Simmer

I once demonstrated this recipe for a fundraiser in my hometown. When I started whisking milk into the grits, rather than stirring in water with a spoon, the influence of French culinary training became obvious. I can pretty much guarantee that Meme never whisked her grits. And years ago, grits were a food of the poor and milk was a luxury reserved for dishes deemed more important than grits. For my family and many Southerners, grits are prepared with water. But, for reasons French or otherwise, I like blending a bit of milk or heavy cream with the water to make them even creamier. Country ham, the South’s version of Spanish Serrano or Italian prosciutto, is brined, smoked, and aged, and can be very salty. In this recipe, it is not necessary to soak the ham to remove the salt; simply add less salt when cooking the mushrooms.

This is one of those dishes that is just perfect for breakfast, Sunday dinner, or a weeknight supper. I usually peel and devein the shrimp, but leave on the tails. My dear friend Gena Berry grew up on St. Simons Island, Georgia, in the heart of the fishing and shrimping community. One day, we were in the kitchen getting ready for a party. She jumped in, helpful as always, and offered to peel the shrimp. When she saw my technique of leaving the tails on, she raised her eyebrows perilously high (as only Gena can do), and informed me that coast folks don’t peel shrimp like that. I still think it looks better. I use wild American shrimp, not pond-raised imports, because I am supporting those very shrimpers Gena grew up with. Save the shrimp shells to make shrimp stock (recipe on page 132).

A Cajun specialty, étouffée is a succulent, tangy, tomato sauce usually made with crawfish or shrimp. The word étouffée comes from the French étouffer (to smother), and that’s it exactly: rich and tender crawfish tails smothered in a spicy blanket of flavorful sauce. “First, you make a roux” is the start of many Creole and Cajun recipes (it’s also the title of a popular cookbook from Louisiana published by the Lafayette Museum in the early 1960s). Roux is a cooked mixture of fat (butter) and starch (flour) used to thicken many sauces in classic French cooking. A Creole roux is not the classic French butter-flour mixture, but sometimes combines flour with an oil like peanut oil that can hold a high temperature. Unlike a French roux, which can be white to pale golden, Creole and Cajun roux are typically, at the very least, the color of peanut butter and progress to deep, dark brown. This process can take 45 minutes or so of constant stirring. It is dangerous stuff. If any splatters on you, it will be perfectly clear why this fiery, sticky combination of oil and flour is often referred to as “Cajun napalm”!

We moved to Louisiana from Evans, Georgia, when I was three years old. I remember the feeling of the winter’s morning we left; it was cold, and still dark outside. Up to that point I had spent every day of my short life with Meme and Dede, and I think our leaving broke my grandfather’s heart, at least for a little while. One benefit of the big move was that Mama started experimenting with Cajun and Creole cooking. This recipe became a family favorite, and one Dede particularly enjoyed when they came to visit. When buying shrimp, look for firm shrimp with a mild, almost sweet scent. If there is any scent of ammonia, it is a sign that the shrimp is no longer fresh.

To quote the regional cookbook Louisiana Entertains, “Good gumbos are like good sunsets: no two are exactly alike, and their delight lies in their variety.” All gumbos use a roux. However, in addition to a roux, some gumbos flavor and thicken with okra and others call for filé powder. Integral to Creole and Cajun cooking, filé powder is made from the dried leaves of the sassafras tree. It is used not only to thicken gumbo but also to impart its mild, lemon flavor. Filé powder should be stirred into gumbo toward the end of cooking or it will become tough and stringy.

When I was young, we spent many weekends at the Indian Creek Recreation Area, about ten miles south of Alexandria, Louisiana. In the spring, at the height of crawfish season, several families would get together and have a crawfish boil. I remember a huge pot practically the size of a bathtub filled with bright red crawfish, halved ears of yellow corn, sweet onions, whole new potatoes in the skin, and thick links of sausage, all bubbling in broth. The picnic tables were covered with newspapers and one of the men would dump a steaming basket of the potent mixture into the center of each. We’d gather around and eat, peeling the meat from the tails and sucking on the heads to get every last bit of the peppery juice. Crawfish are also known as mudbugs, crawdads, and crayfish. These freshwater crustaceans, in season from December to May, range in size from three to six inches and weigh from two to eight ounces. This recipe would be equally delicious made with blue or Dungeness crabs.

This is not a family recipe, but one I was introduced to while testing recipes as an apprentice for Nathalie Dupree. Country Captain is said to have taken its name from a British army officer who brought the recipe back from India. Curry powder is actually quite common in Southern cooking due to the seaports of Charleston and Savannah. The term describes any of a number of Indian spice blends from mild to fiery that typically contain, among other spices, ground coriander, nutmeg, ginger, cumin, pepper, and chiles. Commercial curry powder comes in two types: standard, which is a golden color and mild, and Madras, which is red and spicy hot.

This country French recipe was one of my final exam dishes in culinary school. Delicious and simple, it has become a real family favorite. It’s very important to use the best quality red wine vinegar. We made our own at school with the leftover dribbles and drabs of wine. Many years later, I was cleaning the kitchen at the television studio where Martha Stewart’s show was produced, and noticed a cloudy substance in one of the bottles that I was about to recycle. I realized that it was a “mother,” a live bacterial culture that turns wine into wine vinegar. I took it home, transferred it to a glass cookie jar, and added red wine. That was over ten years ago. My tasty biology project is still alive and well, producing incredible vinegar. In France, this dish is often made with guinea hen, which has rich, dark meat, and much more complex flavor than chicken. Meme used to raise guinea hens; they would roost in the trees and make a huge fuss if anyone came into the yard.

Most Junior League cookbooks have at least Broccoli Salads I and II, and often III and IV. It’s the diplomatic way of not having to decide whose version is best. The amusing part is they are all, in essence, the same salad and contain, besides broccoli (and mayonnaise, of course), red onion, bacon, and often raisins. Really racy ones with a modern twist might also contain crushed ramen noodles. This salad is colorful and satisfying in a very simple way. To really make the flavors and colors pop, it is imperative to blanch and shock the broccoli. Otherwise, it is like grazing in the produce bin.

While I lived and worked at La Varenne, we often dined outside on a terrace overlooking miles of Burgundian countryside. One memorable day, I cut off the tip of my left thumb while preparing potato salad for one of our outdoor feasts. I quickly wrapped my hand in a towel and raised it above my head. I grabbed the severed bit from the cutting board in my right hand, walked into Anne Willan’s office, and told her I had cut myself. She asked to see it. I refused. She insisted. Finally, opening my right palm, I said, “Well, here it is.” The grand dame Anne blanched and replied, “Oh dear, I think we need a Cognac.” After a trip to the hospital I did enjoy the feast, but declined a serving of the potato salad.

Russet (also called Idaho) potatoes are not usually recommended for potato salad. They can become waterlogged when boiled and fall apart easily. Their high-starch, low-moisture content makes them inclined to absorb too much dressing. But that is the beauty of this dish. This is the archetypical summer potato salad that has been served on paper plates across the country for generations. When Mama prepares this salad, she lets the potatoes cool just enough, but not completely. The cubes break down slightly and the salad is a blend of larger pieces of potato with a little bit of creamy mash. This is one of my sister’s favorite dishes, a comforting classic that echoes with childhood memories whenever Mama makes it, so she always makes a big batch. The recipe halves beautifully.

My friend Shelly shared this recipe, her aunt Mimi’s, at a cookout one summer. It’s lighter and healthier than most, and since it is essentially vinegar and oil, it is safe to have on a buffet for hours.

I like to serve this salad with vinaigrette, as here, or lightly moistened with a dollop of homemade mayonnaise (page 282). (I seem to have some sort of primal need to combine tomatoes with mayonnaise.) The truth is, this salad really reminds me of how a plate of food looks toward the end of a summer meal when all the vegetables and flavors swim and mingle together. This salad can be served as is, in lettuce cups, or as a side dish for grilled or fried chicken. Regardless of how you serve it, all of the vegetables should be chopped approximately the same size so each bite is evenly mixed.

One of Mama’s favorite recipes is to simply peel and quarter Vidalias, top them with a pat of butter, and microwave the pieces until they are tender. This recipe is not much more difficult. Confit is most often meat, such as duck, that has been cooked and preserved in its own fat, but the term also describes a jamlike condiment of cooked seasoned fruit or vegetables. This confit is wonderful as suggested, served on toasts as a nibble, but it also shines served as a condiment with pork or chicken. It is absolutely incredible with blue cheese.

I made these once for a political fundraiser at my friend Melita Easter’s house, attended by the governor of Georgia, who stood there and practically ate the whole plate. The secret is butter, a tip I picked up in culinary school that takes this Southern staple from delicious to sublime and renders people unable to use the sense God gave a cat to stop eating. If you don’t have a specially designed plate for serving deviled eggs, with cuplike indentations to keep the eggs from rolling, simply trim off a sliver from the bottom of the cooked white before you fill the eggs with the yolk mixture. Garnish the platter with leaves of butter lettuce or herbs and nestle the filled eggs in the greenery. Very fresh eggs are difficult to peel. Buy and refrigerate eggs about seven days in advance of cooking. This allows the eggs to take in air, which helps separate the membranes from the shells.

Stock made on the low setting of your slow cooker will be clearer than one that has been brought to a boil on the stovetop. It’s cheaper to make stock than to buy it, and it tastes a whole lot better. And homemade stock can be refrigerated overnight so that most of the congealed fat can be removed the next day. I always keep bags of frozen poultry, meat, and fish bones in the freezer. Each time I have leftover parts from a recipe, I toss them into the bag, and when I have a sufficient amount of bones, I make a stock. And I always use organic meats, poultry, fish, and vegetables to avoid ingesting concentrations of pesticides.

The name of this dessert or breakfast treat comes from colonial settlers in New England who substituted corn, or “Indian meal,” to make English pudding when wheat flour was in short supply. The pudding is sublime when served with clotted cream, whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream.

Although native to China, peaches have been grown in Georgia since breeders began developing new varieties during the early 1900s. And while pecans are native to Texas, today they too are grown commercially in Georgia. This is a simple cobbler that requires little attention after the ingredients have been assembled and put in to cook, and it tastes simply delicious.

These poached pears are especially luscious with their Pacific Rim accent. Locally grown, in-season, organic pears are far superior for this slow-cooked dessert than store-bought fruit shipped from far away.

Making this rich, delicious dessert is a no-brainer in the slow cooker. Serve with freshly whipped cream.