Lucie Monk Carter
White Oak Plantation is as scenic an opening act as any for Chef Jeremy Langlois’ charming, unlikely career. The story goes that sixteen-year-old Langlois just needed a job—”I could have washed dishes anywhere. It could have been Denny’s!”—and followed his older brother, then a banquet server, to take a position at White Oak, on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, in 1995, where the intensity and aroma of a John Folse kitchen enraptured Langlois. “But someone had to show me how to turn on the oven,” he admitted.
An executive chef at age 22, presiding over the restaurants at the historic Houmas House at 26, and a member of our first class of Small Town Chefs at 35, Langlois’ rise has been relentless. It’s on the eve of retirement that most chefs look back on more than two decades in fast-paced kitchens, sighing down at their scarred hands with relief. But Jeremy Langlois is 38, with a wife and two young daughters, and he’s not resigned to leisure quite yet. Last year, Folse reached out to him with an invitation to return to the kitchen of White Oak Plantation: “He said, ‘I think you’re really the only person who gets my vision,’” Langlois recalled. “‘Would you be interested in partnering up with me and helping me grow this thing?’”
I strolled around the expanding White Oak with Langlois recently: past the smokehouse; the rabbits and turkeys; and the gardens, with summer’s remaining abundance ready to be canned; and we spoke about texting with John Folse, White Oak’s small-batch bourbon, and what a chef’s daughters actually eat. Find excerpts below.
On returning to White Oak:
I came back in January, and I’ve so enjoyed the last few months because it’s a very circular, poetic thing. I worked here for ten years—it was a long time. The decision to leave— in 2005, when I went to Houmas House—was a very difficult decision for me. There were probably a couple of years where we really didn’t speak that much, for whatever reason. And then all of a sudden, just through the community, we started running into each other all the time. We always had a really great relationship. We were always excited to see each other when we did.
At some point, he had come to Ruffino’s when I was there. I think it was his 70th birthday. At the end of the night, he sent me a little text message saying, “Thank you” and “I’m so proud of what you’ve done.” Then we started this text message exchange that I thought was so weird! I don’t know, texting John Folse—he signs his texts “John,” like it’s an email. But we just started talking, and then we started running into each other.
On his daughters’ palates:
My biggest pride and biggest embarrassment are their diets. When they were first born, we were getting organic food from Whole Foods exclusively and all this stuff. I thought we were doing so well. But all of a sudden… I’ve got one daughter, and all she eats are carbohydrates. It’s funny, because she’ll eat hummus. The other daughter won’t eat pizza, but she loves Brussels sprouts and asparagus. And then she loves chicken tenders. It’s all over the place. I’m working on it—I’m always encouraging them to try new things to different degrees of success.
On leaving cumin out of jambalaya:
Every wedding in 1996 had a big pot of jambalaya. This one guy [at White Oak], who was kind of like the head kitchen guy, he always made the jambalaya. I targeted on him. I thought, I wanna be the head kitchen guy! So I guess I gotta learn how to make the jambalaya. Well, once I started making the jambalaya at White Oak, I didn’t let anyone else do it. That was my thing. We made it from scratch. I remember as a young chef I’d open up that pantry, and we had a full spice cabinet of everything. I wanted to hone my craft, so I’d start experimenting. Oh, I’m going to put a lil’ cumin in it. That might give it … I was always coming up with wacky things, throwing them together and seeing what worked and what didn’t work. Well, now I know sometimes it’s more the technique: Did you brown your sausage and get a great caramelization on the bottom of the pan? Because that’ll add a depth of flavor. Really, just seasoning with salt and pepper and tasting, tasting, tasting. Salt and pepper is so critical to everything. A dish can be ruined or saved by simply adding salt and pepper. Really it’s just constantly refining. It’s a craft. The more I do it, the more I find what works and doesn’t work and what techniques will give me the desired results that I want.
On one night of small-batch bourbon:
John has really invested a lot into the gardens and making sure the property as a whole is getting utilized. Right now you’re probably only coming to White Oak if you’re coming to a wedding. That’s much of our business here. I want to make this more of a venue where anybody can come, whether we do a tomato festival or a beer dinner or a garden party. I’m hoping to have much more of those moving forward.
We’re working on having a garden based on each of the seven cultures that settled Louisiana. We’re looking at building an Italian garden, a French garden, an African garden, a British garden, a German garden, a Spanish garden, and a Native American garden.
Along with that, we’re grinding our own grits, both blue and yellow. We have heritage hogs and chickens. We just got fourteen turkeys, in preparation for Thanksgiving. We have our fig orchards and kumquats. We have John Coykendall’s peas [heirloom seeds from Washington Parish].
[Read this: Master Gardener John Coykendall is saving Washington Parish, seed by seed.]
We have the smokehouse, which is just amazing. I’m constantly trying to find new ways to use that. We’re going to put in a bourbon still. We’ll make a small batch of bourbon, age it for a year, and then do a dinner where we just serve it that night.
We’re just trying to find interesting ways to use the property that works for here. At Houmas House, we had this vegetable garden, but the rest of the gardens were very elegant and meant for the weddings. Whereas here, this can be much more food-centric. “If we make this bourbon, we can have a dinner.” “If we get turkeys, we can open up for Thanksgiving.” Really just saying, “We’ll make this here and then we can use it here.” We’re pushing that farm concept to the limit as far as what we can plant, grow, and serve. Whether it’s a turkey or a seed!
I want to make this more of a venue where anybody can come, whether we do a tomato festival or a beer dinner or a garden party. I’m hoping to have much more of those moving forward.
On young chefs:
I go speak at LCI [the Louisiana Culinary Institute] whenever they have their career day. I always get a kick out of that. I say, “I could tell you my story, but I’ve told it a bunch of times. It’s kind of interesting. But me being here, talking to y’all, I think I bring the best value if you’ve got questions, because I’ve probably got some insight.” We just wind up having a conversation, and each one ends up being kind of different, as opposed to me just telling my little story, then saying, “Got any questions?” And only doing that for five minutes before walking out.
[Read this: Cooking the Books: For the right student, the Louisiana Culinary Institute has it all.]
I really do enjoy teaching young people and continuing to grow. But at the same time, I don’t feel like I’m that old! So much time has passed. I’m 38 now, and I am trying to be all Zen and find this work-life balance, but at the same time I’m still just as excited and just as hungry. This is very much my life. I don’t have a whole lot of interests outside this: I spend time with my family. I enjoy coming to work. I like having a good balance of both. I”m not trying to do much of anything else. It really just goes back to the fact that I really enjoy being in the kitchen, I really enjoy creating things; and like my work with John, I really enjoy collaborating with other people.
One of the reasons I’ve been hesitant about opening my own restaurant is because I’ve always felt like that was nothing I ever wanted to do “alone.” All that would just distract me from doing the cooking that I enjoy so much. I’d be worrying about making all these decisions: what liquors do we need to have in the bar and blah blah blah? I’m just a chef-chef. I just enjoy being a chef.
