Haggis

I have often written that if I ever visited Scotland, I would eat haggis.

I have never been to Scotland, but I can now say that I have eaten haggis.

Yesterday, my family and I attended the 23rd Scottish Highland Games and Celtic Music Festival on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. A friend was competing in the Highland Games portion of the event, so we traveled to Gulfport looking forward to watching the competition.

The festival was filled with activities and food. There were pale men in plaid skirts throwing rocks. There were pale men in plaid skirts playing bagpipes. There were pale men in plaid skirts herding sheep, and there were pale men in plaid skirts selling plaid skirts to other pale men.

There was also a story-telling stage with an open mic. I thought about getting up on the stage and telling the story of my most recent challenge as the parent of a second-grade boy.

Story: Two days ago my seven-year old son was playing on the swing set during recess and fell out of the swing. The problem: His pants stayed in the swing. Typically that wouldn't be too big of a crisis, unless the son in question doesn't like to wear underwear. He apparently spent a few seconds buck-naked on the playground, but the event wasn't a big enough deal to him when recounting the day's activities to his mother. "I made an A on my quiz, I had chicken for lunch, I played wallball at recess, and that's about it."

If I fell to the ground, naked, in front of my peers, it would take me years to get over. I have nightmares about it, today and it’s never even happened. He barely even remembered it when the teacher relayed the story. Maybe we need to send him to school in a kilt.

I had never attended a Scottish-themed event. Scottish festivals might be a great place to watch time-honored sporting events, to learn about one’s family crest, or hear Celtic music, but it's the last place one should visit when hoping to eat good food.

If you want food, go to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival or the Austin City Limits Music Festival. Never, I repeat never, go to an event which draws its culinary inspiration from any corner of the British Isles.

There were fried Mars bars, a culinary creation born in Scotland, Angus burgers (not so bad), and the ever-present funnel cake (an American creation, but more than likely a Scottish-American creation). My children ate Scotch Eggs for the first time.

A Scotch Egg is a hard-boiled egg covered with a layer of sausage, then battered and fried. They liked it. Go figure.


I visited Hamish's Kitchen, a booth that served haggis. I eat for a living so thought I'd give it a shot. Haggis is sheep's lungs, heart, and liver mixed with oatmeal, onion, and beef fat. It looks like a blackish gray porridge-from-hell and smells like dirty gym socks. Actually, that description would be doing dirty gym socks a disservice. Haggis smells like… well, just think of the worst thing you have ever smelled and then triple it. That, my friends, is haggis.

I have eaten many peculiar food items in my 28-year restaurant and writing career, and up until now, chitlins have been the main offender. Folks, chitlins taste like a sweet, moist slice of chocolate cake when compared to haggis.

I took one bite (actually one-half of one bite) and thought I was going to lose it on the spot. The couple working the booth— the evil people who sold me the haggis in the first place— were laughing. How cruel, I thought, for them to make this evil gruel, ask honest people to pay money for it, and then laugh while I gnarled my face in pain and distaste while eating their concoction.

I love the Scots. I know I’ll love visiting Scotland one day. Paul McCartney has land there. Braveheart is one of my favorite movies. Celtic Festivals are a blast, but haggis should forever stay on the other side of the pond.


Robert’s Deviled Eggs

1 dozen Eggs, hard boiled, peeled and cut in half, lengthwise
2 tsp. White balsamic vinegar
1 /3 cup Mayonnaise
1 /4 cup Sour cream
1 TBL pickle relish
1 1 /2 tsp Salt
1 Tbl Creole Mustard
2 tsp yellow mustard
1 /8 tsp white pepper
1 /8 tsp Garlic, granulated
Paprika and fresh parsley to garnish (optional)

Remove the yolks from the hard cooked eggs and place in a mixing bowl. Add all ingredients and beat with an electric mixer until smooth. Use a pastry bag to fill the egg whites. Sprinkle with paprika fresh parsley.
Yield: 24

Hibachi


My family eats at the neighborhood hibachi restaurant, often.

Actually, what we Americans have come to know as "hibachi" is actually teppanyaki-style cooking. A hibachi is a small, portable grill like the ones I used on my apartment balcony during a very lengthy and tenuous college career.

Teppanyaki-style cooking is done on a flattop griddle in front of guests who are seated around the cooking surface. Usually salad and soup (or broth) are served first. Vegetables and rice are cooked on the flattop. The customary protein choices are chicken, steak, and shrimp. They are cooked quickly with minimal accoutrements and maximum flair. Many restaurants offer scallops, lobster, and several different cuts of steak.

You know the drill— lots of fire, fancy knife work, the onion volcano, the flying egg in the chef hat, and the novelty soy sauce squeeze bottle which the chef uses to squirt a brown string at unsuspecting guests (I fall for that one every time).

Teppanyaki-style eating is somewhat healthy as long as you don't have a problem with rice. There is a small amount of fat used when cooking the protein and a substantial amount of soy sauce used when preparing the rice, but for the most part, when compared with other styles of restaurant cooking, it's healthy and flavorful.

For the remainder of this column I will refer to teppanyaki-style cooking as "hibachi" because that has become the American moniker.

For me, the "show" in a hibachi restaurant comes in a distant second to the food. Once you've seen the routine for the third or fourth time it becomes stale. I like dining at our neighborhood hibachi restaurant because we can walk in, sit down immediately, and begin eating. My kids love it, it's fast, it's healthy, and it's good. If I want less soy sauce or rice, I tell them.

Several years ago we visited a hibachi restaurant with a PG-13 rated hibachi chef. He had a very thick accent and the children couldn't understand him, but he discussed some pretty inappropriate stuff— I think. I could catch every sixth or seventh word and it was like a bad Saturday Night Live skit filled with sexual innuendos and heavily accented dirty jokes.

He had no filter or concept of “child appropriate.” He laughed long and loudly at his jokes which made everyone else laugh, which made him think everyone was laughing at the jokes and not his laughing, and the vicious cycle continued around and around.

An inappropriate hibachi chef is much better than what I— this very second— witnessed. While writing the previous paragraph, my seven-year old son walked through the room singing television’s “Viva Viagra” jingle to the tune of Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas." Thankfully he has no clue, and I’m not about to enlighten him. Unfortunately there is no way to watch a football game with your children nowadays without hearing the words, "erectile dysfunction" several times before the end of the first quarter.

The PG-13 rated hibachi restaurant eventually closed and the chef moved to Las Vegas where he is probably doing stand-up comedy or E.D. commercials.

There is a communal aspect to hibachi eating. Sharing a meal with family, friends, and strangers is a great treat and a fun alternative.

I could care less for the fancy knife work and all of the bells and whistles. As long as the chef takes it easy on the oil, and you moderate your rice intake, it's a quite healthy meal. It's quick. It's fun. It's family oriented and one can order exactly what he or she wants prepared exactly as he or she likes— sans the sexual innuendos and dirty jokes.



Dirty Rice Cakes with Crawfish Mardi Gras Mix

The rice cakes can be made two days in advance (the topping one day in advance). After the dirty rice cakes have been browned, they can be held in the refrigerator for up to two days.

3 cups dirty rice, cooled
1 /4 cup green onion, chopped
2 Tbl parsley, chopped
2 eggs, beaten
1 /4 cup coarse bread crumbs
1 cup Italian bread crumbs
1 /4 cup unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 350.

In a food processor, pulse 1 1 /2 cups of the dirty rice (Do not make a paste, the rice should just begin to resemble coarse bread crumbs).

Place pureed rice in a mixing bowl with the remaining rice, green onions, parsley, eggs and plain bread crumbs crumbs. Mix well.

Form into 1 1 /2-inch round patties approximately 3 /4-inch thick. Gently bread the cakes using the Italian bread crumbs.

In a large sauté pan, melt butter over medium heat and brown cakes on both sides. Place browned cakes on a baking sheet.

Bake the cakes for 8-10 minutes.

Top warm rice cakes with crawfish mixture and heat for 5 more minutes.

Place on serving dish and top with a small dollop of red-pepper aioli.

Yield: 20 cakes


Crawfish Mardi Gras Mix

1 Tbl olive oil
1 /2 cup red onion, minced
1 /4 cup red pepper, diced
1 /4 cup green pepper, diced
1 tsp garlic, minced
1 tsp salt
1 tsp creole seasoning
1 /4 pound cleaned crawfish tails, drained (not squeezed) chopped fine
2 Tbl sour cream
1 Tbl parmesan cheese


Heat olive oil in a medium-sized skillet over medium-high heat> Add onion, peppers, garlic, salt, and creole seasoning and cook 4-5 minutes. Let cool. Combine cooled vegetables, crawfish, sour cream and parmesan cheese.


Dirty Rice

1 Tbl bacon fat
2 oz ground beef
2 oz ground pork
1 bay leaves
1 Tbl poultry seasoning
1 tsp dry mustard
1 /2 cup diced onion
1 /4 cup diced celery
1 /4 cup diced bell pepper
2 tsp minced garlic
2 Tbl butter
1 cup rice
2 cups pork stock, hot

Brown the ground pork in the bacon fat.

Add veggies and seasoning and cook 10 minutes.

Stir in rice and hot stock, lower heat , cover and simmer 18 minutes.

Yield: 3 cups

LAS VEGAS— What is a family man who doesn't drink, doesn't gamble, and has trouble staying up to watch David Letterman doing in Las Vegas with his wife and kids? Two words: The Beatles.

I have pulled my second grader and sixth grader out of school to travel to Las Vegas to see Cirque du Soleil's production "The Beatles Love." I am a huge Beatles fan and have seen "Love" twice. My kids are huge Beatles fans, too. They have never seen "Love," though they have heard me go on and on and on and on about it for the last two years.

My kids also love food (the apple doesn't fall far from the chef coat). Over the last decade, Las Vegas has become one of the country’s top ten restaurant cities. Some of the country's top chefs have opened branches of their most popular restaurants, here. The restaurants are, for the most part, manned by seasoned professionals who have been in that particular chef’s system for many years. The best thing about the upscale restaurant business in Vegas is that, unlike other big cities, all of the restaurants are within a few miles of each other— hundreds of them.

One of my favorite Las Vegas restaurants is Thomas Keller's Bouchon in The Venetian hotel. Keller is the country's preeminent chef. He mans the stoves at The French Laundry in Yountville, CA and Per Se in New York, and serves food that is humbling to even the most accomplished chefs.

My daughter ordered Steak Frites, a classic dish found in French bistros and brasseries. It's basically steak with a side order of French fries. In a good establishment, the fries can often match the steak in terms of satisfaction and satiety. Left in the hands of Thomas Keller, the basic French fry can become remarkable.

I love comfort foods. I love potatoes in all forms. There is a beautiful and ideal simplicity in a side order of perfectly prepared mashed potatoes or French fries. The best mashed potatoes I have ever eaten outside of my grandmother's dining room were served at Watershed restaurant in Decatur, GA on chicken night. I was there for the legendary fried chicken, it was good. What I remember though, were the mashed potatoes.

One of the most memorable orders of fries I have eaten were enjoyed in Aspen several years ago in at the Ajax Tavern. The fries were fresh-cut, cooked perfectly in a small amount of duck fat, and topped with a sprinkling of kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper, a drizzle of fragrant truffle oil, and finished with shaved Parmigianino Reggiano. Beautiful. And a perfect example of taking a simple offering, adding four straightforward, yet ideal, accompaniments, and creating a masterpiece. The beauty is not only in the simplicity, but the combination of flavors. When duck fat is thrown into the mix the satiety level rises tenfold.

Bouchon's fries were— as one would expect from Keller— excellent. My daughter had enough to share with her brother— who was busy putting away an order of gnocchi— and a few left over for her father.

Bouchon fries aside, possibly the best order of fries I have eaten in the last several years were at restaurant Char in Jackson, MS. I know that proclaiming a "best fry" seems a little silly and trivial, but that's my job. It's what I do. Besides, I love fries.

Char's French fries were every bit as good as Bouchon's, probably better. A few weeks ago, my family and I were in Jackson for an event and visited Char before we hit the road home to Hattiesburg. My daughter ordered a steak with a side order of Char's "House-Cut Fries." They were great. At the time I was on a diet and hadn't eaten anything fried in four weeks. One might think that my lengthy absence from the beloved fry might have clouded my judgment, not so. Char's fries are that good.

So what have we learned today? One will leave Vegas with more money in his bank account if he or she stays out of the casino and spends time in the restaurants. The Beatles are a perfectly good excuse to miss a few days of school, and fries aren’t just fast food, anymore, though if we’re paying homage to the Beatles, we should probably call them chips.


Robert’s Mashed Potatoes

3 lbs Idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters
2 Tbl. Salt
1 gallon Water

1 /2 cup Butter, cold, cut into small pats (1 stick)
6 ounces Cream cheese, softened
1 cup Half and half
2 oz Sour Cream
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

In a large saucepot add potatoes to salted water. Cook at a low simmer (do not boil) to avoid potatoes breaking apart. When the potatoes are tender, carefully drain. Return potatoes to the dry pot and place over low heat for one to two minutes to remove all excess moisture.

Place potatoes a mixing bowl. Using a hand-held potato masher, mash the potatoes. Add cold butter— one piece at a time— as you begin to mash. Mix cream cheese and half and half in a microwave safe container and heat in the microwave until hot. Remove from microwave, blend together, and slowly add to hot potatoes. Gently fold in sour cream. Add salt and pepper. Mix well. Potatoes may be covered tightly and held in warm place for one hour before serving. Yield: 10 servings

Working for the Mouse



ORLANDO— I am in Walt Disney World as a visiting chef of the EPCOT International Food and Wine Festival.

Through the years I have been a frequent guest of The Mouse. I have enjoyed the parks with-and-without kids and had a great time doing the stuff one does down here since 1973. Until now I have never had such an inside view of the ins and outs of this amazingly complicated yet efficient collection of theme parks, hotels, and restaurants.

Throughout my 28-year restaurant career I have participated in numerous culinary events and festivals behind the scenes, in front of cameras, and as a guest chef or lecturer. Walt Disney World blows them all away with their efficiency, professionalism, service, and offerings. It should come as no surprise that a company dedicated to hospitality and good times 365-days a year is able to pull it off so well— from the festival’s attendees down to the guest chefs.

Just to tour the foodservice facilities and work alongside Disney chefs was a treat. This is a company that employs over 350 top-notch chefs and thousands of line cooks to work at over 300 foodservice facilities offering over 6,000 food items. It is baffling when seen as in a behind-the-scenes manner.

To pull off the daily prep and production of this place is mind boggling. On past visits I have often thought of what must go into preparing and serving this much food, scheduling the personnel, and purchasing and receiving that much food. To see it done is humbling.

In years past when one thought of foodservice at Walt Disney World, they were thinking burgers, fries, and Cokes. Those days are long gone. Granted this company knows burgers, fries and Cokes— as they serve over nine million hamburgers, nine million pounds of fries, and 46 million Coca Cola drinks— but now the park has several world-class restaurants which employ dozens of world-class chefs.

The EPCOT International Food and Wine Festival has been around for 13 years and, year-in year-out, is one of the most well-attended events in the park. I met dozens of chefs from all over the country, but more importantly, I met so many chefs who work inside the Disney system. To a person, they were all consummate professionals. Their kitchens are meticulously maintained, and their quality standards are second to none.

Of course anyone can serve hot dogs out of a cafeteria line (though there aren’t too many who can successfully serve as many millions as Disney), but to coordinate world-class restaurants such as Victoria and Albert’s, California Grill, Citricos, Jiko, and The Flying Fish Café while feeding over 200,000 guests every day is a awe-inspiring feat.

It’s been a great week. My four events were filled with people from all over the country (and Canada) who were interested in Mississippi and the food we serve in our restaurants, the food we eat in our homes, and the way we live. I met a lot of chefs from all over the country and had a great time in my off hours with my wife and kids. But I leave with a sense of awe at the magnitude of what is accomplished on an hourly basis behind the scenes at one of the country’s largest foodservice providers.

The chefs, hosts, coordinators, and employees of the EPCOT International Food and Wine Festival are the embodiment of competence, organization, hospitality, and professionalism. Well done, and thank you.



BROWN DERBY COBB SALAD

1/2 head iceberg lettuce1/2 bunch watercress 1 small bunch chicory 1/2 head romaine lettuce2 medium tomatoes, blanched and peeled1 1/2 cups cooked turkey breast, diced1 avocado3 eggs, hard-cooked1/2 cup blue cheese, crumbled6 strips crisp bacon, crumbled2 tbsp. chopped chives

Chop all greens very fine (reserve some watercress for presentation) and arrange in salad bowl. Cut tomatoes in half, remove seeds and dice une. Also dice the turkey, avocado and eggs. Arrange the above ingredients, as well as the blue cheese and bacon crumbles, in straight lines across the greens. Arrange the chives diagonally across the above lines. Present the salad at the table, then toss with the dressing (below) and place on chilled plates with a watercress garnish. Serves six.

BROWN DERBY OLD-FASHIONED FRENCH DRESSING1/2 cup water1/2 tsp. sugar1 1/4 tbsp. salt1 1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce1 clove garlic, chopped1/2 cup red-wine vinegarJuice of 1/2 lemon1/2 tbsp. ground black pepper1/2 tsp. English mustard1/2 cup olive oil1 1/2 cups salad oil
Blend together all ingredients, except oils, then add olive and salad oils and mix well. Blend well again before mixing with salad.

© 2008 Walt Disney World
Reprinted with permission

Catfish



In Sunday’s New York Times Magazine there was an extensive article on catfish. In the article I learned that the Catfish Institute, located in Jackson, Miss., has chosen a new name for the catfish— Delecata.

As new made-up names for fish go, I guess “Delacata” is as good as any, though I would like to see the list of names that were eliminated. The story claimed that the Catfish Institute had “market-tested” the new name. Market test or not, I will still call it catfish.

The most troubling part of the story was a sentence about local catfish farmers which read, “About a third of the region’s [catfish] growers have quit, and those remaining increasingly see their ponds as liabilities. If attrition continues apace, very little catfish will be farmed in the United States before long.”

This is a major loss for farmers throughout the South. I have toured several catfish farms and processing plants and have been amazed by the scientific approach and world-class efficiency with which these Mississippi farmers and processors operate their businesses. And I continue to be impressed with the high-quality fish that they produce.

The problem stems from imported freshwater fish which a few unscrupulous suppliers and restaurant owners dishonestly market as catfish. There is a Vietnamese variety called Basa which is harvested in the Mekong Delta that is still marketed and sold in some establishments as “catfish.” In addition to having a terrible name, Basa is an inferior-tasting fish and can’t— even on it’s best day— compare to Mississippi farm-raised catfish.

That same day I read a story in The Sun about a “mutant catfish” that was killing people in India. The Goonch fish has been feeding on corpses that have been thrown in the river for so long that it has now developed a taste for human flesh. Folks, this is not the plot for an upcoming Halloween movie, it’s real.

A man once caught a 161-lb Goonch. That’s a big mutant catfish. The Sun also reported, “the first live victim of a Goonch was thought to have been a 17-year-old Nepalese boy in April 1988.” and “an 18-year-old Nepali [boy] disappeared in the river, dragged down by something described as an ‘elongated pig’.”

A “flesh-eating river monster” that looks like a pig? Muddy-tasting Vietnamese Basa putting Mississippi farmers out of work? I prefer to eat my catfish, not the other way around. Make mine Mississippi-raised catfish, everytime.

There is a sport practiced in rivers and lakes throughout the South called, “grappling,” in which a person reaches into logs and stumps and pulls out giant catfish (or Delacata) by sticking their hands in the fish’s mouth. I have seen pictures of this and the catfish they bring out of the water are huge.

To my knowledge, grappling is exclusively an American sport. One thing is for certain: If anyone is grappling for fish in India, they aren’t around later that night to hang out at the campfire and tell the fish tale.

Had I sat on the Catfish Institute’s what’s-our-new-name-gonna-be committee, I might have gone along with the name change, but I certainly would have suggested a new tagline: “Delacata: It might not be a great name, but at least it doesn’t eat you.”

If you are like me and enjoy one of Mississippi’s best crops— catfish— ask the owner of your favorite fish house if he or she is using American (preferably Mississippi-raised) catfish. And if they aren’t, take your business elsewhere, and if they say, “Actually, we’re serving ‘Delacata’,” let ‘em slide, and take solace in the fact that they’re not serving Basa or Goonch.



Mississippi-Fried Catfish

2 cups Cornmeal
3 Tbl Lawry’s Seasoning Salt
3 Tbl Lemon Pepper Seasoning
16-20 Catfish, cut into two ounce strips
Peanut Oil for frying

Heat oil in cast iron skillet to 350 degrees. Combine cornmeal, Lawry’s and lemon pepper. Dredge catfish strips in cornmeal mixture and shake off excess. Drop one at a time into hot oil. Fry until golden (about six minutes), remove, drain and serve.


NOTE;

When frying, it is crucial to maintain the oil temperature. Overloading the oil will cause a severe drop in temperature causing whatever you are frying, and the product will absorb more oil, resulting in a greasy, soggy final product. Keep a thermometer in the oil at all times so that you can monitor the temperature. Also, only bread as much as you can fry at one time. Pre-breading can cause clumps, which will fall off during the frying process. A good method for frying in batches is to preheat your oven to “warm” (200 degrees). Place paper towels or a cooling rack on a baking sheet and place in the oven. Place the already fried objects in the oven, leaving the oven door cracked slightly to prevent steaming.

Doggie Bags


After 28 years in the restaurant business, one of the most consistent customer behaviors I have observed is with doggie bags. A majority of restaurant patrons are embarrassed to ask their server for a doggie bag.

I have never been able to figure out the tentativeness on the customer’s part, but it’s real. Many would rather throw away the remainder of a perfectly good pasta dish they ordered than to walk out of the restaurant holding a to-go box.

Doggie bags are rarely used for dogs. They are people bags, and I never hesitate to ask for one, even in the finest restaurants I have visited. It’s the ultimate compliment to the chef.

At the Crescent City Grill we serve large portions. We welcome customer’s requests for doggy bags. My mother can eat a Grilled and Chilled Chicken Salad for lunch and take the remainder home for dinner, and she does. It makes no sense to send it back to the kitchen where the bus boy is going to scrape it into the trash can.

Some foods are better than others the next day, and some foods can’t hold up even a few hours later. Hearty soups, stews, and gumbos (especially chili) benefit from a day in the refrigerator allowing the flavors to meld and intensify.

Fried seafood is only appetizing for a few minutes after it’s been cooked. Grilled chicken can be kept in the refrigerator for days and, whereas fried chicken from a fast-food chain is good— in the picnic sense— when eaten cold the following day, boneless chicken tender-type entrees don’t hold up as well.

The pinnacle of leftover food is steak. I always take steak home and my dog never gets any— well, maybe the bone.

When I grill steaks at home I always throw a couple of extras on the grill for steak and biscuits the next morning.

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day and one of my favorite breakfasts is leftover steak served in a biscuit, not the fast-food, deep-fried-steak-and-gravy version of steak and biscuits, but real steak— no gravy— and a little butter on a biscuit.

The reason my children get excited about a steak dinner has nothing to do with the supper they are about to eat, but what will be served for breakfast the next morning.

The St.John version of steak and biscuits is always made with leftover steak. I slice it into thin strips and place it in aluminum foil, sprinkle a little steak seasoning over the meat, top it with a small pat of butter, close the foil, and place it in the oven while the biscuits are baking. A microwave should never be used when reheating leftover steak as it causes the meat to dry out considerably.

I am a staunch proponent of homemade biscuits and believe that they should be used almost all of the time, but for some strange reason— maybe it’s because that’s the way I grew up eating this dish— refrigerated-whop-on-the-counter-straight-out-of-the-tin biscuits work best for this dish. I don’t know why, but that’s the way it is. Save your emails, I’ve been eating steak and biscuits prepared this way for 47 years.

Once the biscuits have baked and the steak is warm, slice open the biscuits and spread a tiny bit of butter on the inside of each biscuit half, top with steak, close, eat, repeat.

These are especially good when served alongside scrambled eggs and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Once you’ve make steak and biscuits using last night’s restaurant steaks, you’ll never again be anxious about walking through a restaurant with a doggie bag.



Steak Seasoning

1 /2 cup Lawry’s Seasoned Salt
1 /3 cup Black pepper
1 /4 cup Lemon Pepper
2 Tbl Garlic Salt
2 Tbl Granulated Garlic
1 Tbl Onion Powder

Combine all and mix well. Store in an airtight container.

The Mac Attack


The holy grail of kid cuisine is macaroni and cheese.

When I wrote my second cookbook, Deep South Staples or How to Survive In A Southern Kitchen Without A Can of Cream of Mushroom Soup, I needed to include a macaroni and cheese recipe to complete the theme for updated home cooking. I had never eaten mac and cheese so I turned over the recipe development of that dish to my chief recipe tester and Purple Parrot Café chef, Linda Nance.

Linda created a great mac and cheese recipe for the book. I named it Linda’s Macaroni and Cheese. When testing the recipe, I ate mac and cheese for the first time. It was good, and I imagine much better than the boxed varieties on local grocery store shelves. Unfortunately, there was a problem.

Deep South Staples, before it was purchased by Hyperion, was a self-published book. All of the work on the book, the recipe testing, the photographic research, the layout and design, the recipe data entry, and proofreading was done in house. That’s where today’s story begins.

There was a slight miscue between the person who helped me do the recipe data entry and the four people (one of which was me) who proofread the manuscript, slight in scope, but monumental in the life of the finished book. In Linda’s Macaroni and Cheese recipe there was a typographical error.

The recipe calls for one 12-ounce can of evaporated milk. The data entry person accidentally entered “1 12-ounce can Condensed Milk.” Yes, that milk. The canned milk normally known as sweetened condensed milk.

Folks, I don’t need to tell you the difference between evaporated milk and sweetened condensed milk, but trust me when I tell you that if you ever prepare macaroni and cheese using sweetened condensed milk instead of evaporated milk, you will end up with one of the worst tasting dishes you have ever eaten.

Trust me, too, when I tell you that if someone spends a lot of time measuring, preparing, and cooking mac and cheese with sweetened milk they will not be happy. Actually they will be mad enough to call the cookbook’s author on the telephone and write him nasty emails calling him all sorts of names and wishing harm on the author, his forbearers, and all of his heirs.

This would not have been a problem had I published the recipe in the newspaper and was able to print a correction in a subsequent column. Unfortunately, there were 10,000 copies of the book printed, and within a matter of weeks, all of them were in people’s homes, or more specifically, in their kitchens. Nothing feels as “permanent” as having one’s words in a published book.

A correction was made in subsequent editions, and the problem soon went away, or so I thought.

Last spring, my wife and I hosted a dinner for one of our church groups. The adults were bringing their young children to our home, and while the grown ups were meeting over dinner in one room, the children would be having dinner and playing in another room.

Don’t get ahead of me, here.

I asked the chefs in my restaurant to prepare a few recipes for both groups. Unfortunately, the mac and cheese from Deep South Staples was one of them. Even more unfortunate, the copy of the book being used in the restaurant was an uncorrected first edition.

To compound matters, the adults had spent a lot of time giving their kids the hard-sell and getting them excited about “eating at a real chef’s house,” expectations were high, the outcome was terrifying.

In the course of my 28-year restaurant career, I have never had food thrown at me, especially one of my recipes, but if it ever were to happen that would have been the night. Halfway through dinner I walked through the breakfast room to check on the kids, they were in full culinary revolt. They looked at me with hate, disdain, and disappointment all at once.

Do you remember the food fight scene in the movie Animal House? We were that close. Only after bribing them with extra ice cream did they settle down.

Lessons learned: Never trust a typist, always load up on ice cream when children are coming over, and never— I repeat never— mess with a kid’s favorite food.



Linda’s Macaroni and Cheese

1 tsp Bacon grease (or canola oil)
1 cup Onion, minced
2 cups Half and half
1-12 oz can Evaporated milk
1 /3 cup Butter
1 /2 cup Flour
2 tsp Salt
1 tsp White pepper
12 oz Velveeta cut into large chunks
8 oz Sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1 1 /2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 pound Elbow macaroni

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Heat the bacon grease in a two-quart saucepot over low heat. Cook onion five to six minutes then add half and half and evaporated milk into saucepot. Bring to a simmer. In a separate skillet, melt butter and stir in flour to make a roux. Cook until the roux becomes light blond and add to milk mixture. Cook for six to seven minutes on low, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and fold in Velveeta, cheddar cheese, pepper and salt. Stir until cheeses are melted.

While you are preparing the sauce bring six quarts of water to a boil. Add one tablespoon salt and cook macaroni to just tender. Drain and fold macaroni into cheese mixture. Place in a two-quart baking dish and bake for 25 minutes. Yield: 5-8 portions

Stable Staples


Every home has a stable staple.

A stable staple is an item that is almost, if not always, in an individual’s home kitchen. It varies from home to home and is usually located in an heirloom cookie jar, or a favored Pyrex dish, tucked away on a special shelf in the pantry, or highlighted front and center in the refrigerator.

It is the singular food item that is ever-present in that home. It’s usually kept in the same place and it is the one item that is served when someone visits the home and the item that will be there when you visit some else’s home.

Your best friends always know where the stable staple is kept and they feel free to help themselves when they visit.

Sometimes the stable staple is a snack, every now and then a cake or pie, it can be store-bought or homemade. In a few families the item changes with the holidays, in others the stable staple is ever-changing regardless of the season or occasion.

As a kid I committed to memory all of my friends stable staples. When playing outside in the Mississippi summer heat it was important to know which friends house to visit to eat a certain snack.

One friend always had chips and picante sauce; another had off-brand generic cookies that he would personally dole out— one to each friend— while his mouth was crammed full with a dozen of the cookies. In between those two lived a friend whose parents owned several grocery stores. They didn’t have a lone stable staple, but a treasure trove of snacks, drinks, and frozen treats that we raided on a daily basis. Their pantry was kid-snack heaven.

My mom always had oatmeal cookies and Hawaiian Punch in her house. They were her stable staples.

Today, my wife’s stable staple is a pan of warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. My kids love them and their friends annihilate them as soon as they are removed from the oven.

My paternal grandmother almost always had a pound cake under a glass dome. Occasionally she would have an Angel Food Cake, but most times it was a pound cake. Kids don’t get too excited about pound cake. I like it. It’s good. It’s better than tea cakes or scones. But it’s not an iced cake, pie, or cobbler. It’s more of a little-old-lady tea-party stable staple than a snack or treat.

My paternal grandmother excelled when it came to entertaining and serving a large formal lunch or dinner, but when it came to goodies in the pantry, we were left with pound cake topped with strawberries and Cool Whip.

My maternal grandmother always had a Tupperware container of Fudge Cake squares. She was known for two recipes: Pancakes and Fudge Cake. I have written at great length about her pancakes and have actually formed a food products company in which her pancake recipe is sold in mix form all across the country. Her stable staple, though, was Fudge Cake.

My grandmother’s Fudge Cake was neither fudge nor cake, though it was more closely related to cake than fudge. The recipe was one that probably came from her childhood home of Nashville and followed her to Danville, Ky., Macon and Atlanta, Ga., the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and finally, my hometown of Hattiesburg, Miss.

Fudge Cake squares are more like brownies than cake, but fudgier than a normal brownie. I loved the recipe as a kid and I love eating fudge cake squares, today. Homemade fudge cake might be the coup de grace of stable staples.

Nowadays my stable staple is oatmeal. Not oatmeal cookies— oatmeal— the breakfast gruel that is eaten with a spoon. It’s the item that is always in my pantry, not fudge cake, or pound cake, or even Angel Food Cake— oatmeal. Sometimes middle age and responsibility stinks.



Muz’s Fudge Cake

4 Squares Bakers Chocolate
2 sticks Butter
4 Eggs
2 cups Sugar
1 cup Flour
1 tsp Pure Vanilla Extract
1 cup Nuts, chopped
Pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 350-degrees.

Melt chocolate and butter together in a double boiler. Once incorporated let cool slightly. Cooled chocolate should still be in liquid form.

Mix together the four eggs and gradually and the two cups of sugar until completely incorporated. SLOWLY pour the slightly warm chocolate mixture into the egg/sugar mixture.

Slowly incorporate the flour into the chocolate/egg mixture. Add vanilla, nuts, salt, and mix.

Line a pan with waxed paper or parchment. Pour in the chocolate mix. Bake at 350 approximately 30 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.

Remove from oven. Let cool five minutes. Carefully flip the fudge cake and finish cooling. Once cooled completely, remove wax paper and cut into squares.

Tailgating During Fall in Mississippi


It’s mid September in Mississippi. Is it fall yet?

Yesterday I was watching the Weather Channel and the announcer talked about “fall” weather in the Northeast. Fall in September? You’ve got to be kidding. Not down here.

We know the word “fall,” but we never experience the actual season until mid to late October, and then only in short spurts of crisp weather. Our brief hints of Fall are akin to evening weather in Southern California on a year-round basis.

In the Northeast and Midwest football fans are tailgating on Saturday afternoons with highs in the mid to upper 60s. In Mississippi we’re tailgating in the 90s. The temperature dictates the food.

Tailgating in the South is much different than tailgating in the Northeast. In the Northeast and Midwest the weather forecasts often include the word “crisp.” Down here we trade “crisp” for “muggy.” We do, however, get small hints of “crisp” beginning in October.

The first hint of cool in the Southern autumn is always deceptive. I fall (pun intended) for it every time. On that first cool morning I’ll walk outside, the air is cool— not crisp— cool. The pine straw is starting to turn brown, the Indian Summer images from the national magazines are floating around in the back of my head, and I say to myself, “Ahhhh, fall has arrived to Mississippi.” Inevitably, the next day will be 82 degrees and humid.

The covers of next month’s national food magazines will have images of fall-themed cornucopias highlighted with gold, brown, and orange leaves, freaky looking squash, cranberries, and 10 varieties pumpkin. All while we’re still picking summer vegetables in our gardens.

Down here the heat affects our menu choices. We’re still eating hot weather food. During Southern tailgates, we look for “cool” and easy foods to match the temperatures that we endure this time of the year.

My favorite tailgating recipe is for Silverqueen Corn and Shrimp Dip. I created the recipe for my book, Southern Seasons. It’s the perfect tailgating food. It’s served cold and tastes great in the Mississippi fall, it can be taken to the ball game in a small ice chest, it’s just spicy enough to make one reach for an additional beverage, and— most importantly— it tastes great.

Fall in the South means tailgating and football. We’d like it if it was a little cooler, but we’d rather take the heat than be forced to eat bland, Northern pumpkin and mutant squash.



Silver Queen Corn and Shrimp Dip

2 quarts water
1 Tbl crab boil
2 Tbl kosher salt
3/4 pound small shrimp, peeled

1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1/2 cup green onion, minced
1 Tbl fresh jalepeno, minced
1 Tbl hot sauce
1 Tbl fresh lime juice
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp ground cumin
1/3 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1 1/2 Roasted Silverqueen corn, cut from the cob* (3 ears), or canned corn, drained
1 tsp salt

Bring the water, crab boil and salt to a boil over high heat. Add the shrimp to the boiling water and reduce the heat slightly/ Simmer the shrimp for 6-8 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain the shrimp. Place the cooked shrimp in the refrigerator and cool completely. Roughly chop the cooled shrimp. Combine shrimp and the remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl and mix well. Refrigerate for 1-2 hours before serving. Serve with your favorite chips for dipping.

Yield:
6-8 servings

*To roast the corn: Preheat oven to 375. Wrap each ear individually in aluminum foil and place them on a baking sheet. Cook for 15 minutes, turn each piece of corn over and bake for 15 more minutes. Remove from the oven and cool for 30 minutes. Remove the foil, husks and silk and using a sharp knife, cut the kernels from the corn, being careful not to cut down too deeply into the cob. Allow corn to cool completely before preparing the dip.

Tailgating During Fall in Mississippi


It’s mid September in Mississippi. Is it fall yet?

Yesterday I was watching the Weather Channel and the announcer talked about “fall” weather in the Northeast. Fall in September? You’ve got to be kidding. Not down here.

We know the word “fall,” but we never experience the actual season until mid to late October, and then only in short spurts of crisp weather. Our brief hints of Fall are akin to evening weather in Southern California on a year-round basis.

In the Northeast and Midwest football fans are tailgating on Saturday afternoons with highs in the mid to upper 60s. In Mississippi we’re tailgating in the 90s. The temperature dictates the food.

Tailgating in the South is much different than tailgating in the Northeast. In the Northeast and Midwest the weather forecasts often include the word “crisp.” Down here we trade “crisp” for “muggy.” We do, however, get small hints of “crisp” beginning in October.

The first hint of cool in the Southern autumn is always deceptive. I fall (pun intended) for it every time. On that first cool morning I’ll walk outside, the air is cool— not crisp— cool. The pine straw is starting to turn brown, the Indian Summer images from the national magazines are floating around in the back of my head, and I say to myself, “Ahhhh, fall has arrived to Mississippi.” Inevitably, the next day will be 82 degrees and humid.

The covers of next month’s national food magazines will have images of fall-themed cornucopias highlighted with gold, brown, and orange leaves, freaky looking squash, cranberries, and 10 varieties pumpkin. All while we’re still picking summer vegetables in our gardens.

Down here the heat affects our menu choices. We’re still eating hot weather food. During Southern tailgates, we look for “cool” and easy foods to match the temperatures that we endure this time of the year.

My favorite tailgating recipe is for Silverqueen Corn and Shrimp Dip. I created the recipe for my book, Southern Seasons. It’s the perfect tailgating food. It’s served cold and tastes great in the Mississippi fall, it can be taken to the ball game in a small ice chest, it’s just spicy enough to make one reach for an additional beverage, and— most importantly— it tastes great.

Fall in the South means tailgating and football. We’d like it if it was a little cooler, but we’d rather take the heat than be forced to eat bland, Northern pumpkin and mutant squash.



Silver Queen Corn and Shrimp Dip

2 quarts water
1 Tbl crab boil
2 Tbl kosher salt
3/4 pound small shrimp, peeled

1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1/2 cup green onion, minced
1 Tbl fresh jalepeno, minced
1 Tbl hot sauce
1 Tbl fresh lime juice
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp ground cumin
1/3 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1 1/2 Roasted Silverqueen corn, cut from the cob* (3 ears), or canned corn, drained
1 tsp salt

Bring the water, crab boil and salt to a boil over high heat. Add the shrimp to the boiling water and reduce the heat slightly/ Simmer the shrimp for 6-8 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain the shrimp. Place the cooked shrimp in the refrigerator and cool completely. Roughly chop the cooled shrimp. Combine shrimp and the remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl and mix well. Refrigerate for 1-2 hours before serving. Serve with your favorite chips for dipping.

Yield:
6-8 servings

*To roast the corn: Preheat oven to 375. Wrap each ear individually in aluminum foil and place them on a baking sheet. Cook for 15 minutes, turn each piece of corn over and bake for 15 more minutes. Remove from the oven and cool for 30 minutes. Remove the foil, husks and silk and using a sharp knife, cut the kernels from the corn, being careful not to cut down too deeply into the cob. Allow corn to cool completely before preparing the dip.

The Denomination of Punch

I am a Methodist because my grandfather owned a pair of shoes.

My great-grandmother was a Baptist. My great-grandfather was a Methodist. My grandfather was the oldest of seven boys. His family was poor and could only afford Sunday shoes for the two oldest boys. The five younger boys stayed barefoot in the warmer months.

In Brooksville, Miss., in the early 1900s, the Methodist church was located a mile from their home. The two oldest boys walked to church with their father. The five youngest boys attended the Baptist church— which was located a few houses away and an easy walk on the grass— with their mother.

A tattered pair of Sunday shoes has provided me with a lifetime of covered-dish suppers.

It’s sometimes hard to pick a Methodist out of the crowd. A Muslim might have a prayer rug, a Jewish man might wear a Star of David, and the Catholics have the rosary. We Methodists can’t walk around with a casserole dish hanging from our necks.

My friend, Bill explains the denominations this way: The Baptists pick you up out of the gutter, the Methodists clothe and feed you, the Presbyterians educate you, and the Episcopalians introduce you to all of the right people, which sends you back into the gutter so the Baptists can pick you up again.

I know a better way to define the protestant denominations— through their punch. Not a boxing punch, mind you, but their ladle-it-out-of-your-grandmother’s-cut-glass-bowl, fruit-juice-and-ginger-ale-with-a-floating-ice-ring-in-the-middle church punch.

Three cookbooks ago, I released Deep South Parties. In the chapter that included various celebratory beverages, I published several actual punch recipes from local small town church cookbooks. The procedural instructions for the various church punches were basically the same among the denominations. The yields were similar as each recipe made enough punch for about 30 thirsty church goers. Where the rubber meets the road, or better still, where the ring mold meets the fruit juice, is in the ingredients.

The ingredients of the church-punch recipes I found are a telling factor. When I was a boy, a lady named Mrs. Lampkin was the hostess at my church. Here is the recipe for her punch: one 48-oz can pineapple juice, one three-ounce package instant lime gelatin, two cups sugar, one cup lemon juice, one small bottle of almond extract. Simple, easy, green.

Methodist punch follows the liturgical calendar. During Advent, the liturgical color is purple, so we substitute grape Jell-O. During Christmastide, when the liturgical color is gold, we use pineapple.

Here is the recipe for a punch recipe found in a Baptist cookbook in my hometown: two cups cranberry juice, two cups apple cider, one cup pineapple juice, one cup orange juice, 1/2 cup lemon juice, two cups ginger ale. We know it well, and have drunk it often at Baptist weddings. Some might have even snuck into the back room at Baptist weddings and added something a little stronger.

Speaking of stronger, the Catholic punch recipe I found is made using 1/2 gallon burgundy wine, one pint gin, two quarts of ginger ale, 1/2 cup sugar, and 1/4 cup lemon juice. With my Catholic friends, it’s all about the wine.

My uncle is an Episcopal priest in the Northern Neck of Virginia. This is an actual recipe for church punch that I pulled from of one of his church’s cookbooks: one fifth bourbon (100 proof), one fifth brandy, one fifth sherry, one fifth sparkling red wine, juice of 12 lemons, two cups sugar, one fifth soda water, which is proof that one will always need a designated driver when attending a Whiskeypalian wedding.

My grandfather owned a pair of Sunday shoes, and that’s why I’m forever destined to drink green punch.


Purple Parrot Chocolate Martini

1 /2 oz. Absolut
1 /2 oz. Kahlua
1 /4 oz. Godiva Dark Chocolate Liqueur
1 /4 oz. Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur
1 Tbl Half and Half

In a cocktail shaker, add ice. Add liquor and liqueurs in order. Shake with ice and fine strain into a chilled martini glass.

Yield: 1 martini

Hurricane Food


As I sit and write this column, I am watching the television coverage of Hurricane Gustav as it makes landfall a few hundred miles west of my breakfast room.

My family hunkered down several days in advance this time, which beats the last minute scramble we endured before Hurricane Katrina.

This morning I am ice rich. I am surrounded by ice chests, bottled water, and hurricane food.

Ice is the key.

Before Katrina, I encouraged my managers and friends to load up on ice from one of the three, large ice machines located at our restaurant. They seemed skeptical, but filled their ice chests nonetheless. I was remembering the days after Hurricane Camille when, as an eight-year old, I waited in line with my mother at the local ice house every afternoon for two weeks until electricity was restored.

Once my friends and managers loaded up on pre-Katrina ice, I filled a large ice chest with the cubes left at the bottom of the restaurant’s bin. After securing my business, I lifted the ice chest into the back of my truck and headed home to ride out the storm with my family.

Three blocks from the restaurant, as I was pulling through an intersection, I heard a loud crash. I looked into my rear-view mirror and watched, as the last available ice in Hattiesburg, Mississippi spilled all over the hot August asphalt. I had forgotten to close the tailgate on my truck and the ice chest flew out the back as I drove through the intersection.

This morning I am ice rich. I am surrounded by ice chests, bottled water, and hurricane food.

My first memory of Hurricane food was as an eight-year old in the aftermath of Camille. My mother, brother and I cooked over Sterno leftover from my brother's Boy Scout days. Our neighborhood also banded together and gathered at the house of a man who had a natural-gas grill.

In 1969, at the exact time concert goers were listening to Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and The Who make rock-and-roll history at the Woodstock concert in upstate New York, we were eating beanie weenies in the sweltering heat of my back yard. From what I've seen in the Woodstock movie, the conditions were similar.

Kids don't mind adverse conditions. I never remember complaining about the heat in the days after Camille. To me, it was like camping out in the backyard.

As a forty-something I was about as hot as I've ever been in the still, quiet days following Katrina. Several months after Katrina blew through town, my son asked my wife, "Momma, when do we get to sleep in the den and eat ham sandwiches again?

No power, no water, no ice, no trees, and my son remembers ham sandwiches. I remember Sterno. Most attendees at Woodstock probably don’t remember anything.

This morning I am ice rich. I am surrounded by ice chests, bottled water, and hurricane food. It appears that we dodged Mother Nature's 120-mph bullet. Let's all pray that it will be many years before we again have to worry about Sterno, ice, and hurricane food.



Ham, Cheese, and Poppy Seed Freezer Sandwiches

1 stick Butter, melted
3 Tbl Prepared Horseradish
3 Tbl Dijon Mustard
2 Tbl Poppy Seeds
1 lb Ham, thinly sliced
8 slices Swiss cheese
8 Hamburger Buns

Combine butter, horseradish, mustard and poppy seeds. Mix thoroughly. Open hamburger buns and brush both sides of the inside with the poppy seed dressing. Place two ounces of ham and one slice of cheese on bottom part of bun. Repeat with the remainder of the buns. Close the tops of the buns and brush more of the poppy seed dressing on the outside tops and bottoms of buns. Tightly wrap each sandwich in aluminum foil and freeze.

To cook, preheat oven to 400-degrees. Place sandwich, still tightly wrapped in foil, directly on the center rack for approximately 30-45 minutes until center is hot and cheese is melted. Yield: eight sandwiches.

Subway 911

A man in Jacksonville, Fla. was arrested last week for making fraudulent 911 calls.

He wasn’t calling the police station to ask if their “refrigerator is running?” and he wasn’t asking the dispatcher if she had “Prince Albert in a can?” The Associated Press reported that Reginald Peterson was hauled off to the pokey because he called 911 to complain that the Subway restaurant had left the sauce off of his sandwich.

Peterson, 42, actually called 911 twice. The first call was to complain about his sandwich. The second call was to complain that the police weren’t arriving fast enough. By that time Peterson had become belligerent about the lack of sauce on his sandwich and they locked him out of the store. My guess is that his third call was made from the jail to his lawyer.

The AP reported that when “officers arrived, they tried to calm Peterson and explain the proper use of 911. Those efforts failed, and he was arrested on a charge of making false 911 calls.”

It baffles me that anyone would get so upset about a sandwich that they would call 911. But it baffles me even more that it happened at a Subway. It’s one of my son’s favorite restaurants. There’s one two blocks from my house and we eat there often. They make your sandwich right in front of you. If you want more sauce, or no sauce, all one has to do is say so. There’s no need to get the police involved.

Google and YouTube are filled with 911 calls of all types. Many of them have to do with food. One man called 911 because “Someone broke into my house and took a bite out of my ham and cheese sandwich.” A lady called from inside a fast-food restaurant and complained to authorities, “They won’t fix my taco… I ain’t havin’ no rice in it… he’s holdin’ my dollar and ten cents!” Another called asking, “Can you connect me to Domino’s Pizza?”

We are passionate about food. It’s one of the only things in life of which everyone has an opinion. Eating is universal. It’s what we do, three times a day (more if you’re me), 365 days a year.

YouTube has a lengthy 911 call from a woman who is sitting in the drive-through line at a Burger King waiting for her Western Bacon Cheeseburger.

The 911 archives are also filled with such non-vital emergencies as, “I’m watching a movie and there’s a guy beating another guy with a bat.” and “What day of the week is this?” But the best ones are food related.

It all falls back to the legendary Joe Pesci scene in one of the Lethal Weapon movies where he reels off a curse-laden diatribe as to why one should never use the drive-through window, but always walk up to the counter. That incident, by the way, was over a tuna sandwich at Subway.


Grilled Redfish Sandwiches with Seafood Remoulade Sauce

6 6-7 ounce Redfish Filets
1 1/2 tsp Creole Seasoning

6 Hamburger Buns
1/4 cup olive oil

1 Recipe Seafood Remoulade
1 1/2 cup Green Leaf Lettuce, shredded
10-12 slices Fresh tomato

Sprinkle the filets with the Creole Seasoning and grill over direct high heat until the center of the fish is slightly pink, about 6-8 minutes. Turn the filets once during cooking. Do not overcook.

Brush the inside surfaces of the hamburger buns with the olive oil. Grill over medium direct heat for 2-3 minutes.

To assemble the sandwiches, spread a small amount of the Seafood Remoulade the toasted surfaces of the hamburger bun. Top with the fish, tomato, lettuce and the top half of the bun.
Serve immediately.

Yield:
6 sandwiches


Seafood Remoulade

1 stalk Celery
1/ 3 cup Onion, chopped
1 cup Ketchup
3 Tbl Lemon juice, freshly squeezed
1 tsp creole mustard
1/4 cup Prepared horseradish
1 cup Mayonnaise
2 tsp Creole Seasoning
1 tsp Lawry’s Seasoned Salt
1 tsp Garlic, minced

Blend onion and celery in the food processor until small but not completely puréed. Place onion and celery in a mixing bowl.

Add remaining ingredients and mix well.

Best if made at least 1 day in advance. Sauce holds up to 1 week in the refrigerator.

Yield:
2 cups

911

911 funny - The most amazing home videos are here

Eating Ones Way Through the 100-Meter Freestyle

My wife is nuts about the Summer Olympics. Every television in our home is tuned to the games in China and she calls me hourly with details of how well the United States is doing against the Lithuanian handball team.

I’m more of a Winter Olympics-type guy. I’ll take an out-of-control bobsled shooting down an icy mountain at 100-miles per hour over a lame ping-pong match every time. I have, however, enjoyed watching USA swimmer Michael Phelps break the record for all-time gold medals.

Phelps represents his country well. His feat of surpassing Mark Spitz’s accomplishments is amazing. His record-breaking swimming is remarkable, and his laid-back attitude and competitive demeanor are admirable. But what truly impresses me about Michael Phelps is the news story I read the other day with the headline: “Swimmer Michael Phelps Consumes 12,000 Calories a Day.”

Now that’s impressive. Mr. Phelps, you now have my attention, along with my complete and total admiration.

You can keep the gold medals, magazine covers, fan adulation, and the forthcoming million-dollar endorsement deals. I would gladly trade them all for the ability to eat 12,000 calories a day and get away with it. That would be a blast.

Every day Phelps consumes six times more food than the average male and his body-fat percentage is under four percent. I consume twice as many groceries as the average male though my body-fat percentage hovers somewhere around the legal drinking age.

Researching this piece, I found a story in the New York Post which gave a detailed description of a day in the life of Phelps’ intestinal tract. “Phelps lends a new spin to the phrase ‘Breakfast of Champions’ by starting off his day by eating three fried-egg sandwiches loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions and mayonnaise. He follows that up with two cups of coffee, a five-egg omelet, a bowl of grits, three slices of French toast topped with powdered sugar and three chocolate-chip pancakes.”

Someone needs to give his chef a medal.

The Post continued, “At lunch, Phelps gobbles up a pound of enriched pasta and two large ham and cheese sandwiches slathered with mayo on white bread - capping off the meal by chugging about 1,000 calories worth of energy drinks. For dinner, Phelps really loads up on the carbs - what he needs to give him plenty of energy for his five-hours-a-day, six-days-a-week regimen - with a pound of pasta and an entire pizza. He washes all that down with another 1,000 calories worth of energy drinks.”

I admire Mr. Phelps and his accomplishments, but if I was able to consume 12,000 calories a day and get away with it, I wouldn’t be eating ham and cheese with mayo on white bread. At the least, throw some whole-grain mustard or horseradish in the mix. Can you say whole-smoked tenderloin on wheat?

At breakfast, throw some bacon and sausage on the menu, Michael. The way your metabolism is humming you’ll burn off the excess fat with the energy you use to pick up a forkful of those chocolate-chip pancakes.

In my twenties, during the 32-inch waist period of my life, I used to eat a large pepperoni pizza every night when I got off of work at the restaurant. The people at the pizza-delivery place knew my name. “Oh, hi Robert. The usual? Extra cheese? We’ll be over in 30 minutes. Say, how’s your grandmother?”

In those days I was working 90-hours per week in the kitchen of my first restaurant. Maybe I should have been doing the breast stroke.

I have eaten a lot of food over the course of my life. The closest I have ever come to eating 12,000 calories in one day was several years ago when I ate a 36-course meal at The French Laundry in Yountville, CA. It was the only meal I have ever eaten that needed a halftime break. After the meal, on the ride home, my friend Bill estimated that we had consumed approximately 10,000 calories over the course of the four and a half hour bacchanalia. Had I jumped into an Olympic pool that night, I would have sunken immediately to the drain. No one would have given me a gold medal, though I would have died a happy man.



Miniature Smoked Tenderloin Sandwiches with Three Spreads

2 Tbl Bacon Grease, melted
1 Tbl Steak Seasoning
1/2 tsp Black Pepper, freshly ground
2 pound Beef Tenderloin, trimmed and cleaned
24 dinner rolls, varied styles and flavors, cut in half crosswise

5-6 cups wood chips

Soak the wood chips for 2-3 hours and drain well. Prepare grill or smoker to cook at 275 degrees.

Rub the tenderloin with the melted bacon grease and sprinkle with steak seasoning.
Cook the tenderloin for 45-50 minutes, to an internal temperature of 130 degrees. Add more chips as needed to keep the smoke flowing.

Remove from heat and let tenderloin cool completely.


Horseradish Spread

1/4 cup Sour Cream
1/2 cup Mayonnaise
1/4 tsp Black Pepper, freshly ground
3 Tbl Prepared Horseradish
2 Tbl Red Onion, minced
1/4 tsp Garlic, minced
1 Tbl Chives, chopped
1 Tbl Parsley, chopped
1/2 tsp Salt

Combine all ingredients in a mixing bowl and store covered and refrigerated until ready to serve.


Chutney Mayo

1 Tbl Olive Oil
2 Tbl Yellow Onion, minced
1/4 tsp Salt
2 tsp Garlic, minced
1/2 tsp Curry Powder
2 Tbl Sherry
3/4 cup Mango Chutney
3/4 cup Mayonnaise



In a small sauté pan, heat olive oil over low heat. Place onion, garlic, salt and curry powder in the hot oil and cook one minute. Add the sherry and reduce. Remove from heat and cool completely. Once the cooked mixture is cooled, combine it with the remaining ingredients. Store covered and refrigerated until ready to serve.


Honey-Spiked Creole Mustard

1/2 cup Creole Mustard
1 Tbl Yellow Mustard
2 Tbl Sour Cream
1 Tbl Mayonnaise
1/4 cup Honey
1 tsp Prepared Horseradish
2 tsp Parsely, chopped
1 tsp Fresh Thyme Leaves, chopped
1/8 tsp Cayenne Pepper
1/2 tsp Lemon Juice
1/4 tsp Salt

Using a wire whisk, combine all ingredients. Store covered and refrigerated until ready to serve.


Slice 1/8-inch thin slices of the beef tenderloin and arrange on a serving tray. Serve the cut rolls and three sauces on the side and allow guests to build their own sandwich.
All of the sauces may be made three to four days in advance, and stored in the refrigerator until needed.

Peaches


One of the unexpected benefits of writing a weekly food column which is centered mostly around food is that people always give me food. I love my job.

At a book signing earlier this year a man walked up with a flat of blackberries and blueberries. “Here, check these out,” he said. An entire flat! That’s 12 pints. Did I mention that I love my job?

Over a breakfast earlier in the summer my friend Chris brought me a bag of peaches. I love my friends, too.

Peaches are a great gift. I used to go to a local peach orchard near my hometown and buy several bushels of peaches at the height of the summer and deliver them to my friends.

A few weeks ago a reader from Clarksdale sent me a case of South Carolina peaches. They were great. South Carolina peaches usually show up later in the year.

I write often of the difference between Alabama and Georgia peaches. When I write one of these columns I end up with several emails touting the qualities of South Carolina peaches over Georgia peaches. There is a constant battle between Georgia and South Carolina as to which state has the best peaches.

Trust me, there is no love lost between Georgia and South Carolina when it comes to peach production.

Each state is trying to top the other. Years ago Georgia named itself “The Peach State.” After hearing this, South Carolina adopted the moniker, “The Tastier Peach State.”

These inter-state battles of one-upsmanship can turn nasty if left unchecked. Be on the lookout for Georgia to rework their “The Peach State” motto and name themselves, “The Really, Really, Really Good Peach State.”

Then watch for South Carolina’s counter punch when they adopt the motto, “The Tastier Peach State with Slightly More Coastline than Georgia on the Atlantic Ocean.”

Realizing this, the Georgia Peach Board will go to their state legislature and petition for their slogan to be changed to, “The Really, Really, Really Good Peach State with a Professional Baseball AND Football Franchise.”

South Carolina will then counterpunch with, “The Tastier Peach State with Slightly More Coastline than Georgia on the Atlantic Ocean that doesn’t want a Perennial Losing Professional Football Franchise (and besides the Carolina Panthers are half ours).”

Georgia will then elongate its name to “The Really, Really, Really Good Peach State with a Professional Baseball AND Football Franchise that Doesn’t Have a Compass Point in Our State Name.”

After petitioning for a larger state seal to hold the entire new motto, South Carolina will propose to change their moniker to “The Tastier Peach State with Slightly More Coastline on the Atlantic Ocean that doesn’t Want a Perennial Losing Professional Football Franchise (and besides the Carolina Panthers are half ours) which doesn’t have bad traffic like Atlanta.”

It will finally take a steel-cage wrestling match between Ted Turner and Steve Spurrier to resolve the issue. Turner’s mean as hell, but my money’s on the visor-wearing Spurrier in the third round.

Georgia and South Carolina aside, I am a fan of Chilton, County, Ala peaches. They seem to be the red-headed stepchild of the Southern peach world.

Peaches taste like summer no matter where they’re grown or what’s stated in their home state’s motto.



Peach Ice Cream

2 cups Peaches, fresh, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

3 /4 cups Sugar, divided

1 Tbl Lemon Juice, freshly squeezed

2 Tbl Peach Schnapps

1 cup Heavy Cream

1 /2 cup Milk

1 /2 Vanilla Bean

2 Egg Yolks

In a bowl, combine peaches, 1 /4 cup sugar, lemon juice, and peach schnapps. Cover and refrigerate 2- 3 hours, stirring occasionally.

Remove peach mixture from refrigerator, drain, and reserve the juice. Return peaches to refrigerator.

Split the vanilla bean lengthwise, and— in a medium-sized saucepan— combine remaining sugar, heavy cream, and milk. Heat just until just boiling.

In a separate bowl, vigorously whisk egg yolks. While whisking, slowly add 1 /3 of the boiled cream mixture. Stir well. Add remaining egg mixture to cream mixture. Return to low-medium heat and continue stirring for 5-7 minutes. Just as it begins to simmer, remove from heat and strain into a bowl set over ice. Add the reserved peach juice. Stir well until completely chilled.

Transfer the mixture to an ice cream maker and freeze according to manufacturer's instructions. After the ice cream begins to stiffen, add the peaches and continue to freeze until done. Remove the ice cream from the ice cream maker and store in an airtight container in the freezer until ready to serve.

Yield:
8 servings

The Hillbilly Gypsies-- Shuckin' the Corn (Live)

The Hillbilly Gypsies - "Shuckin the Corn" - LIVE - Click here for the most popular videos

Sweet Corn


“… Pray what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary noons, than a sufficient number of ears of green sweet corn…”
—Henry David Thoreau, Walden (1854)


My friend Ronnie telephoned the other day. He wanted me to check out his garden. It was nice. There were several varieties of melon, peas, and beans— the usual suspects. Its size was manageable, there weren’t too many weeds and everything seemed in order.

“Come over here,” he said. “This is what I called you about.”