Friday night in Louisiana means one thing: fish fry. Growing up in Lafayette Parish, my grandmother Evangeline would start soaking the catfish in buttermilk right after lunch. By the time the sun dropped low and the whole family gathered on the porch, that cast iron was smoking hot and ready.

The secret to great fried catfish lives in three places. First, the buttermilk soak. It tenderizes the fish and adds a subtle tang that balances the richness of the fry. Second, the cornmeal. You want yellow cornmeal, stone-ground if you can find it, seasoned properly with cayenne, black pepper, garlic powder, and a good dose of salt. Third, the heat. Your oil needs to be hot enough that the fish sizzles the moment it hits the pan. Too cool and you get greasy fish. Too hot and you burn the crust before the inside cooks through.

At Lagniappe, we serve fried catfish every Friday. It is the dish that reminds me why I cook: honest food, generous portions, and the kind of flavor that makes people close their eyes and smile. This is not fancy restaurant food. This is bayou food done right, the kind you eat with your hands, standing at the counter, too hungry to wait for a plate.