Read A Love Affair with Southern Cooking Online
Authors: Jean Anderson,Jean Anderson
MAKES
8
SERVINGS
I’d heard of Frogmore Stew for years but didn’t taste it until I made it myself. I picked the recipe up a few years ago while in the South Carolina Lowcountry on article assignment for
More
magazine. My subject: Suzanne Williamson of Beaufort, who with husband, Peter Pollak, had just restored a small Palladian manor built when George Washington was president. When I asked Suzanne if she was familiar with Frogmore Stew, she nodded. “It comes from Lady Island just over the bridge.” Others, among them John Martin Taylor, respected Lowcountry culinary historian and author of
Hoppin’ John’s Lowcountry Cooking,
insist that Frogmore Stew originated on St. Helena Island. I drove the length of Lady Island as well as adjoining St. Helena Island but found no Frogmore, although my map clearly showed it. Turns out it’s only undergone a name change; Frogmore is now St. Helena. Frogmore not only had once been an
important crossroads linking the Sea Island plantations and Beaufort but also had been headquarters for a bustling terrapin and caviar business. According to
Full Moon, High Tide,
a cookbook published by the Beaufort Academy, it took its name from “an ancestral English country estate.” Whatever the origin of Frogmore, the namesake stew remains a Lowcountry staple. More shrimp and sausage boil than stew, it’s bubbled up in outdoor cauldrons and served on plank-and-sawhorse tables spread with newspapers. There are many versions, some of them gussied up with potatoes, bell peppers, and tomatoes. But the simplest suits me best. This one is downsized for home kitchens.
4 quarts (1 gallon) cold water
4 medium yellow onions, quartered lengthwise
2 tablespoons Old Bay Seasoning or crab boil
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon hot red pepper flakes, or to taste
1 pound kielbasa, dry-cured chorizo, or other spicy link sausage, cut into 1-inch chunks
6 medium ears sweet corn, shucked, stripped of silks, and cut into 2-inch chunks
3 pounds medium-large shrimp in the shell (about 20 per pound)
One 12-ounce can lager beer
To the present day I retain a nostalgic hunger for these cockcrow repasts of ham and fried chicken, fried pork chops, fried catfish, fried squirrel (in season), fried eggs, hominy grits with gravy, black-eyed peas, collards with collard liquor and cornbread to mush it in, biscuits, pound cake, pancakes and molasses, honey in the comb, homemade jams and jellies, sweet milk, buttermilk, coffee chicory-flavored and hot as Hades.
—
TRUMAN CAPOTE
,
THE THANKSGIVING VISITOR
You’ve got to continue to grow, or you’re just like last night’s corn bread—stale and dry.
—
LORETTA LYNN
TIME LINE: the people and events that shaped Southern Cuisine
1767 | | The Mason-Dixon Line is drawn as far west as the Appalachians. |
| | Defying George III’s ban on exploration west of the Appalachians, Daniel Boone pushes westward into Kentucky. |
| | Commercial sugar production begins at New Smyrna, Florida, but fails nine years later. |
1768 | | The British Crown appropriates Cherokee lands in the Carolinas and Virginia as well as the Iroquois country between the Tennessee and Ohio rivers. |
1769 | | Virginia colonists begin relocating to Tennessee and Kentucky. |
| | The Virginia Assembly names French viticulturist Andrew Estave “state winemaker,” but like his predecessors, he fails to produce a palatable Virginia wine. |
1771 | | George Washington builds a grist-mill at Mount Vernon and grows rich on the superfine flour he ships as far afield as the West Indies. |
CAJUN SHRIMP OR CRAWFISH GUMBO
MAKES
6
TO
8
SERVINGS
Cajuns, I’m told, serve gumbo at least once a week: gumbo z’herbes, perhaps (a green gumbo made with collards and spinach), chicken gumbo, shrimp or crawfish gumbo. This particular recipe is adapted from one given to me by Miss Tootie Guirard, a lively Cajun lady from St. Martinville, Louisiana, whom I profiled some years ago for
Family Circle
.
I spent about ten days with Miss Tootie and she was emphatic about the proper way to prepare gumbo. “Don’t rush your roux,” she warned at the outset. “It must brown very slowly in a heavy pot.” She works her roux for at least thirty minutes until it is as red, as brown as iron rust. She also thickens her gumbo with okra, not gumbo filé (powdered dried sassafras leaves). “I’d never use both,” she said. And one final caution: “Never cook okra in an iron pot because it will turn black.” Tip:
This gumbo is a great make-ahead and thus is ideal for a dinner party. Cool it, then refrigerate until about twenty minutes before serving. Reheat slowly in an
uncovered
Dutch oven. According to Miss
Tootie, shrimp and crawfish should never cook in a covered pan because they will disintegrate.
Okra Thickener
¼ cup lard, ham or bacon drippings
1 pound tender young okra, stemmed and sliced as thin as possible
One 8-ounce can tomato sauce
Roux
3 tablespoons lard
1
/
3
cup unsifted all-purpose flour
Gumbo
2 large yellow onions, finely chopped
1 large green bell pepper, cored, seeded, and finely chopped
3 large celery ribs, trimmed and finely diced
1 large garlic clove, minced
10 cups (2½ quarts) cold water
2 teaspoons salt, or to taste
¼ to ½ teaspoon ground hot red pepper (cayenne), depending on how “hot” you like things
¼ teaspoon black pepper
1½ pounds medium-size raw shrimp (or crawfish) in the shell
4 quarts (1 gallon) boiling water mixed with 1 tablespoon salt
¼ cup thinly sliced green scallion tops
¼ cup coarsely chopped Italian parsley
2½ cups converted rice, cooked by package directions
All the land we traveled over this day, and the day before, that is to say from the river Irvin to Sable Creek…thirty thousand acres at least, lying altogether, as fertile as the lands were said to be about Babylon, which yielded, if Herodotus tells us right, an increase of no less than two or three hundred for one.
—
WILLIAM BYRD II
, 1728;
NOTED WHILE SURVEYING THE VIRGINIA–NORTH CAROLINA LINE
TIME LINE: the people and events that shaped Southern Cuisine
1773 | | Young Virginia lawyer Thomas Jefferson plants a variety of European vegetables in his garden at Monticello near Charlottesville: French green beans, Italian broccoli, and German kale, among others. Believing that fine wines can be produced in Virginia, Jefferson also gives 2,000 acres of land to Philip Mazzei, who agrees that native American grapes can be made into fine wine. The American Revolution intervenes and Mazzei’s wine project ends. |
1774 | | Desperate flour shortages in New Orleans lead to dangerous adulteration. |
| | On October 24, ten months after the Boston Tea Party, 51 ladies stage one of their own in the North Carolina town of Edenton: “We, the Ladys of Edenton, do hereby solemnly engage not to conform to the Pernicious Custom of Drinking Tea.” They further resolve not to “promote ye wear of any manufacturer from England until such time that all acts which tend to enslave our Native country shall be repealed.” A Colonial teapot mounted on a Revolutionary War cannon now marks the spot of the Edenton Tea Party. |
COOPERATIVE EXTENSION SERVICE
Only weeks out of college, I became an assistant home demonstration agent in Iredell County, North Carolina. Right away there were three strikes against me:
1. I’d grown up in Raleigh (as exotic to some of the farm people back then as Paris was to me) and I was clueless about the 4-H Clubs with which I’d soon work.
2. I’d gone to a Yankee school (Cornell), not W.C. (Woman’s College in Greensboro) like most of the other home agents. And, finally…
3. I knew nothing about the Cooperative Extension Service, which had just hired me, other than that the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the state of North Carolina, and Iredell County all contributed to my paycheck.
My immediate boss, the home demonstration agent, worked mainly with home demonstration club women; the other assistant agent and I divvied up the 4-H responsibilities.
The job of all Cooperative Extension agents was to help the family at the end of the road help themselves to a better life. That meant making the farm profitable, feeding the family both economically and well, and beautifying one’s self and one’s home.
I soon began to understand what the Cooperative Extension Service (originally the
Agricultural
Extension Service) was all about.
Cooperation
was key: between the land-grant colleges and the U.S. Department of Agriculture, between the county agents and the specialists at the land-grant colleges, between the county agents and farm families. And needless to add, between the farm and home agents—not only in their own counties but often in neighboring counties as well.
The extension movement began in 1862 when Abraham Lincoln signed the Morrill Act, creating a network of land-grant colleges. Their mission was to teach agriculture and mechanical arts which, by extension, would help farm families increase their income and quality of life.
Only with Woodrow Wilson’s signing of the Smith-Lever Act in 1914, however, did the Agricultural Extension Service officially become the educational arm of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Soon there were Extension agents in more than forty states, women as well as men. Farm boys and girls rushed to join the 4-H Club, pushing its membership to half a million by the summer of 1918. Today there are upwards of nine million 4-H’ers, along with such celebrated alums as Dolly Parton, Reba McIntyre, and Alan Shepard. Even Roy Rogers had belonged.
Nowhere, I think, has the Extension Service been more valuable than in the South. Devastated by the Civil War, its planter aristocracy had collapsed and its hardscrabble farmers, planting cotton and/or tobacco year after year, were ruining the land.
Then along came a beetle barely bigger than a grain of rice. An interloper from Mexico, the boll weevil began chomping its way across the South at the turn of the twentieth century, and by the 1920s, it had killed King Cotton.
Thanks to the Extension Service, down-and-out farmers began to revitalize their land via
crop rotation. Farm agents also taught them the wisdom of diversification. Home agents showed the farmers’ wives and daughters better ways to prepare and preserve food—indeed, how to bring a little glamour into their lives and homes.
My few years with the Cooperative Extension Service taught me many valuable lessons and instilled a profound respect for the South’s “salt-of-the-earth.” I have never lost that respect.