Bourbon balls not your thing? Try a Derby Pie instead, a fudge-sweet chocolate and nut confection invented at Prospect, Kentucky's Melrose Inn. Traditionally served around Derby time, the treat typically calls for walnuts or pecans and a splash of Kentucky bourbon. The Inn's former owners, the Kerns, have been trying to protect its rights to the name "Derby Pie" by filing various lawsuits over the years - even Bon Appetit was no match for the Kerns, losing the right to print recipes using the name in 1987. So if you're looking for a good recipe you may need to try searching "chocolate chess pie" or "Kentucky bourbon pie" or "Thoroughbred pie" instead.

Epicurious has a nice-looking one, for a "chocolate pecan chess pie." I'm planning on making two a little later, to take to a Derby party this afternoon. Now, all I need is a giant hat...

Lisa, over at My Own Sweet Thyme, has a lovely post with a recipe about her aunt's "brownie pie" - supposedly her aunt once worked for the Kerns and was afraid of being sued!

Is there a less appetizingly named food than the 'Hot Brown?' Louisville, Kentucky's culinary claim to fame doesn't look like much either - an open-faced turkey sandwich topped with bacon and smothered in Sauce Mornay (Béchamel with cheese), it resembles nothing so much as a junkyard covered in a layer of dirty snow, bits of this and that sticking out from the off-colored drifts.

The inelegant Hot Brown was born at downtown Louisville's thoroughly opulent Brown Hotel, supposedly whipped up from kitchen leftovers after a 1920s dinner dance, when hungry flappers fell upon the chef like a pack of wolves. If you're looking for an easy treat for your pre-Derby lunch, check out the original recipe on the Brown Hotel website. Feel free to substitute ham for the bacon, or add tomatoes, onions, etc.

I thought ya'll might care to know that the World Grits Festival kicks off today in St. George, South Carolina. The three-day festival will include grits grinding demos, a grits eating contest, corn shucking competition, and a "rolling in the grits" contest (ages 15 and up. Is that anything like "rolling in the hay," I wonder?).

The festival website features grits recipes like savory grits pies, syrup n' bacon grits, and deep fried grits and cheese. While I'll devour a plain old dish of grits with butter and salt any day, my favorite grits recipe is shrimp and grits, an old coastal Carolinas favorite. I like to fancy it up, stirring grated sharp white cheddar into the grits and topping with handfuls of crumbled bacon, chopped chives, caramelized onions and fresh fat shrimp sauteed in butter and garlic. Serve it with biscuits for brunch or try it with a green salad for an easy but elegant Sunday dinner.

Love cocktails? Spirits? Want to know how to make your own bitters, infused syrups or tinctures? Interested in bartending techniques or the history of the craft? Or, heck, do you like to drink? Brothers and sisters, have I got an event for you. . .

Tales Of The Cocktail is the only event of its kind. From July 16-20th bartenders, spirit representatives, notable authors, mixologists and enthusiastic barflies will gather in New Orleans to celebrate, attend seminars and drink a whole bunch of hooch. Tickets are available on the TOTC site. Hope to see you there.

Additionally, I've been invited to be a participating writer for the all-star blog site that they are putting together for the event, Talesblog.com. In the coming months, we will be previewing the events, seminars and notable participants of this wonderful event. I guarantee you won't find a giddier bunch.

Chef Paul Prudhomme was setting up his tent at the Zurich Classic (golf) in New Orleans when he felt something on his arm and thought he was stung by a bee.

When he opened his shirt sleeve, a .22 calibre bullet fell to the ground!

Fortunately for Chef Prudhomme, the bullet was apparently not aimed at him, but had simply fallen, probably shot from somewhere within a mile-and-a-half radius of the golf course.The chef's shirt was torn and his skin was cut, but he was back to cooking within five minutes.

So he wasn't shot at, but I still like to think that chefs, given what they do in their tiny restaurant kitchens, are invincible.

What is it about Southerners and coconut cake? Maybe the thick drifts of ivory icing remind us of the snow we don't get. Maybe the lacy curls of coconut call to mind the frilled white gowns at the debutante balls we're (still, seriously) so fond of.

Though, in what's perhaps a sign of the changin' times in the New South, the best "classic Southern" coconut cake I've ever tasted was from a Thai restaurant near where I grew up in Durham, North Carolina.

I adore the looks of this Southern coconut cake from Big City, Little Kitchen, adapted from Gourmet Magazine. So light and soft. I'd like to make this on a Sunday afternoon and take a fat slice out to the veranda with a good book. If I had a veranda.

I know. For shame, for shame. I went to New Orleans and I ended up eating in places where Tony Bourdain would never go like Acme Oyster House in the French Quarter. So call me Rachael Ray for a day.

I don't mind because it was at Acme that I had my first taste of grilled oysters. I may not ever be able to go back to eating oysters raw again. If you've never had oysters prepared this way, let me tell you that it's quite deliciously obscene. First the oysters are drowned in garlic butter (I think), then suffocated under cheese. The oysters in the shells are thrown on the grill until the shells are charred to black and the oysters are screaming for mercy under the cheese. I couldn't help but throw a few splashes of hot sauce on there, too. Hey, they were already blasphemed with all that other stuff, so I didn't feel to bad.

I'm assuming that you didn't take the day off from work to run half-naked through the streets of your neighborhood in celebration of Mardi Gras, which probably means you didn't start your day with Hurricanes and Brandy Milk Punches at 7 AM.

Starting the day with cafe au lait -- French for "coffee with milk" -- is a better option. It's not a latte. Cafe au lait is drip coffee with hot milk. After years and years of drinking coffee black -- no sugar, no cream, no love, baby -- I conceded to trying coffee with milk because I "had to" when I was at Cafe du Monde last month. I have to say, I have been drinking it this way at home for the last month since I've been back.

Oh, okay, so I'm using soy instead of regular milk.

When Slashfood alum Nick Vagnoni wrote about fish in Florida restaurants being served under misleading guises a year-and-a-half ago, we thought that officials would take care of the problem.

Apparently, a year-and-a-half later, the problem is still around. The Statesman Journal is reporting that restaurants in many parts of Florida are still passing off Asian catfish, tilapia or other cheaper species like emperor fish, hake, sutchi, bream and green weakfish as grouper. It's not the other fish are unhealthy or taste bad. In fact, it probably tastes just fine. It's that real grouper costs something like $20 a pound and the other fish are much cheaper.

Why don't restaurants just serve whatever fake grouper they're serving as what they really are?

We're being a little lazy this Sunday afternoon because we're anxiously watching the two conference championship games on TV, but that hasn't stopped us from doing the research we need to do to get ready for THE Sunday afternoon of pro football, the Super Bowl.

Yes, the Super Bowl is two weeks away, and we're trying to put together our menu. We came across Alabama Pulled Pork Sandwiches, as made by Recipe Girl from an original recipe in Cooking Light magazine. The recipe is slightly different from a traditional pulled pork because it uses pork tenderloin. Additionally, the sandwiches are made with sweet potato biscuits rather than rolls or buns, but perhaps the most surprising thing is that the barbecue sauce is white.

Folks at Kentucky's Cave Hill Cemetery have a bone to pick with PETA over a tombstone that the animal rights group recently placed near the KFC founder Col. Harland Sanders' grave to mark the anniversary of his death.

At first blush the marker seems to contain little more than a loving poem addressed to "Kind Friend of Chickens." As you can see from the above photo it actually contains an acrostic that reads "KFC TORTURES BIRDS." Officials at the Louisville cemetery say they were tricked and want the headstone removed. "We do not believe in being part of any political message at all," said Mac Barr, board chairman of Cave Hill Cemetery. "We believe that this is directed at Col. Sanders and KFC, and again, if we had known this in advance we would not have permitted this." Well, by gum I l think you might be on to something there Mac.

The plot was purchased by Matt Prescott, the brains behind the group's Kentucky Fried Cruelty campaign, which takes aim at KFC because its "suppliers cram birds into huge waste-filled factories, breed and drug them to grow so large that they can't even walk, and often break their wings and legs." Even if such horrific claims are true PETA's taking its campaign to the boneyard is particularly dastardly.
[via Neatorama]

When does a person get charged double what everyone else is charged for eating at a buffet? When that person is 6 foot 3 and 265 pounds.

A Louisiana man and his cousin have been banned from a restaurant because they eat too much. The two men had been eating at the Manchuria Restaurant in Houma at least three times a week for about eight months. On their last visit, the waitress gave them a bill for $46.40, which is almost double what the regular price is. When they asked why they were charged that much, the waitress said "Y'all fat, and y'all eat too much" (it helps if you picture Paula Deen saying it).

Police were called, and though the restaurant changed their mind and gave them the meal free, they still banned them from the restaurant.

Our sister blog, Luxist, picked up the story of a Florida couple who received an unexpected year-end bonus, a rare purple pearl.

While enjoying some steamed clams at Dave's Last Resort & Raw Bar with his wife, Leslie, George Brock suddenly bit down on something hard. By now you've guessed that what stopped him midslurp was the aforementioned pearl. It's safe to say that the couple didn't expect anything from their $10 investment other than fresh seafood. Turns out they got much more than that: A gemologist's appraisal pegged the pearl's value at $25,000.

I'm no gemologist, but the last time I checked pearls, purple or otherwise, are found in oysters. I've eaten my share of oysters and clams both raw and cooked. Heck, I've had conch freshly plucked from the clear blue waters of Nassau, and I'm always game for giant clam at the sushi bar. Some might say that I've been lucky to have found only grit and stray bits of shell in my mollusks and not a nasty bug. However, the Brocks' purple pearl and the arrival of 2008 have given me hope. I resolve to eat more mollusks this year, if only for health reasons.

Some thieves got away with a bounty of beef -- 14,800 pounds of it, to be exact. But who gets the last laugh? The beef may have been contaminated with E.Coli, so the thieves didn't get much right?

Wrong.

Timothy Biela, Chief Food Safety and Quality Assurance Officer for the company that produced the beef, says they are concerned, not for consumers who purchase beef through normal channels, but "for the safety of those people who may be persuaded to buy beef products under questionable circumstances. We do not know how this product has been handled since it left our control. The stolen truck had only a limited supply of refrigeration fuel."

The beef was produced by Fort Worth-based American Fresh Foods. The company had set the trailer of beef away to eventually be removed from commercial sale. After the trailer was stolen, the USDA issued a public health alert and is now working with local and state law enforcement authorities to recover the stolen product and vehicle.

The following came from an e-mail discussion wherein it was revealed that my friend's colleague had never sampled such staple pleasures as Frito Pie, three-bean salad or 'nanner pudding. I, for once, was not "The Yankee".


Eric Diesel sought to enlighten the deprived soul:


The Frito Pie discussion arose because the Yankee in question was
looking at an online menu that featured it. As the only Southwesterner
in the vicinity, I immediately claimed Executive Privilege, from which I
was able with unimpeachable authority to declare upon sight that what
was being purveyed as Frito Pie wasn't. It was nachos. Which are fine
in that all bar food is fine, but there is one specific thing that Frito
Pie is, and what it is, is cowboy food.


Pardners, for the record, Frito Pie is as follows:


-- Is purchased at the rodeo after you eyeball the livestock in the
holding pen. Chef is a denim-and-diamonds lady with freshly teased and
lacquered wide (not tall) hair, a few grand in ice, and a Kiwanis Club
apron the front of which looks like she's been slaughtering cattle,
which is not impossible. When you say "keep the change" because after
all it goes to new benches around the courthouse and the poor kids'
eyeglasses bank, she says, "whythankyewhon."


-- Is a package of Fritos laid on its back and opened like a cadaver
with an incision (X, not Y). Hot chili (which, for the record has beef
in it; there is no such thing as vegetarian chili; if you ever encounter
authentic vegetarian chili then immediately look around the corner for a
leprechaun and a unicorn) is ladled into the bag, and then the whole
thing is drenched in shredded cheddar cheese. That's it: no sour cream,
no taco lettuce, not even onions. The bag is placed on a paper plate if
you're a pantywaist, and the whole mess is presented to you with a
plastic fork, a plastic spoon, one (1) paper napkin which will
disintegrate within ten seconds of being pressed into service, a beer,
and a smile.


I hope that settles it. Please share the above with anyone who needs
it.


Eric Diesel has also been so kind as to share with us his ruminations on Ladies Luncheon Rooms & Southern Cafeterias.