Last week’s essay on rediscovering and appreciating our culinary roots finished with my favorite quick tomato sauce for pasta. It’s a lovely recipe, and has been a staple in my kitchen for nearly three decades, but a week of reflection, not to mention the return of shrimp season, has reminded me that there are many other good things in my culinary history that run deeper and closer to home than that.

One thing in particular, that roots me firmly to the Lowcountry even though I didn’t grow up here and resonates of my childhood summers in every mouthful, is the good old-fashioned Southern staple, Shrimp Creole.

Like many inland families, mine spent our brief annual vacations at the shore, mostly on the barrier islands surrounding Charleston. Because Lowcountry cookery was a “foreign” treat that we spent the year looking forward to, we never took it for granted as a we might have had we lived with it year round. We relished every bite of every meal, and at the end of the vacation, took a piece of Lowcountry flavor home by way of an enormous cooler filled to capacity with freshly caught brown shrimp.

My mother froze them triple-bagged and covered with water so we could have a little taste of the coast through the winter, and dream of the happy summer day when we loaded the car and once again headed south and east.

Though Mama had her own ways of cooking shrimp, most of them went into one of my own specialties that became a family favorite—yep, that Shrimp Creole, adapted from a recipe in our dog-eared, sauce-splattered copy of Charleston Receipts.

You’re probably thinking that this dish has more of a whiff of New Orleans than Lowcountry about it, but actually shrimp simmered in Creole sauce is common throughout the Caribbean and Deep South. Though less spicy and complex than its New Orleans cousin, the Lowcountry’s version was no mere pale-faced copy, but had evolved specifically for the delicate sweet flavor of our local brown shrimp.

Years passed, and my subtly spicy, thyme-scented tomato sauce got mostly pushed to the recesses of my memory as other, racier ways of cooking shrimp were discovered and savored—garlicky Italian scampi-style shrimp, Thai shrimp in spicy lime or curry sauce, the lovely, delicate Sherried Shrimp that Connie Hartridge and I discovered in her grandmother’s old manuscript receipt book.

After all, hadn’t Shrimp Creole become almost as hackneyed and clichéd as fried chicken and slow-cooked collards with ham hocks? But lately it has been on my mind, and tasting it once again after so many years of neglect reminds me that the reason some things become clichéd is because they are solid and true—and timeless.

But more to the point, as its flavor bloomed on my tongue, it took me back to the comforts of home, and for a few brief moments made me feel as young and hopeful as a soft breeze on a warm summer night.

My Old Fashioned Shrimp Creole

Serves 4 to 6

5-6 ripe tomatoes or 4 cups whole canned tomatoes with their juice

4 thick-cut slices bacon, diced

1 large yellow onion, trimmed, split lengthwise, peeled, and diced small

3 large ribs celery, strung and diced small

1 green bell pepper, stem, core, seeds and membrane removed, diced small

2 large cloves garlic, lightly crushed and minced

2 tablespoons chopped fresh or 2 teaspoons dried thyme

1 large bay leaf

2 tablespoons tomato paste

Salt and whole black pepper in a mill

Ground cayenne

Worcestershire sauce

2 pounds (headless weight) large shrimp, peeled

4 to 6 cups cooked rice

1 cup green onions, thinly sliced

1. Cut an ‘x’ in the bottoms of the fresh tomatoes and blanch them in boiling water 1 minute. Drain, core, and peel. Seed them over a sieve set in a large bowl, then chop and add them to their collected juices. If using canned tomatoes, drain the packing juice into a large bowl, set a sieve over it, then seed and chop them as for the fresh tomatoes.

2. In a large sauté pan or wide Dutch oven, sauté the bacon over medium heat until golden brown. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon, drain it on paper towels, and set aside to use for salads or omelets. Add the onion, celery, and pepper to the pan and sauté, tossing, until the onion and celery are translucent and beginning to color. Add the garlic and thyme, and sauté until fragrant, about half a minute.

3. Add the bay leaf, tomatoes with their juices, and the tomato paste. Season lightly with salt and pepper, cayenne, and a dash or so of Worcestershire sauce. Stir and bring to a simmer, reduce the heat to a slow simmer, and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is thick and the vegetables are very tender, about 1 hour. Taste and adjust the seasonings.

The sauce can be made up to 2 days ahead to this point. If making more than four hours ahead, cool, transfer to a lidded storage container, and refrigerate until needed. Gently reheat over medium-low heat.

4. Add the shrimp and simmer until they are just curled and pink. Taste and adjust the salt and pepper, and adding a dash more Worcestershire and cayenne if its not spicy enough, but don’t overdo them. Serve over rice, topped with green onions.