The Salve of the Stove

Cooking restores my focus and clarity of mind.  Sometimes I have an overwhelming urge to park myself at the stove in order to clear my head.  I’d like to think that I get this urge from my Grandmother…because I’ve heard that some of her best meals came during the time of greatest stress and heartache. 

Today was such a day for me.  I was overwhelmed by things I couldn’t control and felt small and helpless against the tide of my day.  So, I hunted for a new recipe that connected me to my roots and parked myself in front of the stove for the duration of the afternoon.  I decided that I would make some rosemary grilled chicken thighs served over garlic spinach and parmesan and asiago cheese grits.  It was an updated version of what I could envision my grandmother making.  Maybe her chicken was fried, her greens collard instead of spinach and her grits seasoned with cheddar rather than parmesan…but in my soul, it felt right. 

I marinated the chicken thighs for 5 hours in a mix of garlic, honey, Dijon, and rosemary.  The spinach was a simple pairing of pan roasted garlic and greens.  The grits were equally easy, seasoned with a mix of parmesan and asiago cheeses.  You can find the recipe for the entire meal here:  http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/rosemary-grilled-chicken-thighs-10000001831952/  As a note, I did add some lemon to the garlic spinach, because I felt like the acidity brightened the flavors, and the recipe calls for cheddar instead of asiago, but I was in the mood for a slightly different flavor.  That’s the beautiful thing about recipes….once you know what you’re doing, you can turn them into just about anything you want them to be.

Standing in front of the stove diligently stirring grits, ensuring the perfect balance of texture was a pleasant distraction.  Carefully tending the pan grilled chicken thighs gave me control over something, when everything seemed out of balance.  Adjusting the flavors of the spinach to suit my family’s taste reminded me that this is where I belong, where my center truly is.  Serving my family and my Savior, even when I feel helpless, I’m not.  In reality, I’m anything but…

Beach Dreams

Sometimes I dream about the beach.  I love the idea of lying in the sand, letting the warmth of the sun surround me.  The simple act of doing nothing and closing my eyes to the world is a decadent dream.  I would love to say that I had more time or money for such decadence, but in this season of my life, decadence is elusive.  And that’s ok.

But just because I can’t run off to a tropical beach at a moment’s notice doesn’t mean I can’t mimic the tastes of the coast.  And so, on the rainiest of Michigan days I decided that I was going to take my family on a trip to the beaches of the South.  I created a menu of crispy crab cakes, rice pilaf and a simple vegetable laden salad.  I bought the best lump crab meat I could find (which, up here in the great white north, came in a can) and set about recreating the taste sensations from the beaches I was craving.  Green onions, pimento, lemon zest, mayonnaise and mustard all played important flavor roles.  I also used panko (of course!) as a binder as well as a coating.  They were spectacular.  They were practically all crab, and the sweet flavor of the crab was the star.  They were fresh and light and tasted of sunshine, which was exactly what our homebound, rain-ridden family needed.  The rice pilaf was simple, as was the salad, which was perfect, because a real beach meal should be easy and delicate.  Shouldn’t it?

While I am looking forward to the day when I can lay on the beach, immune from reality, basking in the glow of the sun my Father created, for now I’m content to share the tastes that accompany this dream with the people who love me most.

Pork Chops and Memories

Everywhere we went in Alabama (we being me and my best friend Laura), there were signs proclaiming the deliciousness of “pork chop biscuits.” Every time I saw such a sign, I had an internal dialogue about how strange I thought it all was to eat a pork chop on a biscuit.  It must be my Yankee childhood, because it made no sense to me.  However, I have it on good authority that good Southerners (especially Alabamans) love a good fried pork chop, and you can buy pork chop biscuits anywhere:  the gas station, the corner store, the local fast food joint…they’re prolific!

So, when I was grocery shopping the other day and saw a sale on inch thick pork chops, I knew what I was going to make for dinner: fried pork chops.  I decided that I would coat them in a breading made from Panko bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, french thyme and salt/pepper.  First I dipped them in an egg wash and then coated them in their delectable coating.  I don’t know how familiar you are with Panko, but you need to run to the store right now and buy yourself a box.  I use them as a coating almost exclusively.  They are lighter, crispier and adhere better than your traditional bread crumb.  You will never go back to using old fashioned bread crumbs.  I promise.

I tossed the coated pork chops into my favorite frying pan and cooked them for about 20 minutes (10 minutes for each side), and the crust on them was DIVINE.  They tasted even better.  It was a definite “keeper” as my husband would say.  I paired the amazing fried pork chops with some mashed sweet potatoes (laced with brown sugar, butter and cream, of course!)  and greens that I sautéed up with some white wine and sautéed Vidalia onions. 

I have to say that these greens were some of the best that I’ve had recently.  I sautéed the Vidalia onions with some olive oil, red pepper flake, garlic and seasoning until the onions were translucent and the garlic was golden.  Then I added the chopped kale and let it wilt a little bit before I added a hint of white wine, and a some sugar (maybe ½ a tablespoon) to finish them off.  They were delicious.  I know they were a hit, because my kids ate all the kale on their plate, which rarely happens.  Kale is a “super food”, so anything I can do to make it appealing to my family I’m going to do, and it looks like Vidalia onions are a key ingredient.

I was inspired to make this meal by my recent trip to Alabama.  But, if I’m really honest with myself, I made this meal to bring my best friend of 19 years and Alabama resident just a little bit closer to me.  She’s been through a lot of things lately that have reminded me of how far apart from each other we are, and I miss her terribly.  So, I made pork chops.  And tonight the pork chops were more than just pork chops.  They were memories:  memories of my visit to her home, her sweet family, cooking meals together, and laughing our way through broken sewer lines.  They were memories of childhood walks past the barn, flying hubcaps, feeding dogs pancakes and Ace of Base, and they were amazing:  just like my friend.

The Nitty-Gritty

I have been dreaming about this meal for weeks.  (Really, I have.)  Bowls of creamy grits have invaded my dreams, calling my name, begging to make an appearance on my dinner table.  Tonight, I indulged those bowls of grits. 

I grew up eating grits.  My Tennessee bred father made sure they were as much a part of our childhoods as they were of his.  He taught me to appreciate what the simplicity and versatility of the perfect bowl of smooth, creamy, delicious grits.  As a kid, I loved steamy bowls of grits mixed with butter and brown sugar on a cold winter’s morning.  Nothing was more comforting to my spirit than grits (then, or now). 

And now, I know why.  They are quintessential comfort food.  They’re warm.  They’re simple.  They are the perfect vehicle for sauces and meats and just about anything you want to add to them.  Frankly, in my opinion, there is nothing more seductive than a bowl of grits, topped with a quivering poached egg and crumbled bacon.  It’s love.  In a bowl.  With a broken egg yolk as sauce…mmm….heavenly.

But I digress…while seductive is fine for my husband I, for this meal, I needed to top my grits with something “family friendly.”  And the combination of shrimp and grits is as old as the Carolina low-country itself.  It’s timeless.  The taste of the sea, the tang of lemon and the saltiness of the crispy bacon are the perfect foil for the cheesy creaminess of the grits.  The grits cradle the shrimp in its delicate sauce, and everyone at the table is happy.  I’m quite certain it is the perfect meal. 

If you haven’t made grits before, start now.  Make them for breakfast, brunch or dinner.  Introduce your family the foundation of Southern cooking.  Show them you love them by creating memories at the table, one meal at a time.

If you're making shrimp and grits for the first time, I would start here...you're going to be glad you did:  http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/shrimp-grits-10000001704038/

Takin' Salmon South of the Mason/Dixon

My Grandma was known for her hospitality.  Stranger? Friend?  Outcast?  All were welcome in her home.   In the 50’s, she started a Sunday school class at her church for unwed mothers, which was unheard of at the time.  And when those women had nowhere to go, they could always count on “Peggy” to offer them a safe place grounded in the Gospel, a warm heart, and a warm meal.  She loved to serve. 

But she wasn’t a wealthy woman, or even a financially comfortable one, so she always had to make the most of what little she had.  She was my inspiration for dinner last night.  I scoured the fridge and freezer to see what, if anything I had for dinner, and I’ll be totally honest, the pickings were slim.  I had frozen salmon, fresh carrots and hash browns…and a fully stocked liquor cabinet.  (Something I’m sure my Baptist Grandmother DID NOT have.)  And from this motley crew of ingredients a plan was formed:  Bourbon marinated salmon with brown sugar glazed carrots and hash brown cakes.  I know Southerners love their Bourbon, so I knew that I’d be honoring southern tradition by marinating my salmon in it.  I combined ¼ cup of Bourbon, ¼ spicy brown mustard, ¼ cup of brown sugar and 1 tsp. of chili powder poured it over the salmon and let it mingle for about 10 minutes.  While the marinade worked its magic, I chopped the carrots and threw them into the steamer.  (Little did they know that their steamed goodness was about to be slathered with butter and brown sugar!)  I also mixed the thawed hash browns with some chopped onion, flour, salt, pepper and beaten egg to make a simple cake.  I browned them up in some hot oil till they were brown and crisp.  I don’t know about you, but I am always on the lookout for new ways to make starches for dinner time.  A woman can only eat so many servings of mashed potatoes and rice before she loses her mind.  I was thrilled to find the hash browns lurking in the deep recesses of my freezer because they forced me to think outside of the box and make something unexpected.

Well, we can’t forget about the delicious Bourbon salmon can we?  When it was finished marinating, I seasoned it with salt and pepper, put it on a sheet tray, poured the remaining marinade over it and put it under the broiler for 8 minutes until it was ready.  It was heavenly.  It wasn’t boozy at all, so don’t be concerned about the Bourbon…it added an extra layer of flavor you just couldn’t get from anything else.  There are non-alcoholic alternatives to Bourbon, most of which involve Vanilla extract, but if you can, do it up the right way. 

This meal challenged me to think inside the box (the ice box, that is) in order to think outside of it.  I imagined my Grandma standing in front of her ice box in her hand stitched apron, contemplating ways to make a meal that would welcome wayward souls in need of fellowship.  And I was proud; proud of her legacy, her service and my family’s meal.

Tonight’s meal includes shrimp and grits….so stay tuned!

A Derby Driven Dinner

In honor of the most quintessential of Southern events, The Kentucky Derby, we had a “Derby-Driven Dinner.” 

For this meal I decided to turn to my favorite Southern cooking resource:  Southern Living magazine, which provided me with delicious ideas for my celebration dinner.  I made Kentucky Hot Browns from the magazine and paired them with a side of roasted broccoli with bacon and some delicious pecan-coconut lemon bars for dessert.

Let me just say that you’re going to be really glad that I took pictures because this meal was amazing.  But, before I begin, let me tell you a little about the Hot Brown.  It was created in 1926 at the Brown hotel in Louisville.  It was created as alternative to late-night (read “hangover”) ham and egg suppers.  Basically, it’s a fancy open faced club sandwich.  Toasted thickly sliced white bread is topped with sliced roasted turkey slathered in an amazing Mornay sauce; all toasted under the broiler before being topped with bacon and sliced tomato. 

I know you’re drooling.  It’s ok, so was I.  I just had to make it.  I started with a loaf of my ubiquitous Peasant Bread and built the sandwich on slices of it after I toasted them under the broiler.  Thick sliced turkey from the deli went on, followed by the sauce.  Oh yes, the glorious sauce.  The Mornay sauce is a basic white sauce with parmesan, and very easy to make, but it is the key to making this sandwich special.  Without it, it’s just a sandwich like any other.  I made the broccoli in a half-hearted effort to minimize the artery-clogging impact of the sandwich.  But I lost all resolve when I noticed that I had leftover bacon that needed a home, and broccoli that needed a flavor boost, so into the veggies the bacon went (and some leftover parmesan cheese, but I thought that mentioning it would be gratuitous).

The making of a Hot Brown:

The Pecan-Coconut Lemon Bars were exquisite.  The layers of flavor made them interesting.  The crust was similar to pecan sandie cookie and the filling was a delicious combo of lemon, coconut and lemon.  These are a must have.  You need to make them.  They’re perfect for an adult party because the flavors are more sophisticated than your average bar cookie.  They were the perfect ending to a heavy meal because the light lemony filling made you forget about what you’d just done at the dinner table.

The meal was a hit with everyone. My 5 year old twins loved it because it was covered in cheese and my 7 year old loved it because he could pick it up with his hands(much to my chagrin, but you gotta pick your battles!), and my husband, well, he just plain adored it.  He actually woke up in the middle night to eat leftovers.  He came back to bed with this message, “You’ve done it to me honey.  I’m addicted to your food.  Give me a kiss.  But you’ll have to roll over and meet me because I can’t move I’m so full.”  Mission accomplished!

I know my Grandmother would be proud, because I filled my family with love and food with this meal.  And while I’m fairly certain she never went to the Derby, it doesn’t matter.  She loved tradition and the memories that special celebrations created, and that’s what’s important.

Recipes:

Kentucky Hot Browns: http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/kentucky-hot-browns-50400000112163/

Mornay Sauce: http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/mornay-sauce-50400000112165/

Pecan-Coconut Lemon Bars: http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/coconut-pecan-lemon-bars-10000001806896/

Sweet Simplicity

In life, often the sweetest things are the simple ones.  Such it was last night at our dinner table.  I made an “homage” to fried chicken (Honey-Mustard Pecan “Fried” Chicken) with a loaf of homemade bread and creamed corn.   Yes, I said it, creamed corn.  Stop making that face!  It was nothing like the pasty corn goo that comes out of a can, that I’m pretty certain my kids could use for their craft projects instead of rubber cement.  It was delightful and sweetly simple.

I have tender spot in my heart for white corn.  I find it sweeter and softer on the palate than yellow corn, especially when I’m forced to use frozen corn (which, let’s admit it, is most of the time up here in the Great White North).  So, I threw a one pound bag of white corn, with a pat of butter (or 4) into my favorite sauté pan and turned the heat up to medium.  For me, roasting the corn in the pan is the only way to go.  The carmelization of all the sugars in the corn make for an unparalleled depth of flavor.  So while the corn roasted, I seasoned it with salt and pepper and just the slightest amount of sugar and waited.  When the edges were brown and delectable looking, I grabbed the heavy whipping cream from my fridge and drizzled it around the pan, maybe a handful of tablespoons or so, until every kernel was lightly coated.  I liken the next step to deglazing the pan, stirring the corn around and getting all the good bits off the bottom of the pan so the carmelized corn flavor mingles with the sweetness of the cream.  And that’s it.  That’s my version of creamed corn, it’s really just that easy.  And it’s heavenly.

When my Grandparents and their 3 boys first moved North, they lived in someone’s converted garage.  My Dad and his brothers shared a bed in the closet and my Grandparents slept in the main room, the only room, the “everything” room.  But I can imagine that when they smelled the combination of sweet corn and cream wafting out of the little windows, they knew that they were in for a treat, a heartening, soul satisfying combination of sweet corn and cream.  For that moment, and many spent around the family table, the size of their home didn’t matter anymore.  They were together, sharing moments, filling their bellies and learning that the best things in life are the simple ones.

And so it begins...

“She loved me like a rock ,” my Daddy always said about the Grandmother I’d never met.  I can picture the scene:  my Dad curled up in her lap, rocking in her old-as-time rocking chair, while she whispered her affirmations of love in his ear, unconsciously brushing a wayward wisp of ink-black hair from his forehead.  Steadfast. Unwavering. True.  That is the Grandmother I have to come to imgaine.  True, I’ve never met her, but I know her.  I know how she loved, because of how my Daddy loves me.  I’ve tasted her love in carefully passed down recipes like her cornbread and sausage stuffing, and through my Dad’s insistence that “my Mother would never make her boys eat broccoli,” while watching him mix warm cornbread into his glass of milk.

My Grandmother was a warm southern soul, bathed in the Gospel, being Christ to all who crossed her path.  Her boys were shining examples of how she loved on people with her food.  Maybe one day, if you’re lucky, I’ll share the picture of my Dad and his brothers, jeans tied round their waists with lengths of rope, white t-shirts bright and clean, looking like they were competing with each other to “perfect the sphere.”  Round and happy:  Loved.  When my Daddy was young my Grandad moved his family north from Tennessee to find work.  But they never left the South behind.  Their tiny home was alive with smells of the South: greens, cornbread and pork belly.  And her doors were always open, ready to share her love with people in need. 

Like I’ve said, I’ve never met my Grandmother, but I want to get to know her better.  So I’m cooking, and learning about her through the food she loved.  It’s a journey through a culture, through a history and for the soul.  I’m cooking the classics and some modern twists on family favorites.  So, please, join me on my voyage through Southern food, and on my quest to love my family the same way my Grandmother loved hers; like a rock.