Every May and June I look forward to the fresh influx of Vidalia onions into the supermarkets.  Being a Georgia girl, I took them for granted when I was down South; now that I live far away, I greedily fill up my grocery buggy and usher them into their new home … aka my pantry.  In fact, I’ve started to hoard them a bit already – resorting to the old fashioned storage option of hanging in pantyhose legs even though they feasibly will be available through the late fall thanks to advanced storage technology borrowed from the apple growers.

But for the benefit of non-Southerners, let me first help out with some general info points & phonetics here.  Vidalia is a town in the state of Georgia, about an hour or so due west of Savannah.  It is pronounced with three syllables as [vuh-DAL′-ya] or [vy-DAL′-ya], the variance between the two pronunciations being the first syllable and what type of Southern accent you sport – a soft uptown drawl or a back country twang.  For my Yankee friends, this is NOT pronounced as if it were a town in Italy or a botanical flower.  Pronunciation here in New England has been bastardized by many into four syllables with the inflection on the wrong part (so, so harsh on my tender Southern ears!).  Getting away from the pronunciation thing though, you should know that Vidalia onions are trademarked similar to French champagne, as only certain varieties grown in a specific production area in Southern Georgia can be identified, marketed and distributed as “Vidalia onions.”  The distinguishing attribute of this onion is that it has a high level of sugar and is thus incredibly sweet tasting – due largely to the sandy, low sulfur soil it grows in, as well as the mild climate.  You can further impress your friends at the next cocktail party with the knowledge that the Vidalia onion is Georgia’s official state vegetable.

But let’s get to the heart of this edible, as it is so mild that it is multi-purposed.  Because of its sweetness, a Vidalia is perfect to eat raw – without the heinous dragon breath & after affects associated with many other onion varieties.  This makes them perfect platter partners with sliced tomatoes, or chopped up and littered over stewed field peas.  They are also wonderful to cook as a side dish such as a casserole, or caramelize into a chunky marmalade to serve alongside grilled meats.  Vidalia onions pair well with poultry, pork and beef; people even make savory pies out of them.  And, they are even made into dainty tea sandwiches and served at ladies luncheons.  Heck, the Vidalia is also a great component to marinades and dressings.

For me, I’ve decided to kick off Vidalia season with a new recipe for me, which is a “2 for 1” from a Southern culinary belle, Virginia Willis and her cookbook Bon Appetit, Y’all.  As is annotated on the cover, this cookbook represents the ‘recipes and stories from three generations of southern cooking,’ but, with Ms. Willis’ classical French training making these Southern basics come off a bit more gentrified.  FYI, this is my new favorite cookbook and given how I feel about the recipes of hers that I’ve been trying out of late, I’m hacked off that I waited so long to purchase it.  Ms. Willis is big on the use of Vidalias, specifically requesting them in most of her onion bearing recipes – and earning big points with me.  And, she has several recipes that are Vidalia focused – which I’m posting on today.

The first recipe I want to share with you is for “Vidalia Onion Confit with Garlic Toasts.”  To quote from the book, “… confit is most often meat, such as duck, that has been cooked and preserved in its own fat but the term also describes a jamlike condiment of cooked seasoned fruit or vegetables.  This confit is wonderful as suggested, served on toasts as a nibble, but it also shines served as a condiment with pork or chicken.  It is absolutely incredible with blue cheese.”   The second recipe, “Vidalia Onion Quiche,” utilizes some of the onion confit of the first recipe, mixing it with a rich custard base and some herbs to make a great quiche that is perfect for brunch.  Or, even a lighter summer supper option … think crisp, white wine and a mixed greens salad.

So, if you haven’t already, please stock up on your Vidalia onions knowing that they are something special to enjoy.  And look for the little produce sticker just to make sure!

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“Vidalia Onion Confit with Garlic Toasts”

Adapted from “Bon Appetit, Ya’ll” by Virginia Willis

Ingredients

• 1 baguette, sliced diagonally ¼ inch thick
• 2 Tbsp olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, halved, for the toasts
• 1 Tbsp unsalted butter
• 6 onions, preferably Vidalia, chopped (about 1½ pounds)
• ½ tsp firmly packed dark brown sugar
• Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
• ¼ cup dry red wine
• 1 Tbsp chopped fresh thyme, plus small sprigs for garnish

Yield:  About 2 cups of confit

Position an oven rack 4 inches below the broiler element and preheat the broiler.  To make the toasts, arrange the baguette slices on a baking sheet and brush on one side with some of the olive oil.  Broil until brown, 2 to 3 minutes.  Turn the toasts and broil the other side.  Remove the toasts from the oven and while warm, rub one side of each toast with the cut surfaces of the garlic clove.  Transfer to a rack to cool.

To make the confit, heat the butter and remaining olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.  Add the onions and sugar, and season with salt and pepper.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft, 15 to 20 minutes.

Increase the heat to medium high.  Add the wine and cook, stirring occasionally, until the wine is reduced and the onions are a deep golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes more.  Add the thyme, taste and adjust for seasoning with salt and pepper.

To serve, place the reserved toasts on a large serving platter and top each piece with a spoonful of confit.  Garnish each with a spring of thyme.

MAKING AHEAD:  The toasts can be made up to 2 days ahead and stored at room temperature in an airtight container.  The confit can also be made ahead and will actually improve as the flavors marry.  Refrigerate the confit in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

Personal Notes:  If you’re reluctant to serve cooked onions as your appetizer, don’t be … it’s delicious.  And you should know that not only does this go well with fancy cheeses such as a Maytag blue, it pairs well with sliced fruit too (e.g. apples, grapes & figs).  Note the use of thyme here; if you’re a little sensitive to this herb, you may want to cut back a bit.  The only other call out that I’d make is that the recipe called for “chopping” the onions.  I did so:   not too chunky, not too-too fine either.  In hindsight, I might go the route of slicing into half moon strips, whereby the confit might have a slightly different texture to it.  Strictly an opinion based on aesthetics …

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“Vidalia Onion Quiche”

Adapted from “Bon Appetit, Ya’ll” by Virginia Willis

Ingredients

• French Pie Pastry (recipe follows), blind baked
• 1½ cups Vidalia Onion Confit (recipe above)
• 3 large eggs
• 2 large egg yolks
• 2 cups whole milk
• ½ cup heavy cream
• 2 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• Pinch cayenne pepper
• Coarse salt and freshly ground white pepper

Yield:  Makes one 10-inch quiche

Prepare the pastry shell and the onion confit; let both cool.  Preheat the oven to 350°F.  To make the custard, whisk together the eggs, egg yolks, milk, cream, parsley, and cayenne pepper in a large bowl.  Season with salt and pepper.  Set aside.

Spread the cooled onion confit in the pastry shell.  Pour the custard over the onions.  Bake until the custard is lightly browned and set, 30 to 35 minutes.  Remove to a rack to cool slightly.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

Personal Notes:  This custard is rich, but given that there isn’t any cheese, you don’t feel terribly overwhelmed by dairy fat as the recipe list might suggest.  As for me, I thought this custard base needed the kick of cayenne, so I was more generous than a pinch.  Last but not least, if you’re not a scratch pastry cook, by all means get the pre-made dough or pie shell from your grocery and use that for a quick, no fuss preparation.  In the end, I had leftover pie crust that I used to pat out into a small pizzette.  Just so you readers know (and Ms. Virg too), you could easily make appetizer pizzettes out of the crust and confit, adding some blue cheese and topping with some oiled, peppery arugula.  With all those positives, I did have some execution issues:

• My tart shell pan was not a deep dish one, and hence there wasn’t enough depth for the entire custard base.  As such, half of it went unused.  In hindsight, perhaps my pie crust was a tad thicker than called for, but I still think you need the deeper shell.  P.S.  Make sure you have the bottomless tart pan too!
• I clumsily spilled a portion of the custard as I was placing the tart pan into the oven.  Burned egg & milk on the oven floor was not pleasant.  Might I suggest that you place the tart pan into a large jelly roll pan prior to pouring in the custard?  It would make for easier entry & exit out of the oven.  And, it would also catch any potential spills so that your kitchen doesn’t smell as bad as mine did.

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“French Pie Pastry”

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp fine sea salt
• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into bits and chilled
• 2 large egg yolks
• 5 to 6 Tbsp cold ice water

Yield:  Makes one (10-inch) tart shell

To prepare the dough, combine the flour and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade.  Add the butter.  Process until the mixture resembles coarse meal, 8 to 10 seconds.  Add the egg yolks and pulse to combine.

With the processor on pulse, add the ice water a tablespoon at a time.  Pulse until the mixture holds together as a soft, but not crumbly or sticky, dough.  Shape the dough into a disk, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate until firm and evenly moist, about 30 minutes.

To prepare the dough, lightly flour a clean work surface and rolling pin.  Place the dough disk in the center of the floured surface.  Roll out the dough, starting in the center and rolling up to, but not over, the top edge of the dough.  Return to the center, and roll down to, but not over, the bottom edge.  Give the dough a quarter turn, and continue rolling, repeating the quarter turns until you have  disk about 1/8 inch thick.

Drape the dough over the rolling pin and transfer to a 10-inch tart pan with a removable bottom, unrolling over the tin.  With one hand lift the pastry and with the other gently tuck it into the pan, being careful not to stretch or pull the dough.  Let the pastry settle into the bottom of the pan.  Take a small piece of dough and shape it into a ball.  Press the ball of dough around the bottom edges of the tart pan, snugly shaping the pastry into  the pan without tearing it.  Remove any excess pastry by rolling the pin across the top of the pan.

Prick the bottom of the pastry all over with the tines of a fork to help prevent shrinkage during baking.  Chill until firm, about 30 minutes.

To blind bake, preheat the oven to 425°F.  Crumple a piece of parchment paper, then lay it out flat over the bottom of the pastry.  Weight the paper with pie weights, dried beans, or uncooked rice.  This will keep the unfilled piecrust from puffing up in the oven.

For a partially baked shell that will be filled and baked further, bake for 20 minutes.  Remove from the oven and remove the paper and weights.  (You can re-use the rice or beans for blind baking a number times.)  The shell can now be filled and baked further, according to the recipe directions.  For a fully baked shell that will hold an uncooked filling, bake the empty shell until a deep golden brown, about 30 minutes total.

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This is one of those unusual finds that I just had to try and share with the general public.  Chile heads will love this post; for others, this may be a fluffy read but with no real life application.  Think on it …

I was on another Google safari when I came across an article titled “The Lip-Smackingly Top 10 Most Unusual and Strange Foods Around the World.” In this blog line of work, one can’t pass up such an opportunity for weirdness!  So I quickly scanned some really nasty looking stuff; it even had pictures to further engage the casual reader.  As I was about to click away in disgust, I saw the name ‘Bloody Leroy’ and found myself hooked … and had to read further.

But I found myself reading teaser material with no background and better yet, no stinking recipe!  All I could latch onto was:  “it has a unique combination of tomatoes and black coffee.”  So OK, tomatoes and black coffee, but what is the drink?  What for?  Who invented it?  Why?  When?  How?  Well folks, I didn’t get too far in the search, and the mystery will have to remain.  The best I’ve been able to collect from my reconnaissance is that the Bloody Leroy is some second cousin to the Bloody Mary (once removed).  It is a concoction that is described in Wikipedia land as having the tomato juice replaced by barbeque sauce.  Before you totally gross out, it’s not a situation as in grab a bottle of your favorite ‘que sauce off the grocery shelf and add alcohol.  It’s a bit more sublime, and closer to where one might make a barbeque sauce from scratch:  a little ketchup, vinegar, mustard, brown sugar, lemon juice, Worcestershire, spices, etc.  But, it has the addition of heat; think of it as a kick ass bloody, appealing to a crowd that would be apt to add extra hot sauce or horseradish to their classic cocktail.

Keep in mind that the recipe below is a “mixer” – meaning, you should add it to an alcoholic base.  When I tasted the mixer on its own, it had a smoky, chile salsa taste with a kick and slight burn on the back of the tongue.  I didn’t choke or tear up, but this is potent stuff.  I had read a few blurbs that it would cure cigarette smoking cessation blues, or help with a hangover.  Once can reason why it might be a remedy in those situations.  Also, there are a number of raw ingredients in the vegetable clan that are to be minced and added.  I made a point of mincing fine pieces, but in the end it still has a slight texture.  If you’re phobic about that and prefer a super smooth mixer, then I’d run this through a blender.  In either case, make it early and let it sit overnight for best flavor development.

But along with no history or background to this, there is no obvious alcoholic drink recipes provided – just the mix.  As mentioned, the familial tie to the Bloody Mary hints that vodka may be a sound choice, and I think you could play it safe with that selection — perhaps even a pepper flavored vodka.  But the smokiness makes this elixir a perfect background to add tequila.  Or, if you’ve ever had a beer cocktail called a Red Eye for brunch (also known as Bloody Beer or perhaps even a Red Rooster), Bloody Leroy mix would be an excellent substitute for the tomato juice there.  Serve with pickled okra or string beans, and you are ready to rock ‘n roll.

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“Bloody Leroy Mix”

Adapted from End of the Block blogspot

• 1 8-ounce can tomato sauce
• 1 6-ounce can tomato paste
• 1 cup black coffee
• ¾ cup beer (Killian’s Red preferred)
• ¾ cup fruit juice (citrus: orange/pineapple/mango type)
• 2 Tbsp whiskey (bourbon!)
• 1 Tbsp lemon juice
• 1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
• 1 Tbsp vinegar (red wine garlic preferred)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced fine
• 3 jalepeno peppers, minced fine
• ¼ large onion, minced fine (1/8 red, 1/8 white preferred)
• 2½ tsp liquid smoke
• 2 Tbsp brown sugar
• 1 Tbsp molasses
• 1½ tsp crushed red pepper
• 1 cube beef bouillon
• 1½ tsp salt
• 1½ tsp ground black pepper
• 1½ tsp paprika
• 1½ tsp cayenne pepper
• 3 dashes dried basil
• 3 dashes dried oregano
• 3 dashes dried savory

Personal Notes:  First, I used home canned tomatoes and whizzed them in the blender (they tasted much better).  For the whiskey, I used bourbon.  Mince the garlic, onion and jalapenos very finely.  I cut back on the following:  only used 2 jalapenos, 1 tsp of cayenne, and 1½ tsp of liquid smoke.  Especially watch the liquid smoke, as too much can really turn one off from the recipe.  If texture in a beverage isn’t your thing, then I would liquefy all in the blender.  And, assuming you’ll be serving to a group, make this mixer up the night before and let meld overnight in the fridge for best flavor development.  Last but  not least, I took some of the tomato juice and froze it into ice cubes so that once you serve the full cocktail, all doesn’t get too diluted as the cubes melt.  Oh yeah … beware of dragon breath.

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All Derby meals need some sweets to round out the day’s festivities.  For many, the dessert of choice is “Derby Pie,” or some close facsimile thereof.  Please note, Derby-Pie® is trademarked (a little more on that in a bit), and the only means to that particular pie is to order direct from Kern’s Kitchen.  For the masses who don’t want to pay the Kern’s premium price but want the taste, you must utilize one of the facsimile recipes that abound – which is fine by me.  In fact, I’ve taken it to a different format, and propose that the perfect finger dessert is what I’m dubbing “Derby Bourbon Tassies.”

I’m hoping most readers will be able to discern what a ‘tassie’ is.  But should you be a know not, then fear not.  The term is a derivative of an old French word “tasset,” or what is a small pouch or cup.  In the baking world, that translates into a tiny pastry cup that is filled with something like pecan filling, lemon curd, a custard or other fruit fillings; in fact, most bakers consider it a type of cookie.  I happen to LOVE tassies (love, love).  On the few occasions my mother would make her ‘pecan cups’ (usually a ladies’ luncheon – not for the kids), I gobbled however many I could get away with!  Even more appealing is that tassies are not just sweet fare, but make fabulous savory appetizers as well with perfect fillings being pimento cheese, crab salad, and sauteed mushrooms to name a few.

So what’s the deal with this trademarked Derby-Pie®?  The history lesson here goes something like this:  what is now known as Derby-Pie® was invented some 50+ years ago as a specialty item at The Melrose Inn, located in Prospect, Kentucky.  Then manager George Kern was the driver behind the secret recipe, with assistance from his parents.  It was officially named after the family members tossed names into a hat; ‘Derby Pie’ was the slip that was drawn.  The recipe is a guarded secret, and that chocolate nut pie is now a famously trademarked item too – one that is vigorously policed by Kern Kitchens and its attorneys to this day.  Hence, nobody can call the pie “Derby Pie,” which just frustrates the hell out of folks.

But as I said, that’s alright by me.  There are a plethora of look-a-like recipes out there that try to capture the specialness of the Derby-Pie®.  You might see titles such as:  Kentucky Bourbon Pie, Kentucky Nut Pie, Run for the Roses Pie, Pegasus Pie, etc.  The basic formula is a blend of chocolate and nuts (walnuts or pecans) that go into a pie shell, along with a brown sugar, butter and egg filling similar to that of pecan pie.  Some recipes add a touch of bourbon, others don’t.  Do I liquor up my tassies?  Absolutely!  My nut cups get bourbonized, big time …

Unlike most of my posts, the recipe below is not from a known culinary entity.  It was just me playing in the kitchen, and quite frankly I’m rather pleased with myself.  I pulled the recipe together, pinching & poaching recipe parts from a number of sources.  In full disclosure:  while tassies aren’t rocket science and the recipe isn’t complex – the execution can be a bit more labor intensive than a quickie pie.  For those of you who are time conscious and couldn’t be bothered patting dough into mini muffin tins, that’s fine.  For others who want to step up to the challenge, there is a silver lining:  the tassies can be prepared days in advance, and keep well snuggled inside some Tupperware.  I recommend giving it a try – at least once.  Your guests or family will most likely stuff their jowls with these things like a pack of chipmunks, making you feel real proud.

BEVERAGE? So how do you wash these little bites down?  Interesting question.  If it weren’t the Derby, I’d say milk is the best option.  But, that just won’t do.  Alas, the only answer is:  bourbon!  The fellows may not agree with my recommendation, but I’d suggest going with something a bit sophisticated on the bourbon front:  like a specialty Manhattan, the kind served in a swanky martini glass.  I usually drink bourbon neat, or with ginger ale as my winter liquor splurge.  But every now and then, an uptown drink is rather appropriate.  The beauty here is that these specialty Manhattans are not friends with pink Cosmopolitans, so I think they would be manly enough for those with an XY chromosome.  My top picks are recipes found on the Woodford Reserve website (I am un-apologetically biased).  They are the Woodford Latte Manhattan with bourbon, coffee liqueur, cream and a dash of Tuaca liqueur (an Italian brandy-based liqueur with orange and vanilla essence), or the Woodford Bourbon Ball Manhattan with bourbon, white creme de cacao and hazelnut liqueur.  Either choice would allow the host with the most to prepare a pitcher of them ahead of time, then pour later.

So kick back with a couple of tassies, and your bourbon Manhattan of choice.  Southern hedonistic pleasure never tasted so good …

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“Derby Bourbon Tassies”

Dough Ingredients (adapted from Martha Stewart’s Pate Brisee)

• 2½ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp coarse salt
• 1 tsp sugar
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut in pieces
• ¼ to ½ cups ice water

Yield:  2 pie shells (or approximately 48 tassies)

Place the flour, salt and sugar in the bowl of a food processor, and process for a few seconds to combine.  Add the butter, and process until the mixture resembles coarse meal, about 10 seconds.  With the machine running, add the ice water in a slow, steady stream, through the feed tube just until the dough holds together.  Do not process for more than 30 seconds.

Turn the dough out onto a work surface.  Divide in two.  Place each half on a sheet of plastic wrap.  Flatten, and form two discs.  Wrap, and refrigerate at least 1 hour before using.  When ready to start assembling, pull dough out and start rolling into approximately 2” diameter balls.  You should have approximately 24 or more balls per disc of dough; 48 plus for both.  Press into 2, 24-cup mini muffin tins with the dough coming up the sides to the top.  You want to use fingertips to smooth out the dough and create enough space for the filling.

Warning:  due to so much butter, the dough will get very soft and melt on you as you work.  You might want to keep one disc of dough in the fridge until done with the next, and minimize how much you handle the dough as you roll the balls and press into the tins.  Note:  There is no need to pre-bake the dough in this case, although for a true pie, you may want to blind bake for a bit.

Filling Ingredients

• 2 extra large eggs
• 4 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted
• 2/3 cup light brown sugar
• 1/3 cup white sugar
• ¼ cup all-purpose flour
• ¼ cup bourbon
• 6-8 ounces of chocolate (mini chips, chips or bars)
• 48± whole walnuts (or pecans)

Whisk together eggs, melted butter, sugars and flour in a bowl.

ASSEMBLY: With dough already pressed into the muffin cups, take bits of chocolate and place on the bottom of each muffin cup.  If you use bars, then chop into small pieces so they can be layered appropriately.  Next, take approximately a 1½ teaspoons of the filling and drop over the chocolate by teaspoon (sorry, by any other means and you’d have a flood of filling).  The filling should come up a little over 3/4 of the cup.  Finally, top with one large nut.

Bake in a preheated 325° oven for approximately 30-35 minutes until pastry edges are browned and filling is slightly puffed.  Cool in pan for approximately 10 minutes, then you can usually lift out with fingertips rather easily (again, all that butter self greases the pan).  If there is tension, simply run a knife around the edges and try again.  Serve warm for a melted, gooey consistency, or cool and store in container for later use.

Personal Notes:   Kudos to Martha for giving us a food processor recipe for a really great basic pie dough.  Unfortunately, my food processor croaked a couple of weeks ago and I was stuck doing it the old fashioned way.  If you too don’t have one, all I did was freeze the sticks of butter for a couple of hours, then grate them on a box grater.  Add to pre-chilled dry ingredients and then stir in the ice water.  For me, I needed a few more Tbsp of water than the recipe called for .. perhaps due to geography, or perhaps I over measured my dry ingredients.  You’ll need to feel it out and work by intuition.  And, if tassies aren’t your thing here, use the same recipe but plunk into  pie shell.

Once last note:  if you’d rather leave out the bourbon, that’s fine.  I’d sub in a couple of teaspoons of vanilla extract and call it a day!

Related posts:

1. Derby Bites: Benedictine
2. Derby Bites: The Kentucky Hot Brown

Complementing last week’s appetizer of Benedictine, Derby revelers will no doubt want something a bit more substantial.  After all — drinking, socializing and horse racing can run a body down!  Meet the Kentucky Hot Brown:  chunky roast turkey slices, layered over slices of white bread, cloaked in a cheesy Mornay sauce, then topped with sliced tomatoes and cooked bacon.  The entire piece is then broiled for a few minutes to give everything a bubbly, suntanned look.  Sound tempting?  Then read on …

As the story goes, the Kentucky Hot Brown was an invention of The Brown Hotel of Louisville during the Roaring Twenties.  The chef there, Fred Schmidt, needed something to please the hotel’s dancing party crowd and guests that would want to nosh something late at night; nothing as heavy as a dinner, but different from breakfast.  The sandwich was a hit, and soon became a draw unto itself.  My personal guess is that the revelers were toasted and needed tasty grub to combat the pending hangover – similar to any college student these days headed out to Waffle House at 2am after a frat party.  At any rate, the specialty open faced sandwich had staying power, living long after The Brown Hotel closed down for a period in the early 1970’s.  And somewhere along the way, it became a culinary symbol of the Derby.  Of course, the recipe has mutated and changed over the decades with exponential variations.  Many Kentucky housewives and beyond have made their own version, culled from different Junior League and community cookbooks.

The Brown Hotel did re-open in the 80’s, and the Hot Brown reappeared on its dining menu as an iconic institution.  In fact, the hotel was the background for the Food Network’s Hot Brown “throwdown” with Bobby Flay and then hotel executive chef Joe Castro (with his chef brother, John Castro).  The recipe featured in this post is The Brown Hotel’s classic version of the Hot Brown (via Food & Dining Louisville Edition magazine) – which apparently has a few chefy tweaks by Chef Joe Castro versus the recipe published on The Brown Hotel website. Meanwhile, there are some other renditions of Hot Browns out there of which you should be aware:

“BOBBY BROWN”: This is the version by Bobby Flay in the Food Network’s Hot Brown throwdown.  In a nutshell, Bobby uses a savory French toast base to the turkey, sauce & bacon.  I actually like his version a lot; for some reason I think of a de-constructed Croque Monsieur.  If you want to give Bobby’s recipe a try, click here.

“NOT BROWN”: Chef John Castro of Winston’s Restaurant in Louisville (and brother to Chef Joe Castro mentioned above), does his own variation of the Hot Brown, aptly named Not Brown and is made of fried green tomatoes, shrimp, crab, bacon, spinach and a Mornay sauce.  This sounds heavenly and I would pretty much sell my soul to get this recipe.  If you have this recipe, please contact me!

“HAMISH BROWN”:  Hah! I couldn’t help myself … I made this label up!  With that said, there are quite a few variations of the Hot Brown that utilize some form of ham – country ham or prosciutto – in addition to the turkey.  Everybody needs options …

“FOXY BROWN”: Fellow food blogger Heather at Gild the Voodoo Lily created her own version by changing up the cheeses and seasonings of the more classic recipe.  I’m a fan of the Foxy Brown as it has an element of spiciness with paprika in it.  As she so eloquently states:  “…I altered the recipe for a Hot Brown just enough to give it a newer, sexier name. I dub this sandwich the Foxy Brown.”  If you’re feeling ‘foxy’ and want to give Heather’s recipe a go, click here.

“CANDY BROWN”:  I’d say this is my own twist, although I’m guessing it’s been done already.  Regardless, I wanted to boost up the Foxy Brown just a smidge by adding candied bacon to the top of the turkey & cheese sauce heap.  And because there was more of a sweet element with brown sugared pig, I punched up the paprika and added some cayenne to the sauce.  Perhaps I went way overboard, but come on … who wouldn’t want candied bacon on their sandwich?

“VELVET BROWN“:  White trash. Velveeta.  Need I say more?

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HUMOR CONTEST:  I did snicker coming up with a couple of those labels above.  If you have a special rendition of a Hot Brown, share the name and your humor in the comments section.  I don’t have any prizes to give, but you’ll have 15 minutes of fame…

Obviously, the recipe below is for a standard Hot Brown dinner serving, but on the kibbles & bits buffet strategy, you’ll need to miniaturize the components of this recipe for yourself.  But for the record, I’ll tell you what I did so as to give you a jumping point for your adaptation.

• Bread:  I decided to skip the boring sliced white route and got a loaf of a slightly soft Italian Ciabatta bread.  I sliced it on the diagonal (2½” long) and gave it a little butter baste and a light toasting in the oven.  I was going for a version of Texas toast (lightly colored, but still somewhat soft).  My penchant for toasting revolves around wanting the bread sturdy enough to support turkey and cheese sauce without getting soggy; plus, you need to be able to pick it up with your hands and eat it without implosion.  P.S. You can doll up the toast with a little sprinkle of paprika if you want.
• I totally cheated and bagged a rotisserie turkey breast at my local grocery store, and sliced that right up.  It was mighty tasty and saved some time (you’d think I was doing a guest spot on Sandra Lee’s “Semi-Homemade”!)
• Mornay:  I followed the directions, but did take the opportunity to use up a couple of fancy cheese heels that were in still in my fridge.  So, my sauce wasn’t quite as pure as the recipe dictated, but it didn’t matter.  It was freakin’ cheesy good.
• Tomato:  It’s still too early for tomatoes in New England.  So, I went the route of large grape tomatoes instead, and it worked better from a scale standpoint with the miniatures.
• Garnish:  Top with finely chopped parsley (or chives) for some visual punch.

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“The  Brown Hotel’s Hot Brown”

Adapted from Chef Joe Castro, Published by Food & Dining Louisville Edition

Ingredients

• 4 ounces butter
• 6 Tbsp all-purpose flour
• 3 cups milk
• 1 egg
• 6 Tbsp freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 ounce heavy cream (optional)
• Salt
• Pepper
• 8 to 12 slices of roast turkey
• 8 slices of good quality white bread
• Extra grated Parmesan for topping
• 8 strips of cooked bacon

Yield:  Serves four.

The process goes fast, so have all your ingredients measured and ready before you start. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the flour all at once, whisking to make a thick roux. Add the milk, whisking to mix it in well. Stir in the Parmesan cheese. Reduce heat to low. Whisk the egg lightly in a cup or small bowl. Stir in a little of the hot sauce to “temper” the egg so it won’t scramble when you add it to the sauce. When the egg is well mixed with a little of the sauce, whisk this combination into the saucepan. Heat the sauce briefly until it becomes smooth and thick, taking care not to let it come to a boil. Remove from heat. If you’re using heavy cream, whip it and then fold it into the sauce gently. Check the seasoning and add salt and pepper to taste.

For each Hot Brown, place two slices of toast on a flameproof dish such as a metal plate. Put one or two slices of turkey on each piece of toast. Pour a generous amount of sauce over each and sprinkle with grated Parmesan. Place the dish under a broiler until the sauce is bubbly and speckled brown. Remove from broiler, cross two pieces of bacon on top of the dish, along with some tomato, and serve immediately.

Personal Notes:  My cheese sauce got a bit too thick on me, so I did have to thin it out with a little more liquid.  Additionally, the rotisserie turkey was a tad drier than I expected, but that was easily fixed by ladling out some chicken broth I had in the fridge and letting the slices warm up in the liquid a bit.  Otherwise, I was quite pleased with this turnout.  Just be aware that if you are serving guests, these will need to be served rather quickly as it doesn’t have the same appeal after the Hot Browns have cooled and the cheese sauce has congealed.

Related posts:

1. Derby Bites: Benedictine
2. Derby Bites: Derby Bourbon Tassies

The first Saturday of every May is indelibly etched on most Southerners’ calendar:  the Kentucky Derby!  Whether you avidly watch the festivities and race, or simply check the internet or paper the next day for the winner, nearly all give a nod to the prestigious sporting event.  Make no mistake though, the Derby is a SOCIAL event.  And we know what social really means:  lotsa food & booze.

If you’re actually going to the Derby, have sky box seating and are obliged to dress up in that trés British finery, then odds are you will be hosting and/or attending pre-parties and post-parties with lots of good eats & drinks by high priced caterers.  I’d say that if you’re in that crowd, then this post most likely isn’t for you.  I’m out to appeal to the masses that are content to sit back with the remote in hand, gazing at their snazzy 52” HD, flat screen TV’s — but with the same good eats and drinks as the “tony” crowd.

Over the next several posts leading up to Derby weekend, I’ll be touching on a couple of Louisville classics that can be incorporated into any Derby grazing event you are planning.  The recipes are focused around the kibbles & bits strategy; finger foods to keep your stomach lined so that the bourbon you’re swizzling doesn’t knock you out flat (bourbon blackouts are not pretty).  One such classic to share is Benedictine.  Created by a Louisville caterer, Miss Jennie C. Benedict, it was made specifically as a filling for ladies’ dainty tea sandwiches way back in the 1890’s.  This edible is somewhat of a chameleon since it can be used a number of ways:  sandwich filling, dip or condiment.  Benedictine is cream cheese based, with the addition of grated cucumber and onion.  There is a requisite dash of heat, but here’s the rub:  you gotta add green food coloring.  Mind you, you can omit the food coloring, but my Louisville connections say it just wouldn’t be the same.  I think the Facebook quote ran something like “ … I wouldn’t dream of serving my Benedictine without the green food coloring in it!…” The upside here is that it’s not flaming Leprechaun green, more of a very light pistachio gelato color. (Post publication addendum:  a Louisville based foodie authority has made the callout that my pictures indicate a heavy hand with the green food coloring.  While I won’t discount that at all, I think there were also some Photoshop issues here.  Mea culpa everybody.  Readers be advised – make it very, very LIGHT green in color!)

I’ve tried out a number of recipes, and I’ve settled on one that was published by Saveur magazine some time ago.  Seems that many other recipes call for sour cream which has a tendency to ruin the stiff consistency that I personally like; besides, the cukes and onion already add water.  And, those same recipes want to dump everything in a food processor and turn it into a cucumber-cream cheese smoothie — I like my Benedictine chunky.  The version below is rather perfect as it omits sour cream and calls for hand mashing and stirring.  Feel free to doctor it up to suit your own tastes.  I myself used a pinch of cayenne pepper versus the Tabasco hot sauce.

So what do you do with Benedictine?  If you’re a purist, you would simply slip it between some soft bread slices that you’ve pre-cut with a cutsie cookie cutter, making some small finger sandwiches a la Miss Jennie.  But if your Derby crowd has a bit more testosterone, rendering dainty tea sandwiches a bit too femme, then slice some baguettes on the diagonal and top them canape style with the Benedictine .. maybe some macho garnishment such as a sliver of a hot pepper.  Of course, if you keep the stiffer consistency, it will stand as a perfect dip for vegetable sticks.  I’d go out on a limb and bring in something a little different than the generic celery stick; maybe blanched green beans that still have quite a bit of snap & crunch?  Some asparagus spears?  Trimmed baby radishes?  Carrot sticks would be good too, and the color contrast would look dynamic.  Or maybe some Italian grissini breadsticks?  But, here’s my favorite adaptation:  how about open-faced baby BBT’s (Bacon-Benedictine-Tomato)?  Hit up the deli aisle at your grocery and find a bag of those special little party pumpernickel breads that are about 2×2”, lightly toast them and then layer some of the spread, a chunky bite of thick bacon and top with a cherry tomato (spearing it all with a toothpick)!

For what it’s worth, I also found a couple of rogue Benedictine recipes that added goat cheese …  some of you might want to investigate that route if it has appeal (if so, click here).  Would Miss Jennie approve?  I expect she would applaud such culinary initiative.  Give Benedictine a try … and enjoy the Derby!  And, check back next week for yet another “Derby Bites” installment.

.

“Benedictine Spread”

Adapted from Saveur Magazine

Ingredients

• 6 ounces cream cheese (softened)
• 1 medium cucumber (peeled, seeded and grated)
• 1 medium yellow onion (peeled and grated)
• 2 Tbsp mayonnaise
• 1/4 tsp Tabasco sauce
• Salt
• Green Food Coloring

Place cream cheese in a bowl and mash with a fork until smooth.  Wrap cucumber in cheesecloth, then squeeze out and discard juice.  Add cucumber to cream cheese and mix thoroughly.  Wrap onions in cheesecloth and squeeze juice into cream cheese mixture, then discard onions.  Mix mayonnaise and Tabasco sauce into cream cheese mixture.  Season to taste with salt, then add 1 drop green food coloring and mix well.  Serve on thinly sliced white sandwich bread, topped with another slice of bread, trimmed and cut into finger sandwiches.

Personal Notes:

• As mentioned above, doctor this up to your own tastes.  The Louisville contingency may disagree, but I love cayenne pepper versus the Tabasco (just a pinch).
• Additionally, I couldn’t be bothered to measure out 6 ounces of cream cheese from an 8 ounce block; I dumped the whole block in.
• And, I couldn’t hack squeezing for onion juice, so I simply took the onion to a rasp and grated what I thought was an appropriate amount.
• As for the cucumbers, I went the route of grating the evening before I needed it, then put it in a fine mesh strainer with a little salt to help draw the water out.  If you put it over a bowl and let it drip drain over night, there’s a lot less squeezing.  BTW, I don’t know why one wouldn’t include the dark green peel in this as well (I’ll skip peeling next time).
• My dainty tea sandwiches were built for truck drivers, as I was a little heavy handed with the filling; you may want to watch that part.  And, you might want to fill — then chill in the ice box for a bit — so that the filling doesn’t gush out at first bite.

Related posts:

1. Derby Bites: The Kentucky Hot Brown
2. Derby Bites: Derby Bourbon Tassies

It’s Easter, and thought I’d share a religious experience of sorts with the foodie crowd.  Forgive the irreverence, but my personal epiphany was around something warm, yeasty and buttery with the intoxicating aroma of cinnamon.  I’m talking about Moravian Sugar Cake.  A couple of bites of this and you’ll have a life altering experience that will invoke deep, gluttonous thoughts.  I was bowled over by this regional treat several years ago when visiting some friends in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  I had joined the couple and some extended family of theirs for social festivities, and I kept hearing the phrase lobbied over my head:

“Did you take her to Dewey’s yet”?” … “You gotta take her to Dewey’s.”

Hmmmm, sounded suspiciously like a “wings ‘n rings” beer joint for the local Bubbas.  Politely, I asked about Dewey’s.  One of those in the know said that Dewey’s was a bakery that had the BEST cake ever.  That when you went, you had to buy several cakes, since they didn’t last too long.  Must be good cake I thought, considering this fellow kept talking about it.  OK, consider me hooked.  After a day or two more, complete with wining, dining, shopping and yakking — someone else asked my friend:  “Did you take her to Dewey’s yet?”  My curiosity was getting hard to manage; I didn’t know if I would last much longer.

The next day arrived, and the great field trip to Dewey’s went down.  Dewey’s is a bakery with several locations, one of those being gingerly tucked into a sprawling suburban strip mall that commonly covers the South.  They have been around quite a few decades, since 1930.  At any rate, once you cruise through any of the retail doors, you’re greeted by that utterly intoxicating cinnamon aroma I mentioned above.  In fact, I was mesmerized — in a trance — as I walked the long bakery counter viewing the fresh goodies behind the glass.  The shop is one of those German-style bakeries, with plenty of honey buns and coffee cakes.  But it is most well known for it’s Moravian Sugar Cake (and Moravian Cookies too, but we’ll have to save those for another post).

For those of you Biscuiteers out there who are in suspense, let me describe this uber treat.  It’s the love child of a snickerdoodle cake and foccacia bread.  It’s a relatively flat, square yeast cake made super moist by the addition of potato to the dough.   It’s not poured into a bundt pan, but rather patted into a jelly roll pan. Once baked, the top is dimpled like one of those textured relief maps from your grade school days; the little canyons and gorges of it having been drizzled with butter, with a cascade of brown sugar and cinnamon.  Like bread, you want to tear off pieces of this confection as opposed to cutting it.  As you pull, you can feel the tenderness, the gentle elasticity.   And despite the moist, buttery crumb, the sugar cake is somewhat delicate — light in weight and taste.  Then once the sweet treat has been finally registered by your taste buds, “happy” signals are telegraphed to your brain … blissful satiation.  Hypnotized, your hand involuntarily moves back to pull off another piece chunk.

Suffice it to say, I bought three of those cakes from Dewey’s and hand carried them onto the plane for my flight back north.

The cakes freeze beautifully.  And, just as melty chocolate bars on a hot dashboard seem to taste better, you can heat the sugar cake in the microwave for 15 to 30 seconds – just enough to make it soft and squishy.  You don’t really need to adorn this cake by any other means, but I can vouch that it makes an excellent if not slightly different base to a peach short cake.  Now that I think about it, sauteed apples spooned over it would make a lovely autumn short cake too.

So what is the Moravian component to the sugar cake?  The Moravians are an historic group whose heritage is from that of Bohemia and Moravia, which is present day Czech Republic.  They converted to Christianity in the mid-ninth century under the influence of the Greek Orthodox church, but became disillusioned with the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of Rome later on down the road (as did a few other groups).  I’ll shorten the story a bit to say that there was a protest group that splintered off from the Catholic church, and needless to say all sorts of drama ensued:  reformation spirit brought persecution, declarations of heresy, death, exile.  Fast forward several centuries to the mid 1700’s when the Moravians made their big boat trip to America, setting up camp in Pennsylvania, as well as a frontier settlement in North Carolina.  That settlement is modern day Winston-Salem, with Old Salem being a restored town and testimonial to the Moravian immigrants that developed the early settlement.  And yes, the Moravian Church is still a large and vital organization to this day.  Culturally speaking, the Germanic or Eastern European influences still run strong when it comes to Moravian food and baking – as there are numerous bakeries around Winston-Salem serving up old world baked goods for ‘those in the know.’

If you’re ever in Winston-Salem, indulge in the Moravian Sugar Cake, be it from Dewey’s or elsewhere.  It’s so unique to the area, and a wonderful example of worldly influence that resulted in something rather iconic for a little Southern town. If you’ve had it before and want to try your hand at making it, it’s not rocket science, but in my opinion – hard to measure up to the bakery version.  The below recipe was published by Jean Anderson in her cookbook “A Love Affair with Southern Cooking.” Amazingly, I have never spotted a Moravian Sugar Cake recipe in any other regional cookbook prior to hers – which is a shame.  I’ve Googled and found a handful of home style recipes that are meant to make bulk quantities, but I wasn’t in the mood to try several of them out and compare against each other.  Ms. Anderson’s version was enough to give me a quick ‘fix,’ but not sure I’d attempt it again as it seemed to lack that something special I remembered from my original experience, in both texture and taste.  Perhaps Moravian Sugar Cake is best left to the professionals; all I need to do is click and pay!

Then again, should any reader out there have a recipe they feel is worthy of attention, do share!

“Moravian Sugar Cake”

Adapted from “A Love Affair with Southern Cooking” by Jean Anderson

Cake Ingredients

• 1¼-ounce package active dry yeast
• ¼ cup granulated sugar
• ½ cup very warm water (105º to 115º F)
• ¼ cup firmly packed mashed potatoes, at room temperature
• 1 Tbsp dry milk powder
• ½ tsp salt
• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
• 1 large egg, at room temperature
• 2¼ to 2½ cups un-sifted all purpose flour
• 1/3 cup firmly packed light brown sugar mixed with ½ tsp ground cinnamon

Generously spritz a 15 x 10 x 1 inch jelly roll pan with nonstick cooking spray and set aside.  By hand, combine the yeast, ½ tsp of the sugar, and ¼ cup of the warm water in a large electric mixer bowl and let stand for 5 minutes or until the yeast activates and the mixture froths.  Add the remaining sugar and the remaining water, the potatoes, dry milk, salt and ½ cup of the flour.  Beat at low speed just long enough to combine, raise the mixer to high, and beat for about 2 minutes or until satiny.  With the mixer at low speed, add 1½ cups of the remaining flour, ½ cup at a time and continue beating after each addition to incorporate.

Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface, and knead for about 2 minutes, working in the remaining ¼ to ½ cup flour until you have a soft, workable dough.  With well-buttered hands, pat the dough over the bottom of the jelly roll pan, stretching and pushing to the edge and into the corners.  Brush the dough with 1 Tbsp of the remaining melted butter, then set the uncovered pan in a warm, draft-free spot for about 30 minutes or until doubled in bulk.  Toward the end of rising, preheat the oven to 375º F.  When the dough is fully risen, poke deep holes all over the surface with your fingers, scatter the brown sugar mixture evenly over all, then drizzle with the remaining butter.  Again set uncovered in a warm, draft-free spot, this time for 10-15 minutes or until the dough has risen as high as the rim of the pan.

Bake the sugar cake on the middle over shelf for 18-20 minutes or until lightly browned and springy-firm to the touch.  Remove from the oven, cool in the upright pan on a wire rack for about 20 minutes, then cut into large squares and serve.

PERSONAL NOTES:  With the use of mashed potatoes, make sure to plan ahead (I only needed 1 medium potato).  I opted to bake mine versus boiling since I wasn’t sure that I should introduce extra liquid into the baking equation.  In hindsight, I could have steamed it.  If I did it again, I’d run it through the food processor for a smooth texture versus just mashing with a fork like I did.  Other than that, just note the addition of dry milk powder which I had to buy special for this recipe.  My last bit of advice, is that you might want to (a) lower the temp a tad or (b) purposefully under bake the cake  — depending upon your particular oven.  I baked for exactly 18 minutes and felt my product came out a touch too crunchy (like a bread when I would have preferred it more soft and ‘cakey’).

Related posts:

1. Lemon Cheese Layer Cake: Slice O’Sunshine

Be sure to Southernize that and say [puh-mí-nuh] cheese.  And what’s with the spelling?  Is it pimiento with the notable insertion of the second “i”, or is it pimento, with only one “i”?  So, I cheated and went to Wikipedia, which gives a plausible explanation.  ‘Pimiento’ is the Spanish word for the cherry pepper used in olives and the BMB topic du jour, whereas ‘pimento’ is the Portuguese version.  Somewhere along the way, I guess most Southerners bonded with the Portuguese version … so pimento it is for this post.

I hadn’t planned on chatting about pimento cheese until it got a little warmer — and closer to tomato season.  But a couple of things prompted an early publishing.  First, I recently re-connected with a college friend online and shared with her my blogging endeavors to date.  Her comment back to me was something like: “great stuff, but you have nothing about pimento cheese.”  She sent me a follow up email, insisting-urging-begging that I share a pimento cheese recipe so that she and her husband could indulge themselves.  You see, she too is a Southern ex-pat, but living in Washington.  Seattle has good eats, but I guess that it too can be a barren wasteland when it comes to some Southern comfort foods.

Second, in my recent field trip down south, my brother was raving about a pimento cheese recipe that my sister-in-law uses.  My brother is a bit of a foodie (but wouldn’t want to be called as much) so I figured the recipe must be darn good if he’s boasting about it.  I asked her to forward me the formula, and turns out that Lisa at Homesick Texan published the same recipe on her blog (and, she has a special relationship with Ro-Tel).  If you want to to sample a Tex-Mex version, this one should hit the spot:  Pimento Cheese (Hold the Pimentos).

At any rate, all this chatter in such a short period of time made me start obsessing about pimento cheese.  Had to have some, even without fresh summer tomatoes.  You see, pimento cheese can be quite an emotional topic amongst Southerners; family recipes and loyalties can become easily bruised, depending on who is arguing.  Is grated onion key?  White cheddar or orange?  Garlic or no garlic?  Smooth or chunky?  Cream cheese or no cream cheese?  Crackers or toast points?

The recipe that I just tried is one published by Martha Hall Foose in her cookbook, Screen Doors and Sweet Tea.  The best part about her recipe is the fact that it’s made with homemade mayonnaise, and she provides a recipe for that too.  Folks, suck up the time and pull out that big ole food processor and make the good mayo at least once in your life.  Heck, get fancy and add some garlic which would make it a redneck cousin of French aioli.  You’ll even have some leftover to doctor up a chicken or shrimp salad for the following day.  BUT, please read my notes below the mayo recipe! Additionally, Martha’s version like some others I’ve seen over the years, believes in a little seasoning which I think gives it dimension:  lemon juice, dry mustard, cayenne and Worcestershire.  But here’s the kicker:  Martha adds fresh sage.  Weird I say, but it works.  The taste is classic pimento cheese – nothing too frou-frou.  You should note that the pimento cheese itself is NOT made in the processor.  It’s my opinion that the stuff shouldn’t be whizzed into a mousse, but served rustically textured.  I want to feel the chew of the cheese with clumps of pimiento or pepper, all with the oozy homemade mayo.

Amusingly, I’ve tried to explain the pimento cheese concept to some of my New England friends and work associates.  They just don’t get it.  I tell them what pimento cheese is made of, and they scrunch up their nose and make wincing facial expressions.  They ask, “what do you do with it?”  What do you DO with it?  OMG.  Everything!

APPLICATIONS:  Pimento cheese is used in so many ways; it has the versatility of Vaseline Petroleum Jelly.  First and foremost, it is a sandwich spread.  Pimento cheese on white bread is something Aunt Bea would’ve served Andy & Opie on Mayberry RFD.  It’s also a dip, seen at virtually all Dixie gatherings with its BFF, the celery stick.  The crunchy celery is the perfect foil to the rich fats of the mayo and cheese.  Pimento cheese is also a condiment, topping burgers and hot dogs.  If you don’t believe me, you should visit The Varsity in Atlanta, Georgia.  Here are some other ways to enjoy it:

• put a new spin on cheese grits
• fill some okra or jalapenos and make some fried poppers
• stuff a fresh tomato, or serve a dollop over tomato slices
• add to ham & biscuits
• make a BLTPC (bacon, lettuce, tomato and pimento cheese)
• make pimento cheese straws
• grill a pimento cheese sandwich
• roll into baby balls and cover in toasted, chopped pecans for pimento cheese truffles
• serve for breakfast, inside an omelet
• serve a dollop on top of fried green tomatoes
• serve as part of a salad plate with chicken salad and lady pea salad
• add a twist to the everyday mac & cheese

VARIATIONS: If you’re a pimento cheese gourmand, then you’ll know firsthand that there are thousands of recipes floating around, all with the same concept: add grated cheese to some fats and red peppers.  Below are some variations you can employ with the recipe below, or with any recipe for that matter:

• add diced hot peppers such as jalapeno, serrano or poblano for some heat and color
• add some toasted pecans (even peanuts!) for some texture and nuttiness
• add grated onion and/or garlic
• add other spices and seasonings such as garlic powder, dehydrated onion, fresh parsley – even curry powder!
• use blue cheese for a modern, sophisticated take
• add chopped green olives
• roast your own red peppers in place of jarred pimientos

“Pimiento Cheese”

Adapted from Screen Doors and Sweet Tea by Martha Hall Foose (apparently, Martha prefers the Spanish version of ‘pimiento’)

Ingredients

• 1 cup mayonnaise, preferably homemade (see recipe below)
• 1 tsp finely chopped sage (fresh, about 2 large leaves)
• 1 tsp lemon juice
• 1 tsp dry mustard
• ½ tsp cayenne pepper
• ½ tsp Worcestershire sauce
• 8 ounces Colby cheese, grated (2 cups)
• 8 ounces sharp Cheddar cheese, grated (2 cups)
• 1 4-oz jar chopped pimientos, drained
• salt and freshly ground black pepper
• hot sauce

In a medium bowl with a rubber spatula, combine the mayonnaise, sage, lemon juice, mustard, cayenne and Worcestershire sauce.  Add the two cheeses and pimientos, blending thoroughly to combine.  Season with salt, pepper and hot sauce.  Refrigerate until ready to use.

Yield: Approximately 2 cups.

PERSONAL NOTES:  I used roasted piquillo peppers from a jar – which I prefer over pimientos.  They tasted so good, I think I added more than the 4 oz, but couldn’t tell you how much.  I would also highlight that if you happen to like your PC on the ‘drier’ side, then cut back on the mayo (something like 1/2 – 3/4 cup) – I wish I had done that, as it was a tad wetter than I prefer.  And, I couldn’t help myself; I added grated sweet onion too.  Not enough to give you dragon breath, but that perfect amount to sit in the background … maybe 2 Tablespoon’s worth.

Mayonnaise:

• 1 large egg (room temp)
• 1 large egg yolk (room temp)
• 1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
• 1 Tbsp white vinegar
• 1 tsp dry mustard
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp sugar
• dash of cayenne pepper
• 2 cups vegetable oil

In a food processor fitted with the metal blade, combine the whole egg, yolk, lemon juice, vinegar, mustard, salt, sugar and cayenne.  Pulse several times to blend.  With the processor running at high speed, very slowly drizzle in the oil, allowing it to fully integrate as added until all the oil has been incorporated.

Yield: Approximately 2 pints.

PERSONAL NOTES:  Folks, HAVE A BACK UP PLAN!  In full disclosure, it took me two attempts to get this homemade mayo right.  Version one was egg & oil soup since I wasn’t particularly vigilant in adding the oil slowly so that it actually emulsified.  Version two was much better, but I painfully added the oil 2 tablespoons at a time.  I recommend having extra supplies for another attempt, or have enough prepared mayonnaise on hand to go that route.

No related posts.

I’ve had a busy, long weekend away from New England, visiting family down South in the Carolinas.  I typically don’t make too many trips down within a given calendar year, so when I do, I always come armed with a grocery list of Southern pantry staples that I pirate back to wherever I call home.  This past trip was no different.

Over the years, almost everyone in the immediate family has been subjected to my requests to ferry me to the local grocery store and patiently follow around with the buggy as I troll through the aisles like it’s the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  And since it’s an annoying chore, I do try and allocate the pain in measured doses across various siblings, in-law’s and parents.  Sometimes, it’s a family affair with not only a local grocery trip, but with some others involved in separate hunting & gathering exercises in other regions to help ensure my gourmet happiness.  I’d like to give a shout out to the following for their recent efforts:

• My mother and sister, who diligently canvassed numerous stores throughout upper South Carolina stockpiling Western Bagel’s “alternative bagel” since it is apparently not distributed within North Carolina (I know, bagels are far from being Southern — but it’s tasty, jacked up with fiber and hard to get your hands on);
• My father, for his devoted list management and stewardship of the grocery buggy.  I applaud the fact that he didn’t visibly flinch as I picked up multiple containers of mayo, flour, etc.  And, I salute his crafty foresight in snagging extra plastic bags to be used in the packing process;
• My brother for his surprise gift of an Anson Mills care package that included cold milled Antebellum grits as well as Carolina Gold rice that he schlepped to me from from his North Carolina home town, carefully wrapped and stored in a thermal lunchbox so as to preserve its freshness.  Additionally, he found my favorite commercial BBQ sauce that I haven’t been able to score in ages;
• And, a special belated thanks to my sister-in-law who generously bought me a souvenir tee shirt from the Piggly Wiggly on a recent trip to the South Carolina coast … “I’m Big on the Pig.”

So, what Southern goodies were in this trip’s bounty?  Take a peek … some of you out there might be familiar with these items, but may think ‘what’s the big deal?’  In the macro sense I can live without, but I still find myself “pining” for them; it’s a mental thing.  So, I indulge my inner belle and make every attempt to keep these foodstuffs in my ex-pat cupboard and freezer.

1. LUZIANNE TEA (Specially Blended for Iced Tea) Iced tea and one’s prefered tea bag used to brew it is such a subjective issue.    Hands down, I prefer Luzianne like many Southerners – although many folks disagree.   That’s OK; it’s America and you’re free to have your own opinion (and your own food blog too).  With that said, the reason I prefer it is that it has the best taste when used specifically for iced tea – clean flavor, no bitterness or harsh, tinny aftertaste – even after sitting in the fridge for several days.   Luzianne (a regional pronunciation of Louisiana), is manufactured by the Reily Foods Company headquartered in New Orleans, LA.  Reily Foods has a number of recognizable brands, but I’m guessing that their teas are now the power house in the brand portfolio.  You can check out Luzianne and other products at www.luzianne.com.  And, look for my upcoming post of “Sweet Tea:  Liquid Dessert.”
2. WHITE LILY FLOUR I miss White Lily Flour, although I’ve learned to live without and have even found some comparable, high quality substitutes over the years.  Just what is the allure of White Lily?  It is a 100% pure, soft red winter wheat that has a low protein and low gluten level that’s ideal for many baking uses where the end goal is fluffy and tender baked goods (e.g. cakes, biscuits and quick breads).  White Lily historically has been manufactured in Knoxville, TN since the late 1800’s –  as it was close to the volume growers of that soft red winter wheat.  But the brand was bought by the J.M. Smucker Company in recent years (yep, that Smucker of jelly & jam fame).  To the dismay & horror of many bakers, Smucker’s moved the mill out of Knoxville and into Ohio as of mid-2008.  In The New York Times article “Biscuit Bakers’ Treasured Mill Moves North” the change did not sit well with those in the know.  There is apparently a palpable production difference in the new mill’s ability to replicate the silky feel and baking performance of the old mill’s product.  Due to my novice baking & technical aptitude, the difference escapes me – but buyer beware.  Despite the change, brand loyalty and reputation seem to prevail, and White Lily flour still dominates the Southern grocers’ baking aisle.
3. ANSON MILLS GRITS & CAROLINA GOLD RICE Anson Mills is a very special company, and I’ve become a groupie over the years.  How special is it?  The company website says it all on its home page: “Handmade Mill Goods of Organic Heirloom Grains.” Glenn Roberts, a Charleston-based historic restoration consultant, wanted to re-create period recipes that his mother remembered as a little girl – but he couldn’t, as most of the ingredients were virtually extinct.  Using his Hardy Boys investigative skills, he tracked down those near-extinct heirloom grains from the fields of old bootleggers and farmers, with the aspiration of growing, harvesting and milling them – and he did it rather successfully.  In fact, he’s become a bit of a celebrity, as highlighted in The New York Times feature on him titled “A Grits Revival with the Flavor of the Old South.” For me, my introduction to Anson Mills was their Antebellum Coarse Grits that I sampled at a Charleston restaurant while visiting a sister years ago:  they were nutty and creamy … appropriately ‘toothsome.’  Another key item in the Anson Mills stable is Carolina Gold Rice – something that I have yet to try but will be looking forward to cooking.  Casting a rich, golden hue in the fields, Carolina Gold is the historical strain of long grain rice that disappeared during the Civil War, a result of the dying plantation life in the Carolina low country.  It apparently has adaptive properties depending upon how it is cooked:  it can be light and fluffy, or creamy like a risotto variety.  Take the opportunity to browse the website at www.ansonmills.com, as you’ll have a better appreciation of Glenn’s accomplishments and I bet you’ll even want to buy and try, then find yourself hooked like I am.  GRITS SMUGGLER (??):  If you didn’t catch my recent tweet, I was detained at the Asheville airport by TSA this past weekend, where my carry-on luggage that was loaded with Anson Mills goodies was flagged for intimate scrutiny – the grits in particular.  The security officer took every bag of grits out of its packaging, swabbing & testing for narcotics.  A comment was later made by family, likening me to a mule for the Anson Mills cartel!  Damn the TSA, but I have to say that the inconvenience was worth every grit bit … Look for my upcoming post of “Get Your Geechee On:  Shrimp & Grits.”
4. DUKE’S MAYONNAISE Duke’s is yet another one of those cult condiments that is a Southern institution, still manufactured in Greenville, SC.  If you visit the company website, you’ll see that the original recipe was that of one Eugenia Duke, who started out making sandwiches for the local troops headed out during WWI.  Additional Googling reveals that the boys loved her sandwiches that were made with her homemade mayonnaise, with the local grocery wanting to sell her special concoction.  At some point, Eugenia got wise:  she quit sandwich making to become a mayo mogul.  What makes Duke’s different you ask?  For me, it’s the closest thing to homemade; it doesn’t have the cloying sweetness of the major brands found at the grocery since it doesn’t have added sugar.  But don’t take my word for it — there’s even a Duke’s Facebook page with some 6,389+ fans who feel the same way I do.  Thankfully, distribution has grown over the years, and you can get it here up North, although I don’t ever see the full line of products and sizes you get down South.  For me, nothing tastes better with a tomato sandwich in late summer.  My one gripe with Duke’s (hint-hint!) is that I truly believe the mayo tasted better when it came in the glass jars – something that no doubt was abandoned for cost savings associated with plastic ones.
5. MAURICE’S BBQ SAUCE (Carolina Gold Original Recipe) This is a favorite BBQ sauce of mine, although I rarely get my hands on it.   South Carolina sauce is mustard based (versus tomato or vinegar based), and Maurice Bessinger’s version is up there in the top tasting.  In fact, he runs a large BBQ enterprise, aptly named the “Piggie Park” which originated in the greater Columbia, SC area.  While I like his sauce, I tend to doctor it up a little more by adding in some maple syrup or brown sugar, even some chopped fresh herbs like parsley or chives.  You can mail order both BBQ and sauce via www.mauricesbbq.com.

So there you have it, booty from my recent field trip down South.  If you have any special things you are fond of ‘importing,’ drop a comment and let me know.  It would be fun to compare lists!

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I confess, I’m still stuck on the Louisiana thing … which I didn’t foresee some weeks ago.  And what was originally planned as my non-BMB cooking adventure last weekend turned out to be a worthy and interesting post subject.  Or so I think.

Many of you are reading this and thinking, “Courtbouillon?”  What the heck is that?  Well, it’s sort of a fish soup, burgeoning on a stew — all with a NOLA twist.  And no, we won’t utter that Rachel Ray-ism of “stoup” which seems so déclassé.  I was introduced to courtbouillon via an Emeril Lagasse episode on Food Network some years ago, and gave the recipe a try way back then.  Loved it.  Unfortunately, I lost track of the recipe over the years, forgetting what a great meal it was – until I was cruising my Louisiana and Cajun cookbooks recently.  Given that it’s still winter, the warm spicy soup’s appeal beckoned for a do-over.  It’s also easy on the fats and calories — all the better for the chubby challenged.

First, a little history … compliments of “Tales of the Courtbouillon” which is straight off of Emerils.com.  Seems that the etymology of court-bouillon [pronounced cour-bouillon] was a French poaching liquid for fish, specifically a Lenten broth that included wine, butter, spices and herbs.  In fact, this article cites bouillabaisse as a cousin to court-bouillon, reinterpreted to reflect the seaport of Marseilles where saffron, tomatoes and pepper were incorporated – as well as oil (e.g. the Provençal rouille).  But as the greater Louisiana area was populated by the influx of French and Spanish settlers along with the Acadians and African slaves, the Louisiana rendition became localized as well.  There it started with a roux for flavor & thickening, was tomato based, then enhanced with local bounty from the marshes:  shrimp, crab, redfish and catfish along with ground sassafras leaves (filé) and okra.

Distinction to its European counterpart was made through spelling (one word ‘courtbouillon,’ dropping the hyphen), as well as pronunciation [pronounced cou-be-yon].  You can usually find a number of different recipes for it, many of them redfish based.  But since the fishmongers of New England don’t import redfish into cod country, I went with another standby that is available:  monkfish aka “poor man’s lobster.”  Honestly, I think any sturdy white fish will do, so don’t feel hemmed into monkfish.  I finally found the original recipe that I tried years ago, and it is available on Emerils.com.

So what does this mysterious Cou-Be-Yon taste like?  To me it’s the essence of everything Creole; tomatoes, peppers and onion dominate the palate with rustic appeal.  The color is a sultry, muddy, red — yet thick enough to call opaque.  But please note:  courtbouillon is also quite spicy!  The kind of spicy that you feel on the back of your throat as you swallow, but doesn’t require a glass of milk to counter the heat.  Then, just when you think you’ve locked on the flavor profile in your mind, you taste a smoky, nutty under-note which I attribute to the dark roux.  If you are unfamiliar with making a roux, you might want to study up on that offline prior to attempting the recipe.  I don’t want to scare any one off from trying this; it’s not rocket science.  But, roux can be tricky, and this recipe utilizes the dark chocolate colored variety which can be a hair away from becoming a burning mess if you happen to run light on experience and technique.  One can reference a number of sources, but the Southern Gumbo Trail is a great place to start, and has some pictures to help the layperson visualize how things should look along the way.

Courtbouillon is typically served over rice, but can certainly stand alone without the starch.  Even better is when it’s served with a clean, minerally Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc.  COU-BE-YON!

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“Monkfish Courtbouillon”

Adapted from Emerils.com by Emeril Lagasse

Soup Ingredients

• 1½ pounds monkfish tails, cleaned
• Essence (recipe follows)
• 1/3 cup vegetable oil
• 1/3 cup flour
• 1 cup chopped celery
• 1 cup chopped onions
• ½ cup chopped green bell pepper
• 2 mild green chilies or banana peppers, chopped fine (see note below)
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 Tbsp minced garlic
• 2 cups chopped, peeled tomatoes and seeded tomatoes (or 2 cups chopped canned tomatoes)
• ½ cup white wine
• 2 cups chicken stock
• ¾ tsp salt
• ¼ tsp cayenne pepper
• ¼ cup chopped green onions (scallions)
• 2 Tbsp chopped parsley
• 1½ cups cooked white rice

“Essence” Ingredients (Emeril’s Creole Seasoning)

• 2½ Tbsp paprika
• 2 Tbsp salt
• 2 Tbsp garlic powder
• 1 Tbsp black pepper
• 1 Tbsp onion powder
• 1 Tbsp cayenne powder
• 1 Tbsp dried oregano
• 1 Tbsp dried thyme

Combine all spice ingredients thoroughly and store in an airtight jar or container.  Yield:  about 2/3 cup.

Cut the fish into 2-inch pieces. Season with 1 tablespoon of the Essence and set aside.

In a large, heavy stockpot, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the flour and stir constantly with a heavy wooden spoon until it becomes a dark roux the color of chocolate, about 15 to 20 minutes. Add the celery, onions and bell peppers, and cook, stirring, until the vegetables are wilted, 6 minutes. Add the bay leaves and garlic, and cook for 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes, wine, stock, salt and cayenne, and stir well. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, until thickened, about 30 minutes. Add the fish and cook until it flakes with a fork, about 10 to 15 minutes.

Stir in the green onions and parsley during the last 5 minutes of cooking time. Remove the bay leaves and serve hot in soup bowls ladled over rice.  Yield: 4 servings

PERSONAL NOTES:  You’ll notice that I made the addition of 2 chilies to this recipe.  When searching for this recipe, I found it on Food Network as well, where there were slight differences to the recipe that is currently published on Emerils.com – one being the chilies.  Since I love heat, I did go ahead and add it, even though the link above to Emerils.com does not include it.

Additionally, since I didn’t want to eat monkfish courtbouillon for a week straight (and cooked fish doesn’t freeze well), I cut back on the monkfish quantity by half and then put half of the soup base in a container for freezing (and that was done prior to poaching the fish).  That way, I can thaw the soup base for future use, buying fresh seafood for the latter run.

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Skrimps.  Nope, it’s not a typo; I do realize that my post title this week is far from grammatically correct.  The hallowed halls of higher education will have to grant me a special ‘urban slang pass,’ because I’m just sort of into the word since I heard it again recently on television.  I’m having a flashback to my days in Atlanta.  Skrimps.

You see, ever since the New Orleans Saints’ win at the Super Bowl several weeks ago, I’ve had NOLA and its food on the brain.  I also realized that I’ve been putting you biscuiteers at risk for diabetes with all the carbs and sweets I’ve been showcasing, so thought I’d post responsibly with a protein based recipe for a change (‘responsibly’ excludes use of butter and cream as flavor factors).  And I’ve chosen skrimps … OK, shrimp.

After browsing through my Cajun cookbook collection, the recipe that spoke to me was from John Besh’s new’ish publication, My New Orleans.  It is one big, honking cookbook and I love it; not sure if I should rest it on my coffee table for its heft and National Geographic grade pictures, or if I should add further bulk to my overstuffed personal library shelves with this chunky thing.  For those of you that aren’t familiar with the name, John Besh is the reining darling of the New Orleans French Quarter, and a chef that you would have seen on any number of Food Network programs (he competed for “The Next Iron Chef,” but sadly was out-played by Chef Michael Symon).  He is quite the restaurant mogul, owning several establishments with a reputation for French influence but with modern bayou nuances (August, Lüke), and is an avid locavore supporting his beloved NOLA.  Did I mention he’s got that easy-on-the-eye media appeal to match a saucy, Southern frat boy sense of humor?

Back to the shrimp:  the recipe I’ve been eyeballing is “Besh Barbeque Shrimp.”  Now most folks know that New Orleans style BBQ shrimp has nothing to do with smoke, a grill or red sauce – pork it is not!  Instead, it is usually whole shrimp with heads cooked in a salty, buttery yet sublime brown sauce made right spicy through generous use of Worcestershire and cayenne pepper.  But, Besh’s recipe for it takes a twist and adds cream.  He admits that his “.. version is a bit more complex but is well worth the added preparation time …”  I was out to prove him right.

In a nutshell, this recipe breaks the dish into two steps, with the sauce base something one can make way in advance aided by either fridge or freezer.  The base is shrimp heads and shells (yep — heads! complete with little eyeballs and antennae) along with spices that are then melded into a sauce with water.  Step two simply cooks the shrimp in the prepared base with butter and cream until done — voilà, the meal is complete in a matter of minutes.  My experience has been that BBQ shrimp is a messy, hands-on affair which requires a disposable uniform – like your painting clothes or mechanics’ overalls.  But Besh’s version makes this classic a bit more refined since the shrimp are peeled & de-veined prior to cooking in the sauce, making it easier to rationalize as an option for when company’s coming over, or if you happen to be adverse to adult bibs to counter all the buttery drippings.  Yep, John –  I’m not into those adult bibs since they make me think of Red Lobster (a source of personal stress).

The recipe is not difficult, and it has maximized flavor and spiciness even with the cream in it.  What do you serve with BBQ Shrimp?  Chef Besh may disagree with my assessment, but I’m thinking yellow grits, rice or savory sweet potatoes of some caliber would be perfect starches to accompany the shrimp (and soak up some of the sauce).  Perhaps a nice spinach salad to cut through the spice & butter?  Ooooh … and grilled pineapple for dessert.  There you have it: Skrimps!  Whoops, shrimp.

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

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“Besh Barbeque Shrimp”

Adapted from My New Orleans by John Besh

Ingredients for Sauce Base

• 1 Tbsp olive oil
• 2 cups shrimp heads & shells
• ½ cup Worcestershire
• 2 Tbsp cracked black pepper
• 2 Tbsp Basic Creole Spices (recipe below)
• ½ tsp whole cloves
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 lemon, juiced

Ingredients for Shrimp

• 2 lbs medium Louisiana or wild American shrimp, peeled & de-veined
• Salt
• Cracked black pepper
• 1 cup sauce base
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 cup butter

Ingredients for Basic Creole Spices

• 2 Tbsp celery salt
• 1 Tbsp sweet paprika
• 1 Tbsp coarse sea salt
• 1 Tbsp freshly ground black pepper
• 1 Tbsp garlic powder
• 1 Tbsp onion powder
• 2 tsp cayenne pepper
• ½ tsp ground allspice

For Basic Creole Spice, mix together all ingredients in a bowl.  Transfer the spices to a clean container with a tight-fitting lid, cover and store.

For the sauce base, heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over high heat, add the shrimp heads and shells, and cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes.  Add the Worcestershire, black pepper, Creole spices, cloves, bay leaves and lemon juice along with 2 cups of water and bring to a boil.  Once the liquid is boiling, reduce heat to moderate and simmer until it has reduced by half.  Strain and reserve.

For the shrimp, season the shrimp with a little salt and lots of pepper.  Put the shrimp and the sauce base, cream and butter in a large cast iron skillet over high heat.  Bring the sauce to a boil and cook for 5 minutes.

PERSONAL NOTES: I was really surprised at how much more upscale this recipe was versus the ‘picnic’ BBQ shrimp with which I’m more familiar.  Once I made the Besh version, it changed how I planned the meal since I thought corn on the cob or potato salad seemed so pedestrian next to the creamy BBQ shrimp.  At any rate, the biggest hurdle for me was obtaining shrimp heads here in New England.  Wild American shrimp are shipped without heads, so I made a tactical change and utilized some local Maine shrimp heads for the sauce base (although the meat wasn’t used in the recipe since it is a delicate species that doesn’t hold up well in this execution).  And, when it came to cooking the shrimp, I actually halved the recipe and cut down on some of the butter without noticeable loss.  The extra sauce base is now sitting in my freezer, awaiting use on another occasion!

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