A Love Affair with Southern Cooking (8 page)

Herbed Tomato Triangles:
Prepare the tomato mixture as directed through Step 1, then mix in 1 tablespoon moderately finely chopped fresh basil or tarragon or 1 tablespoon finely snipped fresh dill or chives.
Tip:
Don’t make these herbed sandwiches ahead of time. The acid in the tomatoes will “brown” the fresh herbs.

ARTICHOKE SQUARES

MAKES ABOUT
5
DOZEN

I have no idea where this recipe originated, but I do know that it began surfacing in community cookbooks all over the South some thirty years ago and became a cocktail party staple faster than you can whistle
Dixie
.
Artichoke squares are easy to make, they’re cheap, and they feed a crowd. But that’s not the only reason they caught the public fancy. Southerners have always been fond of artichokes—both the Jerusalem (see Jerusalem Artichoke Pickle Relish, Chapter 9) and the globe or French artichokes used here. Note:
Oil-marinated artichokes (or hearts) are what you need because you’ll use some of the oil to cook the scallions, garlic, and herbs. This recipe needs no salt because of the saltiness of the artichokes and the cheese.

Three 4-ounce jars oil-marinated artichoke hearts, drained and 2 tablespoons oil reserved

4 large scallions, trimmed and finely chopped (include some green tops)

1 large garlic clove, finely chopped

½ teaspoon crumbled dried leaf marjoram

¼ teaspoon crumbled dried leaf thyme

4 large eggs, beaten until frothy with ¼ teaspoon hot red pepper sauce

¼ cup unseasoned fine dry bread crumbs

2 tablespoons coarsely chopped parsley

2 cups coarsely shredded sharp Cheddar cheese (about 8 ounces)

• 1.
  Preheat the oven to 350° F. Spritz an 8 × 8 × 2-inch baking dish or nonreactive pan with nonstick cooking spray and set aside.
  
• 2.
  Chop the drained artichokes fine and place in a large mixing bowl. Heat the 2 tablespoons reserved artichoke oil in a small, heavy skillet over moderate heat for 1 minute; add the scallions and stir-fry for 2 minutes or until beginning to color. Add the garlic, marjoram, and thyme and cook, stirring often, for 3 to 4 minutes or until the scallions are limp and golden. Set off the heat and cool for 5 minutes.
  
• 3.
  Meanwhile, mix the beaten eggs, bread crumbs, and parsley into the chopped arti
  chokes. Fold in the shredded cheese, then the cooled scallion mixture. Pour into the baking dish, spreading to the corners.
  
• 4.
  Slide onto the middle oven shelf and bake uncovered for about 30 minutes or until lightly browned and set like custard. Transfer to a wire rack and cool for 15 minutes.
  
• 5.
  Cut into 1-inch squares and serve warm or at room temperature.
  

PIMIENTO CHEESE

MAKES ABOUT
4
CUPS

“The peanut butter of my childhood,” is how novelist Reynolds Price describes this beloved southern sandwich spread. I remember pimiento cheese sandwiches (or “pimento,” as Southerners often spell it) being on the menu almost every day at the Fred A. Olds Elementary School in West Raleigh, also at Needham Broughton High School where I attended grades eight through twelve. I also recall vats of freshly made pimiento cheese at one mom-and-pop grocery, which could be scooped out by the pint or quart. Today, most southern supermarkets sell little tubs of pimiento cheese, locally (or at least regionally) made. Some of them are quite acceptable but none is as good as homemade. All the years that I lived in New York City, I never encountered pimiento cheese outside my own apartment. I made it often using this, my favorite recipe. And not just for sandwiches, either. Sometimes I’d stuff it into celery as I’d seen my mother’s southern friends do for their sewing circle or book club meetings. I even served it as a dip for crudités, which impressed my New York friends so much they asked for the recipe. As Reynolds Price also says (he, by the way, was a few grades behind me at Needham Broughton High School), “I seldom met a non-Southerner who knew what it [pimiento cheese] was, though they take to it on contact.” Tip:
The fastest way to grate an onion is on a Microplane grater.

1 pound very sharp, bright orange Cheddar cheese, coarsely shredded

¾ cup firmly packed mayonnaise-style salad dressing (or, for a little spicier pimiento cheese, ¾ cup mayonnaise-relish sandwich spread or a half-and-half mix of the two)

Three 2-ounce jars diced pimientos, well drained (reserve liquid)

2 tablespoons finely grated yellow onion (see Tip above)

2 tablespoons ketchup

2 tablespoons reserved pimiento liquid (about)

1½ tablespoons milk or half-and-half

1 tablespoon prepared spicy brown mustard

½ teaspoon hot red pepper sauce

¼ teaspoon black pepper

• 1.
  Place all ingredients in the large bowl of an electric mixer and beat at moderate speed for about 30 seconds or just until well blended. The mixture should be lumpy. If the pimiento cheese seems too stiff to spread easily, add a little additional reserved pimiento liquid, table
  spoon by tablespoon, until about the consistency of cream-style cottage cheese.
  
• 2.
  Transfer the pimiento cheese to a medium-size nonreactive bowl, press plastic food wrap flat on top, then allow to season in the refrigerator overnight.
  
• 3.
  Use as a sandwich spread or as a stuffing for snow pea pods, bite-size chunks of celery, or hollowed-out cucumber, or serve as a dip for crudités. Stored tightly covered in the coldest part of the refrigerator, pimiento cheese will keep for 5 to 7 days.
  Note:
  You can prepare pimiento cheese entirely by food processor if you have a sturdy model with an 11-to 14-cup work bowl. Pulse the cheese through the medium shredding disk, then tip onto a large piece of wax paper. Remove the shredding disk and insert the metal chopping blade. Next drop a 1-inch chunk of yellow onion into the work bowl and chop very fine. Add half the shredded cheese, all the other ingredients, then the remaining shredded cheese. Pulse just until the consistency of cream-style cottage cheese, pausing several times to scrape the work bowl. That’s all there is to it.
  

HAM SALAD SPREAD

MAKES ABOUT
1½
CUPS

Southerners, I’ve found, are partial to meat salads and sandwich spreads and I count myself among them. I use this particular spread not only to fill sandwiches large and small but also as a stuffing for hollowed-out cherry tomatoes, snow pea pods, and bite-size cucumber “boats.” Note:
Because of the saltiness of the ham and the mustard, this recipe is not likely to need additional salt. But taste before serving and adjust as needed.

½ pound finely ground fully cooked smoked ham

¹
/
₃
cup finely chopped yellow onion

¼ cup firmly packed mayonnaise-relish sandwich spread

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons milk (about)

¹
/
₈
to ¼ teaspoon ground hot red pepper (cayenne), depending on how “hot” you like things

• 1.
  Combine all ingredients in a small nonreactive bowl, cover, and refrigerate for several hours or overnight.
  
• 2.
  When almost ready to serve, let the ham salad stand at room temperature for 30 minutes. If the mixture seems dry, add another tablespoon or two of milk.
  
• 3.
  Use as a spread for open-face tea sandwiches or full-size luncheon sandwiches.
  

The South of every country is different, and the south of every South even more so.

—
EUGENE WALTER
,
MILKING THE MOON
,
A SOUTHERNER’S STORY OF LIFE ON THIS PLANET

HERBED EGG SALAD

MAKES ABOUT
2½
CUPS

Like the ham salad in the previous recipe, egg salad is quintessential comfort food for the Southerners I know. They will pile it into sandwiches, scoop it into hollowed-out tomatoes, mound it on a bed of greens, even eat it straight out of the refrigerator. It was my Mississippi friend Jean Todd Freeman who began adding freshly snipped chives and dill (or tarragon) to an otherwise fairly bland mix. She’d lived in Philadelphia, then New York, and as fiction editor of
The Ladies’ Home Journal
had spent many luncheons not only wining and wooing literary agents in fancy restaurants but also picking up a few culinary tricks. Although fiction was Jean’s metier, she was a “food natural” who instinctively knew what went with what. In all the years that I knew her, Jean perpetuated this little myth that she couldn’t cook. I knew better. Note:
For directions on the easy way to hard-cook eggs, see the headnote for Favorite Deviled Eggs, Chapter 1.

12 large hard-cooked eggs, shelled and finely chopped

½ cup firmly packed mayonnaise

¹
/
₃
cup moderately finely chopped parsley

¹
/
₃
cup finely snipped fresh dill (or, if you prefer, ¼ cup finely chopped fresh tarragon)

¼ cup finely snipped fresh chives

2 large scallions, trimmed and finely chopped (white part only)

1 small celery rib, trimmed and cut into fine dice

1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

¼ teaspoon black pepper, or to taste

2 tablespoons milk or half-and-half (about)

• 1.
  Combine all ingredients in a medium-size nonreactive bowl. If the mixture seems dry, add another tablespoon or two of milk. Taste for salt and pepper and adjust as needed. Cover and refrigerate for several hours or overnight.
  
• 2.
  When ready to use, let stand at room temperature for 30 minutes, then use as a spread for open-face tea sandwiches or full-size luncheon sandwiches.
  

Variation

Old South Egg Salad:
Omit the parsley, dill, and chives and add 1 tablespoon prepared yellow mustard; substitute ½ cup mayonnaise-relish sandwich spread for the mayonnaise and ¼ cup finely grated yellow onion for the scallions. Otherwise, prepare the recipe as directed.

BLACK-EYED PEA HUMMUS

MAKES ABOUT
1
CUP

Not so long ago I wrote an article for
Gourmet
on the Smokies and among the imaginative new southern dishes that I discovered while prowling the Tennessee and North Carolina high ground was this garlicky black-eyed pea hummus. It was the creation of Robert Carter, then the chef at the Richmond Hill Inn’s Arbor Grille in Asheville. Offered as an appetizer, it came with fried green tomatoes, quartered and crisp enough to serve as dippers. A winning combination. If you don’t
want to bother about frying green tomatoes, serve this hummus with sesame crackers. Asheville’s Arbor Grille is closed and Robert Carter now wears the toque at the Peninsula Grill in Charleston, South Carolina (see his Black-Eyed Pea Soup with Greens and Ham, Chapter 2). Note:
To toast cumin seeds, swirl in a small dry skillet over moderate heat for about a minute or until fragrant; cool before using.
Tip:
If you make this hummus a day or two ahead of time, it will taste even better. About an hour before serving, take the hummus from the refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature.

3 slices lean, smoky bacon, cut crosswise into strips ½ inch wide

1 cup frozen black-eyed peas, cooked and drained by package directions

½ cup firmly packed fresh cilantro leaves ¼ cup well-stirred tahini (sesame seed paste)

¼ cup water

3 large whole garlic cloves

½ teaspoon lightly toasted cumin seeds (see Note above), pulverized or finely ground in an electric coffee grinder

½ teaspoon salt, or to taste

¼ teaspoon white pepper, or to taste

½ teaspoon ground hot red pepper (cayenne), or to taste

1 recipe Fried Green Tomatoes or sesame crackers

• 1.
  Cook the bacon in a small, heavy skillet over moderate heat, stirring often, for 8 to 10 minutes or until crisp; drain on paper toweling.
  
• 2.
  Pulse the black-eyed peas in a food processor until coarsely chopped. Add the drained bacon, cilantro, tahini, water, garlic, cumin seeds, salt, white pepper, and cayenne, and churn for about a minute or until smooth. Taste for salt, white pepper, and cayenne and adjust as needed.
  
• 3.
  Serve as a cocktail dip with crisply fried green tomatoes, which have been quartered, or with sesame crackers.
  

WHITE BARBECUE SAUCE

MAKES ABOUT
1½
CUPS

Even though I grew up in the South, I had never heard of—let alone tasted—white barbecue sauce until a little over five years ago when
Gourmet
sent me south to write about the Smokies. First stop: The Inn at Blackberry Farm near Walland, Tennessee. I arrived shortly before dusk just as a huge buffet was being set up around the pool. Exactly what I needed after a bumpy flight from LaGuardia to Charlotte, a change of plane, an even bumpier hop over the Smokies to Knoxville, then a forty-five-minute last lap over winding roads. On the buffet was a platter of crisp raw vegetables and alongside it a dip the consistency of sour cream. One taste told me that this wasn’t any dip I knew. “It’s white barbecue sauce,” chef John Fleer told me. I’ve subsequently learned that few Southerners beyond northern Alabama know white barbecue sauce. It’s a staple there, however, used to dress or marinate everything from chicken to fish. According to Chris Lilly of Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q in Decatur, Alabama, white barbecue sauce was created by Big Bob himself back in 1925. Today, white barbecue sauce is as popular a table
sauce in northern Alabama as ketchup is elsewhere. Every cook has a pet recipe for it: Some like it thick, others, thin; some keep it simple (nothing more than mayo, vinegar, salt, and pepper), others prefer to gussy it up. The recipe that follows—my own take on this Alabama classic—is only moderately gussied up. I like white barbecue sauce as a dip for crunchy raw vegetables but some Alabamians put out a basket of pretzels. I also often serve white barbecue sauce with cocktail shrimp in place of the proverbial red glop.