 1:1 oil and flour. I stirred. I read the advisory in the recipe: “Begin heating on med/low fire to brown Roux to a dark chocolate color. WARNING: Do not rush this or Roux will burn. Any burning/scorching and you must discard and start over. As it darkens you may lower heat.” I stirred. I chopped. I watched the time and became concerned if I messed up this roux, dinner wouldn’t be served until stupid-o’clock. So I focused more attention the roux, and enlisted the help of my ten year old daughter to drag her “pink bench,” to the stove, stand on it, and stir my roux. I chopped, stirred, watched, and sniffed.  I convinced myself after 30 minutes that I was burning the roux, and the acrid stench was disintegrating my nares. I tossed it, and started from scratch. The stages of the next roux proceeded in the same fashion including appearance, fragrance, and time and it became clear my first batch was either flawless, or as “burnt” as the second. Judging by the end result, both attempts were successful but only one of them made it to the bowl. That bowl went on to feed 3 Portuguese people, 2 Italians, 1 Redneck, and 2 Juveniles with rave reviews all around. 

For me, the stages of Roux preparation are almost as identifiable as the stages I went through to cook it. Initially, as I watched and stirred, I became fascinated with the repetitive circular and criss-cross pattern I created in the core of my heavy-bottomed pan. I zigged and zagged. I exposed and covered. I leapt and bound.  I became the messiah of creating roux patterns in the bottom of a stockpot. Then my roux took on a different hue.

I stirred with my angled bamboo spatula. I switched to a whisk briefly and disliked the fact that it didn’t cover as large a surface area, or part the roux the way the bamboo paddle had. I imagined mime pictorials, where a stick figure is shown engaged in the same activity while in the corner a drawing of the sun rises, shines, then sets. I saw myself as that figure, stirring repetitively while around the clock the sun dictated the varying and contrasting actions of the “rest of the world.” I stirred. Then my roux took on a different hue.

After I attained a brown roux, there seemed an end in sight. The roux had indeed darkened over the course of cooking, appearing to be well on its way to a dark chocolate color, as the recipe suggested. However, a quick glance at the clock reminded me that I was also battling suppertime as well as proper roux time. At this stage, I became impatient, and decided to give the roux only half my attention in the form of one unsighted hand stirring while the other went about throwing empty cans in the trash, wiping up spills, etc. My roux was about to take on a different hue when:

A razing pain obliterated the skin on my forearm. Unmatched agony coursed along the nerve endings from my dominant right forearm to my brain. I shrieked in the manner of an easter-egg pastel lover presented with black clothing. Simply: I was burned with roux! Roux burns like the Mother of all Scorches because the flour sticks to skin like glue. Needless to say, my full attention went back Roux-ing and my dear, sweet roux took on it’s final dark chocolate hue. 

The Mulligan stew went onto be one the most delicious stews I have ever tasted. Since I’ve never tasted anything like it before, I’m assuming the flavor has alot to do with the roux. I am now one of roux’s biggest fans and will be inviting him to dinner often! I can’t wait to cook more roux recipes, and maybe even create one of my own. Thank youx, roux! I love youx!