Kind little rituals seem to go a long way toward making marriage work, so almost every weekend, I make my husband some sweet tea. He's a Southern boy by birth (Brooklynian by marriage), and having a big ol' pitcher easily grabbable in the fridge seems to right any Mason Dixon imbalance he might be suffering at the time. I've got it down to a science, proportion-wise, but this past weekend, his itch for a sugar fix kicked in while I was at the grocery store. What he made tasted divine, but there was just too much for one pitcher, and not enough refrigerator room for a second.
If nothing else, the nuns at St. Scorpacciata instilled in me the mortal fear of wasting food, and seeing how I'd been at the store to buy milk (which neither of us usually drink) for a Bolognese, I decided sherbet would be what saved our souls from eternal damnation. I suppose we won't know for a while if that worked, but it did taste pretty damned delicious.
I first heard of Edna Lewis's The Taste of Country Cooking while reading Orangette a couple of weeks ago. Molly's description of this cooking classic made me think that it sounded like a book I needed to own. Only a few moments later, I had completed my amazon transaction and the book was on its way to me.
It arrived a few days later, and I've been reading it straight through, like a novel, ever since I got my hands on it. Nearing the end, I'm slowing down the pace of my reading because I know the time is coming when there won't be anymore new-to-me words in this text and that looming reality makes me sad.
I bought my copy used, and so it opens to the pages that the previous owner visited most frequently. They must have liked the fried chicken section, because when left to its own devices, that's where this book goes. However, I don't think that anyone actually cooked from this book, mostly because it is devoid of those telling splatters that accidentally occur when you bring a book into the kitchen.
Foodies who love the written word, hear my words. This book is a must have. Do yourself a favor and get yourself a copy, settle down with a beverage and read until you are compelled to leap up and head for the stove.
You've seen it laying about at the fish counter in the grocery store -- don't pretend you haven't. But while you were busy averting your gaze, you've been missing one of the holy of holies of southern cooking: catfish.
August is National Catfish Month and if you've turned up your nose at this surprisingly healthy (and easy to get fresh) fish, you're just being -- as my sorta-Southern mama would say -- uppity. Fried catfish is nearly as iconic as hush pups, sweet tea and pulled pork. Now the Catfish Institute is trying to dust off its second-class seafood image and go national. Fittingly enough, Iron Chef Cat Cora has signed on as its celebrity chef spokesperson. I haven't made any of her recipes but coconut catfish can never be a bad thing.
Catfish has long been a secret weapon in my cooking arsenal. I stopped telling people which fish they were eating until after the initial "Really?!" This is usually followed by a request for the recipe. My version (cobbled together from various sources) starts by marinating it in beer (Dixie would be appropriate, don't you think?) for 30 minutes, dredge in flour, cracker or cornmeal spiked with Zatarain's or another seafood seasoning mix, lay fillets in a medium-hot greased pan top-down, flip about 3-4 minutes (depending on the size of your fillet). You end up with a lightly zingy crust that melts into a firm white fish that has just a little bit of tang from behind the bar. Dress it up with cheese grits and cucumber salad or down with corn sticks and fried okra. Guess which I suggest? For hardcore fans, this recipe from Soul Food and Southern Cooking is a good place to start.
"I could really go for some chicken fried chicken right now."
"Huh?"
"You know!Chicken fried chicken."
I recently had this exchange exact with Hannah Pandolph, a Texan friend of mine.You can guess who said the incredulous "huh?"Even us Yankees love and indulge in fried chicken, but chicken fried chicken?How is a chicken fried any way other than in the manner of a chicken?
Edna Lewis, author of highly regarded cookbooks on Southern cuisine, recently died at the age of 89. In her
time, Lewis penned such titles as The Taste of Country Cooking and The Gift of Southern Cooking. The latter was
co-authored with her friend, and later, caretaker, Scott Peacock. Today's New York Times has an obituary by food writers Eric Asimov and Kim
Severson. The Southern Foodways Alliance also has links to several other
articles about Lewis.
My weekend breakfast life has gone through phases. For a very long time, all I ever ate on lazy Saturday and Sunday
mornings was waffles. I didn't have a waffle maker, so going out for brunch and getting thin crisp waffles drowning
in maple syrup, or thick chewy
Belgian waffles topped with fruit was a treat. Then I went through several years of pancakes - all
kinds, but thick, light and fluffy were my favorite. Of course, eggs play a role almost every day, but for
big breakfasts, I was always an omelette girl, and even went
through the "egg-whites only" period.
However, I've never gotten into Eggs Benedict of any sort, though other people go bonkers for them. I don't
mind them. I don't think they taste bad. I just never order them myself, and only three or four times in my life have I
actually made them (and it seems always to be around a holiday). I think the super
runny yolk freaks me out a little.
But these are a twist on the traditional Eggs Benedict. People have made Benedicts with crabcakes, with
spinach, smoked salmon, but this is a southern fried version that, if you really read into it, isn't a
Benedict at all. It's a fried egg on sausage instead of Canadian bacon, biscuit instead of English muffin (the one
pictured is not a biscuit - use your imagination), and drowning in gravy instead of Hollandaise.
Yes, it does sound a bit like a Sausage Biscuit from McClownburger, but this one is on a plate. And since you have
to eat it with a fork, you can serve it for brunch, daaah-ling.
Kind little rituals seem to go a long way toward making marriage work, so almost every weekend, I make my husband some sweet tea. He's a Southern boy by birth (Brooklynian by marriage), and having a big ol' pitcher easily grabbable in the fridge seems to right any Mason Dixon imbalance he might be suffering at the time. I've got it down to a science, proportion-wise, but this past weekend, his itch for a sugar fix kicked in while I was at the grocery store. What he made tasted divine, but there was just too much for one pitcher, and not enough refrigerator room for a second.
You've seen it laying about at the fish counter in the grocery store -- don't pretend you haven't. But while you were busy averting your gaze, you've been missing one of the holy of holies of southern cooking: catfish. 
What Fried How?
Edna Lewis, author of highly regarded cookbooks on Southern cuisine, recently died at the age of 89. In her
time, Lewis penned such titles as The Taste of Country Cooking and The Gift of Southern Cooking. The latter was
co-authored with her friend, and later, caretaker, Scott Peacock. Today's New York Times has an 
Soy and chickpeas might help stroke victims
The world of pie and tart crusts
Starbucks launches the Piadini 
