I am told that pimento cheese is a uniquely Southern delicacy, one of the many and diverse foodways for which our region is known.  I did not know this.  Not until about ten years ago, when I read that fact in a magazine.  I, of course, knew about pimento cheese, I just assumed it was universal.  You see, I did not grow up in a pimento cheese family.  My mother was not a great fan, so it did not feature on our lunch or party menus.  As a child, I only ever had the occasional blob of red-spotted techno-orange wallpaper glue on white bread at some friend’s house.  The kind of Pimento Cheese Spread purchased in plastic tubs from that top shelf of the dairy aisle next to the limburger and neon yellow Egg Salad.  That was my experience of pimento cheese, and I had no real interest in exploring its possible virtues.  I also had a childhood adversity to mayonnaise, which in retrospect I cannot fathom.  Ah, the years of wasted youth.

As an adult, I discovered that many people around me have strong opinions on pimento cheese.  Fond childhood memories of Grandma’s homemade pimento cheese (but don’t tell my mother, I liked hers too, but Grandma’s was better…).  I couldn’t help but be curious. Had I really missed something?  Then the showers started to fall in my life – wedding showers, baby showers.  Almost non-stop for a large section of my twenties.   Pimento cheese figures heavily at these events.  It is considered easy to prepare, delicious, and something everyone likes. The “pate of the South.”  So I started to try the little finger sandwiches, or delicate molds of pimento cheese served with crackers, sometimes even celery sticks stuffed with the mix.  And I had a revelation.  It’s good.  Like stupid good.  I became something of an expert.  There were certain ladies who always volunteered to bring “MY pimento cheese” as their contribution to the shower spread, and some who were asked, or begged, to bring their version.  It is quite a point of pride among the lace tablecloth set.

When I launched into the world of party planning , I always counseled my clients, and brides, to build a menu that was personal to them.  To serve a favorite cookies from Aunt Susie’s recipe, pasta to commemorate your first date at the Italian restaurant or pralines to pay homage to a Louisiana family heritage.  It became sort of signature of the events I planned.  I built multi-tiered Krispy Kreme groom’s cakes, served late-night Krystal hamburgers on silver salvers and filled champagne buckets with ice cream sandwiches.  So I always asked – what is a personal favorite food you’d love to serve at your event.  I cannot tell you the number of times pimento cheese was on the list.  So elegant little pimento cheese sandwiches, with the help of a favorite caterer, became a regular fixture and frequent request. At the events I worked, I rarely ate or maybe scarfed down a few appetizers in the kitchen.  A few kind caterer friends would make me a sandwich to be eaten alone on the loading dock.  But I always had room for the pimento cheese.  I did a party in Mississippi about an hour or so outside of Memphis that was a fun, country affair by the river.  We fried catfish and hushpuppies and made little barbecue sandwiches and of course served the pimento cheese delights as a passed hors d’oeuvre.

At the end of the night, my caterer friend sent me home with a tin tray of sandwiches, bless her.  As I drove home through the dark Delta night, well past one in the morning, I snacked on a few of those little sandwiches.  When I got home sore and exhausted, I left everything in the car except that tray.  I took it inside to wrap up the remaining sandwiches to last me through another week of crazy parties.  They were gone.  I’d eaten every one.  This was a roasting pan – like 10” by 8” and three inches deep.  Gone.  In one sitting.  It may have been the best night of my life.

As I set out to develop my own recipe, my aunt (from the non-pimento cheese side of the family mind you) had a health issue.  And, as is always the case, the food from friends in neighbors poured in.  I went to visit (and organize the overloaded fridge) and I found no less than five batches of pimento cheese, each completely unique.  One was clearly made from the processed cheese that comes in a roll, one had hard-boiled eggs in it and one had some sort of small crunchy bits – we couldn’t decide if it was pumpkin seeds or an accidental bird-food spill.  It was helpful, if painful, learning experience.

So now I have done all the work for you.  Below is clearly THE  BEST recipe for pimento cheese.  Clearly the only one worth making EVER. To even consider the folly of veering from this, the ONLY proper way to make pimento cheese, is a monumental mistake. 

It’s quite the happy coincidence that my intials jibe so well…

PC’s Pimento Cheese

Here are my secrets: the key to good pimento cheese is the blend of cheeses. Grinding the walnuts and pimentos adds flavor throughout instead of the occasional bite of pimento.  Too much mayonnaise takes away from the cheesy flavor, but use how much you like.

1 cup walnut halves (or pecans)

1 (2 ounce) jar of chopped pimentos

2 teaspoons garlic salt

dash of cayenne or shot of hot sauce to taste

1 (8 – ounce) block extra sharp cheddar cheese

1 (8 – ounce) block sharp white cheddar cheese

1 cup mayonnaise, more or less

Place the walnuts, pimentos (with their liquid), the garlic salt and cayenne in a food processor with the steel blade and pulse a few times to chop the walnuts and blend the pimentos.  Do not let the mixture turn into a paste.  Remove the steel blade and fit the grating blade.  Grate the cheeses.  Turn the mixture into a bowl, scraping the sides well.    Add the mayonnaise a little at a time and stir to blend to the desired consistency.

 Serve as a filling for sandwiches or with saltine crackers.

This will keep in an airtight container for a week.