Weeknight Meals

I like to make this in early summer, when the first summer vegetables are coming in and the flounder, which can grow to as much as twenty-five pounds, are running small—what our fishmonger calls “plate size.” They are so fresh and dainty at that time of year that I usually budget one whole fish per person. I sometimes serve this simple dish with a green salad or fluffy steamed rice, but you don’t have to, as it’s really a complete meal in and of itself—the vegetable ratatouille, made with smaller-than-usual dice, doubles as both a sauce and a vegetable side.

Last time I was at the SeeWee, an old-school seafood restaurant outside Charleston, I had an incredibly good plate of grilled grouper with fresh tomato salsa. Not only was the fish superfresh and perfectly cooked, but the salsa, a rough mix of vine-ripe tomatoes, white onion, and cilantro, was so simple and bright that it enhanced the flavor of the fish perfectly without overpowering it. I was so fond of it that I’ve been re-creating it at home ever since. It’s just the sort of light, fresh supper you want in the dead of summer.

It may not be deep-fried, but with a satisfyingly crunchy cornmeal crust, this skillet-fried catfish has all the flavors and textures that you would expect from fried fish. Most important, served with a healthy dollop of Herb Tartar Sauce or a heap of Roxy’s Grated Coleslaw (page 260), lemon wedges, and cold beer, it is just as sure to draw a crowd. This recipe can also be made with snapper, flounder, or any other flaky white fish.

Red-eye gravy—which for most Southerners is the only acceptable sauce for country ham—is a savory and slightly bitter mixture of black coffee and the pan drippings left behind from frying country ham. I’m not sure how the coffee first made its way into the pan, but I like to imagine it was one of those happy accidents born of necessity. It rings true, anyway, because Southerners love gravy so much that they will find a way to eke some out of a greasy pan no matter what. I lighten my version of this quintessentially Southern dish with a bright shock of fresh, green asparagus, which plays perfectly off the saltiness of the red-eye gravy and the richness of the runny egg yolks.

Cornbread sticks are a Southern specialty and an example of function following form. I imagine that whoever dreamed them up was probably just trying to be cute by fashioning a corn-shaped mold for cornbread, but the end product, with its high ratio of crispy crust to soft innards and perfect shape for dipping in chili or pot likker, is a whole different animal. In this version, I kick things up a notch by adding sharp Cheddar cheese and spicy jalapeño pepper. If you don’t have (or care to purchase) a corn stick pan—cast-iron only—you can, of course, use a skillet.

Some Southerners will happily argue till they are blue in the face defending the honor of unsweetened cornbread, a preference that tends to divide the South from the North. But I find that a touch of sugar adds a layer of complexity that is well worth breaking the rules. More important to me is the baking vessel: specifically, a cast-iron skillet, preferably one that is slicked with bacon grease.

As anyone who has actually made biscuits from scratch will tell you, they are fast and oh-so-easy—no culinary wizardry required. Of course, you needn’t go out of your way to divulge that fact when serving these rich, flaky biscuits to a chorus of oohs and ahhs. Sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid. Serve warm with lots of sweet butter, honey, molasses, or jam.

When Paul Prudhomme’s first cookbook, Chef Paul Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen, came out, I think I made every last one of his gumbos in the span of a few weeks. To this day, his are the recipes I always refer to when I make gumbo. More often than not, however, I don’t have time to make ultra traditional, slow-cooking gumbo, so I’ve adapted my own quicker—and often lighter—versions that take a fraction of the time but still pack loads of soulful flavor. Served over rice with ice-cold beer, it’s all the excuse you need to throw a block party.

Traditional oyster stew was one of my dad’s favorites, and he used to make it all the time, especially when we visited my sister in Biloxi, Mississippi, where we could get really fresh oysters. Taking a cue from oysters Rockefeller, another hallmark dish from Antoine’s Restaurant in New Orleans, I brighten my version with fresh spinach. And, to achieve the same smooth, creamy texture with less fat, I blend potatoes with just a touch of heavy cream to make the broth. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper, if desired. This soup should be served hot as soon as it’s done, lest the oysters continue to cook in the broth.

Every summer when the Carolina shrimp are in season, Nana’s, which is one of my favorite restaurants in Durham, makes a delicious shrimp chowder that is the inspiration for this light and succulent soup. Nana’s version is rich and creamy—closer to a traditional potato chowder—but because I love the sweetness of the corn and shrimp together, I make mine thinner, more like a corn chowder. To give this dish extra oomph, I add the shrimp at the very end, so they are tender and extra sweet, and top with Crispy Fried Oysters Four Ways (page 117).

No matter how many tomato sandwiches, salads, or platters of thick, salted slices we eat, come August we can never seem to keep up with the overabundance of tender-ripe Beefsteaks, Early Girls, Cherokee Purples, and Arkansas Travelers taking up semi-permanent residence on the kitchen counter. Everyone develops a strategy for the happy problem of too many tomatoes: in some people it inspires bouts of generous and indiscriminate gift giving; in others, a frenzy of canning and freezing. This light and satisfying take on cream of tomato soup is my favorite solution.

A nice splash of brandy adds depth of flavor to this creamy pâté, which is just right served on crostini, toast points (see Know-how, page 19), or Cornbread Toasts (page 18) topped with Sweet Pickle Relish (page 299). For the best results, start with fresh livers from the butcher or farmer’s market that haven’t been frozen. Note that the chicken livers must soak in buttermilk for several hours prior to cooking.

I make these sweet and savory tarts all year round as a first course or served with a salad as a light lunch. The onions take on a lovely blushing red color when they caramelize. Shake it up with a SAZERAC (see page 28)

A simple smear of Creole mustard (which gets added heat from horseradish) and a little extra seasoning gives a chicken breast new sass. Here, the chicken is paired with a speedy version of maque choux, a Louisiana sauté of beans and corn. You’d be hard-pressed to find a simpler, more satisfying weekday supper. For this dish the chicken breasts can be broiled, grilled, or pan-seared.

This main course needs no accompaniment other than a tossed green salad. Try the Mixed Green Salad with Citrus Dressing on page 54.

Lemon slices help keep the fish fillets moist during cooking. For a simple sauce, we combined lemon juice, white wine, and butter.