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Created by Chef Remy
Smoky andouille sausage nestled among golden, shatteringly crisp potatoes and the holy trinity of peppers and onions, the kind of generous Louisiana breakfast that keeps you going until dinner.
Good hash starts with good fat. That's the principle that separates a forgettable breakfast from one that anchors your whole day. When you render andouille in a hot skillet, you're not just cooking sausage. You're creating the foundation for everything that follows.
This is the hash we serve for Sunday brunch at Lagniappe, and it's the same hash my grandmother Evangeline made on her wood-burning stove when the men came in from checking crawfish traps. Nothing fancy. Just potatoes cooked until they shatter when you bite into them, smoky andouille with those charred edges, and enough peppers and onions to remind you where you are.
The technique matters here. You par-cook the potatoes so they're tender inside, then you let them sit in that hot fat without touching them. This is where most home cooks go wrong. They stir. They fuss. They end up with soft, sad potatoes instead of crispy ones. Have faith. Let the crust develop. Season in layers: the sausage first, then the potatoes, then the vegetables. By the time everything comes together, you've built flavor from the bottom up.
Serve this with fried eggs on top if you want the full experience. The runny yolk becomes another sauce, mixing with the rendered fat and the spices. Or serve it alongside biscuits and cane syrup. That's the bayou way.
Quantity
1 pound
cut into 1/2-inch half-moons
Quantity
2 pounds
cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Quantity
1 large
diced
Quantity
1
diced
Quantity
1
diced
Quantity
4 cloves
minced
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
freshly ground
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon, or to taste
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
3
sliced thin, whites and greens separated
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
for serving
chopped
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| andouille sausagecut into 1/2-inch half-moons | 1 pound |
| Yukon Gold potatoescut into 1/2-inch cubes | 2 pounds |
| yellow oniondiced | 1 large |
| green bell pepperdiced | 1 |
| red bell pepperdiced | 1 |
| garlicminced | 4 cloves |
| vegetable oil or bacon fat | 2 tablespoons |
| kosher salt | 1 teaspoon, plus more to taste |
| black pepperfreshly ground | 1/2 teaspoon |
| smoked paprika | 1 teaspoon |
| cayenne pepper | 1/2 teaspoon, or to taste |
| dried thyme | 1/2 teaspoon |
| green onionssliced thin, whites and greens separated | 3 |
| unsalted butter | 2 tablespoons |
| fresh parsley (optional)chopped | for serving |
| hot sauce (optional) | for serving |
Put your diced potatoes in a large pot of cold, salted water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a simmer and cook for about 8 minutes until the potatoes are just fork-tender but still holding their shape. You're not making mashed potatoes here. Drain well and spread them on a sheet pan to cool and dry for a few minutes. Wet potatoes don't crisp. That's the bayou way.
Heat a 12-inch cast iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add the andouille slices in a single layer and let them cook undisturbed for 3 to 4 minutes until the edges turn dark and the fat starts rendering out. Flip and cook another 2 minutes. You'll hear that satisfying sizzle when it's working. The rendered fat is liquid gold for this dish. Remove the sausage to a plate but leave every drop of that goodness in the pan.
Add the oil to the rendered fat in the skillet. Once it shimmers, add the dried potatoes in an even layer. Season them right now with half the salt, the black pepper, smoked paprika, cayenne, and thyme. Let them sit. I mean it. Don't touch them for 4 to 5 minutes until the bottom develops a deep golden crust. Then flip in sections and let another crust form. This takes patience and faith. You're building flavor in layers.
Push the potatoes to the edges of the skillet and add the butter to the center. Once it foams, add the onion, both bell peppers, and the white parts of the green onions. Season with the remaining salt. Cook for 5 to 6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions turn translucent and the peppers soften with some charred spots. The kitchen should smell like Sunday morning in Lafayette Parish right about now.
Add the minced garlic and stir everything together, folding the vegetables into the potatoes. Cook for 1 minute until the garlic gets fragrant but doesn't brown. Burned garlic turns bitter and ruins everything you've built. Your nose knows when it's ready.
Return the andouille to the skillet and toss everything together. Cook for another 2 minutes until the sausage is heated through and the flavors have married. Taste. Adjust. Add more salt if the potatoes need it, more cayenne if you want heat. My grandmother Evangeline always said: the last bite should be as good as the first, and that only happens if you taste as you go.
Kill the heat and scatter the green onion tops and fresh parsley over the hash. Serve straight from the cast iron, family style, with hot sauce on the table for those who want it. This is honest country cooking. Don't overthink the presentation.
1 serving (about 400g)
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