When I started to think about recipes to share for the holiday season, I had a sudden, overwhelming memory of Jezebel Jelly. I would never have put it on my list of stand-out memories, but it popped into my mind quicker than lightening and that I could not ignore.

Jezebel Jelly is a quickly made tangy condiment that seemed to have a real heyday when I was a kid.  At every Christmas function someone, who had been asked to bring an appetizer, would sail into the kitchen in her party dress and clacky high-heel shoes with her most festive Christmas plate and spreading knife, sometimes all tucked away in a basket with a colorful napkin.  Talking a mile a minute undoubtedly, she’d pull out her plate, unwrap a block of cream cheese, plop it down – just the block, as is.  Out came the jar of Jezebel Jelly, with its hand-written label and little fabric cap tied with a gold stretchy cord., and it was poured over the cream cheese and served with crackers (frequently Triscuits, if I remember correctly).  That was that.  Jezebel Jelly was the refuge of the non-cook.  It was, I believe, a popular gift, easy for even the most kitchen-phobic to stir up and prettily package, with the appearance of being homemade without the work.  Eventually, the Jezebel and cream cheese appetizer was replaced by the even-less-work block of cream cheese smothered in Pickapeppa sauce from the bottle. Call that a bonus recipe.

There are lots of people who seem to want to trace the origins of Jezebel Jelly, or Jezebel Sauce as some call it, and figure out why this spicy spread was named after a biblical woman of ill repute.  I don’t know.  Frankly, it always speaks to me more of 1938 movie Jezebel, in which Bette Davis plays a fickle Southern belle whose wily ways hoist her on her own petard in the end.  It is said that Bette was denied the role of Scarlett O’Hara, and this was her chance at Southern belle stardom.  Personally, I think Bette’s sassy, strong willed Julie is a better performance and a richer character. 

At a party not too long ago, where all the ladies brought some sort of pick-up food for the buffet, one contribution stood out.  A lovely pottery dish with a cheesy, bubbling spread, full of flavor and punch.  Everyone tracked down the person who brought this and begged the recipe.  To our surprise, she told us it was “just that Jezebel Jelly.”  She’d prepared it the way her mother had for parties by whipping the cream cheese with a little cream, spreading it in the dish, pouring the jelly over it and heating it until bubbly.  She served it with baguette slices and it was a huge hit.  Most of the people in that room had not had Jezebel Jelly in ages and we were all delightfully surprised, and reminded that things become classics for a reason.  Her presentation, I must say, was much more elegant than the sauced block version.

So all these memories made me want to share Jezebel Jelly again.  Jezebel Jelly has a real kick to it, so it goes well with creamy cheeses. Try it poured over a block of cream cheese if you want, or in the hot dish version. It goes well over a baked brie. It makes a great spread on a turkey or ham sandwich, and is an excellent accompaniment to pork.  Use it as a glaze for a pork loin or a sauce for pork chops.  And it is wonderful with that other classic Southern party tradition, a great silver platter of sliced, roasted pork tenderloin or a joint of country ham served with bite-sized biscuits or rolls.  Jezebel Jelly in a silver bowl alongside will be a real treat, and probably bring back some happy memories.

And for the record, the nice little bonnet and tie on the jar in the photo are from, let’s say, a vintage set found at the very, very back of a drawer in my mom’s kitchen, from the days when she gave jarred gifts.  I do like to be authentic.

Jezebel Jelly

My version is adapted from several recipe cards I found tucked in a drawer.  I think they came from my mother, but they are not in her handwriting. Traditions do pass around.

1 (12-ounce) jar apricot jelly

1 (12-ounce) jar pineapple preserves

1 (5-ounce) jar prepared horseradish

1 (1.38-ounce) jar dry mustard powder (1/2 cup)

Coarse ground black pepper

In a medium bowl, mix the apricot jelly and pineapple preserve until smooth and combined.  I like to use a hand mixer, but you can stir vigorously with a spoon.  Blend in the horseradish until combined, then sift in the mustard powder and mix to combine.  I really recommend sifting the mustard.  This jelly has got enough kick without a lump of mustard powder in one bite.  Grind in lots of black pepper and stir to combine.

Leave the jelly in the bowl for an hour or so to blend the flavors, the scoop into airtight jars or containers and refrigerate.  The jelly will last for a month.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PC’s Pimento Cheese

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

1 cup walnut halves (or pecans)

1 (2 ounce) jar of chopped pimentos

2 teaspoons garlic salt

dash of cayenne or shot of hot sauce to taste

1 (8 – ounce) block extra sharp cheddar cheese

1 (8 – ounce) block sharp white cheddar cheese

1 cup mayonnaise, more or less

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

 Serve as a filling for sandwiches or with saltine crackers.

This will keep in an airtight container for a week.

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

This year, for the first time, I noticed vendors at the local farmers market selling garlic scapes. Garlic scapes are the greens that shoot off the top of a variety of garlic.  They have a milder, garlicky flavor.  They are long, green, and have a bulbous head at the top.  I had heard of scapes, but never used them and as I am intrigued by anything garlic related, I bought a bunch.  With my first purchase, I made a pesto – just puréed scapes with olive oil, lemon juice and parmesan cheese (I just Googled a recipe).  I used it on pasta, on a pizza and on some toasted bread with a fried egg on top and it was delicious.  I picked up the next round intending to do the same thing, put holding those scapes, feeling the woody ends and craving Asian food, I figured maybe I could whip up something special and unique.  And I must say I was inordinately pleased with myself.

Garlic Scape Beef Satay Skewers

You could easily use chicken with these skewers, but the cooking time will obviously be shorter.

1 bunch garlic scapes (about 6 scapes)

½ inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled

Juice of one lime

Handful of cilantro leaves

About 10 mint leaves

A few Thai basil leaves (optional)

¼ cup soy sauce

3 Tablespoons sesame oil

1 pound beef round, cut into equal-sized chunks

Make scape skewers by cutting the woody ends off of six scapes.  Cut the ends into sharp points. Set aside.

Cut three of the scape top pieces (about 8 inches) and the ginger into small pieces and drop in a blender. Add the lime juice, cilantro, mint and basil leaves and the soy sauce.  Blend until a paste forms – the scapes are woody, so this takes a little work and scraping down of the sides of the blender.  With the blender running, drizzle in the sesame oil and blend until smooth.  Pour the marinade into a ziptop bag and add the beef cubes.  Seal the bag and shake everything around to coat the beef.  Refrigerate for several hours, turning once or twice.

When ready to cook, heat the grill or a grill pan to high heat.  Thread the beef onto the scape skewers.  If needed, you can cut a small slit in each beef chunk to slide the skewer through.  Grill the skewers until the beef is cooked through, about 10 minutes

Garlic Scape Satay Sauce

3  (8-inch pieces) of garlic scape

1 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter

1/2 cup coconut milk

3 tablespoons water

3 tablespoons fresh lime juice

3 tablespoons soy sauce

1 tablespoon fish sauce

1 tablespoon hot sauce

1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger root

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Cut the scapes into small pieces and add to the blender with all the ingredients.  Blend until smooth.  Serve with Garlic Scape Beef Satay Skewers.

 Makes 6 skewers

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

A few years ago, in the hot, hot summer, we had a big storm that knocked out power for over two weeks.  They say it was a wind storm, but we all called it Hurricane Elvis.  As it was summer, many people were away on vacation, had vacations planned, or just left town during the power outage.  But I was a busy little event planner and had a wedding and a private event to plan and execute, so no leaving town for me.  I lived in my hot, hot house with no lights and no air conditioning for the duration.  My parents had two giant trees fall on their house, then breezily left for a planned trip overseas with the parting words “we expect the trees to be gone when we get back.”  So despite the catastrophe, I was a busy little bee.

As it happened, this was the first year I had planted a garden in my newly constructed raised beds.  I had carefully tended my tomato plants, and wouldn’t you know they all produced a bumper crop of gorgeous red tomatoes right during the storm. Now, I can only eat so many raw sliced tomatoes and I had way more than I could ever finish.  Everyone I knew had left town, so there was no one to share them with.  Under other circumstances, I would have made vats and vats of sauce and soup and frozen my bounty for the long winter.  My gas stove worked, but of course I had no refrigeration and it was just too darn hot to slave over the burners.  So the tomatoes wilted on the vine.  After that, I decided planting tomatoes just wasn’t worth it.

But this year, I have re-entered the wannabe gardener world.  My lettuce is magnificent, my radishes a triumph, and I am awaiting the zucchini.  And I have planted tomatoes.  I watch them carefully – one variety plant has already got some little green babies on it, the other plants are flowering.  So barring any natural disasters, I hope to have another grand crop.  But it is not here yet.  So in the meantime, I am using the ripe, red cherry variety for my tomato fix.  I find they are pretty tasty throughout the year, and pretty darn cute too.

Caprese Tart

I use a rectangular tart tin, but a round tin will work just as well. It may take more or less tomatoes.

1 sheet puff pastry, room temperature

45 round cherry tomatoes

1 ball fresh mozzarella cheese

2 bunches (about 1 ounce each) fresh basil

2 Tablespoons freshly grated parmesan cheese

2 Tablespoons pine nuts

1 cup whole milk ricotta cheese

1 egg

Salt and pepper to taste

Olive oil for drizzling

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Wash the tomatoes and pat them dry.  Using a small, sharp paring knife, gently cut out the core of each tomato, scraping the inside lightly to remove seeds.  I find a sturdy ¼ teaspoon measuring spoon helps with this job.  Be carefully not to cut through the flesh or squash the tomato.  You want to create a little cavity for the mozzarella to fit in.  Place each tomato cut side down on a few layers of paper towels to drain for 20 – 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, on a lightly floured surface, roll out the puff pastry to fit into a removable bottom 10 inch round or an 11 by 7 inch rectangular tin. Gently fit the pastry into the tin, using a small ball of pastry to press the dough into the corners and sides. Poke all over with the tines of fork

In a food processor (I like the mini one for this), pulse one bunch of basil leaves a few times until roughly chopped.  Add the parmesan and pine nuts and pulse a few more times to chop the nuts.  Add the ricotta and egg, a grind of pepper and a pinch of salt and process to a smooth paste, scraping down the sides of the bowl at least once.  Using a small offset spatula (or the back of a big spoon), spread the filling in an even layer over the bottom of the pastry.  Set aside.

Cut the mozzarella into small cubes to fit in the tomato cavities.  Lightly press on cube of mozzarella into each tomato. If some seeds or juice squish out of the tomatoes, carefully wipe it away.  Place the filled tomatoes in rows in the prepared tart, pressing lightly into the filling. Sprinkle pepper and salt lightly over the tomatoes.

Very gently brush the top of the tart with extra virgin olive oil and place in the oven.  While the tart is baking, cut about 6 of the remaining basil leaves into a chiffonade (Stack the leaves up, roll them like a cigar, then cut very thin ribbons with a sharp knife or scissors).  When the tart has been in the oven 15 minutes, remove it and sprinkle the basil over the top.  Return to the oven and cook a further 15 – 20 minutes until the tomatoes are shriveled and the mozzarella is melted.

Leave to cool for 15 minutes before slicing and serving.  Sprinkle additional basil chiffonade on top if desired.

Serves 6 – 8

One of the best food discoveries I made travelling through Thailand was fish cakes.  Lovely, light, fresh, crispy cakes with loads of flavor in one simple bite.  These were a revelation, and something I was determined to master myself.  One resort I stayed at in northern Thailand had a cocktail party for guests that featured a demonstration of fish cake making.  I took notes.  In an intensive cooking course, fish cakes where deconstructed, demonstrated and then we all went to work making our own, with hands-on help from the chef.  I sampled fish cakes at the morning market it Chiang Mai (one of my very favorite eating experiences).  I watched the stall vendor mix the cakes, form them and fry them.  I took notes.  I asked for tips on fish cake making at restaurants, and took notes. But when I got home, I was never able to duplicate the delicate treat myself.  Maybe I used the wrong kind of fish, or got confused in converting weights.  Or maybe I just don’t have the magic touch needed.  Mine came out uncooked in the center, or not crispy on the outside, or just heavy and sodden. So I pretty much gave up. 

But one day, faced with some leftover cooked shrimp, probably leftover from a party platter, and not much else in the fridge but some homemade curry paste, I decided to give the idea one more try.  Using already cooked shrimp solved the problem of undercooked cakes, and the made-to-my taste curry paste put the flavor right where I wanted it.  These simple shrimp cakes are know a staple for me – I whip them up whenever I need a little flavor boost to my regular meal rotation.

Simple Thai Shrimp Cakes

You can use purchased, jarred Thai green curry paste, available in the Asian section of most groceries, but taste it before adding to the shrimp cakes – some can be quite spicy.  Add an amount that works for you. You will find Thai Sweet Chili Sauce in bottles as well.

8 ounces cooked, peeled and deveined shrimp

1 Tablespoon homemade Thai Curry Paste, or purchased Thai green curry paste to taste

1 egg yolk

2 Tablespoons torn mint leaves

4 Tablespoons torn cilantro leaves

1 Tablespoon torn Thai basil leaves, optional or use regular basil

1 teaspoon fish sauce\canola oil for frying

Thai Sweet Chili Sauce for serving

Place all the ingredients in a food processor (I use the mini).  Process into thick paste, scraping down the sides of the bowl a few times, until the paste comes together in a ball.

Scoop out the paste and form small patties, about 1 ½ inches in diameter.  You should get about 8 cakes.  Place the cakes on a plate lined with waxed paper until ready to use.  The cakes can be refrigerated at this point for several hours.

When ready to serve, heat 2 – 3 Tablespoons of canola oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Fry the cakes about 4 minutes on each side, until golden and crispy and warmed through. 

Serve the cakes with Thai Sweet Chili Sauce for dipping.

Makes about 8 shrimp cakes

Okay, I’ll admit.  I have fear of phyllo.  I love Greek food and pastries, but I am too afraid, or okay, too lazy to work with phyllo myself.  Clearing all that counterspace, brushing every layer with butter, covering with damp towels.  My few forays have been madly unsuccessful.  And messy.

Every year in Memphis there is a wonderful Greek food festival.  People line up for blocks to sample the mousakka, flaming cheese, pastitsio and of course the magnificent array of pastries made by the women of the church that puts on the fair.  They sell lovely frozen tiropita, delicate filo parcels filled with cheese, already frozen and ready to take home.  These are so popular that there is a limit on how may trays you can buy, and it is never enough.  I love those tiropitas, but my phyllophobia has prevented me from attempting to recreate them.  But I’ve come pretty close in this simple puff pastry parcel, with the feta cheese jazzed up to compensate for the lack of delicate phyllo.  So it’s a cheat’s method, but still pretty darn good.

These feta parcels are great alongside a bowl of soup, or you could make them in smaller sizes and serve as a nibble with drinks. 

Greek Feta Parcels

These parcels can be made hours ahead, covered with plastic wrap and kept in the fridge.  Brush on the egg wash only before baking.

1 box frozen puff pastry, thawed

2 (6-ounce) containers crumbled feta cheese

2 ½ Tablespoons chopped fresh dill

½ Tablespoon grated lemon zest

1/4 teaspoon ground sumac (optional)

Few grinds black pepper

2 eggs

Lightly flour a work surface and lay out your thawed pastry sheets.  Cut each sheet into 9 equal squares.

In a medium bowl, combine the feta, dill, lemon zest, sumac and pepper and toss to combine.  Add one egg and mash the filling together with a fork until you have a cohesive mixture.

Spoon the filling equally onto the squares of pastry.  I like to do this assembly line style, with all the pastry squares laid out so I can use all the filling, adding more to any skimpy ones.  Fold the pastry squares in half diagonally to make little triangles, then press the edges together with a fork to completely seal.  Poke the top of each pastry a few times with the tines of the fork.  Carefully transfer the parcels to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or a silicone mat.

Mix the remaining egg and a teaspoon of water together and brush this egg wash lightly over the parcels.  Bake in the oven until brown and puffed, about 20 minutes.  Serve immediately.

 Makes 9

If you are like me, you always offer to bring something when invited to someone’s house.  I mean the offer, I always love an opportunity to cook for people, but sometimes it’s hard to come up with a quick idea on the fly. And when it’s one of those roaming parties – not a seated affair – choosing a dish that doesn’t have to be kept hot or cold or require and special equipment adds to the challenge.  I tend to fall back on the same recipes, but I recently wanted to add one to my repertoire – after all, it gets to be the same people at parties, right?  These little Fig and Blue Cheese bites are easy but very elegant, and the surprising tart and tangy with sweet combination is a real treat.

Blue Cheese and Fig Savories

You’ll find fig preserves at the grocery – it may be shelved with the “fancy” jams and jellies. You can make these a day ahead and keep them in two layers separated by waxed paper in an airtight container.

1 cup all-purpose flour

½ cup (1 stick) butter, room temperature

4 ounces blue cheese, crumbled

Ground black pepper

Fig preserves (about 3 Tablespoons)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Place the flour, butter, blue cheese and a few grinds of black pepper in the bowl of a food processor.  Process until the dough just comes together and starts to form a ball.

Dump the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead a few times to pull the dough together. Roll out to 1/8 inch thick with a floured rolling pin.  Cut rounds out of the dough with a floured 1-inch cutter and transfer the rounds to the parchment-lined baking sheet.

Using the back or a round half-teaspoon measure or your knuckle, make an indention in the top of each dough round.  Spoon about ¼ teaspoon of fig preserves into each indention, using your finger to push the preserves as best as possible into the indentions.

Bake the savories for 10 – 14 minutes, until the preserves are bubbling and the pastry is light golden on the bottom.

Let cool on the baking sheet for at least 10 minutes, the remove to a wire rack to cool.

Makes about 3 dozen

When I was growing up in Memphis, there were really only two fancy, sit-down, white tablecloth, special occasion restaurants.  An old-school, white-jacketed waiter, New Orleans-style place and an elegant Chinese restaurant.  My Dad is a big fan of Chinese food, so it was his choice for special meals.  My brother and I loved the egg drop soup, which had tiny little carrots floating in it cut in the shapes of ducks and bunnies.  The owner told my mom that the chef carved the whole carrot into the shape and thinly sliced the whole into paper-thin floaters.  To this day, as my kitchen obsession grows, my mother frequently asks when I plan to learn to properly carve carrot bunnies.

I was probably twelve or thirteen before any other Chinese restaurant opened, and we ate there a lot.  Sesame Chicken, Egg Drop Soup, Fried Wontons, Lemon Chicken, Mongolian Beef, Mu Shu Pork.  The standard fare in this area, on the menus of the many subsequent Chinese restaurants to open.  When I went off to college in Connecticut, my friends and I ordered Chinese food from the local, college-friendly delivery joint.  This group of folks were all from the New England and they took over the ordering, choosing their standard choice of dishes.  When we laid it all out on the floor of the dorm room, I was flummoxed.  Everyone was digging in heartily and I didn’t recognize some of the dishes.  Sure beef and broccoli was there, but I’d never seen cold sesame noodles (now one of my favorites) or dumplings before.  It had never occurred to me that ethnic food could be regional not just in its country of origin but in its transplanted incarnation as well. 

Dumplings have made their way onto Chinese menus in Memphis as totally standard fare now.  My nieces are big fans.  It never crossed my mind that dumplings were something you might make at home until I stumbled across a magazine article about the process.  I didn’t save the article, but it stuck with me for weeks until I just had to try it for myself.  I use packaged dumpling wrappers and make a flavorful filling.  I like to make a big batch and freeze them to pull out and cook when I’m in the mood.  I have to say, I am rather impressed with myself for this accomplishment.

Chinese Dumplings

1 pound ground pork

1 medium carrot finely grated

4 green onions, finely chopped

1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon Chinese five spice

1 Tablespoon soy sauce

½ teaspoon ground Szechuan peppercorns (optional)

1 package wonton or dumpling wrappers

Place all the filling ingredients in a large bowl and mix thoroughly.  Your clean hands are the best tool for this.

I find it easiest here to set up a little assembly line. Place a small bowl of water in easy reach. Lay some of the wonton wrappers out on the counter, and place about a teaspoon of filling in the center of each wrapper.  Wet your finger with water and run it around the edge of the wrapper.  Fold the wrapper over the filling and press the edges together, pressing any air bubbles out and sealing completely.  Keep going until you have used up all the filling. You should end up with 35 – 40 dumplings.

Place the folded dumplings on a baking sheet or plates lined with waxed paper.  Place the dumplings in the freezer until solid, at least an hour, then transfer to a plastic freezer bag or container.  I like to divide into portions of six or seven dumplings in individual bags.

There are several ways to prepare these dumplings: 

For fried dumplings: Thaw the dumplings in the fridge. Heat about 1 inch of vegetable oil in a skillet and fry the dumplings until crispy and golden. Remove the dumplings to a paper towel lined plate to drain and serve with soy or ponzu sauce to dip.

For pan-fried dumplings:  Thaw the dumplings or cook from frozen.  For each 6 – 7 dumplings, bring 1 ½ cups of chicken broth and one tablespoon of oil to a boil.  Add the dumplings and continue to cook until the broth has evaporated.  The dumplings will cook and brown on the bottom in the residual oil.

Makes 35- 40 dumplings