Surprisingly, the Cajun restaurateur's latest gimmick may be of real interest to people who were turned off by the garish extravagance of the best-selling Chef Paul Prudhomme's Louisiana Kitchen (1984). The twelve Prudhommes, children of a cotton and sweet-potato sharecropper, are now mostly in their 50s and 60s. The best part of the book is their assorted memories of things far removed from the 1980's Cajun craze: eggs going to pay the children's tuition at a Catholic school; a lean year when they had ""hot chocolate made with water to drink and combread to eat for supper--and that was all""; neighborhood ""boucherie"" sessions. The recipes, a really motley assortment, are also the food of people who cook with nary a thought of haute cuisine or Yuppie cognoscenti. Most fulfill the ""Cajun"" designation by virtue of incredible amounts of red-pepper mixtures, chopped bell peppers and green onions, or supercooked roux. Though written with orthodox measurements and timings, the most irresistible of them--different cornbreads, rabbit-squirrel-sausage gumbo, bouilli of butchering scraps and organ meats--clearly come from cooks who, ""to be truthful, do not measure at all unless coerced:"" Only a few recipes demand much technique, but most will mean less to careful recipe-followers than to people who can read between the lines of country food. An outrÃ‰ document, but wonderful mils own way.