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When greeting dear friends, they often ask how I am and I often reply, "Better now." Friends make everything better.
Even disappointing shrimp and grits.
My friend Wenirs and I chatted by phone over the weekend and laughed together over all the grits recipes I've been posting. You may get the impression that Wenirs is not a Southern cooking fan when I tell you that she opened the conversation by demanding, "When are you gonna get off of the grits?!" I laughed out loud. That's okay, she just hasn't tasted the cheesy grits yet; I know she'll be a convert.
As we chuckled and chatted, I was devising in my mind a 'fix' for the too-rich shrimp and grits leftovers. I couldn't bear to throw them away since they contained fully a half pound of shrimp, but I also couldn't face eating them in their super-rich state. I added another can of chopped tomatoes, a big squeeze of lemon juice plus some additional shrimp stock and served them over nice, chewy brown rice. They weren't perfect and I probably won't make anything quite like this again but they were, as I like to say, better now.
Rats, shoulda gone with my gut.
When I read the recipe for Shrimp and Grits, I somehow knew there should be more to making the rich, darkly flavored dish I enjoyed in North Carolina than this recipe outlined. I mostly followed the recipe, however, instead of experimenting a bit.
I did make a few changes - subbed shrimp stock that I had in the freezer for the water in the recipe and added a bit more of the chopped tomatoes - but I was mostly a good little girl.
Phooey.
I never thought I'd say this as I love buttery, rich foods, but the whole dish is 'way too rich when you put shrimp and sauce made with lots of butter and heavy cream over cheesy grits. Oink! It was all so rich that we could barely taste the shrimp as separate from the creamy sauce - and there was plenty of shrimp in there! If I was to make this again, I'd serve it over rice rather than cheesy grits, and probably a chewy brown rice to add texture to the dish. I had added fresh corn to my cheesy grits of the night before and, although I love it as a side dish, it was wasted under all that creamy stuff.
So, what changes? I did like the hint of heat from the sriracha sauce and the jalapeños, so I'd keep that but I'd increase the chopped tomatoes by half again to raise the acid a little and I'd omit the cream altogether, subbing in more of the shrimp stock. I'd probably try adding some paprika, too, to darken both the sauce and the flavor. I might add some lemon juice or zest, too, for additional zing. What I dream of would be lighter and leaner, with a sauce that contrasted more with the sweetness of the shrimp, a sauce that would lighten the cheesy grits rather than weigh them down with even more richness.
Next time, I'm going with my instincts!
Ever since Hallowe'en, my nose has been tickled by the scent of this mutant-looking citron that pal Sari brought over to scare me on All Hallows' Eve. It does look a bit like a lemon that was growing at Three Mile Island.
It may be creepy looking but it's the most wonderfully fragrant thing it has ever been my pleasure to own. It has been in a basket on my dining table all week but it perfumes the whole kitchen as well - I catch whiffs of the scent from 20 feet away, and yet it's not at all a heavy scent. I want to bury it in my underwear drawer or dab it behind my ears.
Like all citrus, it has that signature tang, but Buddha's Hand adds a light floral note to that for the most seductive thing I've smelled since vanilla extract or the yeasty scent when you first pop open a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne.
I've been researching it and it seems the culinary uses are in place of lemon zest or in marmalade, so I think I'll try to make marmalade out of it. If it retains all that complex scent in the finished jam, it should be wonderful. But, even if you don't want to make jam with it, buy one just to have in the house; it's a simply marvelous creepy looking mutant.
There's another Southern cook in my life, my pal NamasteNancy, who leaves thoughtful comments from time to time on my blog. Nancy and I share an interest in art and cooking, and we both come from Navy families; we've bonded over lunches, art exhibits and sea stories about the Navy.
When I wrote about Shrimp and Grits, she weighed in with a recipe for red eye gravy, a southern specialty that goes well with cheesy grits and ham steaks. I had some grits left over, so the ham and red eye gravy seemed almost inevitable.
Nancy found this recipe for red eye gravy from the late lamented Gourmet magazine and left me this comment as encouragement to try it:
"Red eye gravy is another subject of much controversy; some people make it with coffee and some with chicory or even Cola-Cola! The recipe that I found from Gourmet uses butter but my family used bacon drippings (the better to raise your cholesterol level with, my dear), We also added paprika but that’s not traditional either. You can also add a dash of pepper sauce - it doesn't make it too spicy, honest!Ham and Red-Eye GravyRecipe Courtesy of Gourmet MagazinePrep Time: 10 minInactive Prep Time: 0 minCook Time: 10 minServes: 4 servingsIngredients * 1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter * 1 1/2 pounds baked Virginia ham, cut into 1/2-inch thick slices * 1/4 cup brewed coffee * 1/2 cup boiling water * Hot pepper sauce to taste * Spoon bread or buttered cooked grits as an accompaniment if desiredDirectionsIn a large skillet heat the butter over moderately high heat until the foam subsides and in it sauté the ham in batches, turning it once, for 2 to 3 minutes on each side, or until it is browned, and transfer it to a platter. Into the skillet pour the coffee and 1/2 cup boiling water and cook the mixture over high heat, scraping up the browned bits, for 2 minutes. Season the gravy with the hot pepper sauce and pepper and pour it over the ham slices. (If desired, strain the gravy before pouring it over the ham.) Serve ham and gravy with spoon bread or grits.A bit of the history:http://whatscookingamerica.net/History/CountryHamHistory.htm"
I followed these directions with few changes (I used a 1-to-1 coffee to water ratio; butter as I didn't have bacon drippings on hand; and a dash of sriracha for the heat. I also don't know where to get the real-deal Virginia ham in California, so I used a Niman ranch uncured ham sliced to the desired thickness) and was surprised that the result was a thin, coffee-flavored and milky coffee-colored juice that we poured over our ham steaks - I admit to a hint of skepticism and trepidation when I made the first pour.
I needn't have worried - it was really good. The slightly bitter coffee cut wonderfully through the richness of the ham steaks and complimented surprisingly well the cheesy grits. Nodding and raising eyebrows in that "Who knew?" way, My Beloved and I enjoyed every bite.
I can't imagine how this would taste if the red eye gravy was made with Coca-Cola - and I shudder to think - but we did drink a glass of iced Coke with this southern supper. It just seemed fittin'.
Thanks, Nancy!
The daughter to two Yankees, a mother who was born in New York City and a father who was born at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, I'm a newbie to Southern cooking. After my trip to North Carolina and Virginia, however, I am inspired to try some Southern specialties.
To that end, I bought a bag of water stone ground grits from a little shop in Elkin, a tiny hill town in northwestern North Carolina where my nephew has settled. It's a lovely town, a slice of America a few decades ago - and that's a good thing. There is only one elementary, one middle and one high school (the football team is called the Bucking Elks - you can imagine what more jaded kids would make of that) and all the kids pile into the local soda shop on Friday afternoons after school for some ice cream and socializing. Lots of giggling and flirting, pranks and laughter. Their parents stand around chatting, too, but the true supervision is provided by the owners of the soda shop who love the kids but tolerate no nonsense on their premises. It takes a village.
My mother had a Southern friend, Maria Hart, who made cheesy grits that Mom, who never loved grits in any other form, heartily approved of. That recipe came to me via my sister, who has lived in the South all her adult life and used this recipe successfully at many a dinner party. After forty years of living in Virginia, she may still be "Tom's Yankee wife" to the folks down there but she can cook like she was born south of the Mason-Dixon line. Now you know the pedigree of this particular recipe for Cheesy Grits.
This dish is insanely rich, no two ways about it. I think the dairy industry must have invented it. If you ate this frequently, you would be a serious candidate for bypass surgery; nevertheless, it is so delicious that it will have you singing "Dixie."
1 quart milk
1/2 cup butter (This seems excessive but I have it on good authority that it is necessary)
1 cup grits (I used fairly coarsely ground grits) (Quick grits will work but don't use instant grits)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup shredded gruyere or Swiss cheese (I used gruyere)
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese (I used Parmesano Reggiano)
1 additional Tablespoon of butter for the top
Boil milk, add 1/2 cup butter. When butter has melted, stir in 1 cup grits and cook until thickened, stirring occasionally, about 15 minutes. Add salt to taste (I omit this step as the cheeses are both salty and we liked it without additional salt) and pepper. Off the heat, beat with a hand mixer for five full minutes until creamy (don't fret, it will still have texture). Mix in the two cheeses while beating. Pour into casserole and top with the additional tablespoon or two of butter. Bake at 400 degrees for 30-35 minutes.
It emerges from the oven hotter than a nuclear meltdown; it stayed very warm in my Corning ware casserole for 45 minutes after removal from the oven. That can be a bonus if you are making other dishes to go with it - keeping it warm is not a problem.
Serves 8.
My paternal grandparents had a marvelous life in the Navy. My grandfather graduated from the Naval Academy in the class of 1900 and, despite the frequent separations, they had a happy married life. My grandmother used to love to say with a twinkle, "Navy wives are happy half the time; I'm not saying which half."
In their day, even junior officers rated help in the house and they were posted to some pretty interesting places. Early in their marriage, my grandfather was on one of the battleships that sailed in 1907-09 around the world in Teddy Roosevelt's Great White Fleet. Speak softly but carry a big stick; those huge white battleships were the big stick.
My grandmother followed the fleet all around the world to all kinds of exotic ports - Egypt, Hawaii, China, Japan, India, Australia. We still have her ticket, which reads "From New York to San Francisco, via Suez." I have a photograph of her and two other ladies in their long dresses and enormous hats riding camels in Egypt. My grandmother told me about that day, saying, "I rode a camel to the Pyramids. Nasty, smelly animals - I took the train back!"
After they returned from that trip, my grandfather served on a ship, the USS Monongahela, which took him to France; Grandma followed along on a passenger liner. When they took a few days together in Paris, he said, "Josie, I want to buy you a mink coat," but she demurred in favor of this set of French china. Every single woman in our family, without exception, thinks she made the right choice.
Last week while I was visiting their daughter Aunt Virginia, the keeper of the family china, she allowed me carefully to take out a place setting to photograph it for the family archives. Richly blue and gold with raised decoration, it is truly glorious stuff. My grandmother always washed it herself, afraid to let the stewards handle it. She felt that if anyone broke it, it had better be herself or she'd never forgive them. Aunt Mary, my Dad's older sister, was helping her dry it once and so great was her fear of her mother's sorrow that when she dropped one of the cups she caught it again before it hit the floor. The set is still complete; twenty-four place settings, plus serving dishes.
I love imagining the table my grandmother must have set for a big dinner party - white linens, the gorgeous china, gleaming silver and crystal, and perhaps flowers in the center. It must have been an amazing sight when twenty-four guests sat down to dinner at their house with the French china.
We owe Basil Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich, a huge debt; it was he who invented, or at least popularized, the sandwich.
The legend goes that he was at a gaming table and didn't want to interrupt his winning streak to eat, so he ordered some meat to be clapped between two slices of bread and ate it while he played.
He went on to do some other notable things, such as supporting Captain James Cook's explorations (and having the Sandwich Islands named after him as a reward), serving as First Lord of the Admiralty a couple of times, not to mention Postmaster General, but all that pales in comparison to his enduring legacy, the sandwich.
Today is his 291st birthday; eat a sandwich today in his honor.
When I returned from back East, on my kitchen counter I found a little dish of a mysterious, garlicky-smelling sauce. My Beloved explained that while he was entertaining his brother and wife with fresh California artichokes, his daughter Katie had rejected his offer of lemon butter in favor of this olive oil-based sauce of her own concocting.
I decided to do a side-by-side taste test of the two sauces with the remaining artichoke. I have always been a fan of lemon butter - what's not to like? Melted butter, fresh lemon juice and a tender artichoke spells heaven to me. But, dipping my leaves into this combination of olive oil, lemon juice, minced garlic, black pepper and herbs, I had to admit that she had my lemon butter beat. The extra flavor and lower cholesterol are a bonus. Olive oil actually has more calories than butter but they are well worth it when doctored up so tastily and served next to one of my favorite veggies.
This seems like the best kind of detente to me - both are winners!
We Californians tend to brag a bit about our consistently sunny weather and natural beauty but there's at least one thing the East coast does better than California - fall color.
Last week, my sister and I drove from Greensboro, NC to Rome, NY and back via Washington, DC to visit our older brother and his family, and all along our route the fall colors were in full swing. I had rather forgotten how exciting is the blaze of red, yellow, orange, ochre, maroon and brown, contrasting with the true, soft green of the eastern forest. On an overcast day, they lend amazing beauty and on a sunny day they are resplendent.
I took this picture at Gunston Hall, the historic home of George Mason whose ideas of independence were borrowed by and whose language was tightened up by Thomas Jefferson when he wrote the Declaration of Independence. The trees there, close to the Potomac's softening influence, were just getting started. While I'm glad to be back on the sunny Left Coast, I'm also glad I had the chance to feast my eyes on a glorious East coast fall.
One of the best aspects of life in California is the relish with which Californians embrace Hallowe'en. Having spent 20 years in a part of the country where the approach to this holiday is more dutiful than joyous (and, in their defense, it's hard to get excited about dressing up in costume when you will likely have to cover it up with a down jacket to survive the late October frost), I have found delight in the childlike pleasure Californians bring to it.
I always look forward to seeing the costumes. I've had whole families (Mom, Dad, two young children, a baby and the family black lab) dressed as superheroes; adorable little girls in pink fluff lisping that they are dressed as "pwincesses;"a 10 year old FBI G-man with snap brim hat, trench coat and brief case who reached into his breast pocket, flipped open his wallet to show his ID, then demanded, completely straight-faced, "Ma'am, I'm investigating a report that you've been giving candy to minors; is that true, ma'am?" Taken aback, I stammered, "Well, yes..." to which he replied, still unsmiling, "In that case, ma'am, Trick or Treat," and opened his briefcase for me to drop some candy in. Even our teenagers get into the spirit. I can't wait to see the ghoulies and ghosties who show up this year!
I found these candles and holders in a gift shop in Virginia but they have the whimsical California spirit written all over them. We've enjoyed them for the past week and if you know where I can get some replacement candles as goofy and funny as these, I'd appreciate a tip.
Happy Hallowe'en!
When greeting dear friends, they often ask how I am and I often reply, "Better now." Friends make everything better.
