I have always liked the idea of making homemade hot chocolate.  I have tried many recipes; I have made hot chocolate with expensive, imported chocolates, cocoa powder and all sorts of permutations.  Butafter all the experimentation, I finally put together this recipe – using plain ol’ Hershey bars.  And it is some kind of good.

This is not hot chocolate for the faint of heart.  It is rich – really rich.  The kind of treat you make only for the holidays, or maybe when you’ve had a very bad day.  But I highly recommend you do make it.  Maybe on a cold morning when you can sip while still in your pajamas.  You don’t even have to share.

Decadent Hot Chocolate

If you want more than the two servings this makes, do it in separate batches, as most blenders won’t hold that much liquid without the top popping off. 

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1/2 cup milk

2 (1.5 ounce) milk chocolate candy bars (such as Hershey’s)

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 Tablespoon light brown sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

dash of cayenne pepper

dash of salt

In a saucepan, preferably with a pouring spout, heat the cream and milk over medium heat until just beginning to bubble.  Break the chocolate bar into small pieces and place in the carafe of a blender with the sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, cayenne and salt.

When the cream mixture is heated through, pour it over the chocolate mixture in the blender.  Securely place the top on the blender, and holding it in place with a towel, blend the hot chocolate mixture until smooth and frothy.  Always exercise caution when blending hot liquids.  Pour the hot chocolate back into the pan and gently warm through.  Serve in mugs

 Serves two

Every now and again Southern food, Southern habits – Southerness – gets a little boost.  The very idea of the South becomes a trend, some new chef opens a restaurant with new take on Southern food (I myself argue that the very essence of Southern food is its old take, but that’s another story…), or some book or movie is released and everyone is rushing to get on the Southern bandwagon (or blues wagon).  And in this fervor, there is inevitably, much waxing poetic about the beauty of Sweet Tea.  Images are drawn of men in seersucker suits and women in organdy dresses sitting on wide verandas languorously fanning themselves and drinking cut-crystal glasses of Sweet Tea with generous sprigs of mint. I am convinced that silver patterns like Grand Baroque and Francis I are so popular in the South, not because they are so ornate, but because there are iced tea spoons available. I love that image. But here’s the truth.  Since the arrival of electric fans and central air-conditioning, no one does much porch settin’ anymore.  Its 100 degrees in the shade with 99% humidity in Memphis for 5 months out of the year, and the mosquitoes are killer.  And my last organdy dress was as worn as a flower girl in a wedding at age 6.  But there is something to be said about the tea. 

Yes, we do drink a lot of tea in the South.  And we just say tea.  If you asked for tea, no one would bring you a good English cuppa, piping hot in a mug.  Iced is assumed.  Ice tea, that’s what we say.  It makes sense.  It’s very refreshing and very cheap.  The image that comes to my mind when you mention Sweet Tea is not that Tennessee Williams, Hollywood image of  iced tea as social status, but those red or amber colored, textured plastic glasses from diners, catfish cabins, barbeque joints and hamburger dives.  That’s were real southern Sweet Tea lives.  And for the most part, when the charming waitress who calls you honey or sugar takes your order, you ask for tea and she says “sweet or unsweet.”  It’s not a given.  Some people actually prefer to sweeten their own tea. I do.  True Sweet Tea makes my teeth itch.  It can be cloying and sugary and syrupy.  Anyway, many restaurants now use some kind of syrup product or “tea concentrate” to make their Sweet Tea now, basically high-fructose corn syrup with “tea” flavorings, diluted with water.

At home, I drank ice tea all the time.  My mom made a concoction of tea, lemonade mix and sweetener, with mint when it was growing in the garden, always in a brown ceramic pitcher.  Some years ago, she stopped.  She claimed that her many pitchers a week chore had run its course and she was done.  I understand, but it makes me a little sad.  Even now, every time we gather for family dinner, someone still asks if there’s tea.  My grandmother occasionally made tea for Sunday lunch with pineapple juice from the little 6-ounce cans.  That is good tea.  But I have absolutely no memories of going to a friend’s house on any given day and being offered a glass of tea – just brewed tea, in a pitcher on the counter, with sugar and lemon slices.  As point of fact, the most interesting iced tea I was ever served was in remote northern Thailand, where a tray was brought to the table with a pitcher of plain tea, a glass full of ice cubes made of tea, a bowl of mint leaves and a little pitcher of sugar syrup.  I keep thinking I’ll do that a party sometime.

Now, this is not to say that tea only plays a downmarket role in Southern tradition.  Tea is in fact often served at ladies luncheons or family brunches, on a silver tray laden with a crystal pitcher of tea, a bowl of lemon slices, a silver sugar bowl, and fine glasses filled with ice, condensation quickly forming on the sides.  But for the most part, tea served at social events, from wedding receptions to dinner parties, fish frys to weekend barbecues, is more of a tea punch.  Something more than just plain brewed tea.  Served in a pitcher or a punch bowl, made up in old gallon pickle jars.  People bring tea punch to funerals.  Those pickle jars are guarded like finest crystal, labeled and marked; they are family heirlooms. Every Southern hostess has her way of making tea punch, it’s not a fixed idea, though many recipes are passed down and around.

Front Porch Tea Punch

This is my simplified version of a popular Memphis tea punch.  It was traditionally made with two 6-ounce cans of frozen lemonade and limeade, but as far as I can tell, they don’t make those anymore.  So I use a frozen citrus blend, like pineapple orange or Five Alive.

4 family-size tea bags (I prefer Luzianne brand)

¾ cups sugar, plus more to taste

1 (12-ounce) can frozen citrus blend juice concentrate, thawed

1 Tablespoon vanilla extract

½ Tablespoon almond extract

Water (obviously)

Place the tea bags and sugar in a gallon pickle jar or container.  Pour over 7 cups of boiling water and stir gently to agitate the sugar.  Leave to steep for 10 – 15 minutes, until you have a very dark amber brew.  Discard the tea bags.  Add the juice concentrate and stir well.  Leave to cool slightly, about 20 minutes, then fill the container to the top with cold water.  Stir in the extracts and taste for sweetness, adding sugar if desired.

This tea will keep covered on the counter or in the fridge for a few days.  Stir well before serving over ice.

The Watermelon on the Side of the Road

Watermelon means summer, right?  I know they are available (though not very good) all year round now, but what is more summery than ice-cold juicy watermelon?  Pink juice dribbles down your chin, and even your mama doesn’t mind too much when you spit the seeds.

When I was a kid at summer camp, we used to have races in the pool with a big ol’ watermelon, teams trying to bat the melon down the length of the pool.  When I was old enough, and purely legal mind you, we would spike a melon.  That is to say, cut out a plug and stuff a bottle of vodka or rum in the hole to soak in, then we’d eat the slices.  This skill put me in good stead both at college in Connecticut and at grad school in England.

In the summer in the South, the best watermelons come from the side of the road.  Men in well-worn pickup trucks pull up on country highways and sell big, striped green watermelons from the bed, just picked out the patch that morning, still warm from the sun. I can’t always find one of these watermelon men when I need a melon, but I search them out and always stop when I see a sign, handwritten on a piece of cardboard box. 

Though big slices of watermelon are still my favorite way to chow down, I also love those carved watermelon baskets full of little balls of melon, though I can’t imagine myself ever taking on such a project.  When I have a wedge of melon in the fridge, the chunk leftover after a party or a piece I cut and put by for myself, I tend to just pop off a chunk with a spoon every time I open the fridge until there’s nothing but some dog-eared rind left.  But I have gotten somewhat more sophisticated, frequently mixing cubes of bright pink watermelon with salty feta cheese and fine green mint picked from the garden.  And when I am really feeling fancy, I make this magnificent cold soup.

Southern Summer Gazpacho

4 pounds seedless watermelon, rind removed, cut into chunks (about 7 cups)

½ cup firmly packed fresh mint leaves

1 cup blanched slivered almonds

3 garlic cloves

4 slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed

2 Tablespoons red wine vinegar

¼ cup olive oil

1 teaspoon kosher salt

In a blender, place the mint leaves topped by the watermelon chunks and puree.  This may need to be done in batches.  Strain the watermelon puree through a wire mesh strainer into a pitcher or large bowl, scraping on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible and to remove any stray seeds.

 In the blender, puree almonds, garlic, red wine vinegar and salt.  Tear the bread into small chunks and place in blender with about 1 cup of watermelon puree.  Puree until smooth, adding olive oil in a slow steady stream and watermelon puree (as much as the blender will hold).  Pour this gazpacho mixture into the remaining watermelon puree and stir until thoroughly blended. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Serves 6 – 8

Watermelon Sparkler

Feel free to add a splash of white rum or vodka

8 cups chopped watermelon, with seed removed

one 12 ounce can frozen pink lemonade concentrate, undiluted

juice of two limes

2 (25 ounce) bottles lime flavored sparkling water

In a blender, process watermelon and lemonade concentrate until smooth.  This may need to be done in two batches.  Pout puree into pitchers.  When ready to serve, stir in sparkling water.  Serve immediately over ice.  Garnish with lime slices.

Makes 14 cups

The Watermelon Truck