For some reason, I tend to think of pie as a summer or spring dessert.  Maybe I hold that image of picnics and outdoor parties where the loaded summer fruit pies come out, peach and strawberry and fresh, juicy fruit – with a pecan pie thrown in for good measure.  But pie is really an all-round treat, and a perfect, creamy, tangy winter Southern pie is classic Buttermilk Pie.

I first came across a recipe for Buttermilk Pie as a kid, when I loved being in the kitchen, but my skills were generally limited to stirring and pouring.  Whisking was actually an advanced technique.  I have had the recipe on a card for ever, who knows where it originally came from, and it sees the light of day occasionally, particularly when I have a surfeit of buttermilk from making biscuits.  I have no problem using a purchase pie crust for speed, but if I have a homemade one in the freezer or am in the mood to make one, I feel very industrious.

Buttermilk Pie

You can sprinkle a little nutmeg over the top of the filling before baking if you’d like.

Pastry for 1 (9 inch) pie

½ cup (1 stick) butter

3 eggs

3 Tablespoons flour

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 ½ cups buttermilk (low-fat or whole), shaken well

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Fit the pastry into a 9 inch pie plate.

Melt the butter and set aside to cool to room temperature.  When the butter is cool, whisk the eggs until lightly beaten.  Add the flour, sugar and vanilla and whisk until combined.  Pour in the butter and whisk throroughly.  Add the buttermilk in a drizzle while whisking until the filling is smooth and fully incorporated.

Pour the filling into the crust and use a sharp pointed knife to pop any large air bubbles that form.  Shape a piece of aluminum foil to fit over the pie before you transfer it to the oven, but put the pie in the oven uncovered at first.

Bake the pie at 425 degrees for 12 – 15 minutes, then cover the pie with the prepared foil and lower the heat to 325 degrees.  Continue baking until the filling is set, 30 – 35 minutes.

Remove the pie from the oven and cool completely.  I prefer to chill the pie overnight, but it can be eaten at room temperature.

Serves 8

So, now you have, I am sure, studied the primer for making good Buttermilk Biscuits.  And you’d like to know all the many ways you can serve your beautiful creations. Here are two of my favorites.  I once had some friends by for a biscuit bar, serving baskets full of homemade biscuits, homemade preserves, tomato gravy, sausage gravy and lots of good butter.  I even made chocolate gravy, but I am saving that for another time.

Tomato Gravy for Biscuits

½ pound bacon

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 (14 ½ ounce) can finely diced tomatoes

3 cups tomato juice

Ground black pepper

Cut the bacon into small pieces and fry in a large skillet until crispy.  Remove the bacon to a paper-towel lined plate, then drain off all put 2 Tablespoons of bacon grease.  Fry the onion in the drippings until soft, then add the canned tomatoes and the tomato juice, scraping up any browned bacon bits from the bottom of the pan.   Season with some good grinds of black pepper.

Bring the gravy to a boil over medium high heat, then reduce the heat and simmer until the gravy thickens and reduces, about 15 – 20 minutes.  Stir in the reserved bacon. You can save some of the bacon pieces to sprinkle over the gravy if you like.  Spoon over hot, split biscuits.

Sausage Gravy for Biscuits

I like my gravy really peppery, so I go to town with the grinder.  Depending on the sausage, you may need very little or no salt.

½ pound breakfast sausage

¼ cup flour

2 ½ cups milk

Salt and ground black pepper

Crumble the sausage into a large skillet and cook until no longer pink in the middle and nice and browned.  Break the sausage into small chunks as you cook it.  Remove the sausage to a paper towel lined plate with a slotted spoon, leaving the dripping behind.  There should be about 2 Tablespoons of dripping left in the pan.  If not, add a little oil to make that amount and heat up. Sprinkle over the flour and cook, stirring and scraping, for about 2 minutes until the flour is lightly browned.  Slowly whisk in the milk, continuing to scrape the bottom of the pan.  Cook, whisking frequently, until the gravy is thick.  Stir the sausage back in and heat through, seasoning with salt and black pepper to taste. Serve over hot, split biscuits.

Heaven is a Biscuit

I love biscuits.  Love them.  I could eat a whole batch at one sitting, even without butter or jam or gravy.  I say I could, because believe it or not I do possess the restraint not to.

And I should probably clarify, I love good buttermilk biscuits.  Sure, I have been known to eat a fast food sausage biscuit or a chain restaurant puck covered with gravy.  If a menu has a biscuit on it, I find it hard to resist.  But my true passion is for good, down home, fresh made buttermilk biscuits.  Some people have grandmothers who make these, or live near a mom-and-pop country restaurant that produce hundreds of from-scratch, by-hand biscuits.  Someone forwarded a newspaper article to me recently about the wide variety of frozen biscuits available that are good enough that many Southern cooks have given up biscuit making altogether.  And I’ll admit, they are not all bad.

Here’s the thing though.   I make biscuits.  And I love doing it.  I think it may be because I have an image of myself as some one who can do things.  The truth is – not so much.  I can’t make fluffy white bread, or my own puff pastry, or good old-fashioned dinner rolls.  But I can make biscuits.  I like being someone who can do something that most people don’t bother with anymore.

Learning to make a good biscuit takes practice, and trial and error. Even the most experienced biscuit cook has a batch that just doesn’t work.  Maybe the weather was wrong, or the flour just wasn’t in the mood, or the cook didn’t have the right love to put into that batch.  So today I made a big batch of biscuits and carefully made notes about every step.  The recipe below may look long, but don’t be intimidated. I have tried to put in as much detail as I can to get the dough rolling.

So here are some starting tips:  I do truly recommend using soft Southern wheat flour, like White Lily (my choice) or Martha White.  I am sure you can order it online if you can’t track it down.  I use White Lily as my flour always, so I don’t have two types of all-purpose flour in the pantry. If you use regular all-purpose, you’ll still get biscuits, but if they don’t taste exactly right, that’s why.  I used to be a little afraid of shortening and made biscuits with all butter, but now I know that the shortening is really a must.  I use a combination because the boost in flavor the butter adds.  Both must be cold – right out of the fridge before you use it.  Same with the buttermilk.  I prefer cold whole buttermilk, but low-fat works as well.   Make sure you shake the bottle very well before measuring.

Buttermilk Biscuits

4 cups flour (all-purpose White Lily)

2 Tablespoons baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons salt

¼ cup cold vegetable shortening

¼ cup cold unsalted butter

1 to 1 ½ cups cold well-shaken buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Line a baking pan (about 13” by 9” with 1-inch sides) with parchment paper or grease it well with shortening.

Measure out the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt into a large bowl that gives you lots of room to work.  Mix gently with a fork to combine and aerate the flour.

Cut the shortening and the butter into small cubes.  I cut the butter from the stick three times down the length, turn it over once, cut it three times down the length again, then across the short way.  I buy Crisco shortening in sticks as well and do the same. 

Separate the shortening and butter into cubes and sprinkle over the top of the flour mixture.  Use the fork to toss the cubes lightly in the flour to coat.  Then dip your clean fingers into some flour and mix everything together, squishing and rubbing the mixture together to combine the fats and the flour.  Don’t spend too long doing this, gentle handling is the key to a tender biscuit.  It’s okay if there are some lumps of butter or shortening left.  Many recipes describe the result of this process as looking like breadcrumbs or fine meal, and that’s okay.  I think it looks like lumpy flour.  When you pinch a bit of flour between your fingers, from anywhere in the bowl, it should stick together.

Measure out the shaken buttermilk, then pour about ¾ cup of it over the mixture.  Use the fork to fold the buttermilk into the dough, carefully incorporating the liquid.  Keep adding the buttermilk a bit at a time until you have a cohesive dough.  You may not need all the buttermilk.  Again, you don’t want to work the dough too much, but don’t leave much loose, dry flour in the bottom of the bowl.  You can use your hands to get that last bit of dry flour into the dough.

Lightly flour a work surface.  I find the counter top to be best; a board tends to slip around.  You do want to use a light hand to flour the surface, because too much will leave an unpleasant floury coating on the biscuits.  Sprinkling flour through a wire sieve is a great way to do this.

Turn the dough out onto the surface, and turn it over on itself once or twice to bring the dough together.  I do not say knead, because you don’t want to work the dough that hard.  Press the dough into a rectangle about ½ inch thick.  Just press it out lightly with your hands to an even thickness.  This method makes the top of the biscuits slightly textured, which looks very homemade, but if it bothers you, roll a lightly floured rolling pin lightly over the top.

Cut the biscuits with a round cutter or a thin rimmed glass, always cutting as close to the edge of the dough and as close together as possible to get as many biscuits as possible.  I get a good dozen in the first batch using a 2 ½ inch cutter from this recipe.  Just press the cutter down and pull back up; don’t twist or the sides won’t rise up as nice.

Place the biscuits very close together on the prepared pan, just touching each other. This helps them rise while cooking.

Now the big debate: to re-roll or not re-roll.  There will be some leftover dough.  Some people say that this dough is not worth using again, but I disagree.  Gently press the remaining dough together and press out into a ½ inch thickness and cut – you’ll get maybe three more.  Place them on the pan with the rest of the biscuits.  The first-roll dozen are the company biscuits, the last ones just for you, so remember which are which.  Any leftover scraps can be cooked separately, or rolled in cinnamon-sugar and baked off, or frankly just eaten raw.

Bake the biscuits in the hot oven for 8 – 9 minutes, rotating the pan about 6 minutes through.  Watch the biscuits carefully so they do not over-brown. These may not get too brown on top, but will be nice and soft inside.  If you want a brown top, turn the broiler on a few minutes, watching all the time with the door open until lightly golden. Take the biscuits out of the oven, then brush the tops with melted butter (about 2 Tablespoons should do it). 

Leave the biscuits to cool slightly and then eat ‘em up.  They will keep a day or so tightly wrapped, but are better toasted when not eaten fresh.

Makes 12 – 15 biscuits

Serve your fresh, hot biscuits with Tomato Gravy or Sausage Gravy.

I am surrounded by good Louisiana cooks.  My brother went to college in New Orleans, my close friend went to law school there, and many of their friends from the area have migrated up to Memphis. And they love to cook up a good bayou feast.  So in all honesty, I don’t cook much Cajun or Creole food – I leave it to the experts.

My brother makes a mean gumbo, so I pretty much let him be in charge of that process.  For my birthday last year, I was surprised with a homemade dinner party of grilled boudin, crawfish ettouffe and Doberge cake.  I frequently get a call that one or other of the Louisiana natives has been back home and brought back a cooler of crawfish or gulf shrimp or other local seafood, so they are whipping up a party.  When my brother visits Louisiana, he comes back with Natchitoches meat pies and crawfish pies.  All of this is to say, I get plenty of good Nawlins’ food – from other folks.

But I felt I ought to have a least one good Creole recipe in my back pocket.  And the quickie Monday red beans and rice I make for my self only just doesn’t count.  So asked one of my friends, who is a native of Monroe, Louisiana, for a good recipe.  And just like a man, he gave me a set of instructions, as if I wanted to build a set of bookshelves, more than a recipe.  But God love him, he had the right idea, and a solid foundation.  With a little work, I transformed his manual into a recipe that has become a favorite of mine when I need a little Louisiana fix. This Shrimp Creole has all the classic flavors of the bayou without having to master the art of making a good roux.

Shrimp Creole

Wild American shrimp is by far the best choice for this Louisiana dish and is available fresh or frozen.  For extra-authenticity, look for Tony Chachere’s Creole seasoning.

2 Tablespoons butter

3 celery ribs

1 green bell pepper, ribs and seed removed

1 medium white onion

2 garlic cloves, minced

4 green onions

1 Tablespoon Creole (or Cajun) seasoning

1 (16 ounce) can crushed tomatoes

1 (10.5 ounce) can mild diced tomatoes with green peppers

2 cups low-sodium chicken broth

1 pound uncooked, peeled and deveined shrimp fresh or frozen and thawed

1 ½ cups long grain white rice

3 ½ cups water

While the rice is cooking, finely dice the celery, green bell pepper, onion and green onion. Mince the garlic.  In a large Dutch oven (4 to 5 quarts), melt the butter over medium high heat.  Drop in the “trinity” – the celery, pepper and onions.  Cook, stirring frequently, until all the vegetables are soft and the onion and celery are translucent, about 12 minutes.  Stir in the garlic and green onions and cook a further 3 minutes.  Sprinkle in the Creole seasoning and stir.  Cook a further minute until fragrant.  Pour in the crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes and chicken broth, stirring to combine.  Bring to a full rolling boil.  Cook until the sauce has thickened slightly, about 10 minutes. Drop in the shrimp, cover the pan and cook for 5 minutes.  Remove from the heat and leave covered for at least 10 minutes to fully cook the shrimp.

Stir the rice into the water in a large saucepan with a tight-fitting lid.  Bring to a boil and boil until almost all the water is absorbed and little air bubbles form in the rice, about 10 – 12 minutes, stirring a few times to prevent sticking.  Remove from the heat and tightly cover the pan.  Leave to steam for at least 10 minutes.

Fluff the rice with a fork and serve it in bowls with the Shrimp Creole ladled over the top

The Shrimp Creole can be made up to one day ahead and keep tightly covered in the fridge.  Gently reheat over low heat before serving over rice.

Serves 6

I tend to think the best recipes, and the best dishes, are those shared among friends.  Those with tips and hints and “I always do it this way…” caveats.  My friend Holly served this bread at a recent Book Club meeting, and everyone begged for the recipe (and for her flank steak recipe as well).  She was kind enough to share not only the recipe, but also its wonderful history. 

From Holly…

I couldn’t give you the bread recipe without the story behind it.  The history of the bread recipe follows…

A dear woman, known as Muddy to her ten grandchildren (and their friends) made this bread for years and years.  At every year at Christmastime she would make scores (yes, scores plural!) of loaves and distribute them around Little Rock to all of her friends and family.

The first time I was lucky enough to taste this bread I was seven years old.  Muddy had come to our school to talk about her travels to some exotic locale and I went home with my best friend who happened to be Muddy’s granddaughter.  Muddy took us to her house where there was freshly baked bread sitting on the counter and more loaves rising.  We feasted on homemade bread and chocolate that afternoon and Muddy sent a loaf home with me.  I have been eating this bread ever since, and I think of Muddy every time I eat it.

Muddy passed away about ten years ago.  However, I am happy to report that my best friend’s mother is now known as “Muddy” to all of her grandchildren (8 at last count) and continues to bake this bread for friends and family all over Little Rock.

The recipe attached appeared in a Little Rock cookbook sometime in the late 70s or early 80s.  I think Muddy actually baked by intuition, but this recipe is a good guide.  I used to actually knead the bread, but now I just attach the dough hook on my stand mixer.  It may not be as physically satisfying, but it is quicker and the bread tastes just as good. 

Enjoy this gift of love from Muddy!

“Muddy” Bread                                                                                  

2 ½ cups warm water

2 Tablespoons sugar

1 pakage dry yeast (2 packages may be used on a cold day)

½ cup sugar

1 ½ tsp salt

2 ½ Tablepoons melted fat (I use butter), plus more for brushing

6 cups unsifted flour

Stir into 2 ½ cups warm water, 2 Tablespoons sugar and yeast.  Let mixture set 5 to 15 minutes.  Add ½ cup sugar, salt, and melted fat.  Stir in flour, cup by cup until too thick to stir, then work in by hand.  Turn onto floured board or counter: add more flour if necessary and knead at least 10 minutes.  Place in a large greased bowl and brush top with melted butter.  Cover and let rise in warm place (76 to 85 degrees) to twice its bulk (about 1 ½ hours).

Divide into 2 equal portions gently.  DO NOT KNEAD. Mold into 2 individual loaves.  Place each into a greased loaf pan (9 ¼ x 5 ¼ x 2 ¾ ).  Be sure sides and bottoms of pans are well greased.  Brush entire surface with melted butter.  Cover pans with light cloth and let rise, rounding to the top of each pan (about 1 ½ hours).  Preheat oven to 375.  Place pans on center rack of oven, allowing air space between each pan.  Bake at 375 for 15 minutes, then lower temp to 275 and bake 15 to 20 minutes.  Test loaf for doneness by trying to slip one out of the pan easily.  If it doesn’t, return to oven for 5 to 10 minutes.

Remove from oven. Brush each loaf on top with butter while still in the pan.  Lift loaves gently out of pan.  Let cool on rack.  For a softer crust, brush sides of loaves with butter while hot.  Leave loaves uncovered while cooling.

Makes 2 loaves

The Runaway Spoon’s Tips and Hints:  Following Holly’s advice, I use the stand mixer too.  First with the paddle attachment until the dough starts getting stiff (after about 4 cups of flour).  Then I switch to the dough hook, adding the flour until the dough is cohesive and pulls into a ball.  As a true believer in the everything is better with butter philosophy, I brush on melted butter everywhere Muddy suggests it.  And it is a real treat that this recipe makes two loaves.  I eat one as soon as I can, then cool the other one, wrap it tightly in plastic wrap, then in foil and freeze it.

I am a born and raised Memphis girl, so I could not let this day pass without a mention.  January 8 is Elvis’s birthday, and this year he would have been 75. And when you grow up in Memphis, Elvis sort of permeates the atmosphere.

Here in Memphis, Elvis is generally commemorated more on the anniversary of his death, on August 16, than on his birthday. I am not sure why this is the case, but every year in August, Elvis fans from around the world converge on Memphis for Elvis Week, the culmination of which is the Candlelight Vigil. Fans of Elvis and fans of Elvis fans stand outside the gates of Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard for the Vigil, waiting their turn to file pass the gravesite.  My friends and I marked this for many years, either by attending the Vigil itself, a true sight to behold, or having our own party.  The location of the tribute party rotated around various backyards, and one memorable year it was held on a used car lot. 

I had my 25^th birthday party at Graceland, the party in the admission plaza across the street, with tours of the mansion.  In a perfect piece of timing, mine was the first party right before the kitchen was opened to the public, so we had a very early tour.  It is straight out of its day, pure 1970’s, with an early version of a microwave oven. When Elvis lived there, it ran all day and all night, with shifts of cooks.  Elvis was a night owl, but anytime he was awake, he wanted food available – and lots of it.

Elvis was an eater.  True, he may not have had the most adventurous palate, but he liked his food.  He preferred good, classic Southern dishes, like meatloaf, pork chops or country fried steak.  Hamburgers were his favorite food, and he was particularly fond of a Memphis classic, the hamburger with pimento cheese. He was not much of a one for vegetables, and he liked his food delivered to the table already cut up for him.  And he had a TV in the dining room, so he never had to miss his shows.   Graceland now has audio guides, but in the wonderful days of live people leading tours of the house, much time was spent pointing out the unobstructed view of the TV and the Noritake china Priscilla picked out in the blue, gold and smoked mirror lined dining room.

Perhaps the most enduring Elvis food legend is the peanut butter and banana sandwich, a treat created by his mother, always his favorite cook. He could eat these butter-fried gutbusters day or night, any number of them at one sitting.  Today, in the Graceland gift shops, you can buy refrigerator magnets, potholders and recipe cards printed with a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich recipe.  A few years ago, the fine folks at Reese’s created a limited Elvis addition banana and peanut butter cup, a surprisingly good invention.

Elvis clearly pre-dates the cupcake craze, and frankly I don’t imagine he’d think much of these.  Food in miniature was certainly not his style.  He could eat a whole cake by himself, not just a slice or two.  But I think it’s worth celebrating the birthday of the King by, in Elvis’s own words, “taking care of business” with a nostalgic twist.

The King’s Cupcakes

Banana Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Frosting

Cupcakes:

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened

1 1/2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1 cup (8 ounces) sour cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 medium ripe bananas

Frosting:

1/2 cup creamy peanut butter

4 1/2 cups powdered sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

5 to 6 Tablespoons milk (you may need a bit more)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line 18 muffin cups with paper liners.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar until pale and creamy. Add the eggs, sour cream and vanilla and mix to combine thoroughly.

Combine the flour, baking soda and salt in a bowl.  With the mixer on low, slowly add the dry ingredients into the creamed mixture.

Using a fork, mash the bananas until smooth, then add to the batter, stirring to combine.

Scoop the batter into muffin cups, filling three-quarters full.  Bake for 15 – 20 minutes until a tester inserted in the center comes out clean.  Cool in the pan for 6 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely.

For the frosting, cream the peanut butter in an electric mixer until pale and fluffy.  Beat in the sugar and vanilla.  Add enough milk during mixing to create a smooth, spreadable consistency,

When the cupcakes are cool, frost and enjoy!

Makes 18 cupcakes

This cake can also be made as a cake in a 13 x 9 inch pan. With no frosting, this makes an excellent breakfast treat.

So we’ve discussed that Black-Eyed Peas are good luck on New Year’s Day, representing any number of things. Greens are said to bring prosperity in the New Year, largely because they represent foldin’ money.  Many people choose to cook up a mess of collards or turnip greens, but I choose cabbage, for what represents a stack of good green money more than cabbage. And like the black-eyed peas, I include some instructions to help the recipe along.

This is a real trip South, cooking greens with smoked turkey necks, but that lovely smoky flavor makes a real difference.  And it can be a nice departure to cook the greens with turkey if you cook your black-eyed peas with ham.  I find the turkey necks in the smoked meat section of the store (did you know there was a smoked meat section?), where I also find ham hocks, other smoked turkey parts and salt pork and the like.  If you can’t find smoked turkey necks, a smoked ham hock will do.  And when buying the cabbage, look for a whole head with the darker green outer leaves still attached.  You may find these more readily at farmer’s or produce markets, or ask the produce person in the supermarket if they have a head that hasn’t been cleaned up for display. Don’t worry about blemishes, and just rinse off those outer leaves.  The dark green leaves really add color and texture to the finished product.  These greens can be left simmering on the stove for hours, you can even take them off the heat mid-way and then start up again if you get interrupted. If you’d like to pull the meat off the turkey necks and serve it with the cabbage you can, though there won’t be too much meat, or just discard them. If you use a ham hock, I’d definitely serve the meat.

Foldin’ Money Cabbage

I usually find the turkey necks already cut into pieces, so I use about 4 chunks.  Or cut up a whole neck.

1 smoked turkey neck, cut into chunks

½ cup sugar

2 Tablespoons Creole seasoning (I like Tony Chachere’s)

1 head green cabbage, with the dark outer leaves intact

Put four cups of water in a large Dutch oven (5- 7 quart) and add the turkey necks. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover and simmer for 30 minutes.  Add the sugar and Creole seasoning, stir, cover and simmer for an additional 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, rinse the cabbage well to clean those outer leaves.  Do not discard the dark green leaves.  Cut the cabbage in half and remove the core from each side.  Slice each cabbage half into thin strips, then cut the strips in half.  Make sure to get the dark outer leaves cut into strips, they tend to fall off when slicing.

Remove the turkey necks and set aside.  Drop in the cabbage strips, shuffling to separate them, into the simmering water.  Give the cabbage a quick stir, then cover the pot and simmer for 20 minutes.  Take off the cover and check that the cabbage is wilted down.  If not, cover again and simmer until it is.  When the cabbage is wilted, cook over medium-low heat with the cover half on the pan for an hour or so until the liquid is reduced to just a little potlikker in the pan.

Makes 4 nice bowls

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

Now that the countdown to Thanksgiving has begun, I surveyed some friends about their favorite Thanksgiving dishes.  Most answers were sweets – rich and decadent ones at that, like coconut cake and pumpkin squares.  No one answered turkey.  My personal favorite is corn pudding.  It may seem like an unnecessary addition to an already laden Thanksgiving table, but I just have to have it.  And I think my family appreciates it as well.  It is the one dish from which there are no leftovers, though I generally sneak the last little serving that everyone leaves in the dish to be polite and wrap it up to be eaten privately when the guests are gone.

Now, I love corn in all its many forms.  Fresh on the cob grilled or boiled, scraped from the cob creamed or fried.  I like it in corn bread and as a salsa.  I like fresh, frozen and I am happy to use canned.  My favorite iteration though is far and away corn pudding.  Baked and puffed up, served warm from the oven.  I have made every recipe for corn pudding I have ever seen, ones that involved shucking and scraping dozens of ears of corn and ones that use a bag of frozen kernels.  And believe me, the recipe below is the best one of all of them.  It probably started its life on the back of a box, and I probably picked it out of some community cookbook.  I have changed it up with a few flavor additions, but the basic recipe creates a light, fluffy, creamy dish – everything a perfect corn pudding should be.  My favorite flavor add-ins are the cheddar cheese and chives, and these beautifully compliment the rest of my Thanksgiving spread, but I have made it many ways – with pepper jack and green chiles, sharp cheddar and diced pimentos, fontina and sage.  I have called it corn soufflé on occasion, but I really think of it as good old-fashioned corn pudding.

Classic Corn Pudding with Cheddar and Chives

I make this on Thanksgiving Day to serve fresh from the oven, since it is so easy to whip up.

2 eggs

1 (16-ounce) can creamed corn

1 (16-ounce can) whole kernel corn, drained

½ cup (1stick) butter, melted

1 cup (8-ounces) sour cream

1 (8 ½ ounce) package corn muffin mix (I prefer Jiffy)

1 ½ cups grated mild cheddar cheese

¼ cup finely chopped fresh chives

Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a 9 by 13 inch baking dish.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs, then add both corns, butter and sour cream and mix thoroughly.  Fold in the corn muffin mix, cheese and chopped chives.  Add a pinch of salt and a few grinds of black pepper and mix completely.

Scrape the mixture into the prepared pan and smooth the top.  Bake for 30 – 35 minutes until puffed and golden and firm in the center.

Serve immediately,

Serves 8 – 10

Tough Nut to Crack

Pecans, it seems to me, are thought of as a particularly Southern nut.  I cannot tell you anything about its growing condition or to what region or country the pecan is indigenous, but the trees proliferate around here.  And the nuts feature prominently in Southern cooking from classic pie to divinity candy to pecan cheese straws.

You rarely see pecan trees in residential areas.  But out in the country, they are everywhere.  Driving through the Delta, you’ll see the evidence. One lone tree in front of a farm house, or two long rows making an alley up to a site where there clearly used to be a house.  And often the plot of land between the house and the cotton fields or the bean fields will be a pecan orchard, dark and shady and inviting.

Pecan trees are beautiful, with an arching canopy and dense foliage.  But do they ever produce nuts.  That’s the point, I know, but these trees produce a lot of nuts.  I have oak trees in my yard and the acorns that drop from those trees is nothing compared to what a pecan tree produces.  And pecan nuts are hard. I was once beaned on the head by a falling nut and it really hurt! Woe to the unwitting person who parks the car under a pecan tree.  Not only could falling nuts ding the paint job, but any tree with that many nuts naturally attracts a lot of birds.

So even with one tree, the proud keeper of a pecan is likely to have an overwhelming supply of nuts.  Paying kids a nickel a nut to pick up all the fallen from the grass is a common ploy.  Those nuts are gathered and scooped into brown paper grocery sacks which tend to sit out in the laundry room or screened porch until someone figures out what to do with them.  Pecans are hard to shell.  The outer shell is tough and hard and the nutmeat really clings to the interior walls.  I think this may be why many Southern brides through the ages received nutcracker sets as a wedding gift.  A pretty silver nutcracker and a set of picks that look like decorative dental tools.  Shelling pecans is labor intensive, arduous and just plain frustrating.  Now, this being the South, and the folks being hospitable, the general method for riding oneself of the bounty is taking one of those grocery bags full of little brown devils to a neighbor or relative.  As the recipient of such blatant kindness, one can only be gracious and say “thank you” and “how sweet” and “ooh, I love pecans.”  But the truth is that the passing on of the pecan is an evil.  It is impossible to say no thank you or to complain, but nobody wants a big bag of unshelled pecans.  That’s why the giver brought them – to get rid of them.  And there is always that vague feeling that in return for the pecan pest sharing the bounty, you just have to shell a mess of them and make a pie or some cookies to return the favor.

Pecan season is gearing up here. Fortunately, there are enough farmstands selling shelled pecans that we don’t have to forego our favorite sweets, a classic pecan pie ranking at the top of my list.

Southern Pecan Pie

Lightly toasting the pecans enhances the nutty flavor of the pie.  I prefer dark corn syrup for a rich, deep pie, but there are those who prefer to use light.  The bourbon is theoretically optional, but really?  It seems to add to the Southern flavor.  And I will never tell if the crust did not originate in your kitchen.

For the crust:

1 ¼ cup all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon sugar

8 Tablespoons (1 stick) cold butter, cut into small pieces

2 to 4 Tablespoons ice water

For the filling:

1 ½ cups pecan halves

4 large eggs

1 cup dark corn syrup

4 Tablespoons melted butter, cooled to room temperature

½ cup sugar

1 Tablespoon vanilla extract

2 Tablespoons bourbon

For the crust: Place the flour, salt and sugar in the bowl of a food processor and pulse a few times to mix.  Drop in the small pieces of cold butter and pulse several times until the mixture is crumbly, but some minute pieces of butter are still visible.  Sprinkle the water over, a tablespoon at a time, and pulse to combine.  When the pastry just comes together, dump the dough onto a lightly floured surface and pat into a disk about ¾ inch thick. Wrap the disk in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least one hour before rolling. 

When ready to roll, place the disk on a lightly floured surface and using a floured rolling pin, roll out the pastry to a round about 14 inches in diameter, to fit a nine inch pie plate.  Carefully drape the pastry over the rolling pin and transfer to the pie dish.  Gently fit into the bottom and sides of the dish.  Trim any overhanging pastry and lightly dust the bottom of the prepared crust with flour. Set aside.

For the filling: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Place the pecan halves in a dry skillet and lightly toast over medium heat.  Watch carefully and move the pecans around the pan with a spatula or wooden spoon. You do not want to brown the pecans, just toast them gently until you can smell a nice, nutty aroma.  This will only take about five minutes.  Remove the pecans from the heat and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients until thoroughly blended.  Add the pecans and stir to distribute evenly.  Pour the filling into the prepared crust, pushing the nuts into the filling to make an even layer.

Bake the pie for 40 – 50 minutes until the center is puffed up and no longer wobbly. I recommend that you shield the edges of the crust with foil or a crust shield before the pie goes in the oven. It is hard to do when the pie is hot.  Remove the cooked pie from the oven and leave to cool completely.  The pie will keep wrapped tightly for two days, or can be wrapped in plastic wrap, then foil and frozen for up to six months.

Serves 6 – 8