That's What Easter Means to Tea

I love sweet tea. I drink it almost every day and never grow tired of it. I fantasize about it raining from heaven like liquid manna. I would even bathe in it if that weren't just the silliest waste of it ever. 

(Hmmm ... Maybe if I'm ever a millionaire I'll draw myself a bath of sweet tea. But that's a concern for another day.)

There's a reason why my thoughts are consumed with tea--sweet tea, that is. This is my first week back on the stuff after abstaining from it for Lent. But why would a person voluntarily stop drinking sweet tea, you might ask. Well ... good question. Let me explain. First of all, I'm not Catholic, which means Lent for me does not have a mandatory set of rules regarding red meat on Fridays and free-for-alls on Sundays. (No disrespect intended, Catholics. I think your Fish Fry Fridays are a grand idea and one that Southerners of all faiths can appreciate.)

The way I observe the period of Lent is to make it a time of sacrifice. And as far as sacrifices go, I don't believe letting go of something is really a sacrifice unless it's something you truly love or depend on. Enter sweet tea. 

So, not only did I think sweet tea was an appropriate sacrifice, I also felt it wouldn't hurt my health to go for a while without the constant consumption of a sugary drink. 

This is all making sense, right? No? Well, it did in my head. 

Anyway ... As you know, Easter was last Sunday.  A beautiful holiday for sure, but it also meant that I could drink sweet tea again for the first time in well over a month. Well let me tell you, I've been buzzing on the stuff ever since. Now that I know I can do without it, I should probably learn to cut back and have it on a more limited basis, but not yet ... I'm still in indulgence mode. Let me describe to you what that means. Have you ever seen how a dog behaves after its had a bath? It will run--run like all of its marbles dropped right out of its head, run like it's been freed from the fiery pits of hell. It is a display of frantic joy and insanity, all because the bath is over. Well, I'd say that's pretty close to how I felt when my tea fast ended. In fact, I think I might have jogged a lap or two around the yard after taking that first post-Lent swig of tea. Yippee!

While still heady with tea love, I had another moment of sweet-brewed happiness when I discovered the May issue of Southern Living at the grocery store this week. My Southern heart skipped a beat when I saw that the highlight of the issue was none other than sweet tea! Not only were there recipes for making various kinds of sweet teas and sweet tea punches, there were also food recipes based on the beverage. And believe me, at some point I will be trying the Sweet Tea-Brined Chicken, Sweet Tea Tiramisu, Sweet Tea Vinaigrette and the Mint Julep Sweet Tea.

Not everyone will understand my Passion of the Tea, but I believe some will--mostly Southerners. And if you don't, you can just smile and say "bless your heart." I'll understand.

The General and the Pea

Just a couple weeks ago, we Southerners commemorated the 150th anniversary of the start of what, in Charleston at least, is referred to as “the recent unpleasantness”—also known as the War of Northern Aggression, the War of Northern Imperialism or, more plainly (and perhaps ironically), the Civil War.

Since nearly every event of any sort has, for me, some relation to food, I was reminded of something I once read about General Robert E. Lee and one of the South’s favorite legumes, the black-eyed pea.

Having been cultivated in the South since the 1700s, the black-eyed pea was already a food staple for Southerners. As the story goes, during the War, when Union troops swept through the South and took crops, livestock and food stores, they left the humble black-eyed pea, which the Yankees considered fit only for consumption by livestock. With little or nothing left in fields and pantries to eat, Southerners turned to black-eyed peas for nourishment.

Perhaps the most poignant part of this tale is this: As legend has it, afterward, whenever General Lee would pass a field of black-eyed peas, he would take time to stop and salute, acknowledging the role they played in sustaining the South through the dark days of the War.

Whether true or not (I’ve read that such stories, including the tradition of eating them for good luck on New Year’s Day, are the work of a PR genius trying to boost sales of black-eyed peas in the late 1940s), I still like to think of the veteran General pausing on his journey, looking out over a lush field of black-eyed peas, removing his hat and offering a salute to the small black-and-white pea that maybe … just maybe … helped save the South.

Quesadillas Are the New Grilled Cheese

If 50 is the new 40 and burgundy is the new black, then quesadillas are the new grilled cheese. 

Why? Because I say so.

While I'll always love grilled cheese sandwiches, I've discovered that quesadillas can be just as easy and cheesy as the go-to American classic. Instead of bread, use flour tortillas, and instead of American cheese, use a Mexican blend. Grill it over a heated, buttered pan and you have flour-dairy goodness. Of course with a quesadilla, you will most likely want other ingredients in addition to just cheese and tortillas. But the beauty of this Tex-Mex gem is that you can put anything and everything in it. Using ingredients you have on hand will add to the efficiency of preparing it--and also give you a chance to get creative.

For the quesadilla above, I used some cooked shrimp I already had on hand, a small can of mushrooms, red onions (caramelized) and Texas Pete. I came up with that combination on the fly, but you wouldn't know it. It was quite excellent (although the picture hardly leads you to believe that fact), and I'm craving it now as we speak.

If you want to replicate it, follow these instructions:

Cook shrimp (I already had boiled some earlier that day and thus had some on hand. You can cook yours with your mixture, if you like.) Slice red onions and cook in olive oil over medium-high heat until caramelized. Add shrimp to the pot with the onions. Add one 6.5-oz. can of sliced mushrooms to the shrimp-onion mixture. Add approximately 1/2 Tbsp of Texas Pete. Turn to medium heat and stir occasionally.

Meanwhile, melt 2 Tbsps. of butter on a hot griddle or pan, place one fajita-sized flour tortilla (I used whole-wheat) on the pan and press for 30-60 seconds. Flip and do the same to the other side. Remove the tortilla from the pan and repeat these steps with another tortilla. After crisping both sides of the second tortilla, sprinkle a few handfuls of shredded Mexican cheese blend over it. On top of the cheese, add a couple of scoops of the shrimp-mushroom-onion mixture. Top off with more cheese. 

Place the previously grilled tortilla on top. Press. Flip the entire quesadilla and press again (approximately 30 seconds). Remove from pan and cut into quarters. Top with sour cream and more Texas Pete.

Simple and yummy. Seriously ... if I can do it, you can too.

A Taste of The Big Easy in South Carolina

Greetings from the Seafood Capital of South Carolina!

For those of you not familiar with that moniker, I’m talking about Murrells Inlet, S.C. From its humble beginnings as a fishing village in the early 1900s, the cozy community located south of glitzy Myrtle Beach is now known for its many seafood and barbecue establishments. And it’s been a favorite getaway place for me for several years.

On my visit this week, I decided to have lunch at a restaurant I’ve passed by many times but in which I had never taken time to dine: Flo’s Place, locally owned and with a lively New Orleans theme.

Because it was a perfectly beautiful, sunny day with mild temperatures (low 70s), we sat outside on the deck, with a view of Garden City across the inlet.

With zydeco music filling the air, I perused the menu, which was full of tasty bayou dishes. I chose the simple Crab Cake PoBoy, which came with fried onions and Flo’s homemade potato salad. (If you’re not familiar with the po-boy, go here.)

Why I waited so long to have a meal at Flo’s, I cannot tell you. What I can tell you, though, is that that sandwich was so delectable it’d make you want to slap your mama.

I love crab cakes. I love just about anything that can be turned into a “cake” of any sort: salmon, shrimp, potatoes, beans … if it can be mixed with bread crumbs and eggs and fried, I’ll eat it. And the crab cakes gracing this po-boy were some of the best I’ve ever had.

So tender, seasoned just right … they were as close to perfect, in my opinion, as they come.

Friendly service, delicious food, great view, perfect weather … what more could you ask for while on vacation?

This Post Is Not About Butter. I Swear.

Well, not ALL about butter.

Last week, I had the pleasure of attending a Paula Deen event, and actually (very, very briefly) meeting her.

I'll admit, I've had some mixed feelings about the fried-food diva the past few years. I was growing weary of seeing her name tied to everything from cream cheese to cooking knives. And I thought maybe, just maybe, she played up the Southern sass just a little toooooooo much. I know Deen devotees will not care for that assessment. So, I'll also say that I admire the woman very much. She was a loud-mouthed Georgia girl who lost her parents at a young age, married in her teens and developed a severe anxiety disorder that left her housebound. In most instances, you wouldn't think those would be ingredients for even modest success. Paula, however, overcame those obstacles and built an empire. That kind of thing just doesn't happen without copious charm and savvy. Seriously impressive.

And, I'll also say this: Seeing her in person added to my admiration. Yes, there was plenty of hamming going on (and, no, that's not a Smithfield Ham joke), but it was also evident that Paula Deen is a woman who genuinely loves what she does and is exceedingly kind and grateful to her fans. She's funny, spiritual, and down-to-earth in both appearance and manner. And, of course, she loves food--Southern food, food you're taught to make in your granny's kitchen, food you bake in casserole dishes and take to church dinners, food that sustains and pleases. These are the reasons people love Paula Deen. And these are the reasons that I, despite seeing her face smiling out at me on every other magazine cover in the grocery checkout line, am also a fan.

So, with that spiel out of the way, let's move onto some fun.

Although the event I attended was mostly a chance for Paula to discuss her furniture line, for which she was debuting new pieces at the High Point International Home Furnishings Market, she went over her oft-repeated tale of humble beginnings; she told lots (and I mean LOTS) of jokes; she preached; she introduced her family (Aunt Peggy and hubby Michael) and girlfriends, who she had traveled with in an RV from Savannah to High Point; she flirted; she hugged; and she posed for pictures (again, LOTS). It was major fun, and I laughed my head off.

I also appreciated an audience question in which Paula was pointedly asked whether she had sampled any Lexington barbecue since she had been in the area. The questioner then invited her to her family's restaurant, Jimmy's Barbecue. (In case you couldn't tell, we're Lexington-style BBQ fans here!)

Ok, so I said this post wasn't going to be ALL about butter, but it is some about butter. You knew that would happen, right? Come on ... you know you did. This is a Paula Deen event we're talking about here.

So, to start off with, Paula informed us that she loved butter so much she had taken to dressing in butter-colored shades:

And these darling women were set on attracting Paula's attention with, what else, butter:

(In case you can't tell, they have butter packaging on their straw hats ... One of the ladies also has grits and a moon pie on hers!)

Finally, this video had nothing to do with the event I attended, but I couldn't resist:

Meet South Carolina's Super Chefs

Discover South Carolina's dining site has a list of the Palmetto State's notable chefs here. I have to say, it does include some of my favorites, including adorable Food Network celeb Tyler Florence, who probably has the best name recognition of the chefs on the list.

My friend Cathryn, a Gaffney native who is now living in Cambridge, Mass., (a town that couldn't be more culturally opposite than the peach capital of South Carolina) says she must tune in to some Tyler-related programming at least once a week to help keep her homesickness at bay.

Also on the list are Chef Donald Barickman, founder of Magnolias in Charleston, and Chef Anthony Gray, the executive chef of High Cotton in Charleston. 

Magnolias is a Chucktown staple that has delicious menu items like "Fried Chicken Cordon Bleu" and "Banana Pudding Napoleon." Great stuff. And Chef Barickman is also the author of my favorite restaurant cookbook, Magnolias Authentic Southern Cuisine. 

Shamefully, I've found some of the book's recipes to be above my skill level. This isn't because they're difficult, exactly. It's just that some are quite involved, and I can be quite lazy. Many of them, though, are right up my alley and surprisingly basic, like the pan-fried catfish with collards and black rice, the chocolate chip bourbon pecan pie and the tasso gravy.

While I don't have a cookbook for High Cotton (and I'm not sure there is one), I will say this: Hands down, it is my favorite restaurant in Charleston and one of my favorites on the planet. And I think that's saying something since Charleston is teeming with superb dining establishments. 

Speaking of which, the majority of chefs on the list are associated with Charleston restaurants. Not surprising since that fair city is a culinary hot spot. It does, however, make me wonder how other Southern states stack up against South Carolina in the department of acclaimed chefs. Surely Louisiana, Florida and Georgia have more than their fair share. And I'm aware of several here in my home state of North Carolina, including Chef Marvin Woods (I have his cookbook too!). But I've found that whether an establishment has a world-class chef or just a grandma-trained cook, Southern restaurants get it right more often than not. 

Side note: I couldn't mention Gaffney without including a gratuitous picture of the town's famous peachoid. Here you go: