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

A good corn muffin is a thing of beauty. The perfect accompaniment to a bowl of soup or a supper salad, and so comforting passed around the table in a basket while still warm. Slather on a little butter, and you’ve got a bite of heaven, my friend.

These tender corn muffins have the added attraction of crispy bacon and intense, chewy fresh corn kernels. The tang of buttermilk and sour cream is balanced by the sweetness of honey. Try these with Tomato Soup Base or Roasted Carrot and Cumin Soup.

Toasted Corn and Bacon Muffins
Toasting the corn kernels gives them a more intense flavor and a great texture.

Kernels from one cob of fresh corn (about ½ cup)
4 strips of bacon
1 egg
1 (8-ounce) container sour cream
1 ½ cups buttermilk
2 Tablespoons honey
1 ½ cups yellow corn meal
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Place the corn kernels in a dry skillet and toast over medium heat, tossing and stirring frequently, until the kernels are beginning to brown and dry out. Keep the kernels moving. The color of the corn will intensify as well. This will take 7- 8 minutes. Transfer the toasted kernels to a bowl.

Rinse and dry the skillet, then cook the bacon strips until brown and very crispy. Drain the bacon on paper towels, and reserve the bacon grease. Crumble the bacon into small pieces.

In a large bowl, whisk together the egg, sour cream, buttermilk and honey. Mix the corn meal, flour, baking powder and salt in another small bowl, then add to the dry ingredients. Stir until just mixed. Stir in the corn kernels and bacon pieces.

Spoon about a teaspoon of bacon grease into each cup of a 12-hole muffin tin. Swirl it around a little, then place the tin in the oven. Heat for about 5 minutes, until the bacon grease is sizzling. Remove the time from the oven, and quickly divide the batter between the cups (I find an ice cream or ¼ cup cookie scoop a good tool for this). Return the pan to the oven, and bake for 10- 12 minutes, until the muffins are golden and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Loosen the muffin edges with a thin knife blade, leave to cool in the pans for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Makes 12 muffins

I try to mix things up, different types of recipes each week. But this week, I am continuing with a theme. I recently posted my recipe for Watermelon Sweet Tea, praising the benefits of good sweet tea in the hot Southern summer. And then I raved about my little ice cream maker for making Lemon Meringue Pie Ice Cream. So now I have decided to combine the two ideas with Sweet Tea Sorbet.

This is sweet and cold and refreshing and everything you want on a hot, hot day. It’s perfect for dessert, or as a palate cleanser, or as an interesting take on a pre-dinner drink. It can be scooped into great big balls, or served in little shot glasses. It’s a great refresher after a casual barbecue meal, or an elegant addition to a fine silver dinner party. But, mostly, its just plain good. Use the same tea bags you would for a regular sweet tea – I like Luzianne – and a nice big handful of mint.

1 family size teabag

3 cups water

2 cups sugar

1 bunch fresh mint leaves

½ cup fresh lemon juice (from 2 lemons)

Place the tea bag in a 4 cup measuring jug or bowl (glass is easiest). Pour over 3 cups of boiling water and leave to steep until the tea is a dark amber color. You need a nice dark tea to get the flavor, a little darker than if you were drinking it straight up. Reserve the remaining cup of brewed tea in the measuring cup.

Pour 2 cups of the brewed tea in a saucepan with 2 cups of sugar. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Boil for one minute, then remove from the heat and drop in the mint leaves. Leave to cool and infuse.

When the sugar syrup is cool, strain out the mint leaves and pour into the measuring jug or bowl with the remaining 1 cup brewed tea. Stir in the lemon juice.

Pour the tea mix into the bowl of an ice cream maker. Freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions. This will likely take 30 – 40 minutes, until the sorbet is light brown and grainy. Scoop the sorbet into a flat freezer container and freeze overnight, or at least 8 hours.

To keep the sorbet cold, try serving this in bowls or glasses that have been chilled.

I am a little bit of a kitchen gadget geek. Particularly when it comes to gadgets that claim to make things easier. I love my strawberry slicer, my cherry pitter and my onion chopper, but when it comes to the cabinet-space sucking larger gadgets, I tend to think twice. But a few years ago, I finally caved in a bought a simple ice cream maker – just an electric base with a bowl that goes in the freezer, ready for your next batch. And man I am glad I did, particularly in summer, when ice cream is the perfect dessert, and homemade, tailored to your personal taste, is both a special treat and an impressive dish to serve friends. Freezing takes about 30 minutes, and the possibilities are endless for loads of tasty fun. I have never looked back.

This lemon meringue pie version I created for my mom. Lemon meringue pie is her favorite dessert, and I have never quite gotten the pie right. But this version is idiot proof. Crumbled graham crackers, purchased meringue cookies and jarred lemon curd create all the rich, custardy flavor with the tang of lemon in a couldn’t- be-simpler ice cream base.

1 cup whole milk

¾ cup granulated sugar

2 cups heavy cream

Zest and juice of one medium lemon

1 (12 ounce) jar lemon curd

6- 7 graham cracker sheets

12 small meringue cookies (or 6 large)

In a bowl, whisk together the milk and sugar until the sugar has dissolved. I use a hand mixer for about 2 minutes to get everything well blended. Whisk in the cream, lemon zest and juice. Pour the cream base into an ice cream freezer and freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Meanwhile, break the graham sheets into very small pieces by placing them in a ziptop bag and crushing with your fingers. Some crumbs are fine, but the pieces need to be bite sized. Place the meringue cookies into another bag and pop each one with your fingers to break it up into shards. They will pop apart easily so don’t get carried away.

About half-way through the recommended freezing time for the ice cream, spoon in the lemon curd, a little at a time, so it blends into the ice cream. As the freezing time comes to an end, drop in the graham pieces until mixed in, then the meringue pieces. When everything is mixed in and the ice cream is frozen, scoop it into freezer containers and freeze for several hours or overnight.

My love for biscuits has been well and truly established.  And though I will never turn away from a classic Southern buttermilk biscuit, piping hot, slathered with butter, I do occasionally like to veer off the path a bit – but not too far! But with summer blueberry bounty in full swing, I decided to combine my love of biscuits and blueberries for a trip away from the standard muffin.

Blueberry Biscuits

I like a nice big biscuit, but feel free to cut them into smaller squares, just adjust the cooking time accordingly and watch carefully.

2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

½ cup sugar

1/3 cup cold shortening

¾ cup buttermilk, well-shaken

1 egg

½ cup fresh blueberries

3 Tablespoons butter

2 Tablespoons sugar

¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Grease a baking sheet.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar.  Cut the shortening into pieces and drop in the mixer. Mix until the flour and shortening are blended together and look grainy.

Measure out the buttermilk and crack in the egg.  Beat lightly to blend.  With mixer running, add the buttermilk to the dry ingredients and mix until the dough comes together.  It will be a soft, floppy dough.

Turn the dough out onto a well-floured board and sprinkle a little flour over the top.  With well-floured hands, knead in the blueberries, doing your best to distribute them throughout the dough.  If the dough is too wet to work with, you can work in a little more flour, but this is meant to be a sticky dough.  With floured hands, gently pat the dough into a rectangle about 4 by 8 inches.  Flour a knife or bench scraper and cut the dough into eight squares.  Carefully transfer the biscuits to the greased baking sheet. 

Bake the biscuits until risen and golden on the edges, 8 – 12 minutes, watching closely.

While the biscuits are cooking, melt the butter in a small saucepan or the microwave.  Stir in the sugar and nutmeg until you have a thick paste.  The sugar will not dissolve completely.

When the biscuits are done, remove from the oven and immediately brush the tops with the butter and sugar mixture.  Coat the biscuits well, but you may not use all the topping.  Leave to cool on the pan.

Because of the sweet buttery, sugary topping, these biscuits do not keep well, so it’s best to make them the day you plan to serve.

Makes 8 biscuits

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

In the great and varied universe of classic Southern desserts, caramel cake is possibly the North Star.  A soft, white cake covered in thick, thick caramel frosting.  The center layer of frosting bleeds a little into the cake and the frosting on the top and sides takes on a slight crispiness – bite into the cake, and the frosting crackles a little, melts in your mouth, then blends into the pillow-y cake.

Alas, I cannot make caramel cake.  I lack the patience.  Believe me, I have tried.  It’s the frosting. A true, delicious, classic caramel frosting takes patience and timing.  Cooking the caramel to the perfect color, then quickly but methodically beating the frosting until it is just the right consistency, then spreading the frosting quickly but precisely over the delicate layers before it hardens up and all hope is lost.  Caramel Cake is favorite childhood memory of mine, and I think it is my brother’s all-time favorite treat.  It is for him (okay, for me too) that I have attempted to create a caramel cake.  I came close once, but it was so durn ugly, only its family could love it, and I’m not really sure they did.  There is a bakery in the area that makes a truly classic Southern caramel cake, and I actually considered passing one of theirs off as my own effort for my brother’s birthday one year.  I didn’t.  I would have been caught out.  My failed attempts have made it quite clear that caramel cake is not in my skill set.

I have not yet abandoned my quest.  I periodically gear myself up for another attempt.  Hopefully, you may see my triumphant success someday.  But in the meantime, I have created a perfectly reasonable stand-in for caramel cake.  Rich cake with a simple, fool-proof glaze (and I am the fool who proves that it works).

I give you this recipe now, admitting my own baking failure, because in addition to being extremely tasty on its own, this cake is the perfect accompaniment to all sorts of summer treats.  A slice of this cake with some fresh berries – on their own or juiced by a sprinkle of sugar is a delight.  Fresh sliced peaches partnered with the tangy cake and caramel glaze are a revelation.  And this is the perfect vehicle for homemade ice cream of any type. 

Buttermilk Cake with Caramel Glaze

For the Cake:

3 cups all purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup butter, softened

2 1/3 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

1 ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup buttermilk, well shaken

For the Glaze:

¼ cup butter

½ cup light brown sugar, tightly packed

¼ teaspoon salt

1/3 cup heavy cream

1 cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted

For the Cake:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease and flour a Bundt pan.

Sift the flour and baking soda together into a small bowl and set aside.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream the butter and sugar until pale yellow and fluffy.  Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Beat in the vanilla extract.  Add the flour and the buttermilk alternately, beating well after each addition, until thoroughly incorporated.  The batter will be thick, but spread it in the prepared pan and bake for 40 – 50 minutes until a tester comes out clean.  Remove from the oven and leave to cool in the pan for 15 minutes, and then turn out on a wire rack to cool completely.

For the Glaze:

The cake must be completely cool, or the glaze will slide right off.  Place a piece of foil or paper under the cooling rack to catch any drips and make clean-up easier.

Cut the butter into cubes and place in a saucepan with the brown sugar, cream and salt.  After everything melts together, bring to a full, rolling boil over medium heat, stirring constantly.  When it reaches that boil, count to 60 Mississippi, then pull it off the heat.  Leave the pan to cool for about 5 minutes, then vigorously beat in the powdered sugar until smooth.

Immediately pour the glaze over the cake, but do so slowly and evenly to cover as much surface as possible.  Leave the glaze to set, then slice and enjoy.  Covered tightly, this cake will last a few days.

Serves 10 if you are lucky

I love Southern field peas or of all kinds. Crowders, lady, purple hulls, cream peas, black-eyed, pink-eyed, you name it.  And at the beginning of summer, when they show up at the farmer’s market in abundance, I grab them up. I stand around with all the kids, watching them shoot out of the big shelling machine, ready to scoop into paper bags to carry home. 

This recipe, in some ways, goes against everything I believe in.  Peas in a pot with pork.  But I figured I should try something different – even vegetarian.  Peppers and field peas go well together – I frequently throw one in the pot with the pork.  But simmering the fresh peas in a flavorful, peppery broth and stirring through the piquant puree creates a complex dish with enough flavor that you won’t even miss the pork.  I’m a little silly with the alliteration, but you can use any field pea here.

Pink-Eyed Pea Pepper Pot

If you are the spicy type, feel free to add more chile peppers to the broth, though you may want to remove the extras before pureeing.

1 red chile pepper

1 red bell pepper

1 medium sweet yellow onion

4 cloves garlic

½ teaspoon black peppercorns

2 pounds fresh pink-eyed peas

Red pepper hot sauce (I like Crystal Louisiana Hot Sauce)

Place 6 cups of water in a heavy pot.  Remove the stem and seeds from both peppers, cut into chunks and drop into the water.  Add the quartered onion, garlic cloves and peppercorns.  Bring the water to a boil, reduce the heat, cover and simmer for an hour.

Strain the broth, reserving the solids, and return the liquid to the pan.  Add the peas, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until the peas are tender, about 30 – 45  minutes. While the peas are simmering, place the reserved solids from the broth in a blender.  Add about ½ cup of the liquid with the peas and puree until smooth.  Push the puree through the strainer to remove any whole peppercorns and tough pepper skin.

When the peas are tender, drain off the cooking liquid.  Return the peas to the pot and stir in the pepper puree.  Liberally salt the peas to taste, and add a dash or two of hot sauce.  Heat to warm through.  Serve hot.

Serves 4- 6

Want some peas with pork? Check out Black-Eyed Peas for Luck and Southern Girl Butter Beans

I like the easy way out.  I’ll admit it.  When I see a recipe so simple that even I think it might not work, I have to try it out.  The temptation to create something wonderful from a minimum of effort is too great a lure.  This must be why I copied down a recipe for blender lemon pie many years ago and filed it away.  When I came across the recipe again in an old community cookbook, it was like fate calling me toward this simple idea.  Then I saw a similar recipe in an even older community cookbook.  And so my quest began for the perfect blender lemon pie.  A few misses, but a couple of great hits got me where I wanted to go.  I have now made this pie many times.  At first for testing, but since I got it right, just ‘cause.

So, what is Blender Lemon Pie?  Easy, that’s what.  And lemony and sweet and tangy.  In short, prepare a piecrust – in the spirit of taking the easy way, I buy mine.  Place a lemon – a whole, seeded lemon – in the blended with the ingredients. Whizz, pour, bake, voila!  Now, there is a little secret.  The lemon needs to have a thin skin, which can be kind of hard to figure out when buying them. Too much white pith makes the filling bitter. Look at the pointy end of the lemon – if it’s very elongated, there is likely to be a thick skin.  If the skin feels tough and hard, as opposed to having some give when you press on it, it’s likely to be thick.  You can poke through with your fingernail to see what you’re looking at.  Buy a couple of lemons with appropriate skins.  Cut into them and use the thinnest skinned one.  Use any other lemon for you gin and tonic.  No great loss.  I have also used the naturally thin skinned meyer lemons to great success.

Blender Lemon Pie

I happily use a store-bought rolled pie crust fit into a pie plate then blind-baked.  This is all about easy.

1 9-inch pie crust

1 thin-skinned lemon (about 4 to 4 ½ ounces)

½ cup water

1 ½ cups sugar

3 Tablespoons all-purpose flour

Pinch of salt

2 eggs

¼ cup ( ½ stick) butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Fit the pie crust into a 9-inch pie plate, trimming the edges as necessary.  Line the crust with waxed paper and fill with beans or pie weights and blind bake the crust for 12 minutes until partially cooked.  Set aside to cool.

When the crust is cool, cut the lemon into quarters lengthways, the cut each quarter in half.  Carefully remove all seeds.  Place the lemon in the carafe of a blender with the water and blend until smooth.  Add the sugar, flour and salt and blend until combined, scraping down the sides of the blender as needed.  Add the eggs and melted butter and blend until everything is smooth and completely combined.

Pour the filling into the pie crust and carefully transfer to the oven.  Bake for 20 – 30 minutes until the pie is slightly puffed up and wobbles only a little.  Remove from the oven, cool to room temperature and refrigerate covered with plastic warp until chilled, preferably overnight.

Serves 8