Cast Iron Cult? Count Us In!

I know that Jason has written several odes to cast iron cookware, but I thought I'd add one as well. I've been researching easier ways to clean cast iron. Obviously I know not to put it in the dishwasher or scrub it with soap, but I've had trouble getting residual fat off a particular piece I have and needed some tips.

You see, I bought this fabulous two-sided, two-burner cast iron griddle at World Market a couple of years ago. I love it, but the ridged side is terribly hard to clean. And after grilling a few ribeyes on it yesterday, I was faced with this familiar problem again.

In checking out some tips online, I came across this article. In addition to cleaning advice, the writer included this observation:

"No kitchen instrument or style of cookware has quite the same vocal, enthusiastic community as cast iron. They write books about cast iron. They write love letters to cast iron. They sing the praises of the metal with a religious fervor, and they want to convert you ... After a week of talking to cast iron users and visiting their online communities, I'm convinced there must be some positive correlation between cooking with cast iron and becoming wholesome and kind."

The emphasis of that last sentence is mine. But I really loved the whole paragraph. It rings very true--at least based on conversations I've had with other cooks.

But back to cleaning this danged griddle. I did find some helpful information in the above-mentioned post. And also in this Real Simple article. As it turns out, salt is very useful in cast iron cleaning. (Seems like I've heard that somewhere before.) Anyway ... I tried it, and it did make scrubbing it (with my plastic-bristled brush, of course) a lot easier.

The Cure for "Cook's Block"

Since the holidays, I’ve been in something of a cooking funk. Maybe it was the gluttony of the season that did it … all I know is that for the last several weeks, few recipes have appealed to me. And even the ones that did weren’t enough to make me heed the siren call of the cook stove.

But then, last week, the February 2012 issue of Southern Living arrived. On its cover were three of my favorite words: “Classic Southern Desserts.” And inside, nestled amongst the recipes for Caramelized Banana Pudding and Tangerine Chess Pie, was Hummingbird Bundt Cake.

I love Hummingbird Cake (the original recipe, published by Southern Living in 1978, was submitted by fellow North Carolinian Mrs. L.H. Wiggins of Greensboro, N.C.), but it’s not something I’ve often had. It’s a delicacy I’ve found most frequently at church luncheons, where the best and brightest stars of the recipe box are tantalizingly displayed. This new take on Hummingbird Cake was appealing because of its simplicity; namely, being in the form of a bundt cake. (Any layer cake I’ve ever tried has been a lopsided disaster. And don’t get me started on my lack of talent with applying frosting.)

This recipe, with its simple list of ingredients, ease of preparation and quick yet delectable cream cheese glaze, will be one of my go-to recipes when an impressive yet sinfully easy dessert is called for.

And best of all, I think my case of “cook’s block” may be over.

Tomato Sandwiches: Southern or Universal?

Today for lunch, I assembled a simple tomato sandwich. Something I've done hundreds (or thousands) of times in my life, almost always during summer. Two slices of white bread: check. Several slices of a juicy tomato (grown by family or friends): check. Duke's mayonnaise: check. Salt and pepper: check.

Eat me! (On a sandwich, of course.)

To me, tomato sandwiches are a ubiquitous part of Southern summer life. Consumption of these sandwiches is widespread--almost everyone down here eats them. Truly. You don't have to describe to another Southerner what a tomato sandwich is, or explain to them that, yes, it's still delicious even though it doesn't have meat, cheese, butter or any of the other ingredients that usually make food worth eating. In the South, it's never assumed that tomato sandwiches are vegetarian specialties or some kind of poor man's meal for those barely scraping by. (Although, a tomato sandwich could very easily suffice in either of those situations.) No, Southerners know tomato sandwiches.

But just because Southerners eat--and appreciate--tomato sandwiches often, does that mean the humble sandwich actually falls into the category of Southern food? After all, they do have tomatoes in other parts of the country (and world). And they have bread. And salt and pepper.  Of course, they don't all have Duke's, which is sad for them; but most places have passable versions of mayonnaise.

The only acceptable mayo for a Southern tomato sandwich.

This is something I often think about when I'm enjoying a juicy tomato (or, 'mater) sandwich. And, it turns out, I'm not the only one. This weekend, I read Southern Heirlooms in Our State magazine. The author of the article, Scott Huler, asks the very same question. He starts with the premise that tomato sandwiches are universal to some degree; however, his ultimate conclusion--and how he gets there--provides for a very insightful look at how important tomato sandwiches are to the Southern summer experience:

"So, a homegrown crop with a long growing season, consumed constantly by people used to doing for themselves, and a sandwich that's a quick and convenient way to eat it. With a native condiment that somehow makes it special. Maybe the tomato sandwich, Southern style, does have a claim to iconic status."

Huler also points out how people in this region--specifically his wife--talk about tomato sandwiches in a particularly Southern way. And it occurs to me that I've never heard anyone outside the South mention a tomato sandwich ... ever.  So, they may (possibly) eat them, but it's not something you hear them go on about or describe with delight and sentimentality. But Southerners talk about tomato sandwiches--like all of the other foods we love--a lot. You can't shut us up about them. Heck, Rebecca Wells even found a way to work them into one of her novels:

"We'd go to Washington, D.C., where the President and Mrs. Roosevelt would be waiting, begging me to come have tomato sandwiches with the crust cut off." ~Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood

Even the sassy characters of Southern literature love tomato sandwiches.

So, you decide. Tomato sandwiches: Southern or universal?

Clearly, this is a yankee tomato sandwich.

Movie Menu Inspiration: 'The Help'

Update added at bottom.

A couple of weeks ago, I talked about movie menu inspirations. So when I saw that Southern Living had a post called "Southern Recipes Inspired by The Help," I secretly hoped they had been reading Savor South. Who am I kidding? I know they haven't. However, I still love the idea behind this piece. They have compiled 27 of their classic recipes in a slideshow, detailing the connection each dish has to the novel/movie.

I can see already that I'm going to have to try the buttermilk biscuit recipe. I'm on a personal quest to make the perfect biscuit. Like Jason, I'm biscuit-challenged. But I'm determined not to let them best me. I will make delicious biscuits. I will make delicious biscuits. I will make delicious biscuits! And I think I'll try their recipe to see if it's the perfect combination of ingredients I've been looking for.

Another recipe on their inspiration list that jumped out at me was the Tuna Salad with Lemon Aioli . It looks yummy and delicious. Or is it just the incredible bread bowl presentation I'm drawn to? Either way, I'm going to have to try both the recipe and the bowl. Look for a similar presentation at the next party I host.

Now, if the movie has as many food references as this list leads me to believe, I'm going to have to run see it soon! My co-bloggers loved the book. So ... between their recommendation of the story and my preoccupation with biscuits exceptional character development, I'm sure to want to see the film.

UPDATE: In piddling around on Twitter today, I came across this awesome food blog called The Cooking Bride that started 'The Help' Southern Cooking Series. Check out this post where she offers a bacon pimento cheese recipe!

As for Meesies, I'll Take Cheesies

Today on their Facebook page, Garden & Gun highlighted this aricle on cheese straws. Not only does it go into a little bit of history on the Southern snack, it also includes a recipe. Oh boy! I love cheese straws; and if you'll remember, I added Salem Bakery's to my Southern gift basket.

Of course, nothing beats homemade. And while the Garden & Gun version does look good, I can't help but be reminded of my Great Aunt Ruth's recipe. Although hers weren't called straws or baked in stick form (they were biscuit-like and called Cheesies) they were still the same basic creation. So, I dug out an old church cookbook, and ... lo and behold ... I found the Cheesies recipe. And because I know you'll love these, too, I'm going to share the details with you:

Cheesies

Ingredients
1 stick margine
1/2 lb. sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. Tabasco sauce
1 1/2 c. corn flakes

Directions
Cream margarine, add grated cheese and work in the flour to which salt has been added. Add Tabasco sauce and mix in corn flakes. Mixture will be crumbly. Form into small balls and place on a lightly greased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for about 15-20 minutes or untill dry and lightly brown. Serve with chicken salad, fruit salad or punch. Triple ingredients for a large party batch.

Assembling a Gift Basket of Southern Food

Have you ever wanted to send a gift basket of Southern delicacies to someone in a foreign country (like Wisconsin or Massachusetts) but weren't sure what to include? No? That's just me? That's OK. I'll share these details with you anyway because I know you'll want to do this. I'm thinking that maybe after reading this post you, too, will become inspired to share your culture via U.S. Postal Service.

Anyway ...

I recently took this task upon myself so that I could surprise a friend up North (who hopefully isn't reading this). First, I searched for pre-assembled gift baskets ... because I'm lazy. I knew that North Carolina magazine, Our State, sells gift baskets of N.C. food. And while their BBQ Battle Box does appeal to me, I wanted a greater diversity of food types ... because I'm picky. I also didn't want to pay a lot ... because I'm cheap.

So, as I continued to look around, it became obvious that I wasn't going to find exactly what I was looking for and should just make my own gift basket.

I decided from the get-go not to select anything immediately perishable. As much as I'd like to ship pulled pork or livermush, I decided against getting dry ice involved. I also didn't want the products to all come from my home state (N.C.) or all come from the grocery store (although some came from each/both). So, here's what I came up with:

• Duke's Mayonnaise 
• Cheerwine
• Mrs. Campbell's Chow-Chow
• Smokehouse Barbecue Sauce (can't be purchased retail; can only be bought at Lexington Barbecue)
• Charleston Market Benne Wafers
• Guilford Mills Hushpuppy Mix
• Anson Mills Yellow Grits
• Salem Bakery Moravian Cookies
• Salem Bakery Pimento Cheese Straws

So ... a mix of condiments, snacks, cooking products and beverage. Am I missing anything crucial? Y'all have a couple of days to let me know if there's something else I should add to this package of yum. Send me a note or comment to let me know. I look forward to your suggestions ... really.

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.

100 Ways to Cook Southern

Here at Savor South, we love Southern Living. For me personally, it's as much a go-to guide for recipes as the Betty Crocker Cookbook was to housewives of the 1950s. If I'm looking for a new recipe--Southern or not--I always peruse the cooking section of their site first. And my scrapbook cookbook (a binder of recipes I've collected over the years) is largely comprised of recipes I've torn from their pages or printed from their site. Do yourself a favor and spend some time looking at some of their dishes. You might want to get started with this menu of recipes: 100 Ways to Cook Southern.

They have compiled a list of foods that are either quintessentially Southern or traditional with a Southern twist. Some of the recipes are region-specific (like low-country, for example), and some have South-wide appeal. Looking over it, I noticed many favorites of mine. For example, Brunswick Stew (featured in the picture above), Pimento Cheese, Buttermilk Biscuits, Grits, Po-Boys, Chicken and Dumplings, Macaroni and Cheese and shrimp anything. I really could go on and on. And I have to say, there's not a recipe on the list I wouldn't try. And a few I have tried, with marvelous results. A favorite of mine, which I often prepare for holiday parties is the Warm Turnip Green Dip.

I always get complimented on this dish; and, confidentially, I could eat the whole thing myself and never share it with anyone. But since I'm sure that would add 5 pounds to my frame right on the spot, I don't.

Another recipe of theirs I've tried that's had (almost) as equally good results is their King Ranch Casserole:

And I look forward to trying many more, such as their Cheese Straws, Beer-Batter Fried Pickles, Tomato Gravy and Coca Cola Cake.

If you'd like to spend some time drooling, please check out these recipes. They even have a recipe for making Southern Sweet Tea. Although, if you're a Southerner, you probably perfected this beverage years ago.

Smokehouse Lane

I visited my hometown lately and had to go here:

Now, you might be wondering what's at Smokehouse Lane. Well, this:

And this:

Which are usually topped with one of these:

It might not look like much, but it's delicious pulled-pork barbecue, chopped and on a bun (or in a tray) with barbecue slaw and hot sauce or smokehouse sauce (known to locals as "dip").

It's all cooked over a pit here, a place where magic truly happens:

Yes, it's the modest, marvelous, mouthwatering, much-copied barbecue that can be found nowhere else but:

Oh yeah!

Lexington-style barbecue at Lexington Barbecue, one of many (but, arguably, the best) barbecue restaurants in Lexington, N.C.

Speaking of Biscuits (and we usually are) …

In this year’s list of Saveur Magazine’s Fascinating Saveur 100, which is an annual list of culinary finds, innovations and novelties, Biscuitville made No. 96. The writer refers to the breakfast chain, which is headquartered in Greensboro, N.C. and peppered throughout North Carolina and Virginia, as “an old-fashioned gem in a modern world.” And their product as “the quintessential Southern biscuit.”

I think that’s a pretty fair statement.

The article then links to this piece at A Continuous Lean, where Michael Williams explores the restaurant even further:

“This past weekend I was in North Carolina and couldn’t miss the always delicious and still privately held regional chain Biscuitville. To me, Biscuitville is the Southern breakfast equivalent of the West coast burger mecca In-N-Out … everything on the menu is great and terrible for you.”

Oh lawsy. I think I need to go to Biscuitville ASAP. You know, for blog research.

And, oh yeah, don’t forget to check out the rest of the Saveur 100. No. 100 is one of my all-time faves and a Southern summer staple, the tomato sandwich!

Southern Foods We Love

Since today is Valentine's Day, I thought it would be appropriate to share with you some of our deep, abiding food loves--as well as a few hot and heavy crushes. These foods will make almost any Southern heart go pitter patter:

• Okra  Fried, grilled, pickled ... it doesn't matter; we'll take it.
• Buttermilk Biscuits  Cat-head sized, but we're not particular.
• Sawmill Gravy  Hello? You need it for your biscuits.
• Fried Pork Chops  Another canvas for sawmill gravy.
• Casseroles  Any kind, but we like our mamas' recipes best.
• Tomato Sandwiches  Summer wouldn't be summer without them--but only if they're slathered in Duke's Mayonnaise.
• Green Beans  These are only a favorite when they're cooked in fat-back (as if there's any other way).
• Pimento Cheese Homemade. ONLY homemade.
• Carolina Slaw Burgers  If you don't end up with it all over you, you're doing it wrong.
• Lexington-Style Chopped BBQ  Yes, we're taking sides in the BBQ wars.
• Chess Pie  If your teeth don't fall out and you don't go into diabetic shock, you'll probably ask for seconds.
• Sweet Tea  It's not a food, but what else are you going to wash down all this mess with? Nothing else, that's what.

Gosh, I'm starting to realize this list could go on and on. Does it make us culinary sluts that we spread our love around to so many dishes?

I hope we don't get a reputation.

Pinto Beans and Politicking

Nothing tastes more like home to me than a steaming bowl of pinto beans and hot cornbread slathered with melted butter. Born and raised in rural West Virginia, I spent many winter afternoons sharing this meal with my grandparents, Emery and Birdie Mae.

My grandmother Birdie Mae dished up pinto beans from an iron pot she kept simmering for hours on the gas stove. The only seasoning she added was a slab of bacon or ham hock with salt and pepper. It was my grandfather Emery’s favorite meal.

Between bites of beans, Emery liked to talk about local and national candidates coming up for election. As soon as he started to speak, Birdie would shake her head with annoyance. “There he goes politicking again,” she’d say, wiping her hands off with a dish cloth and fleeing the kitchen.

Emery preferred lots of diced onion and crumbled cornbread in his bowl of beans. But pinto beans also taste delicious when garnished with sweet, tangy Southern Chow Chow Relish prepared from finely chopped green tomatoes, peppers and onions.

As a native West Virginian, pinto beans and cornbread are part of my Appalachian heritage. But no matter where you call home, a good bowl of pinto beans is a hearty meal that’s guaranteed to warm you up—body and soul.

Pinto Beans

How to prepare: Start with a 1-pound package of dried pinto beans. Dried beans must be soaked before they are cooked. Soak overnight, or use the quick-soak method. Overnight soak: Rinse beans well and cover with an inch of cold water. Soak beans overnight at room temperature. Quick-soak method: Rinse beans well, put in a saucepan, and cover with an inch of water. Bring to a boil, simmer for 2 minutes, then cover and let stand at least 1 hour.

How to cook: Cover and simmer beans in water used for soaking. Check periodically, cooking until tender. Add water as needed. Season with a ham bone, a couple of minced garlic cloves or chopped onion, and salt and pepper to taste.

Cornbread

1 cup self-rising flour
1 cup self-rising corn meal
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1/4 cup shortening or vegetable oil
dash salt

Sift flour and add salt; stir in corn meal. Add eggs, milk and shortening or oil. Beat with electric beater until just smooth, about 1 minute. Do not overbeat. Pour into greased iron skillet and bake in hot oven at 425 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

Patricia Porter, Salt Rock, WV