This is hardly a recipe, more like a set of instructions, but I wanted to share it before this long weekend of picnics and cookouts and gatherings, because it is so good and so simple and so perfect for this last official weekend of summer. 

I first had this in South Africa several years ago, as part of a big beautiful lunch spread at a safari camp.  I was impressed by its simplicity, and I had never seen the combo of watermelon and feta before and thought it very exotic.  I have since seen many more dressed-up versions of this – drizzled with vinaigrette, tossed with olives, served with onions slivers.  But I love this simple, fresh, three ingredient original.  I was recently invited to dinner at a friend’s, and we all volunteered to bring something.  Before I expressed a preference, I was ordered to bring ”that watermelon salad” by another friend (not the hostess)!  It reminded me of just how good this salad is.  You can obviously make a larger or smaller batch for your gathering.

Watermelon and Feta Salad

I highly recommend using blocks of feta cut into chunks.  Don’t be tempted by the pre-crumbled variety here as it tends to break down and coat the watermelon with a sandy grit.

½ of a medium-sized watermelon

2 (8-ounce) blocks of feta cheese

A nice big handful of fresh mint leaves

Cut the pink flesh of the watermelon into small, bite-sized chunks and place in large bowl.  I like a pretty glass one to show off the gorgeous colors.  Cut the feta into chunks roughly the same size as the watermelon pieces and add to the bowl.  Finley chop the mint leaves and sprinkle half over the watermelon and feta.  Toss VERY gently to combine, adding the rest of the mint as you do so it is evenly distributed.

This salad does best made within an hour of serving, so the feta doesn’t break down.  To make it ahead, chop the watermelon and toss with the mint, cover and refrigerate.  Cut the feta into chunks and store separately in the fridge.  Toss together shortly before serving.

Serves 8

Baked beans are almost a staple here.  I cannot think of a barbecue place in Memphis that doesn’t serve beans on the side.  And if you live in Memphis, you eat barbecue.  Some places stir in bits of pulled pork shoulder, some make the beans with their house barbecue sauce, some throw in jalapenos.  And of course, some places have better beans than others.  But when you are eating a nice shoulder sandwich, or a big rack of ribs, the beans seem to be the perfect compliment.  I love baked beans, so in the barbecue setting, even bad baked beans are still pretty good.

For most of my life, a barbecue meal was the only time I ever ate baked beans.  They were not a part of our meal cycle at home.  But several years ago, I got it into my head to make my own version.  I looked around for recipes, and most of what I found involved doctoring up a couple of big cans of baked beans.  Friends I asked mostly had no idea: “Just buy some from your favorite barbecue place.”  Finally, while lamenting my lack of baked beans recipes, a friend offered up hers – that she’d of course had for years.  She calls them Firehouse Beans.  It involved beans, onions, bacon and sauce – but also a couple of big cans of pork and beans.  I loved the recipe.  I made it all the time.  It became one of those recipes – the kind that for a period of time, you can’t stop making.  I made those beans at any chance I got.  I made it for family gatherings.  I invited friends over to grill so I could make the beans.  I made the beans whenever asked to bring something to a party.  I took the beans to lake weekends.  I made the beans for myself and froze the extras.

Eventually, the beans got a break in my repertoire, after I had fed them to anyone who would eat them.  But when the time came to resurrect the beans, I decided to come up with a way to make them without the canned pork and beans.  Now, I still use canned beans, rinsed and drained thoroughly.  The mix of beans are coated in a sweet, tangy, slightly spicy sauce with onions and smoky bacon.  I don’t know what my friend will think of the changes I have made to her recipe, but I love these beans even more.  They are definitely back in rotation.

This recipe makes a HUGE batch of beans, perfect for a big weekend party, with burgers and dogs or barbecue.  The recipe is easily halved, and extras freeze well.  You can make the beans a day before serving them and keep them in the fridge.  Reheat them over low heat in the pot, or better yet, scoop into a casserole dish and reheat in the oven.  I love these so much, I even bought a 9x 13 glass dish with an insulated carrier to tote them to parties!

Brilliant Baked Beans

I happily use a 10-ounce bag of frozen chopped onions.  I love the subtlety of cane syrup, but dark corn syrup, sorghum or maple syrup works as well.

1 pound bacon

3 cups chopped onions

1 cup ketchup

¾ cup apple cider vinegar

½  cup dark brown sugar

¼ cup cane syrup, sorghum, or dark corn syrup

2 teaspoons dry English mustard

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon pepper

2 ½  cups apple cider or pure apple juice

8 (16 – ounce) cans of beans – a combinations of kidney beans, red beans, pinto beans, great northern beans or navy beans (black beans do not work), rinsed and drained

Cut the bacon into small pieces, place in a large Dutch oven and sauté over medium high heat until crispy.  Remove the bacon from pan with a slotted spoon to drain on paper towels.  Drain off half of the bacon drippings (reserve for another use). Leave the bacon grease to cool a little bit, the put onions in the pot and sauté until soft and translucent.  If you drop the onions into the blistering hot grease, they will fry and be crispy, not soft and caramelized.

Meanwhile, whisk ketchup, vinegar, sugar, syrup, mustard powder, salt and pepper in a small bowl.  When the onions are soft, pour in the sauce and stir to coat.  Cook until bubbling and the sugar is melted.  Pour in the apple cider and stir until heated through.

Drop the drained beans into the pot and stir carefully to coat with the sauce.  Stir in half the crisped bacon.  Bring the pot to bubbling, then lower the heat, cover and simmer for one hour, stirring occasionally to prevent the beans from sticking.  Stir carefully or the beans will break up and become mushy. Near the end of the cooking time, stir in the remainder of the bacon.

Serves 15

I honed my squash cooking techniques years ago when I first started planning events for a living.  I had two wonderful clients planning a big, beautiful outdoor wedding for their daughter on their sprawling, picturesque property.  The father of the bride had an elaborate garden, raised, tiered beds all surrounded by a critter-proof cage.  Every time I came out to meet with my clients, the FOB sent me home with huge sacks of squash and zucchini from his garden.  I am not much of a gardener, but I do understand that well-tended squashes can produce like gangbusters in our climate and those who grow them are often looking for excuses to get rid of the bounty.  I’ll admit, at the time I found all this a bit of a burden.  I am not talking about one or two little squash.  I am talking about large paper grocery sacks overflowing with large zucchini and several varieties of yellow squash.  He was so sweet, and this was a big event to me, that I felt obligated to make use all that produce (I passed as much as I could off on my own family).  Basically, I am too polite to accept the gift, then not cook with it.  I took them a few loaves of zucchini bread, but by the look on the Mother of the Bride’s face, I could tell she’d her fill of that as well.  So that summer, between weddings and parties, it was all squash, all the time.

My favorite way to eat yellow squash has always been in a good, old-fashioned creamy casserole.  This is one of those dishes that people prefer “their way.”  You know, “I make my squash casserole with…” But here is my version.  I’ve added lots of fresh thyme, which grows beautifully in my small garden, mild Monterrey jack cheese and tangy sour cream.  The buttery cracker topping is an oldy but a goody.

Summer Squash Casserole

2 pounds yellow summer crookneck squash

1 sweet yellow onion, preferably Vidalia

2 Tablespoons butter

2 Tablespoons olive oil

8 ounces Monterrey jack cheese, grated

3 eggs

1 cup (8-ounce container) sour cream

1 bunch fresh thyme leaves

2 Tablespoons chopped fresh parsley leaves

45 buttery round crackers, like Ritz, to make 2 cups crumbs

2 Tablespoons butter, melted

Wash and dry the squash and slice into rounds about ¼ inch thick.  You can use a mandoline, or the slicing disk on a food processor (then you can switch disks to grate the cheese).  Place the squash slices in a large sauté pan and add ¾ cup salted water.  Cook the squash, covered, over medium-high heat until the squash is just tender, about 5 minutes.  Drain the squash in the colander, shaking gently several times to remove as much water as possible.

Dice the onion.  Wipe out the sauté pan, then melt the butter with olive oil over medium heat.  Add the onions and cook slowly until soft and translucent, stirring frequently.  You want the onions to be glassy and soft, but not browned.  Transfer the drained squash to a large bowl and add the cooked onion, stirring gently to combine.  Leave to cool.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.   Spray a 2 quart baking dish with nonstick spray.

Strip the thyme leaves from the stems and finely chop.  In a small bowl, beat the eggs, add the sour cream and thyme leaves and stir until smooth.  Season with salt and a liberal amount of pepper. 

Drain any accumulated liquid from the squash and onions in the bowl and gently stir in ½ of the grated cheese.  Stir in the sour cream mixture to coat the squash.  Taste to see if you need anymore salt.  Scrape the squash into the prepared baking dish and smooth the top.  Sprinkle the remaining cheese evenly over the squash.

Place the crackers in a ziptop bag and crush very fine using a rolling pin or the heel of your hand.  Mix the crumbs, chopped parsley and melted butter in a small bowl and stir to combine.  Sprinkle the crumbs over the squash and spread out to evenly cover.

Cover the casserole loosely with foil and bake for 30 minutes, until it is golden brown, puffed and bubbling at the edges. Remove the foil in the last 10 minutes of baking to brown the crumbs. Serve immediately.

The unbaked casserole will keep covered in the fridge for up to a day.

Serves 6 – 8

I love community cookbooks. The great and broad recipe collections gathered together by Junior Leagues, Junior Auxiliaries, symphony groups, historic homes, garden clubs.  I have a large and ever-growing collection of these treasures.  Some of them are quite professional nowadays, with editors and trained photographers.  But I particularly love the old-school cookbooks, from the Forties, Fifties and Sixties.  Spiral-bound, ragged covers, hand-drawn illustrations and spelling mistakes. These to me are like a glimpse into the life and kitchens of the ladies of a community, how they fed their families and how they entertained.  Little added notes like “good for a ladies lunch” or “feeds a crowd” or my favorite “the menfolk will eat this up.”  Often, the recipes themselves lack detail or clear instructions – you can tell the person who submitted it just jotted down how she makes it, and it seems so second nature to her it doesn’t occur to explain in at any length.  I’ve gotten pretty good at teasing out these recipes. I’ve tried some over and over that just never worked and others, with a little help, are standards in my repertoire.  And isn’t it amazing how recipes seem to resonate around the world?  I have old cookbooks from Detroit, from New Jersey and all over this region and the same recipes keep popping up – with the same unusual ingredients and colorful names.

Of course, my favorite community cookbooks are the ones from the communities I feel connected too.  There are many great ones here in Memphis, and part of what I enjoy about these books is that they are familiar to so many friends and families.  How often have I been at a party and someone comments on a dish and the hostess says, “oh you know, it’s that recipe from Heart and Soul” with that assumption that everyone owns the cookbook.  Or asked a friend how she makes a dish and the answer is “I just use the recipe in Party Potpourri”.  Some recipes do transcend ownership of the actual book.  Everyone just knows a certain recipe and how it’s made – and can recognize it immediately when it’s served.  I love that.

One recipe that has always been in my consciousness is Fire and Ice Tomatoes.  How it got in my mind, I can’t imagine, because as I child I would never have eaten anything resembling a raw tomato.  The original recipe, to the best of my knowledge, is from The James K. Polk Cookbook, produced by the James K. Polk Memorial Auxiliary of Columbia, Tennessee in 1978.  Columbia is the town my mother grew up in, and President Polk had a home there that is now a historical site.  My aunt served on the committee that produced the wonderful Provisions and Politics: Recipes Honoring First Lady Sarah Childress Polk, a follow up to the original Polk cookbook published in 2003.  The book is a collection of new and fresh recipes, with a few old favorites thrown in.  When she started with the project, my first question was “it will include Fire and Ice Tomatoes, right?”  Both my mother and my aunt had no idea what I was talking about – they had to be reminded of the recipe.  So how it became a part of my recipe memory bank, I will never know.  But I do know that it is good.  And it’s the perfect weekend recipe – not that it takes a weekend to prepare, but once you’ve made it, it can sit in it’s container in the fridge to be served up and snacked on all weekend.  These make a great side to a grilled meal, a refreshing accompainemt to a lunch time sandwich, or an elegant first course salad.

Fire and Ice Tomatoes

The original recipe says these tomatoes will keep in the fridge up to 3 days, but I happily keep them up to five. 

6 large ripe, red tomatoes

1 yellow onion

1 green bell pepper

¾ cup white wine vinegar

¼ cup cold water

1 ½ teaspoons mustard seed

1 ½ teaspoons sugar

1 ½ teaspoons celery salt

½ teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

Cut the tomatoes into eight wedges each and place in a 9 by 13 inch glass or ceramic dish.  Finely dice the onion and sprinkle over the tomatoes.  Core, seed and remove the ribs of the bell pepper and cut into thin strips (if the pepper is long, cut the strips in half).  Scatter the peppers over the tomatoes and onions.

In a saucepan, combine the vinegar, water, mustard seeds, sugar, celery salt, salt and peppers.  Bring to a boil, stirring, and boil for one minute.  Immediately pour the hot vinegar mixture over the tomatoes, then stir gently to combine. Leave the tomatoes to cool slightly, then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate.  Leave to marinate for several hours, stirring occasionally.

Serve on its own as a salad or a side dish or atop some lettuce leaves.  You can pull out some of the tomato wedges and cut them into smaller pieces, stir in some of the dressing and vegetables and use this like a salsa as well.

Serves 6 to 8

Adapted from Provisions and Politics: Recipes Honoring Sarah Childress Polk

I know.  Frankly, it’s just fun to say.  Succotash.  I could go here with Sweet Summer Succotash Salad. Sunny Season Succotash Salad. Or the trite but amusing Sufferin’ Succotash Salad.  But more than being a pleasure to say, it’s a pleasure to eat. Crispy corn, creamy limas, crunchy bell pepper in a sweet-tart Vidalia dressing.  It screams summer.  And it looks like a big bowl of summer’s bounty. But you may be surprised to see that I use frozen vegetables here. Particularly after I waxed so poetic about fresh butter beans.  But I do think this is a perfect summer dish – because frozen vegetables are easy to prepare, and a quick zap in the microwave keeps the kitchen cool. And in the hot Southern summer, standing in a stuffy kitchen over pots of boiling water while everyone else is out having fun is the last thing anyone wants to do.  Now, I have done this with fresh vegetables – cook the beans in water until just crisp tender, cook the corn in boiling water until also crisp, then scrape the kernels off the cob.  But it takes quite a few cobs of corn to get a good amount for this salad.  If you have the patience and the air-conditioning to go for the fresh, by all means, knock yourself out.  

This salad is also a hostess’s dream. It’s beautiful in a big glass bowl, or charmingly rustic in a big mason jar, or scooped into small jars for individual servings.  Plus, with no mayo, this salad can sit out at your next buffet or barbecue with no worries, and it can be made ahead and is easily transportable to a picnic or a lake, beach or mountain house weekend.  And, it’s just so fun to say.

Succotash Salad

If you can find the vegetables packaged in ready-to-steam bags, go for it, cooking the vegetables for a few minutes less than the package instructions.  You want the veg crunchy not mushy.

16 ounces frozen baby lima beans

10 ounces frozen yellow corn

1 red bell pepper, finely diced

3 green onions, white and green parts, finely chopped

2 Tablespoons chopped Vidalia onion

2 Tablespoons cider vinegar

2 Tablespoons honey

1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1/4 cup olive oil

Place the lima beans with about 1/3 cup of water in a microwave safe bowl.  Cover with microwave-safe plastic wrap.  Microwave on high for 3- 4 minutes, just until the beans are tender.  Drain off the water and dump the beans in a large mixing bowl.  Place the corn in the microwave bowl, cover and zap for 2 to 3 minutes, just until the corn is tender.  Drain any accumulated water and add to the beans.

Add the bell pepper and green onions to the bowl and toss to combine.

In a blender or a mini food processor, blend the onion, vinegar, honey and Dijon mustard until smooth. Drizzle in the oil and continue to blend until thoroughly combined.

 Pour the dressing over the vegetables and gently stir to coat.  The salad will keep in the fridge up to two days.

 Serves 8

I believe that my mother’s favorite dish may well be stuffed eggs.  That’s what we always call them, not deviled eggs, because deviled somehow implies spicy and my mother does not do spicy. Stuffed eggs have always been an essential part of a family gathering, particularly Sunday after-church lunch at my grandparents’, with tomato sandwiches and fried chicken. We never had a real stuffed egg plate that I am aware of, but it is considered by most a Southern essential, and features on many a wedding gift registry.  I bought my own recently; it’s very modernist, but it’s the only one I’ve ever seen that holds 24 stuffed eggs, and if you are going to make stuffed eggs, use the whole dozen box!

But in my family, the real key to stuffed eggs is paprika.  Stuffed eggs without a generous sprinkling of paprika would have been considered inedible.  Stuffed eggs without paprika look nekkid.  Sweet paprika I should specify.  This tradition originated in the days before the variety of paprika now on the market was available; no pimenton, no smoked paprika, no ten degrees of Hungarian hot or sweet.  Just Paprika, in the McCormick jar with the green screw-top.  The folks at McCormick once wisely put out a series of ads in magazines charting the history of their spice packaging so you could figure out how old your spice collection was, and throw out those over two-decade old bottles.  That paprika jar at my grandmother’s house didn’t even make the chart.

I never thought paprika had any flavor until I went to Hungary and got a little punch-drunk ordering paprikas.  Now my pantry is stocked with imported Hungarian sweet and hot, smoked Spanish in a variety of depths, and they all figure regularly in my cooking.  But there is also still a simple jar of just plain Paprika in case some relative should stop by to inspect my full family credentials.  And of course, to sprinkle over stuffed eggs.

Stuffed Eggs Béarnaise

Classic stuffed eggs are usual made with jarred pickle relish, but I can’t stand the stuff, so I came up with the flavored with the tastes of classic Béarnaise sauce, and I have to say this is now the family standard.

1 dozen eggs*

2 -3 Tablespoons vermouth or white wine

1 small shallot

4- 5 sprigs fresh tarragon

3 sprigs parsley

2 Tablespoons Dijon mustard

1/2 cup mayonnaise

salt and pepper to taste

paprika

parsley

Place the eggs in one layer in a large saucepan.  Cover with water by about 2 inches.  Bring to a boil over medium high heat and boil for 7 minutes.  Remove from the heat and leave to cool until you can comfortably reach into the water and take them out.

Peel the eggs and rinse away any extra shell bits.  Pat dry.  Cut the eggs in half and gently scoop the yolks into a bowl.  Place the white halves on a platter (if not serving immediately, line the platter with paper towel).

Break the yolks up with a fork and sprinkle with the vermouth.  The yolks should absorb the vermouth with no liquid left in the bowl.

Chop the shallot very finely.  Chop the tarragon and parsley.  Toss into the bowl with the yolks and mash with a fork.  Add the mustard and continue to mash. Add the mayonnaise by spoonfuls, mashing after each addition until you have a thick but smooth filling.  You may use more or less mayonnaise than called for.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Spoon the yolk mixture into the white halves, pressing gently to fill.  Sprinkle with paprika.

These are best made shortly before serving.  You can boil the eggs as much as a day before, and several hours ahead separate the eggs and make the filling.   Store both in the fridge, the whites covered in paper towels to prevent condensation. Stuff just before serving.

*If you store the eggs in the carton on its side until you boil them, the yolks will come out perfectly centered every time. And eggs that are a bit older peel easier, so buy the eggs days before you want to stuff them.

Makes 24 stuffed eggs

Butter beans, lima beans, whatever you want to call them, good, fresh butter beans are a real treat.  When I start to see these fresh little green gems at the farmer’s market and produce stand, I load up on them.  And I love to cook them in the Southern manner – with pork.  Here I use bacon and add a simple, old-fashioned sauce.  These would be great alongside a pork chop (maybe even a fried pork chop) with some sweet potatoes and cornbread.  These are great in a big bowl with a slab of that cornbread hovering on the edge.  Truthfully, I usually make myself a big pot and eat off of it for a few days.  I say this recipe serves four, but that utterly depends on how you eat them – and your love for butter beans!

Southern Girl Butter Beans

For the Beans:

2 pounds fresh butter beans

3 strips bacon

1 half of an onion

1 clove garlic

½ – 1 teaspoon creole seasoning to taste (I prefer Tony Chachere’s)

For the Sauce:

2 Tablespoons butter

3 green onions (scallions), finely chopped

1 Tablespoon all-purpose flour

1 cup cooking liquid from beans

¼ teaspoon paprika

Salt and black pepper to taste

Place the beans, bacon, onion half, garlic clove and seasoning in a heavy saucepan.  Add water just to cover the beans.  Bring to a boil and skim off any scum that rises.  Reduce the heat to a simmer and cover the pot.  Cook until the beans are tender, about thirty minutes.  When the beans are done, strain the beans, reserving 1 cup of the cooking liquid.  Remove and discard the bacon, onion (which may have fallen into pieces – fish them all out) and garlic clove if you can find it.

Now make the sauce.  Wipe out the bean pot and melt the butter in it.  Add the green onions and sauté for a few minutes until soft, but do not brown.  Sprinkle over the flour and stir until smooth.  Slowly pour in the cooking liquid, whisking until the sauce is smooth and thickened.  Add the paprika and lots of pepper to taste.  Add the beans and stir to coat with the sauce.  Warm the beans through.  Season with salt to taste.

 Serves 4

I’ll admit I don’t know too much about Irish cooking, but I do know the Irish can make incredibly flavorful and satisfying food from simple ingredients, and no one is better with potatoes.  Champ is so deceptively simple; you won’t believe the rich flavor.  Add this to any meal and it’s instantly a simple St. Patrick’s celebration.

Champ

Irish Mashed Potatoes with Green Onions

6 green onions (about 3 ounces)

2 pounds russet potatoes (about 3 large)

2 cups buttermilk

¼ cup (1/2 stick) butter

Salt

Melted butter for drizzling

Slice the white, light green and a small bit of the dark green part of the green onions very finely. Save the rest of the dark green part for garnish. Peel the potatoes and slice into chunks.  Place in a large pan and just cover with water.  Add half the sliced green onions.  Bring to a boil and boil until the potatoes are very tender, about 15 minutes.  Drain the potatoes and green onions in a colander, shaking out the water, then return to the pot.  Place a tea towel over the pot, the cover tightly with the lid.  Leave for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat the buttermilk with the remaining green onions and the butter over low heat until the butter is melted and the mixture is warmed through.

Uncover the potatoes and begin mashing.  Pour in the buttermilk mixture and mash until smooth, adding salt to taste.  The mixture will be quite loose.  Scrape the potatoes into a small baking dish, smoothing the top. You can keep the potatoes covered for a few hours at this point, or just move on to the baking.

When ready to serve, heat the oven to 350 degrees.  Bake until heated through, about 20 minutes.  Let rest for 5- 10 minutes before serving. Drizzle with melted butter and sprinkle with chopped green onion tops to serve.

Serves 4

I have always known that on New Year’s Day, you eat black-eyed peas for good luck in the coming year.  My parents weren’t necessarily the strictest adherents to this philosophy, but some how or another, black-eyed peas generally made an appearance on January 1.  We had a family friend who made Hoppin’ John, and sometimes we’d end up at their house, even just for a brief stop and spoon full of black-eyed peas.

Now, I never knew that eating good luck peas was a particularly Southern tradition.  But over the years, I have been informed that it is in fact very Southern and generally a practice relegated to our part of the world.  To me, black-eyed peas on New Year’s just is.

But in the interest of accuracy, I did a little research to discover more about the meaning behind this tradition.  What I found out was that eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s day is a Southern tradition said to bring good luck.  Beyond that, the ideas were so diverse, you just know that no one really has an answer.  The black-eyed peas are for luck, or prosperity, the peas represent coins and greens foldin’ money. The peas swell when cooking, which means an increase in your fortune. Eating humble food shows that you are a humble person worthy of good fortune. Peas bring peace.  The idea dates back to the Civil War, it dates back to the ancient Babylonians.  Whatever.  As I said, eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s day just is.  It is what you do.

Many Southerners prefer Hoppin’ John on New Year’s Day, which is a black-eyed pea and rice dish, but I really just prefer the peas alone. You can of course, serve these over some cooked rice.  Cooking like this is more about instructions than a true recipe, so I’ll lay out mine here.

Around New Year now, I find fresh black-eyed peas in the produce section, which is my choice.  The runner up would be frozen black-eyed peas. I cook the black-eyed peas the same way I do most field peas or shelly beans, with cured pork. Traditionally, I would say dishes like this were made with fatback, or streak o’lean (fatback with some lean to it), salt pork or ham hocks. I have turned to country ham slices, because they are readily available around here and give a nice, rich, salty flavor to the beans.  I look for some center cut slices and cut those up, but a few “biscuit” slices or a handful of pre-cut chunks will work. You can use bacon if that’s what you can lay your hands on.  If you are making a big mess o’ peas, you could go for a ham hock, but for this amount a ham hock is just too big.

I use half chicken broth for flavor, but cut it with water because the reduced liquid – the potlikker – is too salty with all broth.  You can use all homemade salt-free stock or all water if you prefer.  You can add more or less garlic as you like.  Add a nice amount of hot sauce at the beginning of the cooking to season up that potlikker, but don’t go overboard.  You will serve these with that sauce bottle on the table of course. Do not add any salt during before or cooking.  The ham will take care of that.

For the last few years, I have shared the luck by taking a little black-eyed pea making kit to family and friends, and as a hostess gift to a New Year’s Eve party.  To do this, pack the peas, ham and garlic in a resealable container or ziptop bag, and drop these into a gift bag with a box of chicken broth and a small bottle of hot sauce and the recipe. This is a great dish for New Year’s Day, because all you have to do is throw everything in a pot and let it simmer away.  Serve it with some greens (we’ll get to that later) and a slice of cornbread, and you are bound to have a good year.

Black-Eyed Peas for New Years

1 pound black-eyed peas

3 – 4 ounces country ham, cut into pieces

3 cloves garlic

2 cups low-sodium chicken broth

2 cups water

A few grinds of black pepper

1 really good dash of hot sauce, plus more to serve

Pick over the black-eyed peas to get rid of any green or bruised ones.  Put the peas, ham and garlic in a pot, add the broth and water, then stir in the hot sauce and pepper.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover the pot and simmer for about 45 minutes.  Remove the cover and cook a further hour, until the liquid is reduced and the peas are very tender.  Stir occasionally to prevent the peas from sticking to the pot, but if you stir too much, they’ll get mushy.

You can remove the ham and garlic before serving or leave them in. Serve warm.

Serves 6 as a side, 3 as the your whole meal

Champagne Risotto

This is my favorite accompaniment to Crispy Chestnut Veal, as it is flavorful in a gentle way that doesn’t overpower the delicious veal.  The pale champagne color is part of its charm, so use a light colored stock and do not allow the shallots to brown.

2 cups champagne

2 cups light chicken broth

2 shallots

1/4 cup olive oil

1 cup arborio (risotto) rice

1/2 cup finely grated parmesan cheese

sea salt

Stir the champagne and the chicken broth together in a bowl or four-cup measuring jug.  Bring to room temperature (or microwave on half-power for 30 seconds).

Finely chop the shallot and place in a large deep sauté pan with the olive oil.   Sauté over medium high heat until the shallots are soft and translucent but not browned.  Add the rice and stir to coat.  Cook the rice until it is translucent around the edges, about three minutes.  Pour in about 3/4 cup of  the champagne mixture and cook, stirring constantly until the liquid is almost all absorbed.  Continue adding the liquid, about 3/4 cup at a time, stirring after each addition and not adding more until the liquid is absorbed.  This may take up to 20 minutes.  Don’t raise the heat to speed things up, just be patient.  After the last liquid is absorbed, taste to see that the rice is cooked but has a little bite to it. If needed, add a bit of water and stir until al dente.  Stir in the Parmesan cheese and salt to taste. 

This is best served immediately, but can be held, covered tightly, for about 20 minutes.

Serves 4- 6