Read A Love Affair with Southern Cooking Online
Authors: Jean Anderson,Jean Anderson
3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1¼ cups (2½ sticks) butter, slightly softened
1 pound light brown sugar
5 large eggs
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup moderately finely chopped hickory nuts, black walnuts, or pecans
BOURBON
I’ve been drinking “bourbon and branch” ever since I reached the age of consent but I’m ashamed to admit how little I knew about it. I certainly had no idea that Abraham Lincoln had two ties to Kentucky’s best.
One: To earn money during farming’s off-season, Lincoln’s father worked in a bourbon distillery. Two: Throughout the Civil War, Lincoln’s top general, Ulysses S. Grant, had a ready supply of Kentucky bourbon. Reminds me of the old Bob Newhart routine in which Lincoln says something like, “Find out what brand Grant drinks and send a case to each of my other generals.”
The spirited story of bourbon begins shortly after the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794 when, in an effort to restore calm, the young U.S. government offered sixty acres of land west of the Alleghenies (later Kentucky) to each settler who would build a permanent home there and raise corn.
Feisty Scotch-Irish distillers from western Pennsylvania to Georgia eagerly accepted, realizing that the corn they were required to grow could replace some of the rye in the whiskey they’d been making. Moreover, fermented and distilled corn would be easier to ship and sell than the grain itself. The result? A happy marriage of Old World tradition and New World corn. In barrels stamped
BOURBON
(to indicate Bourbon County’s various river ports), the new Kentucky distillers began shipping corn whiskey down the Ohio, then the Mississippi, to New Orleans.
Before long, bourbon was being prescribed for medicinal purposes, and to keep the quality of what he sold both high and consistent, Louisville druggist George G. Brown began selling standard-proof bourbon in sealed bottles. A milestone.
Soon there was another. In the mid nineteenth century, Scottish physician-chemist James C. Crow introduced the sour mash process, a method still used for all straight bourbons. Some of the fermented (sour) mash drained from one batch of bourbon is added to the next along with the yeast. It’s a way to check bacterial growth and produce bourbon of consistently high quality.
In 1964, the U.S. Congress declared bourbon “America’s Native Spirit” and decreed that only whiskey made in the United States that met certain requirements could be called bourbon. It must:
Bourbon can be made anywhere in the United States, but only Kentucky is allowed to print
its name on the label as place of origin.
Although the mixture of grain, type of yeast, degree of char on the barrels, aging time, even barrel location in the warehouse vary from brand to brand and account for differences in color, taste, proof, and finesse, one ingredient remains constant among Kentucky distillers: the state’s natural limestone-rich water.
And this, most would agree, is what makes Kentucky bourbon America’s best.
KENTUCKY BOURBON CAKE
MAKES A
10-
INCH TUBE CAKE
Marion Flexner, an Alabaman by birth and a Kentuckian by adoption, tells a little-known tale in her classic
Out of Kentucky Kitchens
(1949). To quote: “This cake isn’t a native Kentuckian at all, and Dame Rumor asserts with authority that a certain Frankfort matron (about 25 years ago) coaxed a famous New York maître d’hôtel to give her the recipe by crossing his palm with a lot of silver.” I wonder. Savannah-based southern food historian and cookbook author Damon Lee Fowler doubts the “palm-crossed-with-silver” story and believes that Kentucky bourbon cake may descend from early southern fruitcakes, which, like this one, have a pound-cake base. The Rich Fruit Cake in Mary Randolph’s
Virginia House-wife
(1824) is similar, although it contains more dried fruits and brandy instead of bourbon. Ditto several recipes in Lettice Bryan’s
Kentucky Housewife
(1839). I find an even closer match in the Kentucky Cake in
The Blue Grass Cook Book
(1904) by Minnie C. Fox; egg whites are used instead of whole eggs and the nuts are lacking. In my many years in New York I never once encountered bourbon cake, and I had to travel to Kentucky to try the dense pecan-and-raisin-filled Christmas favorite that the Bluegrass State calls its own. The only liquid ingredient? Good Kentucky bourbon. Note:
Use a 10-inch tube pan to bake this cake, a light-colored one to discourage overbrowning; and butter and flour it well. You’ll note that the oven temperature is unusually low—250° F.—and that the cake bakes for at least 2
½
hours. That explains its fine texture. Some southerners wrap the cooled cake in a bourbon-soaked cloth and let it “season” for a week or so, adding more bourbon as needed to keep the cloth moist. I find that unnecessary; the cake’s plenty spirited without it.
Tip:
If the butter is refrigerator-cold, you can cream it to uncommon fluffiness.
4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
3 cups lightly toasted pecans, coarsely chopped (10 to 12 minutes in a 350° F. oven)
3 cups seedless raisins
1½ teaspoons freshly grated nutmeg
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 pound (4 sticks) butter (no substitute) (see Tip on Chapter 6)
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups sugar
6 extra-large eggs, separated
¾ cup bourbon
MORAVIAN GINGERBREAD
MAKES A
13 × 9 × 2-
INCH CAKE
This recipe is a downsized family version of the gingerbread served at Salem Tavern in Old Salem, a faithfully restored eighteenth-century Moravian town in North Carolina’s rolling Piedmont. What makes this gingerbread different is that the ginger is freshly chopped. I do the chopping in a food processor, a shortcut those efficiency-minded Moravians would have welcomed.
1¼ cups (2½ sticks) butter, slightly softened
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 cup molasses (not too dark)
½ cup finely chopped peeled fresh ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
Pinch of ground cloves
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
3½ cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
OLD VIRGINIA GINGERBREAD
MAKES
12
SERVINGS
This old family recipe was given to me by James Harrison of Coggins Point Farm on the south side of the James River. He was the father of my friend Maria Harrison Reuge, who, with her French husband, Guy, owns Mirabelle, a first-rate restaurant in the little Long Island town of St. James. Some years ago when I interviewed Mr. Harrison about old Virginia recipes, he told me that his father “always called this ‘molasses bread’ because he thought it tasted more like molasses than ginger.” What’s unique about this gingerbread is that it’s baked in custard cups, inverted on dessert plates, then topped with Brown Sugar Sauce (recipe follows).
2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground ginger
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup molasses (not too dark)
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ cup (1 stick) butter, at room temperature
1 cup loosely packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs, separated
½ cup milk